Peeking Into Drafts And Looking Into The Really Old Ones Is A Trip, My Writing Seemed So Much Better

Peeking into drafts and looking into the really old ones is a trip, my writing seemed so much better and there's a bunch of half-written, unfinished stuff that'll never see the light of day until I pull my finger out and this stuff NEEDS finishing. This memory meme back when Roman was a kid? One of his earliest memories is wanting to stab Bruce Wayne, he hated him from the day they first met.

☆ Put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. It's time to spread positivity!!!! ☆

Thank you so much, May! Right back at you with this one for always putting up with my nonsense, and for writing such amazing boys in Matt, Bucky and Steve! They are fantastic muses whom Roman (and Kirk!) love bothering very much. Never forget that you are such a positive influence both as a person and a writer, because I honestly don't think I would have stuck it out with Roman were it not for you? His relatationship with Matt is one I hold very dear to my heart, how complicated it is and the hurt, oh boy the angst! You make being on here so worthwhile so... have a million of these right back atcha! 💕

"You know, as tempting as it was to give you the death's head moth, that felt like low hanging fruit. So you get a cinnabar moth."

@gnarledbite offered you a moth HERE!

"This isn't one of those little shits that'll munch on my suits, is it?" Roman asks, his finger extended to allow the little moth free passage over his hand. A wary eye was cast as it crawled towards his immaculate sleeve - he wasn't very good when it came to wildlife. Pests were handled by hired professionals and, during times when secrecy was of the utmost importance, his own henchmen. He was too busy to take time out of his day to kill vermin, unless it was the two-legged kind, but Roman was surprised to find himself studying the little creature that Garrett had somehow made flutter onto his open palm. Roman had never seen a moth like this before. It was deep black all over with the only other colour being a vivid scarlet. Together with the dots and odd patches on the wings, it was almost... cute, the crime lord having to be careful not to crush the thing when it darted back onto his palm, crawling in between his fingers. "Gotta admit, I like the cut of it's style. Death's Head whatever sounds cooler but I don't want anybody thinking a bug's in charge around here. So, uhh... how do I not kill this thing again?" he said, looking up into nearby eyes of greenshine. So long as the damn thing didn't decide to chew on his suits, Roman would be fine with it hanging around. Garrett certainly seemed eager on leaving it with him, perhaps to serve as a watchdog or whatever the hell he was capable of making it do with those freaky powers he had.

Roman is very dominant in the bedroom and that goes triple for male partners. You will be on the receiving end and you'll like it too, and if not, tough titties, he's topping or else there won't be any playtime for you. It's a very, very rare occasion he'll willingly cede control to another man and let them take him instead.

He remembered it like it was yesterday, eight years old and dragged to yet another stupid party hosted by his parents. Hiding under the table which was covered by an ornate table cloth, it was the perfect place in which to hide away from prying eyes and judgemental gazes of other people. Roman had little interest in talking to any of them, with their fake smiles plastered across their equally fake faces, pretending to like those they were forced to socialize with. His parents were the worst, basking in the attention of their peers like how snakes would bask in the sun. Roman hated them all, scowling from beneath his protective cover. Bored eyes scanned the crowd, looking for those select few people whose company he was able to stomach. Mary wasn't here; he'd have spotted her blonde hair flashing amongst the crowd by now. Similarily there was no Viktor, hiding behind Mr. and Mr's Zsasz's legs. Dark hair caught his attention, and Roman suddenly froze. Bruce Wayne. Roman recognized him instantly, even with his head down as he wandered between the forest of bodies dirtying his family's garden with their presence. How dare he show his face here? Roman's blood boiled, hating every inch of him. His fingers tightened around the knife he’d stolen from the table above, wishing he could give the other boy a sharp poke with it. It wasn’t as though it would be dangerous; the blade was only sharp enough to cut slices of beef and other food that had been dished out to guests, make him squeal and go running back to his mother perhaps. But then Bruce wandered closer, his attention elsewhere and Roman froze, fingers clutching the dinner knife so hard his knuckles turned white. Then Bruce turned in the opposite direction, his mother’s hand suddenly on his shoulder to gently guide her son away. Roman stared from beneath the table as they vanished into the crowd, eyes cold and hard before widening in surprise as he felt himself being yanked to his feet by his hair, his own mother hissing obscenities when she thought nobody else would be able to hear over the din of voices and music all around. It hurt, Roman wincing further as her fingers twisted hard before mercifully letting go, only to slip her mask back on as though nothing had happened. Roman had never hated her more in that moment, Mrs. Sionis suddenly acting every bit the loving mother concerned about her child's disappearance and urging him back into the fray to socialize and play like a good little girl, and to not be a bother again or else. Before the table cover fell, Roman cast a longing gaze back to the knife he’d dropped when his mother had found him, still gleaming on the grass where it had fallen until the waiters would find it later, none the wiser as to how it had gotten there.

Bro, if you want to take time off, just delegate the responsibilities for the day. You really think anyone's going to argue when you want to take the day off when they are fully aware what you're capable off?

"I've been working on this deal too long to let a little stomach upset get in the fucking way. I walk away now and somebody fucks up, that's millions down the drain!" Roman snarls, banging his fist on the table. Oh, nobody would argue about him wanting to take the day off, Roman wasn't worried about that. He made the rules around here whether people liked it or not but he was just as hard on himself as he was any of his men. And why wouldn't he? Gotham waited for no man - or woman for that matter, and he knew if he wanted the throne someday, he had to fight for it come hell or high water. He demanded nothing but the best from others and himself and no cramp was going to interfere with that! Well, he could let off steam perhaps. Johnny kept looking his way, and his face was just begging for his fist...