you don't get to tell me about sad @rcmandaniels-archive - Tumblr Blog

AN INTRODUCTION TO...

FULL NAME: Roman Vincent Daniels

NICKNAME(S): Rome, Romeo

AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 41, 19th April 1983

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis-male, he/him

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: 'Heterosexual' (Questioning)

OCCUPATION: Radio DJ at 96.8 The Peak, sales clerk at The Vinyl Countdown

HOMETOWN: London, England

PREVIOUSLY LIVED: Los Angeles, California

TIME IN PROVIDENCE PEAK: 2001 - 2006, 2023 - present

CURRENT NEIGHBORHOOD: Summit Lake

FACECLAIM: Sam Claflin

☆ BIOGRAPHY ☆ CONNECTIONS ☆

#providence.intro #☆ musings

foster-notmatty

Foster could find the humor in a good 'wrong place, wrong time' story, having been on the opposite end of it more times than he would like. "What do you do for work?" he asked before remembering that question could come across as harsh to European ears. "I only ask because I'm a chef. You piss someone off where I'm from, you gotta be careful because we're all packing knives." So far, nothing like that had ever happened, but whenever inexperienced cooks tried horsing around in the kitchen, more often than not, they ended up learning a self-inflicted hard lesson...

rcmandaniels-archive

For a brief moment, Roman genuinely considered making something up. Be able to live in this world where he was unrecognizable to someone, a complete blank slate. Telling this stranger at a bar a white lie wouldn’t be the worst thing, but unfortunately everyone had the internet in their pockets. And one little Google search meant that this guy would figure out this washed-out British bass player just blatantly lied for no reason. “I contemplated being a chef once, but I think I’m too stab happy.” It was meant as a joke, but once again his delivery was too dry. “Uh, the record store in town, Vinyl Countdown? And some shifts at the radio.” He didn’t need to explicitly state his job description at The Peak after all. “But musicians, deadlier. Don’t have knives on them so their weapons are more…improvised.”

@foster-notmatty

#☆ int. matty foster

mctildatautou

Matilda found herself chewing the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit that rarely surfaced these days. It struck her how quickly the evening had shifted, her go-with-the-flow plan completely derailing. Now... she was searching for a swift exit, and that wasn’t typical for her. She usually charged ahead with confidence, sometimes to a point of delusion, but when it came to Roman, there was always a layer of guilt lingering, even after all these years.

Instead of finding comfort in his response filling the air, Matilda felt a flicker of unease. She nodded, forcing a hesitant smile before turning away. But Roman’s voice pulled her back. Just in time, the bartender brought over her glass of merlot, grateful for the distraction.

As he took a quiet sip, Matilda didn't hesitate to take a generous one from her glass. The uncertainty of what he was going to say mirrored the unpredictability of running into someone from her past every corner in town. Roman’s thank you was a surprise, and Matilda's lips curved into a more genuine smile. "Yeah, of course," she responded with a soft laugh. "Your birthday is the one date I always remember, so I guess I had to."

Matilda sucked in a deep breath, nodding as some sort of 'alright then' and offering another smile. These awkward moments were exactly what she dreaded. She sipped her wine, leaving her signature lipstick mark on the rim of the glass. "Did you, um, do anything special for the big four one?", her heart began to speak without running through her brain. @rcmandaniels

rcmandaniels-archive

There was probably a time in the past, where Roman and Matilda could sit in a cozy, quiet bar like this one; the silence comfortable and welcoming as they drank in each other’s company as well as the wine. But now, there was awkwardness, tension, and from the way Matilda began to knock back the merlot in her hand, it at least wasn’t one sided on Roman’s part.

He debated making a joke about her slowing down, but was unsure if he could make it sound like a light teasing remark — that was always Harrison’s speciality anyway — or if she’d take offense to it. So he said nothing, just staring at the drinks shelf, contemplating how many seconds he’d have to count in his head before it was socially acceptable to down his drink and leave. “It’s an easy date, I suppose.” April 19th, one of those dates where a lot of history happened, a lot of famous people born, a lot dead. He just happened to be one of the names on the ever-growing Wikipedia article.

He glanced back at her, eyes darting straight to the lipstick stain, memories flooding back of how they joked about how she was more lipstick than woman, and her signature shade staining his own lips…

“It’s not a big birthday, and I didn’t do anything of note.” He had a nice day, with Ophelia and Kaya and Iris. But the former hated Matilda (and due to what was recently uncovered about That Night meant she was more of a sore subject than their previous encounter) and he doubted Kaya would want Matilda to know she was in town. And definitely not know about Iris’ existence. “Just had food with family and friends.” Another awkward beat. “Doing anything…exciting?”