#I think I should be allowed to report them to some kind of authority

[changeling-droneco]

And I don’t just mean this in a funny joking way, I’m dead serious. Chase it out of your spaces, if anyone in your circle starts talking about art they think should be banned, call them out for being a book burner, if someone tries to start a hate campaign on a trans woman who did the crime of having a kink be very open about how fucking weird that person trying to do it is. Actively mock people who could vote but didn’t or went third party, make it uncool to have black and white thinking.

Make it uncomfortable for people to try and talk purity in fan culture, don’t let them sea lion or try and turn away, call them cops, treat it like the invasion of privacy it is, read those books people want banned. Report people who send hate or spam tags. No mercy, no quarter.

Make it unpopular, openly roll your eyes at people who have 20 paragraph rainbow uwu dni banners. Don’t cower or justify, speak plainly that yeah, you do read that kind of story, why do you care? Why are you so interested in my sex life? Why are you invading my privacy? Make them seem like the weirdo cop who’s causing problems because they are! Don’t downplay yourself, be firm about your understanding about the differences between fiction and reality, about your beliefs on the lesser evil. Ask the questions youve been too polite to ask when confronted, openly point out hypocrisy.

Hell! Report worse offenders to actual organizations, if you know someone is an adult in anti or other kinds of purity circles, more closely look into what they’re doing and potentially be ready to report them for grooming kids because a lot of “safe adults” are actively sending kids porn. Go into their discord groups where they organize hate and report them for harassment and report users for sexual abuse. Hell, tell on those kids to their parents or authorities, contact that highschooler’s school with concerns.

Talk to your kids if you have to and make sure they understand this and if they start showing unusual purity obsessed behaviors get them to a therapist or professional asap. Talk to your friends who start leaning that way and make it clear you’re worried for them, treat it like you just got told they’re becoming interested in Scientology or some other cult, because it’s very much a cult. Like, it followed BITE near perfectly, purity culture is a cult.

Don’t beat yourself up for your failures as well, embrace that you are a sweaty animal who does weird things or likes unusual things and sometimes can’t do things, push back against the idea that you have to be pure and always have the Correct opinion, be wrong! Openly admit to being wrong! Be open about your mistakes! Allow yourself to step away from the discourse of the day and firmly state that you don’t need to fight whatever the internet has chosen as its battle ground and that this doesn’t make you a bad person.

People with purity complexes should not be allowed to yell their way into authority in fandom, and it’a getting to a point where we have multiple reports of it grooming young teens into situations where they end up in cult deprogramming. Purity Culture can’t just be ignored or blocked anymore, not when we have leftists cheering for fucking TRUMP because Harris wasn’t perfect, it’s out of hands, and it’s putting everything at fucking risk.

Stop playing nice, stop being the better person who just ignore and blocks and go “dude, you sound like a perverted cop” and then report them for sexual harassment. no more, im done with trying to play nice and stay in my own space, I’m calling you fancop, I’m calling you a swerf. I am done.

We are done pretending that fanfiction causes incest or rape or whatever when fucking game of thrones exist and got like five seasons, we are done pretending that fictions effect on reality is 1 to 1, we are done pretending that propaganda is overt blatant mind control and also a 5 kudosed fic on ao3. We are done acting like tweeting the correct opinion counts as activism and that anyone not doing that is a monster. No more indulging in trying to explain the nuances, no more pretending they care about the nuances. Be blunt about the fact they want to hurt people, make it blunt that they are bullies. Make it fucking weird and to hold those objectively untrue beliefs, make fun of them for sleeping through English class, treat it like fandom flat earth. It’s not true, none of it was ever true, it came out of fucking ship wars.

Maybe this is putting too much blame on purity culture, but you know what? I’m done caring, not when it’s groomed basically an entire generation to be okay with mob violence and the idea that you can put a quantifiable percentage of “good” to a person, that there is an objective good and bad side and that it is okay to do crimes against humanity if it’s the “bad side”, because it’s getting people killed, it’s ruining lives, and its starting to literally help destroy democracy.

Enough.

Honestly I think this has been a sign that we no longer need to try and tolerate or ignore purity culture, but that shit needs a hard stop now. I fully blame it as being one of the causes for the intense growing black and white thinking in a lot of youth or young adult spaces that prevents meaningful change or to take actions that help even if they aren’t perfectly pure

[thefloatingstone]

If you start a tv channel or an online streaming service with the entire identity being "retro content" I think it should be illegal for you to then decide later to start showing newer shows and the audience should be allowed to sue you for monetary compensation.

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Still Not Enough (Drabble) Author's Note: AAAAHHHH! Shorter and I don't think as painful but there is more to come so don't you worry Warnings: MDNI, Angst

After your meeting with Price, you shift into high hear and put your entire heart, mind, and soul into the next operation. You thought you gave your 100% before, but as you pick up momentum, you realized that the team was right, you've been slacking.

However, instead of seeing a necessary improvement, the 141 seean unhealthy obsession.

Price notices the extra hours you're putting in. How you're always in your office before he even enters his and how you're still there long after he's checked out for the day. He's even tried to stay in as long as you do, but you always pop in, reminding him to take a break, assuring him that you got it.

Kyle hears the excessive yawning, incoherent mumbling, and endless pacing coming out of your office as you spend every minute of everyday, thinking about ways to improve the upcoming mission. Kyle finds himself starting into your office, worried about you. But every time you catch him staring, you shut your door, assuming that you're bothering him.

And Soap sees the way you hesitate to ask him a question. He sees how you hide out in your office, trying all other avenues, before you come to him for help. He catches the way you stumble over your words. Your eyes used to light up with joy when you saw him, but now they just reflect your fear of inconveniencing him.

And Ghost just watches you from afar as you completely disappear from his radar. You’re in your office all day, never taking breaks. The one time you did, his heart nearly broke. When he “caught” you scrolling on your phone in the break room, you panic, apologizing, reassuring him that you’ll get back to work, and run off. That’s the last time he ever saw you take a break.

They all notice the valiant efforts you're making to prove yourself despite not needing to. But none of them say anything as they knew what was at risk. They would rather have you at arm's length than not have you at all. Because you're better off here then with some other team that didn't deserve you.

But in all honesty, you don't mind their coldness. If anything, you see it as a part of the trial. Obviously, this was some kind of retribution. Maybe a little mean, but it wouldn't be the first time people were mean to you. You've been through worse for much lesser reasons. Besides, you knew there had to be an end to this... right?

And you think you see it when the operation is a huge success all thanks to you. After many nights of looking over the intel and schematics of the plan, you were able to pinpoint the exact location where the illegal arms were being kept hidden, allowing the boys to do a straightforward grab-and-go.

So after spending all day working on reports in the conference room, Price announces that the whole team should go to the bar to celebrate. Along with everyone else, you start to pack your things, excited for a night out with your boys. You did it! You managed to earn your spot back on the team. Things were fi---

"What are you doing?" asks Ghost, eyes burning through you. Price continues to pack, unfazed by his lieutenant's questions, while the sergeants freeze, almost in suspense.

"I thought we were getting drinks right now," you slowly inform. Silence fills the room. Ghost's stare doesn't waver. You shrink a little into yourself as your ears begin to burn.

"Not we. The team," he barks.

But haven't you earned your spot again?

You look at Kyle and Johnny to see if either of them would advocate for you. They don't. They just drop their gaze and continue to pack their things. You look at Price who just nods in agreement with Ghost.

Oh.

Each one leaves the conference room, not even sparing you a glance. As Kyle closes the door behind him, you sit back down as tears prick at your eyes.

And while you go home that night unsure of what else you can do, the guys drink a little more than usual, hoping that the extra alcohol can erase the image of your disheartened face.

Word Count: 712

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + nine

authors note: i know i've said this before, but this one might be my favorite. there are a few subtle hints spread throughout as well.....

i also listened to the song i named the story after while writing most of this chapter, so maybe recommended listening?

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, angst, language, inebriation, character being triggered, references to past csa, and suggestive themes

song inspo: ���looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 12k (i can't be stopped, clearly)

And I see a girl Who is learning to trust

---Leann Rimes

In many ways, Roman is a simple man. The kind that believes obvious gestures, actions, or even lack of inaction should speak for itself. That there are some things that are just so clear as day, it doesn’t make sense for him to have to explain himself. 

For him to have to repeat himself. 

Well, that’s gone out the window as of recent months, because he’s constantly found himself having to do just that. And his day is starting off no different with a surprising and unwanted guest showing up at his office demanding to speak to him.

Bayley stands across his desk with her arms crossed and an almost glare on her face. “I’ve been texting you.”

The fact that she even has his number is an issue in and of itself, but he’ll tackle that another day. “I’m aware.”

The avoiding of said texts is that obvious thing that she seemingly doesn’t understand the why behind. 

Bayley nods, very visibly keeping in a comment she’s at least smart enough to not make to the head of the Bloodline. Friend of his wife, or not. “Well, I would like to talk to you.”

Roman rolls his eyes, moving up from his desk to his filing cabinet to swap out expense reports he was trying to review before her rude, unwanted interruption. “I bet you would.”

“Seriously?” Ignoring her once again is the plan, Roman hoping that’s all it takes so that he doesn’t have to lose his temper before he even has his first meeting of the day. “It’s about Solana.”

And that is what finally catches Roman’s attention. He’s quick to turn around, expression suddenly hardened. “Talk.” She has his full attention. “Now.” 

Bayley takes note of how easily it is to gather Roman’s attention with the simple mention of Solana. It’s surprising to say the least and telling as hell to say the most, but she keeps this little observation to herself. 

“We’re having a Cinco De Mayo celebration at my family’s restaurant tomorrow night.”

“What does that have to do with Solana?”

Roman watches her hesitate for a second. “I want to invite her.”

For a split second, Bayley thinks she may have hit a stroke of luck when Roman doesn’t immediately shoot down her request. He seems to actually be thinking about it. And then he asks the question she knew would be the nail in the coffin. “Will Escobar be there?”

She’d like to just say no, as it’s highly unlikely he will attend, Bayley unsure if her cousin is even in the country. But, lying to the man before her has never turned out well for anyone, so she answers as honestly as she can. “I don’t know. You know he pops up at random times—”

Roman doesn’t even need to hear the rest. “My answer is no.”

She can’t be too surprised. Bayley wisely anticipated getting Roman to budge would be damn near impossible, if not entirely impossible.

“Roman—”

“Why the fuck would I allow her to be anywhere around that son of a bitch?”

To be fair, Roman’s relationship with Santos Escobar is tamer than most. They’re not allies, certainly not friends, and he doesn’t hate the man. It irritates him a bit how Escobar is a stubborn bastard and refuses to pledge loyalty and allegiance to the Bloodline, but that anger is eased by the fact that Escobar gives an even bigger middle finger to the Nightmare Factory.

His loyalty is to himself and the Legado Del Fantasma. That makes him a wildcard and potentially dangerous.

Roman won’t have Solana anywhere where danger could be present.

“You know as well as I do that while both you and my cousin have this weird ass Qué en es más macho thing going on, there’s all but a ceasefire. You've never attacked one of his men the same way he’s never attacked anyone in the Bloodline. That’s not going to change overnight just because your wife is present at a chorcha.”

Roman isn’t too full of himself to admit when someone has made a valid point, but as this involves Solana, the standards are a bit different. He won’t give Bayley that much. “Why should I even take the chance? You want to do something with Solana, take her somewhere else that’s on Bloodline or neutral territory.”

“My family’s restaurant is on neutral territory.” Bayley is happy to have another point of his she can counter. “And contrary to what the average, ignorant American thinks, Cinco De Mayo is an important part of our culture and our heritage, Solana’s heritage. I think she would really enjoy herself, that it would….that it would help her feel close to her mom.”

Roman is excellent in the way he remains absolutely unreadable even at Bayley’s point that has him seriously reconsidering his prior answer.

He has no doubt that would help her feel connected with her mom, being around reminders and in a space that’s so representative of half of who she is, who her mother was. He can’t see her not enjoying herself, which is something that doesn’t seem to happen a lot in her life thus far.

Just as he continues to mull over the options, Bayley adds on another defense. “I get where you’re coming from with the safety angle, but I’ll be there and Naomi will be there. Between the two of us, no one will touch her.”

Roman easily reads between the lines and identifies her unspoken request. “You don’t want Solo there.”

On one hand, he can understand it. Bayley not wanting his Enforcer there. Solo’s presence could be seen as him potentially scoping versus the real reason of serving as Solana’s personal guard.

Bayley doesn’t seem to be backing down, reminding with all the confidence in the world of her capabilities. “Like I said, Naomi and I got this.”

Roman will give her that. Bayley and Naomi could fight on his team any day. They’re just as brutal as the men, if not more when pushed. He knows they’d be able to keep Solana safe if need be. It’s that realization as well as the concern of depriving her of something that could make her happy that brings him to a revised answer.

“Fine, she can go.” Roman is quick to add on as an ominous warning, borderline threat, “but if anything fucking happens to her while she’s with you—”

“It won’t,” Bayley vows. “She’s our friend, and she’s family to Naomi. We look out for each other.”

Roman believes that. Believes that Bayley has seemingly pledged a loyalty to Solana that matches that of Naomi, and while he’d never fucking tell her this, he’s grateful she has someone like Bayley to talk to.

At his fill of socialization with people he doesn’t like, Roman is quick with the dismissal. “If you don’t have anything else to discuss with me about Solana, you can get the hell out of my office.”

Bayley is actually surprised she made it this long without being kicked out, so it’s under her breath she mutters, “a true gentleman.” She’s halfway to his door when manners get the best of her. “Hey, Roman.”

He’s back at his desk, gaze as irritated as when she first stepped in. “What?”

With a nod of respect and appreciation, she simply says, “thank you.” Whatever his response, or lack thereof, is after that is unknown because Bayley is out the door and on her way to invite Solana to what is sure to be a night of fun.

________

“Man, I tell you every dish Solana makes seems to get better and better.” Jimmy is rubbing his stomach as he places the now cleaned plate on the coffee table. “Where she been at all our lives?”

Once upon a time, Roman had a nice, quiet house that was his and his alone. Now though, it’s shared with a wife who really isn’t an issue, two obnoxious cousins who need to start paying rent at this point, and a dog who’s currently at the sliding door leading to the backyard having a one-sided bark off with a squirrel.

“Why are ya’ll always fucking over here?” Roman’s question is said with all the irritation manifesting in his muscular body. At the same time, he stands up from the sofa to retrieve the puppy he doesn’t feel like yelling at to shut up. 

She might piss herself in fear or something.

“Come on,” he grunts, leaning over and taking up Dulce who is almost instantly quiet. “Making all that damn noise for nothing.”

Roman places Dulce in her bed in the living room and returns to his previous seat on the sofa when she hops up and walks her ass right over to lean up on the sofa to stare at him with her unspoken request.

Jimmy is the first to notice this. “I think lil Nacho Libre likes you, Uce.”

Jey chimes in between bites of whatever Solana’s latest dish is that she’s made for them. “She know English yet or Soso still got her only speaking Spanish?”

“Man, the dog can’t speak.”

“You know what I mean, motherfucker. Damn.”

Roman ignores the two imbeciles currently freeloading in his house and relents to just letting Dulce on the sofa. He’s not sure why she’s downstairs with them instead off on the second level where the girls are getting ready, but she’s already here now, so no sense in transporting her. 

Dulce seems satisfied with her placement right next to him. 

“I still can’t believe we weren’t invited.”

“I can get why they didn’t invite us, but they could have at least given Nicki an invite.”

Jimmy is quick with the obvious answer. “You know Nicki don’t fuck with Naomi like that, or Bayley, and definitely not Soso.”

“Cause she’s fucking psychotic.” Roman has zero issues with his cousin’s wife having little to no interest in getting to know Solana. It’s for the better. As he said, the bitch is psychotic.

“Once again, Big Dog, you ain’t gon keep disrespecting my wife like that.”

Roman is as unfazed by Jey’s threat as Dulce is. 

“I gotta agree with Uce on that one. Nicki ass crazy as hell. One minute she love you, the next minute she pulling a Left Eye and burning your shit.” That emits a chuckle from him. His cousin's sneaker collection being burned in the backyard that one year was pretty funny. 

“Look, that was during a rough patch. That’s all.”

“Damn bruh, ya’ll must got a whole goddamn quilt then, cause your relationship been nothing but rough patches since we was in high school.”

“So what, you and Naomi never have no issues, huh?” Jey lives up to his hotheaded reputation, jumping into defensive mode. “Ya’ll just got the perfect marriage, right?”

“Of course we got issues, man, but never to the point where she turned into a lil arsonist!”

Completely disinterested in hearing dumb and dumber argue, Roman grabs his phone and shoots out a text.

Roman: You almost ready?

Solana’s reply comes in less than five minutes later.

Solana: Just about…..is Dulce by you?

Roman: Yeah. Sleeping….as always.

Solana: Lol….sorry about that, I meant to grab her before we got started.

Roman: It’s fine.

Roman: I need to talk to you before you leave.

He’s not surprised by the longer time it takes for her to reply. He can imagine she’s reading too much into his text.

Solana: Okay....I can come now?

Solana: I just have to put my shoes on….

Roman: I’ll come to you.

Roman knows better than to ask the bumbling idiots to watch Dulce. Their attention span when they get this heated is almost non-existent, so he opts to just take her upstairs with him, figuring he can deposit her in her bed in Solana’s room and that’ll be it for the night. 

One down.

Two more to get rid of.

Roman is standing outside of Solana’s door ready to knock when it’s ripped open, and he’s met with an instantly smiling Naomi. 

She’s smiling at the damn dog, of course.

“There you are, Dulce.” Roman has no issue whatsoever with letting her take the puppy, talking to it in that weird ass baby voice everyone seems to use around Dulce. He doesn’t get it, but it’s not something he desires to try to get anyway. Naomi calls out over her shoulder, “I’m gonna take her out to pee.”

Bayley shouts from inside the room, “I’ll come with you.”

Roman also has zero issues with that as well. He wants to be alone with Solana before she heads out.

Naomi is heading to the steps when Bayley walks past him, throwing out a rushed, “tell her she looks nice.”

That’s a given, but he gives her a nod, easily stepping in and closing the door behind him. He looks around the room, eyes settling on the connected bathroom where the door is suddenly swung open.

“Guys, are you sure I should wear—” Solana stops when she sees that Bayley and Naomi are no longer present, just him. “Oh, sorry, I thought—never mind.”

Roman would call her out on her apologies, both in the text and just now, but his attention is on something entirely different. 

Solana is fucking stunning.

Her dress is orange, thin sleeved and hugs her in a way that makes his jaw clench and dick stiffen. It’s more low cut in the front than he knows she’s probably comfortable with, but if anything, it accentuates just how fucking nice her chest is. There’s a slight split on the side of said dress that shows off her thighs, thick and soft to the touch, he’d imagine. She also has her hair down, something he hasn’t seen in some time, makeup that covers the scar, and lips painted in a teasing red. 

Roman has to catch himself because for a brief second, he’s tempted to completely change his mind. She looks too good to leave the house, especially without him present because there’s not a single doubt in his mind that she’ll turn heads.

She always does. 

Finally, he’s able to get words to leave his mouth that aren’t as filthy as the thoughts he’s trying to keep locked in the back of his mind. “Jesus, you look amazing.”

Roman has noticed an increasingly difficult time in restraining himself around Solana, not in the sense where he’d completely ignore her trauma and try to touch her in a way that would trigger her. Never that. More so in the way he fantasizes about her in that way, dreams of having her in that way, solely because of his growing physical attraction.

Granted, it’s always been there. 

Anyone could see her beauty even in how she would dress down and try to hide her figure, but now that Naomi and Bayley have been encouraging her to be less conservative in her appearance, it’s increased that difficulty exponentially. 

“Thank you.” The makeup on Solana’s cheeks helps to mask her growing blush at Roman’s unabashed compliment. She suddenly looks down, nervously running her hand down the dress. “Is it….is it too much?” 

Not at all. He might not want anyone else looking at her, but Roman could see her dress like this everyday and never grow tired. Still, his approval isn’t needed nor should she ever look for it. “Do you think it is?”

“I always think it’s too much.” It’s an honest answer, one that’s followed up with a caveat he’s surprised but pleased to hear. “But….but, I do like it.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Solana’s smile does something to him. She looks even more beautiful when she’s smiling. “Look….” Roman steps closer to her, trying to ignore her perfume, sweet and soft, a dangerous combination that matches her perfectly. “You need anything tonight, you call or text me, alright?” 

She nods and asks. “What about Solo? Isn’t—isn’t that his job?”

It’s not a conscious in as much it is a unconscious thing when he steps even closer to her, moving his hand to the small of her back. Roman gently tugs her toward him, and to his surprise, she doesn’t tense under his touch. “You’re my wife, Solana. My job is always to protect you. He just guards you when I can’t.”

She looks like she’s trying to memorize this piece of information, storing it for future use as necessary knowledge. “Do—do you want to come with us?” Solana’s hand resting on his chest is as surprising as her question. “I could talk to Bayley.”

Roman has never been a social person. To say he hates most people isn’t necessarily an exaggeration. So, the thought of being around a bunch of people he doesn’t know or like outside of Solana and maybe Bayley—she’s not entirely awful—is not appealing as well. That doesn’t stop him, however, from considering the question at hand.

He’s tempted to ask her if she wants him to come, because Roman can find it in himself to withstand socialization for a couple hours. 

He’ll do it for her. 

But, there’s another part of him, a larger part of him that thinks she needs to do this on her own. That she needs to establish a life and something for herself that doesn’t include him. It’ll be good for her.

“No.” Is his final answer, delivered much gentler than if she was literally anyone else. Roman reaches and plays with a piece of her hair. “Not my scene. Too many people.” Not to mention that his presence would draw too much attention, potentially not good attention. He won’t do that to her. Won’t’ risk ruining her night. “Go. Have a good time.” Again, for good measure, he reminds, “but I mean it. Something is wrong. You call me.”

She nods, and he readies to remind her of his need for words when she answers, “okay.” She then adds on, “I already gave Dulce dinner, so she should mostly sleep, but if you could take her outside every so often….”

“I got it.” He’d much rather sacrifice the couple minutes it takes to bring her outside than risk her shitting or pissing somewhere in his house. Granted, he has to give credit where credit is due. She’s doing great with her potty training. Solana takes great care of her, but that’s not surprising. It’s obvious how much she loves the puppy. “You should be back by midnight, though.”

It’s more a strong suggestion than a demand. Solana is a grown woman. He’s not going to dictate what she does and doesn’t do. She’s had enough of that in her life. He had to give his approval for her to go with Bayley because of safety issues, but this, he wants to leave up to her as long as she understands the later she’s out, the riskier things can get.

After a certain time, only bad or not so great things can happen.

“Of course.” She seems to understand this clearly, but he’d also bet that’s her preference to be back earlier than later. Solana grabs her purse and walks towards the door, having to pass him in the process. Roman catches her, arm around her waist. 

She looks up, curious, and he makes note of how she again doesn’t tense under his touch. That’s happening less and less, it seems. 

He likes that. 

“Text me when you get there.”

She smiles, and Roman suddenly feels a layer of his irritation with his cousins melt away. “I will.” Solana gives him one more glance before walking out the room. 

Roman scratches his beard, a part of him wondering if he made the right decision to let her go alone. Granted, he knows he would have never even initially agreed if he didn’t trust Bayley and Naomi’s abilities. 

They’d defend Solana as ruthlessly and violently as any of his best men.

That helps to chip away some of his second guessing along with the fact that this is something she clearly wants, and he wants to give her that. Give her anything he can that makes her happy. 

She deserves that much.  

Granted, that temporary peace is short-lived with the shout from one of his cousins who are apparently still present. 

“Ayo, Big Dog, did you change the WiFi password again!”

________

Roman needs a new house.

Maybe have Solana let him know what she likes as far as interior designing goes and have something built with an impenetrable wall around it.

That seems to be the only thing that will keep his annoying ass twin cousins from being at his place so much.

Roman just knew that when the ladies left, they’d leave too. But no, that’s too good to be true, because they’ve been gone almost an hour, and their asses are still here.

Even Dulce is sleeping peacefully like the unemployed bum that she is in her bed kept in the living room. 

And as always with them, they’ve been talking damn near the whole hour. One would think Roman straight up ignoring them as he works on his laptop would be a clear sign they need to go the hell home, but that would be too much like right.

He either needs an Excedrin or for his cousins to leave, the latter being preferred most. It’s especially needed when they seem to be watching whatever dumb ass Tok or Reel video over and over again. 

“Wait. I know that song,” Jey announces, face scrunched up as he tries to recall the name. All Roman knows is that it’s in Spanish and repetitive as hell on top of being played on repeat. Annoying as hell too. “That lil freak from Miami I used to mess with used to have this shit playing at her crib all the time.”

Jimmy sucks his teeth, asking. “What happened to her?”

“Man, she moved.” Jey shrugs. “She went to go be a freak in Cali.” 

Finally, Roman snaps. “Would ya’ll use some damn headphones or something?”

Jimmy is the first to speak. “You might want to watch this, Uce.”

“I don’t care.”

Jey slaps Jimmy on the arm, knowing how to get his cousin’s attention. “Yeah, why would he want to see a video of Solana?”

At that, Roman lifts his gaze.

Jimmy smirks knowingly. “Naomi sent some videos. Check your phone.”

That would explain it. Why Roman was out of the loop. It wasn’t from Solana. 

He’d selected a specific text and ringtone notification for her, so he wouldn’t be unnecessarily checking his phone. Hence why he hasn’t checked it since she text that they’d made it to the restaurant.

Opening up the thread that has himself, Naomi, and the twins, he sees the set of messages and videos.

Naomi: Having a blast! Solana especially. I kinda feel like the odd one out cause clearly I don’t know none of these dances 😩 I kinda got the Bachata one, but Merengue and Punta are killing me.

Naomi: Bay and Solana keep trying to teach me, but it’s not going well lmao

Roman watches them all. Every video shows Solana smiling and laughing as she dances with Bayley and Naomi. One of the videos shows her and Bayley trying to instruct Naomi who seems to be failing miserably at learning what he’d guess are traditional Hispanic dances. There’s even a clip of her trying to help a little girl learn whatever dance they’re doing, and she looks just as patient as he’s seen her with the kids she reads to at the library.

She looks fucking gorgeous and happy.

He likes that for her. After everything she’s been through, she deserves all of the happiness.

But, it’s in watching the last video with the song that he kept hearing on loop from his cousin’s phone that he understands why they have it on repeat.

It’s a different kind of dance Bayley and Solana do together along with other women he doesn’t know or give two fucks about. What he gives a fuck about and focuses in entirely on is the way Solana’s hips and ass move, rhythmically, teasingly, drawing out an uncomfortable tightening in his pants.

Fuck. 

Roman does his best to push his erotic thoughts away, still trying to figure out how to balance his sexual desire for Solana with the knowledge of her sexual trauma. It almost feels wrong, to feel and want her in that way when he knows how traumatizing that subject is for her. It doesn’t stop the desire though.

“Damn, I knew it had to move, just not like that.” 

“Like water.”

It’s probably a combination of his pent up usual, general and sexual frustration, but the dangerously slow way Roman lifts his head and equally slow way he sets his murderous gaze on his cousins is all they need to see to know they’ve gone too far.

And they know it.

Jimmy is instantly on damage control. “I meant—Bayley—you know, cause she—she’s also thick.”

Jey coughs awkwardly, hitting Jimmy on the arm. “I think, uh, we should—we should head out.” And Roman is just as slowly rising from the sofa when the twins literally almost trip over their feet and make a mad dash for the door. 

It takes a couple minutes for him to calm down, and he too suddenly finds himself watching said video, casually commenting to Dulce, “about time they fucking left.”

Dulce barks in agreement. 

________

Solana laughs along with Bayley and Naomi as they plop down in their seats after an almost four minute song of full out merengue. All are reaching for their respective drinks as Bayley playfully nudges Solana. 

“Aren’t you glad you came?”

Just then, Juanita Escobar walks over, Bayley’s mother who carries the same dimple and friendly disposition. She places her hand on Solana’s back, reminding in Spanish, “you must come back and see us again!”

Solana smiles, agreeing, “I will.” She then looks over at Bayley. “If that’s okay?”

Bayley waves her off. “Are you kidding? With how soft and girly you are, you can come be my replacement any time” 

Juanita glares at her youngest, muttering to Solana, “maybe you can rub off on my Bay, hmm? Never wanted to do girl stuff. Always wanted to fight with the boys.”

Bayley chugs back some of her drink. “Hell yeah.”

Solana thinks she’d prefer the fighting too. Maybe then she could have defended herself better. Defended her mom even.

Juanita shakes her head, looking at Solana. “Yes, come again, child. You look so much like someone, but I can’t put my hand on it. I’m sure my husband would know. He knows everyone.”

That doesn't necessarily make Solana want to come back, meeting someone, a man specifically. However, if he’s anything like Bayley or Juanita, maybe…maybe it won’t be so bad.

And maybe…maybe she could ask Roman to come with her. That’d make her feel moderately to significantly better. Safer, even.

Juanita is soon pulled away from the table by a customer at the same moment Solana’s phone rings.

Roman: You good?

Solana: Yes. 

She bites down on her lip, contemplating if she should hit send on her message. It feels like a risky thing to say, but it’s also how she feels.

And he’s always telling her to be honest with him.

So she is. 

Solana: Kinda wish you would have came.

Her fingers nervously tap against the table as she wait for his reply that ends up coming almost immediately. 

Roman: That’s your world. Not mine.

Roman: Do you not feel safe?

Solana: No, not that. I guess…...Nvm.

Roman: Tell me.

Again, more hesitation, and she’s not entirely sure where this desire to be honest and almost vulnerable with him comes from, but she does her best not to push it away, almost welcoming the slight discomfort that comes with sending such a risky text.

Solana: Idk, I feel better when you’re around. 

He doesn’t reply after that.

Bayley and Naomi share a knowing expression, having watched Solana quietly for the past few minutes. Naomi ends up being the one to lead the conversation. “So how are things going with Roman?”

The question takes her off guard, Solana trying her best to think just how to handle said question.

Roman no longer confuses her. Not nearly as much as her feelings about him confuse her. 

She wasn’t lying. She does feel better when she’s around him. And it’s not even that she feels unsafe currently. It’s just that he makes her feel safe in general. That’s such a foreign concept. One she hasn’t experienced in such a long time. 

If ever.

Because the truth of the matter is that while Solana felt an indescribable amount of happiness with her mother, there was never really safety. Not with her father’s wrath always waiting around the corner.

So while this is new and unfamiliar, it’s also nice, and she finds herself enjoying his presence. She likes being around him beyond the safety aspect. The way he talks to and with her, like he genuinely enjoys their conversations. When he meets her for work and asks how her day was or finds her in the house to see how her day was, it makes her feel like he actually cares about what she has to say.

Like he actually cares about her.

It’s such a stark contrast of how she sees him interact with others. Always on edge, it seems. 

He’s never made her feel that way though. Maybe at the beginning, but that’s starting to feel less like anything he’s done and more like her own trauma.

Trauma….

That’s also been an interesting experience. For the past few weeks, she’s worked out of The Courage to Heal, reading every page as instructed. And it’s been….an emotional time, to say the least. Definitely tears. A lot of them. Mostly shed in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep or on the bathroom floor as she sits against the tub, reading and writing, Dulce right beside her, offering that unspoken emotional support.

It’s been therapeutic and challenging and awful having to confront her demons but also freeing in a strange sort of way. Especially the poems. The words of other victims who express so eloquently and hauntingly beautifully what she still cannot. 

One of the things she’s really latched onto and tries to remind herself of is that there are different kinds of touch. Because of the assault, her brain has naturally associated any kind of touch as dangerous, which isn’t always true. Especially in the past few months. 

So, there’s been a conscious and active effort to remind herself when Naomi and Bayley hug her or playfully bump her, that it’s safe. That she’s safe.

Especially….especially with Roman.

Especially with how touch between them has seemed to also increase over the past couple weeks. Or maybe less increase in levels and more in frequency. She’ll find his hand on the small of her back, or him taking her hand in his, and sometimes, if they’re close enough, Solana also finds herself reaching for him, for his hand, her hand on his chest.

It’s all so innocent in presentation but something much deeper for her. A level of comfort she’s developed with him that she never had in any prior relationship. 

She likes it.

She likes him.

“Solana.” 

Jumping at being pulled from her inner dialogue, Solana remembers the initial question being posed. 

She clears her throat, finally answering, “umm….good. It’s—it’s good.”

“He’s not being an ass to you, is he?” She asks, almost protectively. “I mean outside of the natural ass that he always is.”

Immediately, Solana is shaking her head, almost feeling a duty to defend him. “No. No. He–he would never. He’s….always nice to me.”

Bayley nearly spits out her drink. “Nice?” She coughs a bit, also shaking her head. “Are we still talking about Roman here? Roman Reigns? That man has never been nice a day in his life.”

Naomi shrugs. “I mean, she has a point. I don’t think I’ve seen him be cruel to her.”

Cruel….Solana also could never find it in her to use that word to describe Roman’s disposition towards her. Maybe others, but never her.

Bayley sits on Naomi’s point, suddenly sharing to the table, “you know what, now that you mention it, when I went to go ask him if I could invite you tonight, he was ready to bite my head off for bothering him. But, the minute I said it had something to do with you, he was all ears. Like an instant switch.”

Solana is also all ears, slightly intrigued. “Really?” Doubt and insecurity creeps in as she weakly suggests, “he was probably like that with Samantha too.”

At that, Bayley and Naomi laugh aloud, Naomi nearly in tears.

“Now that is funny. Solana, Roman don’t give a fuck about that girl. Not outside of sex.”

Solana must look unconvinced, so Bayley points out, “think about it. She’s been around for years, and it’s not her he took down the aisle, so…..” She then adds, “arranged marriage or not.”

The girls bringing up their points takes Solana back to her run-in with Samantha in the bathroom and Nia’s jaw-dropping information. 

An idea appears, and Solana is instantly torn on whether to pursue or pop it. Something tells her it’s a bad idea, that she should take his information to the grave, but there’s also that side that feels like she can trust Bayley and Naomi to keep it between the three of them.

Sitting forward, Solana decides to take a risk. “Can I—can I tell you guys something?” Nervously, she stipulates, “but it has to stay between us.”

They look expectedly worried. “Solana, if it has something to do with your safety—”

“No, no that.” Solana almost feels confident enough to say that she’d go to Roman if that was the case. She trusts that she could talk to him if it was something like that.

“Of course, then.”

“Solana, you can tell us anything.”

And for some reason, she knows this to be true. It’s why she battles against her trepidation to open up. “It’s—ummm. I….I found out that when….when Roman was…..having sex with Samantha, he….” There’s a pause caused by the discomfort of such a discussion, but Solana manages to push through. “He said my name.”

Both Bayley and Naomi wear shocked expressions, the former of the two whispering harshly, “holy shit, what?”

Bayley then asks, “wait, how do you know?”

“Nia told me.” Solana has zero desire to wholly revisit that night in the bathroom with Samantha, so she only provides the important part. “She said that Samantha told her friend, I guess. T something?”

“Tiffy.” Bayley rolls her eyes. “Makes sense. That girl can’t hold water.”

“I don’t get it then. He obviously was imagining it was you and not Samantha, so why go fuck her and not you?”

Naomi’s question makes all the sense, but Solana doesn’t really know how to tackle it. This conversation is already difficult enough for her. 

But her face must give it away, Bayley seemingly putting two and two together.

“You two haven’t slept together…..have you?” Solana simply shakes her head, unable to verbally confirm and slightly mortified that it’s reached this level of detail. 

Solana is certain they must have a million thoughts floating around their head, starting with the how and why. That part…..that part she doesn’t know if she is ready to discuss.

An ironic thing considering she’s just started the chapter in her workbook on sharing her story with trusted people. 

The irony.

But instead of invasive questions that heighten her anxiety, Naomi places a comforting hand on her arm. 

“Look, I’ve known Roman my whole life, and the guy has been a dick the entire time. He would never hurt a woman, I know that, but he’s also never given a fuck about any of them either. So for him to be the way he is with you when you two haven’t even had sex……there’s something there, Solana.”

“I agree,” Bayley cosigns, saying what Solana has struggled to admit even to herself. “I think he really does like you. In his own Roman sort of way.”

Solana can’t deny the fact that it’s getting increasingly difficult to push away that possibility, even if she still can’t understand the why.

Just what has she done to deserve him liking her? 

Maybe it’s not like. Maybe he just tolerates her better than he does others for some reason. Whatever it is, she can’t negate the fact that it must mean something if Naomi, who’s known him her whole life, believes that something is there.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Solana just needs to get away. Just for a couple minutes. This conversation took a turn she wasn’t expecting, and she needs to settle her emotions. 

Bayley seems cautious. “Want me to come with you?”

“No.” The rejection is paired with a kind smile. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

And before she can get any pushback, Solana makes her way through the dancing crowd and to the back restroom that she’s grateful to see is vacant. Closing and locking the bathroom door, she goes straight for the mirror.

Despite the unexpected amount of dancing and slight sweat, she still looks relatively the same. 

The same….

Same.

Even with the makeup and tight little dress, she’s still the same person. She’ll go home tonight, take off the makeup and remove the dress to find the same damaged, scarred girl who can never have something like what Jimmy and Naomi have.

Even if Roman does like her, it won’t last. 

She can’t please him. 

She could never make Roman happy, could never truly satisfy him, satisfy his needs.

She’s too broken for that.

It brings tears to her eyes.

Unable to withstand the sight of herself, Solana grabs a couple napkins to blow away her tears, tosses them out and heads out the bathroom. Instead of heading back to the table, Solana makes a beeline for the bar. 

She’s only had white wine, but white wine isn’t enough. She recognizes where her emotions are taking her, and it’s nowhere good. 

Solana refuses to ruin this night for Bayley and Naomi.

The bartender is a young girl, pretty, early to mid twenties. She asks in a friendly, deeply accented voice, “what can I get you?” 

Solana is naive to this, to the great array of alcoholic options that litter the counter before her, so she answers the best way she can. Thinking back to the few events she’d be forced to attend with her father and brother, the drinks she always heard people order before getting drunk.

“Vodka and Gin, p—please.”

________

Meanwhile, Bayley and Naomi sit at the table still partially stuck on this unexpected news. But also not entirely surprising. With how sittish Solana can be at times, they have a good, albeit depressing guess as to why sex hasn’t happened between them.

It does bring up a valid question though.

“Wasn’t the whole marriage for the purposes of giving Roman an heir? How is that—”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Naomi murmurs. “But, I think we both know it’s obvious Solana has some trauma. Touch is clearly hard for her.”

“I know.” Bayley frowns. “I guess I’m just surprised Roman of all people has been so….patient with her.”

“You and me too.” Naomi blows out a breath before again reiterating what she said to Solana. “He must really like her.”

“It’s just hard to tell with him. He’s so damn stoic, but….I think you’re right. I think she likes him too. She’s just…..scared.” Fear is also something Solana deeply struggles with, though Bayley and Naomi both can recognize the progress she’s making towards overcoming those fears.

With a gasp, Naomi grabs her phone, directing Bayley. “Get your phone.” 

Bay is confused but follows suit just as Naomi says, “I know who may know.” 

Less than a minute later, Bayley’s phone dings with a text notification from a new group she’s in that includes herself, Naomi, Jimmy, and Jey.

Naomi: Sooooo, Bay and I were just talking, and between the four of us, how do you think Roman feels about Solana?

Bayley: And please be honest.

Bayley quickly ensures. “We’re not going to tell them what Solana said, right?”

“Hell no. We could never betray her trust like that.” Bayley is relieved but also not surprised. 

Naomi values loyalty just as much as she does. 

Jey: Man, I think he really like ole’ girl. Bruh got her a dog, seems to drop whatever he doing when she needs something, and I don’t think I ever heard him say nothing bad about her.

Jimmy: He was definitely annoyed at first when Soso had her lil breakdown at the Warehouse, but that didn’t last long at all. 

Bayley: Plus Roman is always annoyed with something or someone.

Naomi: Except her 👀

Jey: Why ya’ll ask?

Naomi: We think Solana really likes him too but is scared to push on it because of her past and just don’t want to encourage her to give it a chance if he’s just gonna hurt her. Ya’ll know how Roman is.

Bayley: A certified ASSHOLE. And a hoe. 

Bayley: But, it seems like that’s not the case with her.

Jimmy: I would say he definitely likes her too. 

Jey: I mean they are married so….

Naomi: It was arranged. That doesn’t count. 

Bayley: Do we know if he’s still fucking around? Primarily with Samantha since she’s been his go-to the past couple years?

Jimmy: I don’t think so. Matter of fact, I guess she said some smart shit to Soso in the bathroom on NoC and Big Dog wasn’t having it.

Jey: He’s apparently planning to pay her a lil visit….with Nia.

Naomi: Oh my god, is he finally gonna let Nia kill her?

Jimmy: Naw, just fuck her up real good, I think.

Naomi: Damn.

Bayley: That’s wild for him to cut her off like that after all this time. Def sounds like he likes Solana to me too…..

Jey: Ya’ll really think he about to admit that shit though?

Naomi: No more than she is. He’s stubborn, and she’s so insecure.

Jimmy: Ya’ll thinking what I’m thinking? 👀

*Jimmy changed the group chat name to Operation RoSo*

Naomi: Bae, what is this damn title?

Jimmy: It’s our latest covert operation. We gotta get Roman and Soso to admit they like each other!

Jey: And just how the hell is we supposed to do that? Like Bay said, Uce is an ass sometimes.

Bayley: All the time unless you’re Solana….

Naomi: I mean, not to be vain, but if you look like Roman, you can kinda get away with being an ass. To some extent.

Bayley: You’re not wrong. He is gorgeous. 😮‍💨

Jimmy: He alright, I guess. His ears kinda big.

Naomi: Bae, I love you, but let’s not lie. Your cousin is an asshole, yes, but he’s also fine as hell.

Bayley: That’s not the only thing said to be big…..

Naomi: Girl….

Bayley: They can’t all be lying.

Jey: ANYWAYS!

Jey: What if they’re coming together at they own pace and we should just leave shit alone? 

Jimmy: 😐

Jimmy: That’s about the dumbest fucking thing I done heard all day. What next you gon say, huh? That they just magically gon fall in love on their own too? No! They clearly need our help!

Naomi: Maybe less help and more a shove in the right direction?

Bayley: A gentle push!

Naomi: Yes!

Jey: All I know is if shit backfires, I’m not taking the heat for none of ya’ll asses. Ya’ll gon have to deal with Big Dog.

Jimmy: Then we’ll just put Solana in front of us. He can’t hurt us then!

Jimmy: See…..I’m smart with this shit. That’s why Imma be the brains of this operation.

________

“What do you mean she’s drunk?”

Roman’s night suddenly went from uneventful and quiet, his preference, to unexpected and infuriating, all with a walk from upstairs to downstairs where he finds Solana awkwardly standing in the living room. Bayley and Naomi wait at the bottom of the steps with nervous expressions.

Good.

They should be scared shitless, because one glance at Solana, the gloss over her eyes, and he can tell she’s all but wasted. 

“You were supposed to be watching her.” Roman is fucking irritated. He knew it was a bad idea to leave these two in charge of Solana.

Bayley, however, seems unbothered by his anger. “She’s not a child, Roman. Were we supposed to stop her from drinking too? We had no idea she asked for something stronger.”

It’s an excuse, and Roman doesn’t do excuses. “What happened?”

Naomi answers this time around. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” One. They’re lying, and Roman hates liars. Two. They’re lying, and Roman has literally killed people for less. Three. They’re lying, and he wants to know why. “You’ve both got less than a minute to give me the truth—”

“Look, we talked about some things, and we promised to keep it between the three of us, so I’m not telling you what exactly it was, but I can tell you she’s not in danger.” Bayley is smart. She must know that he’d literally torture the information out of her if it had anything to do with Solana’s safety. 

“It was just…some stuff about her past. I think it may have been too much, and she decided to get drunk to not think about it.” Naomi’s suggestion makes sense and pans out, but Roman can’t stop thinking about just what she shared with them. 

Was it the rape? But why? He remembers her terror in the locker room that day, the fear and pain in her eyes and voice as she pleaded with him to not make her talk about it. It doesn’t make sense why she would suddenly share it.

Even with how close she seems to them.

“Just leave.”

Roman will deal with them later. Right now, his priority is getting Solana settled.

They seem to know better than to push his patience, asking that he at least keep them updated on how she’s doing in the morning.

He neither agrees or disagrees. It’ll heavily depend on how fucked up Solana is. 

Once they’re gone, Roman walks into the living room to find her laid on the sofa, eyes glazed over from her drunkenness but that same beautiful smile on her just as beautiful face.

“Solana.” She’s so gone that it makes him wonder even more again just how upset she must have been. “I need to get you to bed.”

He needs sleep too, feeling the length and weight of the day starting to take a toll.

She’s protesting almost right away. “I’m not t–tired.”

“Maybe not, but you will be tomorrow.” Roman knows she’s in for one hell of a hangover.

“I don’t—I don’t want to sleep.” She’s almost pouting, brows caved together as she stumbles through more words. Solana suddenly stands up, and he naturally moves closer to her, noticing the almost sway she does onto the floor. “I just—have bad dreams and—and you’re just—just gonna leave once I sleep anyw—way.”

“What do you mean by that?” He asks. Getting answers from a drunk person usually isn’t the best or smartest thing in the world, but something tells Roman that Solana is the type of drunk person who ends up spilling secrets. And he’s certain there’s a lot she’s probably still keeping in.

She then issues an unexpected accusation. “You—you’re—you’re gonna go be with Samantha—that’s who you want.”

Roman finds her question slightly ironic considering he’s been letting Samantha think she got away with whatever disrespectful shit she said to Solana on the Night of Champions. He’s letting her think she’s safe and waiting for the right moment to set her ass straight, Nia tagging along to deliver the physical message he can’t.

“Af–after all.” Solana continues, surprising him with her openness that’s most definitely fueled by her inebriation. “Why—why would you want me?” She points to herself, voice taking on a softer, vulnerable tone. “Why—why would anyone want me?”

He’s silent for a good minute, sitting on such a heavy question. “Is that really what you think?” It’s asked in a low voice, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s more him thinking aloud or if he genuinely wants to know if that is how she really views herself. 

She shakes her head, nodding in a way that further signifies how drunk she is. “It’s like you said, I’m mentally u–unstable.”

For a second, Roman’s confused, but he quickly thinks back to their wedding night, to his hurtful words to her. Words he’d give anything to take back now. 

With an almost frown, he acknowledges his fault. “I was wrong to say that to you, Solana. You are not that.” Truthfully, with all she’s been through, even if she was, he couldn’t fault her.

With a family like hers, she never had a fucking chance.

Solana seems almost confused by his apology, taking him back with the next thing that leaves her mouth. “Is it—is it true you—you said my name when you were with S—samantha?”

He definitely wasn’t expecting that, has no idea how she even knows that. Is that what Samantha told her in the bathroom? Why would she? It does nothing to make her look good. Regardless, drunk or not, Roman sticks with his word that he won’t lie to her.

“Yes.”

Even drunk, he can tell how shocked she is by his admission. Shaking her head, she says either to herself or him—he can’t really tell. “I—I don’t get it.” Before he can say anything else, she starts on this train of self-hatred. “She’s pretty and—and—skinny and—she’s not—broken like me.”

That does something to him, Roman moving closer to bring one hand to the small of her back and the other to her face. “You’re not broken, Solana.”

“Yes–yes, I am. You don’t—you don’t know what—what happened to me.” Her bottom lip trembles as she shakes her head, hands on his chest. “I can’t—I can’t do what—what she does—can’t—give you t–that.”

He shifts his hand to the back of her head, forcing her blurry gaze to stay on him. “Baby….” It tears him the fuck up hearing her acknowledge the lingering trauma he’s certain she’ll always carry to some extent, but even more to hear how lowly she really thinks of herself. “I don’t—”

“I can’t—I can’t because—” Her voice cracks, her eyes focused everywhere but him as she almost comes to this heartbreaking realization that her drunkenness briefly helped her escape these thoughts that have now returned. “—b–because they r–raped me, and now I don’t—I don’t know how—how to be with anyone.” She gasps and sniffles, shaking her head. “I should—should have f–fought h-harder—”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that, you hear me?” Roman’s voice somehow contains all the conviction yet gentleness he can muster. Hearing her even think that makes him feel something he can’t fully describe. It’s heavy as fuck though. “You were a child, Solana. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were a kid.” He has to say it again, because that’s the hardest part in all of this, knowing how young she was. “You should have been protected, and you weren’t, and I’m going to make sure every son of a bitch involved in what happened to you pays for that shit. I promise you that. The same way that I promise with my life, I’ll never let anyone ever hurt you again.”

She’s clearly taken back by his words, by his vow. “I don’t—I don’t—understand w–why? Why—why would you do that?”

Roman isn’t sure he has an answer for that specifically, but he does have something else he can provide her, a small part of him knowing, hoping maybe, there’s very little from tonight she remembers come tomorrow morning. 

“Because someone needs to protect you.” Roman swallows, adding before he even realizes what he’s saying. “Because I don’t want Samantha.” He brushes his thumb over her cheek, intentionally wiping her tears. “I want you.”

And suddenly, it’s so much easier to say it aloud, to voice to her what he still doesn’t entirely understand, why he feels drawn to her in ways he doesn’t understand. There’s a connection almost, a connection of mutual loss that’s formed some sort of bridge Roman is unsure just when he started crossing 

She looks more stunned at his admission than anything else he’s ever said to her. Still, she seems to try to discredit him. “But—but she—”

“She’s not you.” His voice unintentionally softens. “No one’s like you.”

Selfishly, he hopes she doesn’t remember much or any of this conversation, less painful for her, more time for him to figure out what it is about this woman that he feels so deeply drawn to.

Again, she tries to downplay her worth. “I can’t—I can’t—give you what you need.”

And somehow he knows exactly what she means. What she’s referring to.

“I don’t need that from you.” Truth be told, he doesn’t want to need anything from her. Needing anything in general has never been his thing. He just knows that, for some reason, he wants her around.

He likes having her around him. 

She’s blinking again and places her hand against her head, sharing, “my h–head hurts.” It’s not an intentional deflection, he’s certain, but it’s appreciated.

This is a much deeper conversation than he anticipated having tonight.

“You need to get to bed. The sooner you can start sleeping this off, the better.” He eyes her skeptically, asking, “can you walk?”

He should have already known the answer, because the minute she tries to pull away from him to walk, she sways almost immediately, Roman going right back to holding her. “Come here.” He expects her to tense up as he moves to lift her up bridal style, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look confused, clearly overwhelmed with all of her emotions. 

Roman doesn’t say anything as he carries her up the stairs and doesn’t think twice about taking her to his room instead of hers. 

He needs to monitor her tonight, and that’s easier done with her in his room.

She looks around still confused but doesn’t say anything as Roman lowers her down on the edge of his bed. Naturally, he’s on one knee before her.

“I’m gonna take these off.” He refers to her heels which could largely be a contributing factor for her to inability to walk. She nods, and he quickly unstraps and tosses the heels to the side. “Do you want to change?”

She nods and then adds, “I don’t have—my clothes….”

Roman is at his dresser, pulling out a shirt that he reaches to her. “You can wear this for tonight.”

She accepts it from him, turning to walk to the bathroom, Roman relieved to see the removal of her heels helps her to at least make it without falling.

While she’s changing, he heads back downstairs to get Dulce.

He knows she’s used to sleeping with Solana and will probably throw a fit or spend the night crying if that doesn’t happen, so a small sacrifice is made as he also brings up Dulce’s bed from the living room and places it on the side of his bed.

One night of her sleeping in his room won’t kill him.

It’s then that Solana walks out the bathroom, changed out of her dress and her face free from the makeup. 

“I washed my face….hope that was o–okay.”

“It’s fine, Solana.” Roman is half expecting to have to instruct her to lay down, but she again stays with the theme of surprises tonight and walks over to the bed, pulling back the covers and climbing in. 

He’s again ready to explain that he’ll be in the guest room across the hall but will be available if she needs anything. He’ll still be checking in on her occasionally, regardless.

But, before he can explain as such, she asks in the softest, most vulnerable voice, “will you lay with me?”

It’s an extremely unexpected question with an easy answer.

Roman’s answer is to move into the bed with her, half expecting her to freak out in one way or another. This close proximity is so unlike her, a complete contrast to what she’s usually comfortable with.

However, what he doesn’t expect is the way Solana moves her body close against his, pressing herself into his side, arm over his stomach and head on his chest.

In a switching of roles, Roman is the one to initially tense. This is more physical contact than they’ve ever had, and there’s not a doubt in his mind that if not for the alcohol in her system, she’d have a fucking meltdown touching him this much.

But in her drunken, highly intoxicated state, that’s not an issue. She wants to be close to him, wants to be pressed up against him. 

She’s looking for comfort.

And truthfully, he wants it too. Roman likes the feel of her next to him, actually uses his other arm to tug her closer, noticing how she adjusts her head on his chest.

Her hand is planted against his chest, and he starts to tell her to rest, to encourage her to sleep this off. But, she once again beats him to it, asking yet another question. 

“Why—why are you doing this?”

To be fair, Roman only answers her truthfully because he’s betting on her being so close to the edge of sleep that the chances of her remembering this rare shred of vulnerability are slim to none.

“Because—because I know what it’s like to not have anyone.” There’s a sense of hesitation and discomfort as he verbalizes what he’s never once openly discussed with anyone. “Because I didn’t just lose my mom when I was ten. I lost my entire family. My parents. My aunt. My uncle. And all of my siblings. I—I was the only one who made it out alive that night, and I spent years not knowing why, why I was left alone.”

Roman doesn’t want sympathy, doesn’t want people feeling fucking sorry for him. He never has. But the way Solana lifts her head to look at him is a look of something else, something that likens understanding and compassion.

The latter of which is almost an unfamiliar concept. 

“I didn’t—I’m sorry.” She lays her head back against his chest, moving even closer. She then murmurs into him, almost reassuringly, “you don’t—you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Roman doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn’t.

He says nothing.

________

Waking up in Roman’s bed wearing only his shirt is the last thing Solana expects along with the fact that the minute her eyes open, she’s hit with instant throbbing of her head.

She winces, confused about so many things as she forces herself to sit up, mind immediately wandering to a single question.

Where is Roman?

Her question is easily answered when she spots the notebook on his nightstand. She reaches for it, squinted eyes reading over his words.

Solana,

I’m sorry I had to leave. I have a meeting with the Elders I, unfortunately, can’t miss. I’ll be back right after.

If not for that, I would have stayed with you.

You most likely won’t remember last night, but you got drunk. Very. You’re gonna wake up with a nasty hangover. Take the Aspirin. It’ll help. 

I gave Dulce her breakfast and took her outside. She should be fine. 

I also let your job know you’re not coming in today.

Rest.

Roman

There’s so much to process in such a straightforward letter. What did he mean by stay with her? Did—did they sleep in the same bed? 

For some reason, that’s not as anxiety inducing as she imagined it would be. She doesn’t know the why or how, but it doesn't bring that heavy weight on her chest.

The drunk part triggers brief memories of the night prior. Bayley and Naomi. The celebration. Dancing. Fun. Happiness.

A switch.

At some point in the night, her mood shifted into something else. Solana remembers asking for a drink, but she doesn’t remember much after that. Glimpses. An almost sympathetic look from Roman. His arms around her. Him holding her.

It makes for a confusing story she doesn’t really have the wherewithal to deal with. She instead reaches over and swallows the Aspirin. 

And she goes right back to sleep.

________

Roman finds himself completely bypassing his office, clearing his schedule, and moving his phone’s status to Do Not Disturb.

He’s not in the mood to deal with any of that shit today. At least not for a couple more hours. He needs to make sure Solana is situated first. 

Thinking about her resurfaces his earlier level of anger at how the meeting with the Elders ended.

“What of the girl?”

This was the part of the hour meeting that caught his attention the most. Everything else was trivial and, in his opinion, a waste of time. But, it’s when Elder Aleki brings up Solana that Roman’s focus is recentered.

“What about her?”

He’s not stupid. Far from it. Roman knows exactly where this is headed. It was partially expected. What he didn’t expect was the anger that’s already brewing at just how Solana was referred to as ‘the girl.’

Aleki is bold with his questioning, jumping straight to the point. “Is she still not pregnant yet? It’s been almost four months.”

Roman’s jaw clenches, and he finds himself squeezing the armrest of his chair as he does his best to keep his voice somewhat subdued. “I’m aware of how long it’s been.”

Another elder, Sione, decides to join in on this conversation that Roman is about to shut down in less than a minute. “Perhaps she should have another medical evaluation. By one of our doctors—”

“The hell she will.”

Rikishi shoots Roman a warning look, quietly, muttering an equally pleading, “language, Uce.”

Roman straight up ignores him. Rikishi still adheres to those outdated traditions that just because someone has more years on this earth than you that they automatically deserve respect. Fuck that. Roman gives respect when it’s earned, and Aleki and Sione have been on his shit list for years.

He’ll never forgive them for their behavior after the death of his family, their questioning of Roman’s birthright to the throne.

Aleki releases a heavy sigh, and Roman has to restrain himself from not bashing the old man’s head into the table. “All we’re saying is if she is incapable of producing a child to continue the Bloodline, then we have no use for her and should seek to find you a better—”

That’s when Roman has enough. To suggest Solana be examined again. which would no doubt be triggering as fuck for her, is one thing. But, it’s an entirely different thing for them to have the unmitigated gall to suggest he get rid of her.

Over his dead fucking body.

Roman shoots up from the chair. “My wife isn’t going anywhere nor is anyone at this fucking table going to make her do shit.”

Rikishi shoots more than just his subtle warning this time around. “Roman, please—”

Roman’s not trying to hear that shit from him, though. He’s not trying to hear shit from anyone. 

“Our marriage is nobody’s fucking business but our own. That includes when she gets pregnant. We’ll share it when we want to.”

Truthfully speaking, this isn’t something Roman has thought much about, an intentional thing. The fact that the marriage was originally and solely arranged so that she could give him an heir is irrelevant to him right now, regardless of what they think.

That’s not a priority. 

“You may be the Elders, but I sit at the head of the table.” The Bloodline has always been successful and profitable, but it’s no doubt exceeded any and all records and expectations since Roman became the head. That’s an indisputable fact. “Don’t fucking forget who made this table what it is today.”

The ending of the meeting is still playing in the back of his head like a bad song on repeat. If not for his semi level of respect and acknowledgement of their standing as Elders, he would have put a bullet in their heads the minute that disrespectful shit started leaving their mouths.

In no fucking universe is anyone taking Solana from him. He doesn’t give a flying fuck whatever the original reason was for their marriage. She’s his now, and nothing is changing that. 

Roman makes active efforts to calm himself before walking back into the house. After last night, the last thing she needs is to be unintentionally triggered. 

He finds her on the sofa, writing in her journal, Dulce right beside her sleeping peacefully without a care in the fucking world. Roman halfway expected her to be out back on the patio, a seemingly favorite spot of hers.

But the sunlight would no doubt exacerbate the remnants of her hangover he’s certain she’s still battling, so it makes sense she’s indoors. It’s when she looks up, noticing his presence that Roman also realizes she’s still only wearing his shirt. 

For some strange reason, he likes that. Likes seeing her in his clothes.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” Roman sits on the sofa opposite from her. He takes her in, watching her set her journal to the side and as he notices her hair is pulled up. “How you feeling?”

She shrugs, making a face that suggests some level of discomfort. “My head still kinda hurts, but I guess—that’s to be expected.” He starts to ask her if she’s drunk enough water, recognizing the importance of staying hydrated a night after heavy drinking, but she’s suddenly pleading with him almost. “Please don’t be upset with Bayley and Naomi. It’s not their fault.”

To be fair, he hadn’t thought about them until now. “They were supposed to watch you.”

“They did. I—I got back fine.” She seems almost worried for them, for their safety. He would never actually kill either woman. He’ll just probably never trust them to take Solana out again in life. But no murder would actually happen. Still, it’s the part where Solana says she got back fine that irks him. He does his best to mask that irritation though. 

“You weren’t fine last night, Solana.” She was far from it, more emotional than he’s seen her in some time, if ever. 

Her shoulders drop, almost in shame. “I don’t—I don’t remember much of it.”

He’s thankful for that. For the both of them. “You were upset.” It’s not a lie nor is it specific. It’s just the truth. 

She then asks with almost hesitant curiosity. “W–what did I say?”

Roman shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He doesn’t like being dismissive towards her, doesn’t like being dishonest, something he swore he wouldn’t do. But, she was an emotional wreck last night, and the last thing he wants is for her to go through all of those emotions yet again.

He doesn’t like seeing her upset.

But then she looks at him, studying him almost, a sad, almost tearful chuckle leaving her mouth. He watches as she brings her legs up to her chest and rests her chin against her knees. She asks, volume barely over a whisper, “I told you last night, didn’t I?” Roman realizes it’s less a question and more a heavy realization. “That—that I was raped. Didn’t I?”

It’s a bit of a lose–lose situation. Either he tells her no and risks her feeling bad for sharing something she didn’t have to or he confirms what she already knows and still feels not great.

They’re both shitty options, but he ultimately goes the route of honesty. “Yes.”

“It’s weird. I—” She looks away, eyes shutting for a minute before she unexpectedly explains, “I’ve been—I’ve been working out of this book for people who were…assaulted like me, and I’m–at the part where its recommended I tell at least one person because—because it’s not healthy to keep it to myself.” 

Roman knows exactly what book she’s talking about. It was the key that led to him figuring out just what happened to her. That still fucks with him. Still makes him fill with silent rage at her piece of shit family letting that happen to her. 

“You’re now the first person I’ve ever told.” Roman hates that even more.. Hates that someone like him is who she ended up breaking her silence with. He wishes it was either Bayley or Naomi. They’re much better at this sort of thing. The feelings thing. “I don’t—I don’t like talking about it.”

“You don’t have to.” He isn’t sure he’d be able to control his anger hearing details, hearing anything about it to be honest, not coming from her. His rage would be intractable. 

She nods, almost appreciatively. “That's why sex is—it’s hard for me.” He fully understands that, and a small part of him hates how he tried to initiate that with her on their wedding night. He figured her nerves were because of her naturally anxious personality. Never once did it cross his mind that it was because of something much darker. “And it’s not—it’s not like I don’t think about it sometimes, about being close to someone like that, I do.” This piece does surprise him, but he works hard not to think too much about it right now. He wants to be in this moment with her. “ I—I have. But, every time I try, I just—I get flashbacks, and I can’t.” She ends on an almost whisper, Roman’s stomach tightening as she quickly wipes at a tear. 

He doesn’t like seeing her cry. 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Solana.” Not him or anyone else, for that matter. 

She doesn’t say anything for a good minute before asking, “what happens now?”

That’s a great fucking question, and he almost has the same towards a lot of things. He’s curious though what she’s specifically referring to. “What do you mean?”

Solana seems almost frightened as she asks, “are you—are you gonna send me back to my father?” 

Yeah, he could have never in a million years guessed that. “Why would you ever think I would do that?”

And he suddenly hates asking, hates seeing the way the emotion builds back up. “I’m not—not a virgin, and—” Her eyes close, her grip around her legs tightening. “You….you only married me because—”

“I don’t care about that.” This is his second time today having to face some level of this discussion, but this round is significantly gentler. Roman does his best to illustrate the conviction in his voice while also being mindful of her emotions. “What do you want, Solana?”

He has no idea what she’s going to say, but he does know for a fact he would never send her back to that hellhole. It would be like sending her to her own death. 

She seems to really think about his question, think about something he’s certain she’s never had a lot of. 

Options. 

Finally, after what feels like hours, she answers. “I want to stay here.” Roman’s unsure why he feels a small sense of relief at her answer, like anything other than that would have made him uncomfortable or upset. Solana wets her lips, continuing, “I like—I like living here.” And in an even smaller voice, she adds, “I like being with you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and neither does she. Roman is certain it’s because they’re both trying to process and register what this may mean, what this new piece of information means for them moving forward. 

Roman sits forward and motions with his index and middle finger. “Come here.”

He sees it instantly. The initial hesitation, the brief flash of fear, but it’s gone before he can offer reassurance. Solana lowers her legs and walks over to him, Dulce remaining sleeping and unmoving. Not once does Roman remove his gaze from her as he takes her hand, giving a gentle tug to guide her down on the sofa next to him. He slides his arm behind her, holding her body against him, his tattooed forearm across her stomach.

Roman watches the way her eyes close, recognizes that she’s trying to manage her emotions. He sees the little nod she gives herself, as if assuring herself that she’s safe. And he swears he sees her mouth as such.

Mouth the word ‘safe.’

Solana moves her hands to his forearm, as if holding onto him for some sense of comfort. 

He does his best to reassure her. “Relax…”And it seems to do something to help her, offering such a simple yet strong form of solace. “I’d never send you back there. Ever.” And that’s a fucking promise. “You’ll stay here. With me.”

“I’m—” Her voice is less emotional than before. It’s still there, but he can tell it's waning with each second that passes, her comfort level growing. “I’m supposed to give you an heir. What if—what if people start—”

“I’ll take care of it.” And he will. He already started with the Elders earlier today, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

She angles her head up to look at him. “But—” 

Roman brings his hand to her face, gently palming her cheek. “I’ll take care of it.” He moves his thumb over the apple of her cheek and part of her scar. “Alright?”

Solana nods with her acknowledgement but says nothing else as she lays back against him. He notices the absence of tension and discomfort. She’s fully relaxed against him, and Roman acts more out of instinct than anything as he presses lips against her temple for a brief kiss, still mindful of her comfort level. “I’ve got you…”

Everything happening in the past few minutes has been both unexpected and confusing, but there’s nothing confusing about the way Solana suddenly turns her body into him, laying her head on his chest. He watches her eyes close, signifying another layer of fear being peeled back. 

He sits there for who knows how long with her, holding her, noticing the slight rise and fall of her body against his, a sign that she’s fallen asleep. He lets her sleep, lets her rest, lets her stay close to him, under him, with him.

Roman thinks back on his question to her about what she wanted. He’s not sure what he would have said if she said she wanted to leave, because the truth of the matter is that Roman’s starting to think that he couldn’t let her go.

That he can’t.

Even if she wanted to leave. 

[daarka]

For those late to the party who want to know what the hell is going on with #OpenDnD, #StoptheSub, #DnDBegone etc, and why everyone is cancelling DnDBeyond subscriptions, I tried to do a crash course as succinctly as possible. OpenDnD.Games is a great resource for more in-depth details, and if you wish to do so, you can cancel your DnDBeyond subscription through this direct link (as there have been many reporting trouble in locating where to do so). Edit: Tweaked the very first detail below, as someone reminded me it was not a wholly accurate statement as I had initially written it. Apologies to everyone who already reblogged the first version of this :')

Hasbro acquired Wizards of the Coast (WotC) some time ago, but recently they got new leadership who said in an interview that they see D&D as "under-monetized". Hasbro is on the decline with finances, and WotC is its biggest cash cow. Why milk that cash cow through producing more content when you can instead revoke a legally irrevocable license that makes it impossible for 3rd party content creators to exist?

America loves a good monopoly. The old license that permitted the community to grow to what it is today was OGL1.0a, and without it, D&D would not be what it is right now, nor even close. They tried to shift to OGL1.1, a new license that is, in a word, PREDATORY. Horrific, nasty shit.

OGL1.1 was quietly sent to large creators to sign. It then got leaked. The community erupted. The backlash was loud and unanimous. WotC was radio silent for like two weeks. They finally gave a single-sentence "we'll explain soon" tweet on DnDBeyond's account. Then more silence.

A WotC employee reached out to large creators to blow the whistle on WotC. The source was verified, and they shared that WotC sees the community as an obstacle between them and their money, all they care about is bottom line, and they're delaying in hopes we forget and move on.

And also that they are mainly looking at DnDBeyond subscription cancelations to gauge the financial impact; they don't care about our sentiments, only our money. So everyone erupted into signal boosting for others to unsubscribe as the single and best way to make ourselves heard. Cue the mass unsubscribing.

Today (January 13th 2023), a shitty PR piece was posted on DnDBeyond full of blatant lies and, in my opinion, barely-contained saltiness. Right before that, though, OGL2.0 leaks came out; the tweaks they'd begrudgingly made following the backlash. 2.0 is basically just as bad as 1.1; they just spoke of it as being more changed than it was.

In other words, they keep bold-faced lying to a community of rules-lawyers who recreationally read fine print :)

Meanwhile, Paizo (creators of Pathfinder) has come to the rescue, vowing to release a truly open license that will allow everyone to continue pursuing the livelihoods they're passionate about; this is the Open RPG Creative License, or "ORC".

Canceling subscriptions immediately sends a potent message, even if you may have to resubscribe later for functionality in your games. You'll still have the remainder of your billing cycle to enjoy paid perks.

Everything's a little on fire, but I think we'll be okay ♥️

OGL1.0a was never meant to be revocable, as loudly stated in the past couple days by the very people who authored it. It is very likely that WotC is actually just bluffing and bullying, and is actually powerless to revoke it--something many lawyers more knowledgeable than myself seem to be suggesting. In which case, it is my greatest hope in all of this that 3rd party creators are able to continue doing what they love, with no further interruptions.

Remember: the majority of WotC and DnDBeyond employees feel the exact same way we do, but they don't have a choice. Hasbro is the enemy here. Be kind to each other, and know where blame should and should not be placed. If you want to stay up to speed, the account of @.DnD_Shorts seems to be a very active and informed voice, largely responsible for sharing the first leak. If Twitter makes you want to puke, I completely understand; DnD_Shorts also has a YouTube channel with frequent updates on the situation posted in video format.

It's cathartic to me to try to signal boost this stuff, and provide summaries that might help others stay informed. It helps me feel like I'm somehow able to affect these nasty things that are otherwise just inflicted onto lil guys in the community like myself.

However, this has been beyond exhausting and stressful. I'm going to start untangling myself and stepping back from posting about this issue so I can hopefully restore some of my own sanity.

It's been really crazy--in a good way--to see the power this community has when rallied together under a common threat. It makes me proud to be in that community.

At the end of the day, all TTRPGs are really just exercises in creativity and fun. The golden rule has always been and should always be that there is no right or wrong way to play, other than what suits you and those you play with. Likewise, no one should ever feel guilty or judged by others for playing one system over another. It's okay to like D&D5e despite all this. No matter how much they've tried, Wizards of the Coast cannot claim jurisdiction over the invaluable memories you've made, and what has become a creative outlet for countless people. Myself included.

Boycotting is a great way to be heard, since they only care about money. But continuing to use the content you have to play D&D5e is your prerogative, and hurts no one. Furthermore, it's also okay if you can't cancel your DnDBeyond subscription because you rely on it too heavily for your games. That doesn't make you a traitor. That doesn't estrange you from the community. DnDBeyond, at its core, is a great tool that is popular for a reason; it's the new leadership that is forcing it to become something it wasn't meant to be. One day, I hope to be able to resubscribe in good conscious, and I hope that day is soon.

To reiterate, if anyone's even read down this far... be kind to one another. Keep in mind that big enemies win when the party is divided. You can love or hate anything you want in the TTRPG sphere, but how you feel about it does not invalidate someone else feeling the opposite.

Be kind. Be patient. Be empathetic. We're already coming out on top.

[jamneuromain]

Wild Child Chapter. 1

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome on board Flight CM80072 from London to Ancetol. This is your Captain speaking. My name is…”

The broadcast started as you stuffed your ears with your earbuds. The screeching static along with the horrible noise whenever the captain chewed the mic in his lips and popped every consonant as if he couldn’t speak otherwise.

You should have brought your earplugs.

Or fly your private plane.

Correction: Fly your family’s private plane.

But you guessed they were still mad at you, which was probably the reason why the bodyguard they sent simply handed you an envelope with an airplane ticket inside.

“Would you like to see the menu?” The stewardess asked you with a kind smile, handing you the thick book of menu, “We have foie gras, smoked salmon, or veal rolls for the main course. Of course, you can also choose the vegan meal. All the ingredients are listed below the dishes.”

“I’ll have the veal roll.” You took a sip of the lemon-flavored soda she gave you earlier, “First course - the shrimp, and dessert would be the … ice cream, with extra berry toppings?”

“Excellent choice, Miss Y/L/N.” The stewardess nodded, taking notes of your demands, the impeccable smile still on her lips, “Any drinks?”

The bodyguard to your back coughed. Very loudly. Very spontaneously. As if he would be dead if someone didn’t hand him a glass of water or ship him off to the chemotherapy very soon.

“Cappu…” you changed your mind as soon as you were “reminded” that you were not allowed to drink alcohol, "Screw it, apple cider please.”

“Miss -” The bodyguard in the full black suit tried to warn you, “His Lordship won’t be pleased.”

“His Lordship,” you sniggered, “desperate measure to demonstrate his control over me, huh? Plus, I don’t think I recall our King has issued any announcement on the succession of the title. So, Lord him all you like. Pathetic man. I’m not respecting someone who participated perhaps even less than a minute in creating me.” You muttered the last few words under your breath.

You could practically imagine what “His Lordship” would do when he hears the report from the bodyguard, word for word.

He might throw some crystal ornaments to the wall, shouting at the top of his lungs, as if that would reinforce his authority.

A man to your right chuckled. Like you, he was just approached by the stewardess regarding his meal choice, now sipping scotch on the rocks. You glared at him. He looks like a man in his 30s. Terribly well dressed. The suit fitted his tailoring right up to his cufflinks. Golden cufflinks, you might add. White shirt without a tie. Long hair with a full-grown beard.

“Sorry, can’t help but overhear.” He raised his hands and folded them on his knees, “I’m Guy. Guy Thomas.”

“Mr. Thomas,” you shared your given name with him, but left out your family name, offering to shake his hand.

“Guy.” He stressed, “You’re from Ancetol?”

You were born in the outskirts of Ancetol, the capital of your home country, Ballenia, one of the few countries that are still ruled by a monarch. Your mother was relieved that you were blessed with a quick birth. But your father wanted nothing more than a boy. A boy that could take the family title and carry the family honor. Probably why he didn’t make an appearance until the second day of your birth. Reluctantly. You might add.

You spent the next couple of years of your life in a small town in Ballenia, growing up with your mother who thought innocently that your father would miraculously love you and accept you both as family.

You stopped believing in “a happy marriage” a long time ago. No. You stopped believing in “marriage”. And the fairy tales. And the lovely stories that told you one day, Prince Charming would come to rescue you riding his big white horse and ask you to be his wife, and some happily ever after bullshit.

No.

The reality was, fairly close to the story of your family, where the “Cinderella”, your mother, was abandoned by the prince, who is your father, and he had a couple of mistresses when Cinderella was only allowed to be presented during formal circumstances.

Ah yes, after all, a divorce would destroy the reputation of His Lordship. Making them look bad if they kick a civilian woman out of the door. The press would go frenzy about it, spreading the news that the “Cinderella” had been divorced by the cold-hearted heir of the Duke.

Luckily, or, unlucky for your father, it was your grandfather who carried the Duke title. Your grandfather who was equally displeased with you, a useless girl. Your grandfather, who passed away quite recently. Three days ago.

Hence, your urgent return. And some pretenses for the reputation of your family.

So, sunglasses it is then. During the funeral. With a white handkerchief. No one will see your dry eyes incapable of producing tears, not for that old bastard anyway. You thought to yourself, eyeing the huge bulk of a man next to you.

Did you forget to mention that the late Duke did the same trick as your father? Marrying a civilian woman and keeping a dozen mistresses in the same mansion they live in?

“You sound local.” You commented on the way he speaks English, “Are you from Ancetol as well?”

“Aww, what gave it away?” The man switched to fluent Ballenian, the language you haven’t heard of for years, and asked you, sounding sincere, “Is it the ‘r’? I always mess up the ‘r’.”

“Your name doesn’t sound local though,” you buckled your seatbelt as the stewardess stepped close to inform you the plane was ready to depart, lowering your eyes to fumble with the metal link, “Guy Thomas. Very American.”

Ari, no, Guy, pushed a little smile on his lips.

Of course, this name sounded American. You would freak out if he told you his true name.

“My mother is American and my father is Ballenian.” Which was 75% true because his mother was half American. The other half Danish.

He went by “Guy Thomas” when he was having fun among people and didn’t want to spoil everything by announcing he was Ari. The fucking prince of Ballenia.

Total mood killer.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” You joked, “Or visiting your family?”

“Mostly business.” Ari fabricated a lie out of nowhere, “I work as a manager of my family business.” Technically that’s not a lie. He even slipped in some details for credibility.

Family business, the kingdom.

Manager, well sort of, since his dad owned the country.

“And I’m back in Ballenia to secure a deal.”

You lacked interest in business and all that, waving your hand as if dismissal, but allowing the stewardess to come and take away the food and drink in front of you, “hard to do business nowadays, especially when the Minister of Foreign Trade is a jackass.”

“You speak as if you know him.”

“Please, he’s been in that position for fifteen years.” You rolled your eyes.

The minister tried to get you to marry his hideous, lazy, pig-like son who knows nothing more than eating, smoking, and partying. Promising your father to “sweeten the deal” by favoring the company your mother owned but your father controlled.

Your father really would have said yes if it weren’t for the deal years ago, promising you to another man already. A man more powerful than the minister or his son will ever be.

“Of course, he is a jackass. If not now, then somewhere in his 15 years of gripping the foreign trade.” But you were not telling a total stranger about you being promised around like a Ming-Dynasty Vase. “Just look at the new announcement he made with the U.S. What deal did he make? None! Claiming that ‘further efforts are needed’. Further my ass. The Ambassador from the States could barely keep the smile on his face for Christ’s sake.”

Ari took a mental note to look into this “jackass” Minister.

“What about you?” He asked, “Visiting your family? Plan on staying here long?”

You pursed your lips on hearing the question.

Visit your family? How about dead family?

You were here to attend your grandfather, the late Duke’s funeral.

Staying long?

You wouldn’t curse yourself like that.

The longer you stay, the more probable your father and your mother will talk you into marriage.

You loved your mother, but for Christ’s sake, “I hope not.”

Ari didn’t respond to your reply. He simply hummed, making you confused about whether he agreed with you or not.

The plane did not wait for a minute more before departing into the air. A short while of gravity shift brought you 30,000 feet up in the sky. You pulled down the blind as the annoying sunlight burned your eyes, getting up for a bit more leg room and heading to the bathroom.

In the blink of an eye, a violent turbulence threw you off your own feet.

The soft ring of the safety belt sign turned the orange light on, while you slowly came to your senses that you weren’t embraced by the ground, but rather a firm body wrapping around you. One arm on your back, holding your upper body, another hung – rather awkwardly – in the air. You were sitting on his thick thighs sideways. Your ankle hurting. You were pretty much sure you twisted it with your damn heels.

“Miss Y/L/N!” The bodyguard hurried towards you, completely disregarding the tremble of the plane, rushing to your side. “Miss, I need you to try and stand up.” He held out an arm, leaning towards you to help you up.

Seeing him trying to assess how hurt your ankle was, you were very touched that he was concerned and reacted quickly. Maybe a small pay rise for him if you get back to your home?

Your bodyguard sighs, shaking his head with a disapproving look, “If this is your way of trying to escape the deal, his lordship won’t be pleased.”

Oh yes, the deal. The deal that simply packed you like a FedEx item and threw you to the palace door. The deal that promised you to the prince, right after you were born. The deal that you were told by your parents to honor for as long as you can remember. The deal lurking in the corner and bit you in the ass whenever you had done something to displease your father, reminding you over and over again that the only reason that you were alive was the fucking deal.

Apparently, your father had left out a most important piece of detail when instructing this bodyguard to “guard” you from running away.

You hardly ever do as you’re told.

“I think my ankle is broken.” You said dryly, pointing at your feet, not even trying to pretend that you can convince no one with your bland facial expression, “Can’t get up.”

Ari bit his lips so that he wouldn’t laugh.

You were sure as hell an interesting soul.

If he had any doubt or concerns regarding marrying you, a complete stranger in a matter of weeks, he now had none.

He thought you were the kind of girl who was a black sheep in the family, a wild child, with tattoos on your eyeballs or something. But you were nothing like his imagination.

Wild? Sure.

Black sheep? Compared to your father, the to-be-Duke, who seemed more like what the term was describing.

Ari raised his eyebrows, “Although I wouldn’t oppose you sitting on my thighs,” he nodded towards the stewardess who lurked behind the thin veil of curtain, “I’m afraid she would be unable to do her job properly if this continues.”

You clenched your jaw. Ignoring the extended hand from your bodyguard, you stood up, feeling instantly a sharp pain stinging your bones.

Bathroom was long forgotten, not that you have a chance to reach there on your own, you slumped down the seat and made sure you pushed the seat back until you could almost lie down like on a gurney. Lifting the hurting ankle on your other ankle, you closed your eyes.

Fuck his lordship.

The pain throbbing on your ankle. Your body dipped in both the coolness of the AC and the heat from your spine and the back of your head.

The few hours on the plane became more and more unbearable.

The veal roll didn’t lift your spirit in any way when it was brought to you.

The meat itself was fine. Only that it tasted like wax to you. You let out a long exhale as you outstretched your leg to ease the stress. Finishing the meal barely, you pushed the plate away, not even looking at the cider that you were thrilled to piss your father off with, and asked the stewardess for some paper. Empty sheets for writing.

She was clearly dumb-founded by your request, but hurried to carry your idea out.

You thanked her when she brought you some sheets, torn from some notepad as there were jigsaw razor edges on the side of the paper.

If the pain and the fact that every second you were closer to Ballenia was bothering you, you only needed something more bothering to take your mind off.

Ari narrowed his eyes when he cast a glimpse that you pulled out a pen from your bag from the overhead compartment and started writing on the empty sheets of paper.

Call him nosey but he wanted to know what you were writing.

Too inconvenient for him, your letters scribbled too small for his eyes to see. Occasional glimpses couldn’t help him read your writing. Nor that the content on your phone was clear enough for him to read either.

He did know that should be a text of some kind.

What text though? That was the real question.

…not some kind of text that could curse the royal family of the Ballenia, right?

Ari was almost amused by his own thoughts, before a shiver ran down his body and stuck an idea in his mind that this was totally and perfectly possible.

…you wouldn’t, would you?

Hard to tell. You weren’t exactly obeying the orders to marry him. Delaying it a couple of times in the past three years. And now, hearing that you had just called a minister “asshole” … or was it “butt ass” (?), anyway, something about ass, behind his back, and that you could mull a long face over your own bodyguard? Ari couldn’t figure out your temper and your actions all of a sudden.

The adjectives, that your father and his father used when they were talking about you, didn’t even come close to you.

“Kind” “Warm” “Considerate” “Perfect Princess”.

“Exceptional”. Maybe this was the right word.

Definitely different and strong-minded.

He could almost imagine the changes you would bring to his family and the kingdom.

He could discuss politics with you. You had your own thoughts and ideas, which was a good sign. Talk about foreign policies. Speaking of, he should really have someone fetch your dissertation from your university to understand where lies your interests. He’d allow gossip on the table too, if that’s what you like.

Ari hated gossip.

And there he was, imagining the future with you, before you were willing to marry him.

“If you want the book, I can lend it to you.” Your voice snapped him out of his fantasies. You had stopped scribing and rubbing your knuckles with your other hand. Pursing your lips together, you had, obviously, found out that he had his eyes glued to you.

“I’m sorry?”

“The History and Nature of International Relations.” You shrugged, twirling your wrist and your shoulder for writing too long, “I gotta warn you though, it’s pretty boring.”

Ari knew the correct answer to his question, but he asked either way, “You are studying it?”

“No. Yes. Hmpf,” You pouted at your change of words, “I did. I was. I was studying International Relations.” Something blipped in your mind, “Did you know this book?”

Ari smiled, “Took a course in International Relations years ago. I’m surprised they are still using it as an example of a textbook – where did you study?”

“NYU.” That’s a plain fat lie. You had a friend studying at NYU, but you were not planning on giving all your personal information away to a complete stranger, “You?”

Ari cocked his eyebrows. You were studying in Cambridge. He read that from your file.

“University of Ancetol.” Because studying there demonstrated the confidence of the Royal family in their country’s educational system. From there, the lies weaved themselves from his lips, “Got an undergrad degree and started to take over the family business. I visited New York last year,” along with his father, the King, but they travelled as quietly as they could, initiating a state visit without disturbing the press, “I miss school, now that I’m thinking of it.” Ari sighed deeply, “Wanted to get a grad degree but work’s too busy.”

“A manager in your family business?” You teased him light-heartedly, “Surely you can spare the time and study for a grad degree.”

Ari chose to evade this question. Reaching for his suit pocket, he fished out a business card with his name (Guy Thomas) and phone number on it, handing it to you, “Grad school doesn’t exactly tolerate me flying all over the world for … my family business.” He pushed his soft brown hair behind his ears, his eyes sparkling with a hint of joy that he had successfully fooled you, “Jewelry, my specialty. Diamonds, pearls, gemstones … call me if you need anything.”

“Oh, and she got her Master’s degree two months ago.” Ari casually dropped this to his parents in the middle of having dinner, he almost felt proud of his future wife, “Majoring in Political Science and International Relations. With a merit… no, distinction. The top 10% of her class.”

“We want a princess, not a college professor.” His father looked rather disappointed, “We were promised a princess.”

Ari didn’t understand.

If it were to be a marriage without love, he’d rather his spouse would be clever than bimbos who need help spelling “distinction”. Clever would mean he has a handful to deal with, yes, but what’s the fun in talking with someone who only cares about mani-pedi and the latest fashion magazines when he would be running the country?

Why wouldn’t they want someone smart as his wife?

“Your father is right, Ari,” his mother, Queen Olivia, reminded him with a softer tone, “we don’t need someone academically outstanding. We only want her to care for your home, you, and your future children.” She then turned to Ari’s father, King Victor, with blame framing her tone, “Told you should’ve just kept her with us when she was born. I knew Y/L/Ns were incompetent in raising our son’s future wife.”

Ari nearly spat out his food, “HOUSEWIFE?” Earning the “Shhh” from the Queen, he ignored the palace rules and the rules of being a prince altogether, “You want a HOUSEWIFE as the future queen?”

“For the moment.” Olivia waved her hand as if all this was not important, “Only temporal. After you get acquainted with the Upper House, you could divorce her and we’ll find you a proper wife.”

Taglist: @irishhappiness @patzammit

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[brightstar2000]

I saw someone being mad over TSAMS characters making fun and talking badly about Nexus. As someone who couldn't care less if someone in the fandom or in the show made fun of my favourite characters, this confuses me. I am bad at understanding people.

This sub fandom seems to have more toxic people than I'm used to. I would prefer if people stayed in their own corner with their own headcanons and such, and not bother others, but we have fans attacking other fans just because they don't like the same things as one another. I had never been in a fandom where that amount of toxicity is present. And i have been in the Undertale fandom. The difference there is that it is a much larger fandom so that kind of toxicity goes more unnoticed or doesn't affect people nearly as much, but this fandom is much smaller and has some very bold and vocal people on all sides. It's easier to find and attack fellow fans. I really wish people would stop doing that, like the show doesn't belong to them. They don't get to dictate what others think. I do disagree with Nexus defenders, and i am very vocal about that even as a smaller creator in this fandom, but i do not condone attacking them or anyone in this fandom or any fandom. I voice my opinions, but keep to myself. I will not go out of my way to start unnecessary fights. I wish others would do the same. Fandom is meant to be a place where people come together based on the same interests and each one should be allowed to share what they think, like headcanons or other things and don't deserve to be attacked for it (except when it crosses certain boundaries. But even then, just block and report them, don't attack them. Don't give them attention, and if applicable, try getting them reported to the proper authorities and let them handle it)

This fandom is something else... i love it and i hate it and everything in between, but still, i do not condone attacking anyone for any reason. The block button exists for a reason. People, use it!

[dangerously-human]

Still fighting for my life with tuition benefit stuff, in case anyone was wondering. I would like to submit my request for this semester, but we're still duking it out over last semester because of a problem from over a year ago and I don't want to swing at two hornet nests at once, so. Took every single dollar out of my savings account to pay tuition for this semester and am just praying I can get reimbursed before another rent check needs to go out (and Lord willing, my car won't need massive repairs at inspection this year). I'm doing an actual research study for my mixed methods class this semester, and the professor keeps saying she's fine with giving us an incomplete so we have another year to wrap it up in order to actually get something meaningful out of it. I finally talked to her last night to explain that I cannot afford to take another incomplete and ask how I could do a legitimate study on such a condensed timeline. Thankfully she was understanding and came up with an idea I think will work, since it involves basically just doing the quantitative portion under an existing protocol at work and a qualitative portion that doesn't count as human subjects research, so I don't have to deal with an IRB pissing contest between institutions, nor the debatable ethics of collecting data without compensating people for their time, given that it's unfunded research (and I really can't afford to pay people out of pocket when I'm already paying through the nose to be in this class in the first place). I'm still reworking my research plan, but I do feel a lot better about this in comparison to my plan as of last week, which would have required either submitting to both IRBs (and my work IRB is notorious for having different standards than most, and they/the data lawyers that often end up getting involved move slowly in this kind of situation) or submitting twice to my university IRB, once per phase.

Anyway, dealing with all of this today had me looking at what I really have left to do before I graduate. I'm halfway through the program now, though it feels like I've done way more. After I'm done with this class, which meets my advanced methods requirement (although round 2 of statistics probably did too), I have to eventually go back and take the foundations of the program course that was a scheduling conflict my first semester and somehow hasn't been offered since; another research apprenticeship (I'll probably write another manuscript, ideally one that's already been in progress for a bit at work - if I can get a loan, maybe I can do that this summer with my brief report I'm first authoring); plus two electives, which I was hoping to concentrate on measure design but would also happily do more advanced statistics courses if I'm allowed to take them through the school of psychology (I've tapped out the school of ed on that score). I guess I should ask if I'm allowed to say my job counts as an internship, which from the course catalog it looks like it should, but idk. Theoretically that puts me graduating... fall '25? Maybe? I could go so much faster if it weren't for the financial aspect. I do have to meet with an advisor at some point, but I still don't have one at the moment (again), which really seems like a problem for future me to figure out. But future me before May, because I think I'm still recorded as supposed to graduate this semester, even though it's been clear from the beginning that I was not a full-time student. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

They really do make this grad school thing as complicated as possible, don't they?

[kisilinramblings]

do you think derision officially killed any chance of a chloe redemption? additionally, what do you think of her development in s5?

(part 2 of tht chloe ask for derision). And this is also coming from someone who would've liked a redemption arc for her. I feel like ppl are mad that Chloe's abuse is being shown in a more serious light in how badly it affected Marinette to the point of triggering her, as if its not allowed to be shown when we were told but not shown, tht she was horrible to Marinette for years.

====

Chloé's character herself made it very clear to Adrien, to us and indirectly to Sabrina, that she doesn't want to change, didn't she not? And a character who refuses to change, won't change.

Chloé : What should I care about what Dupain-Cheng feels? Those of her kind are only there to entertain me. What's the point of having power if you cannot use it on those who don't have it?

S4-S5 is Chloé going back to square 1. Some may consider she is even worst than Chloé is S1, but I need to remind them of actions Chloé did take during the first season.

Origins? Chloé forced Marinette to sit elsewhere. Mocks Ivan and calls him a monster. Mocks also Alya who calls her out for her insensitiveness. Puts a gum on Marinette's seat to put her in her place.

Bubbler? Pushed Marinette aside.

Lady Wifi? Threaten the principal to get what she wanted. Same that she did with Soqueline.

Chronogirl? Take and inspect Alix's watch without authorization nor care.

Mr Pigeon? Plays the victim in front of Gabriel Agreste and says Marinette has copied her design.

Evillustrator? Mock Nathaniel's drawing in front of the class.

Rogercop? Make a comment about Marinette's family not being able to afford a bracelet like hers. Accuses Marinette for stealing said bracelet without proof.

Dark Cupid? Breaks Kim's heart along with not only taking of picture of the humiliating position he is in, but also shares it to the Internet.

Horrificator? Mocking Mylène for being scared to the point of making her cry and hide in the restrooms.

Dark Blade? Forced all other students to not even compete to be class representative. Was set to tarnish Marinette's reputation by learning the content of her diary and reveal it to everyone.

Kung Food? Sabotage Marinette's uncle's soup in a culinary competition.

Reflekta? Ensures that Juleka is not on the class picture so she can have her place next to Adrien. Also, spied and was ready to report Marinette's action to Mr. Damocles.

Pixelator? Mess with the class affected roles, putting Alya in charge of sorting thrash at the main dumpster and for Marinette to be a gofer who will run errands for others.

Princess Fragrance? Tears Rose's letter to prince Ali in front of her. Takes away Marinette's "plushie" and try to give it as a present to prince Ali.

Like, Chloé was clearly a Bully™ in S1. She may not have played bad pranks during S1 (aside the gum on the seat), but she mocked and humiliated other classmates many times and particularly aimed her attacks and comments at Marinette whenever she had a chance. However, unlike the previous years before, Marinette now had confidence to fight back and is not an easy target anymore. And the other classmates have also grown to not stay idle to Chloé's bullshit anymore (see Deflagration). And I wrote in previous post why Chloé is more frustrating and frustrated than ever.

Still, in light of Derision, it is even surprising that the class accepted Chloé to be even present such as during the student film project in Horrificator or the friendly competition between Alix and Kim. Though it is unclear of who invited her. I understand only a very few knew about the prank at the pool, but the cockroaches and other torments Chloé inflicted to Marinette was known. And tbh, while Thomas and Sébastien were there from the beginning as Show Creator and Writing Director respectfully, it is not unbelievable they themselves didn't have a clear idea of the extent of Chloé's bullying then. Even they maybe didn't yet figured what Chloé could be capable of while working on S1. But that is fan speculation. I'm not behind the scenes. At any case, I'm thorned between "part of this episode should have been brought up earlier" yet loving the timing of the discussion between Marinette and Adrien at the end about trauma and healing and the fact they can still date and take the time and it goes so well with the relationship stage they currently are in as it happened during the episode of their first official date.

Anyway, I too was open for Chloé to change slowly by the end of S2 and eventually admit that she was wrong of treating Marinette and the other classmates like dirt, but during S3, I've realized that unlike all them, Chloé was heading in a different direction. Realizing how much of a warning flag Despair Bear was. During S2-S3, Chloé accepted to mellow down and do the minimum required, but only if there was a reward for her at the end. The Bee Miraculous was her sole motivation to be decent. And that only carries on for the time it would last AKA as long as the reward is there and was satisfying. And when Chloé permanently loses her access to the Bee Miraculous, I've written before S4 how it would not be the rock bottom for her yet. That is was just the beginning of the end for her.

Chloé, as a character, is motivated since S1 by status which she associates with power. Since Chloé cannot be a superhero anymore and blames and hates Ladybug for it, I'm interpretating that her character is now more than ever clinging to elite and privileged club she grew up in thanks to her parents as it is still in her reach. She fully embraces the rules and mentality of this privileged elite club.

Still, if you are looking for a character's redemption, Sabrina is starting to engage herself in that trail. She assisted in a lot of Chloé's mischiefs in the past and still is putting with all the crap she still gets in this toxic relationship but it feels like this is about to change. Right now, Sabrina is only in the self-reflection stage, but it is a first step. She obviously didn't like Chloé's answer at the end of Derision. In Perfection, you see that Sabrina is affected upon hearing Chloé said that her best friend position is going to Lila. At least, I think it is worth to keep an eye on Sabrina this season.

[cascadingcascade]

I came out to people at my university about my autism two months ago, not that I really have a choice though, given the circumstances.

Well at first it appears to be going well, much better than what I had anticipated actually, they appeared to be reasonably receptive, and for a few days at least I suppose they were actually nice.

Then I realized that apparently, to them, autism is just "nooo-I-can't-handle-social-situations-disease". To be fair, that's, like fifty percent true (about me), but that other fifty percent makes a lot of differences doesn't it. Also, for one, they still won't let me mingle with my classmates where they can see it (not that I really want to, but there's a huge difference between "I don't want to" and "you won't let me" right?) and kept me isolated in general, because, according the explanation they offered to my mother, "We're concerned that it might induces emotional problems and hurt [my deadname]'s feelings".

Yeah, deadname/misgender me and treat me like a child in one go. Way to be. (On a side note, if you don't want me to get panic attacks, don't throw me into (social) situations that I can't walk away from, I'm mostly fine when it comes to adventures I chose on my own.)

Then things came to a head when, wait let's add some context first, I live in a country where the official language is not English, but personally, English is my special interest at the very least, compulsion actually to be honest. So, there was this assignment, where you're supposed to write a report, and I saw the requirements mentioned formatting English text, so, instead of glancing over it because it's just a formality and mostly likely nobody ever actually submitted their report in English, I took it literally like I always do, and submitted a huge rant, in rather convoluted English nonetheless.

And it turns out that he can't read it, and apparently he thinks that I'm messing with him and is kind of angry about it, and I got a "what-even-is-this-write-it-again-and-be-normal-this-time" in my inbox the next day.

But no, instead of just submit to his authority and rewrite it, in true autistic fashion, I stood up for myself and argued back, semi-publicly, that since it is allowed, I mean it's right there, in the requirements, and that personally, I very literally can't write an extended length of text without using English, and that if I code-switch and write it in two languages it's going to be even worse. And I can't help but to add, with a straight face, that if he can't read it, it's his problem not mine, and that if his English is worse than his student's he should probably resign.

Well I may or may not be in trouble, and I haven't heard back from him since. But still, [Insert meme about the accommodation an autistic person actually needs and the accommodation they actually got here]

[legaciestold]

@honorhearted continued from x

as morning light found it's way through the window and katarzyna felt the sudden loss of contact of his body against hers, she began to stir. she felt sore in both pleasant ways that brought a flush to her skin as she recalled the events which had transpired in this room and unpleasant ways as she recalled what had happened prior. it was a strange flurry of emotions which welled within her. happiness and anger of two different sources. what marks would she find once she rose to look into her looking glass? battle wounds were nothing to her now, yet these would be a reminder. she had let her guard down and she had failed a heed longwei's teachings. it mustn't happen again. she thinks, a silent vow as she opens her eyes to watch benjamin and finally follows suit. there's an energy buzzing in the air around her as she moves, her senses alight with it once more. she doesn't feel ill or weak. she doesn't feel disconnected from nature but embraced in it.

katarzyna nearly hums as she sorts out her uniform. no, she does not seek the dress she had wore the night before that was much worse for wear, or even any dress similar; she chooses what she should have been wearing the entire time. there had been a purpose in her effort prior, to attempt to seem to fit in more than she would have since she traversed washington's camp as much as her own. however such had not prevented the events of the night before and the fact remained, katarzyna was allied with washington and as such held loyalty to him, but she was not under his sole authority in the same fashion others were. she held her own forces. she was a part of them. she did not need others to fully accept her even if they should question her appearance as all that mattered was the trust and partnerships she did hold with washington's circle. it was time to halt pretenses and be who she was. and to show hickey who she was too. he and the other man may have been able to gain the advantage over her when she was in a weakened state. but katarzyna was a force to be reckoned with and to that point so was benjamin.

speaking of.. light hues drift toward him again upon his utterance, her finishing securing the outer layer of her dark uniform though she had yet to get to her messy hair. "i should hope so. between us he will reveal his alliances." she states confidently, before feeling the energy around her and calling out to her previously missing shadows as if they were children being called home. "or he will die for them." she states, allowing her shadows to manifest between them in a kind of humanoid cloud that suddenly disperses a moment later as if mimicking death. then she moves forward, toward benjamin until she can feel the warmth of his body radiating off him. she raises her hand to the side of his face feeling comfort in their newfound closeness.

"if i had known all i needed was a night with you to regain my powers and strength, we'd have already had many nights like last." her tone is light, teasing, almost playful even if the matter of discussion is serious. of course, katarzyna knew it was a variety of factors which allowed her to finally regain her strength. the temporary loss of her powers had been just that: temporary. however, she could not discount the weight of what they had shared and the evidence it laid forth to her previous theories. if they truly had called to each other in some way, their essences over time, having come together now. then perhaps he did have something to do with her present state. life giving life. energy shared. magic and nature worked in many ways perhaps they were not meant to understand.

"i'll have to speak with a few of my people first. there should be a few reports for me downstairs. it will not take long but i do not know how long our interrogation will last. i should do this before we go." she considers a moment, before speaking again. "you can be there. with me." trust. it was trust which exudes from her tone and words. a trust she wasn't sure others may have for him but they would accept her trust in him. they had to. "perhaps it's time you understood some of my people's side of things." of course, she does not expect to spend long on this, not right now. not when they still had hickey to attend to but she feels, perhaps, allowing him to be present for the small meeting she'd have to have before she could leave the residence would illustrate something. if nothing else, he'd see the base designs of their campaign from their maps and mock ups. it was the same land and towns and terrain but a very different war and her willingness to allow him to see any of this proved the level of trust she was affording him.

[inappropriatemetalfilth]

“When Lord Father is present and you suddenly remember your posture” or  “HIERARCHY AND URUKS” That unnamed uruk really grew a lot in the moment he had his back straightened. “Fabio” looks way more unfazed by Adar´s entrance, but even he has a moment of lowering his head lightly. The last post mentioned their hand gestures and bowing (x), which certainly indicate that Adar has an unmatched position of authority.  Bowing - Do they do this on their own accord? - Is there some kind of protocol, military courtesy, court ceremonial established? - If so did Adar set the rules?   - Is it remnants of how they had to live under Morgoth and Sauron?  Rank and Titles  On the wonderful JM Discord I´ve already wondered, if or how interchangeable “Adar” and “Lord Father” are. (Gratitude and Thanks for the conversation go to @niennawept @astro-gnome, @bluestaratsunrise!)  While the uruks do use the word “Adar” to a) talk about him, b) announce him, or c) when they chant it, I do think, he´s only ever addressed once by someone with “Adar” instead of “Lord Father”. Adar or Lord Father - Is it completely interchangeable? - Is it personal preference?  - Is there a component of rank or status (some uruks are allowed to use Adar´s name, while others are restricted to use his title)? - Is it a matter of formal / informal or on duty / off duty use?  - Do they even have concepts like formal or duty? Or is life just life? (They use the term “sun duty”, but do they have designated leisure “off times”?) Adar - One thing that could point to a situational use is, that we (correct me if I´m wrong) only hear Magrot say “Adar” to his face when addressing him (1x04). This could perhaps have even been a “last wish” kind of thing. Only in this last moment of his, Magrot is allowed or is allowing himself to address Adar directly by his name. Pure speculation aside, it might just be due to an informal situation, Magrot´s status, or because there actually isn´t any taboo or any reservation about addressing Adar by his name going on.  - Revion and Arondir obviously hear the uruks say “Adar”  - Vrath and Lurka [Grugzûk?] are having their “For Adar” conversation (1x03) - “Wait! Bring him to Adar." (1x03) - Bazur´s announcement: “Magrot! Adar...” (1x04)  - The chanting of his name (1x03/1x04,1x07) - Waldreg: “Hail Adar, Lord of the South lands!” (1x07) As @niennawept has pointed out with Waldreg there might be an additional factor for him using the title when he addresses Adar directly: he might not want to use an elven word, and thus mostly refrain from saying “Adar”. Lord Father  - Waldreg uses the title to address him directly: ”Meaning no offense, Lord-father” (1x06),“Lord-father! You must move now!” (1x06), “What should we call it instead, Lord-father?" (1x07) - It might also point to situational use, that every time when Grugzûk is addressing Adar, he is doing so while reporting: “Lord-father... We found it. It's in the tower." (Warg Scene 1x04), “The tunnel is complete, my lord. (...) Like fire, Lord-father.” (Sun Scene 1x05) - Bazur using “Yes, Father.” (1x06) in Ostirith is doing so in a formal/duty situation as well.  - When Theo escapes an uruk orders: “You! Send word to Lord-father." (1x04) Uruks and authority Among the uruks other than Adar we have the couple with official and unofficial names that seem to have some authority over others, even among the unnamed ones we - e.g. have this one giving directions to another (x) to branch out and search their surroundings.  - In Ostirith Grugzûk is giving a command: “Open that door!“ (1x06) - Bazur is leading the (for a lack of a better word) ceremony for Magrot and has e.g. in Ostirith a clear leadership role, not just when he is relaying Adar´s orders  “All of you! Fan out! Find them!” (1x06). - In the scene with the quarrel over the tree, the way Magrot is sauntering into the scene and all others are looking at him (the uruks seemingly just as curious about how he will handle this situation (x), as the humans and elves are) very much imply that he is in charge there. - Before Arondir is almost killed, one of the uruks (Lurka is listed in the script, but it sounds like Bazur? [and might be another one]) is taking charge when he decides that Arondir shouldn´t be killed but brought to Adar ("Wait! Bring him to Adar." 1x03). - However there is one conversation that might indicate, that the authority structures or ranks among them might not be that rigid: “Lurka [?] : You there! Anchor him. Toss him out with the rest. Vrath: You toss him out with the rest. I had sun duty yesterday. Lurka [?]: You'll stay in the sun till you're black as coal if Adar wills it. (**)    Vrath: For Adar, then. But not for you!” “For Adar.”   (1x03) If the names in the script are correct [Edit: Thanks to @circe007 we know now they well might not be (x)] Lurka [Grugzûk] thinks he can order Vrath around, Vrath has a different opinion on the matter.  I do find the “you there” odd, does Lurka [Grugzûk] not know Vrath´s name? If they are of the same or similar rank, as the show kinda makes it appear, wouldn´t they have been around each other and know their names?  - But them having a word like “boss” certainly proves that there is some formalized, structural concept of hierarchy:   “Orc: Leave no stone unturned. Orc: Boss will skin us alive if we don't find him. [Theo] Orc 2: Boss is the one who lost him in the first place.” (1x04) The boss in this case must be Vrath, who encountered Theo with the sword hilt and then lost him. In general in this chaotic searching situation some ordering is going on (but often it is unclear who is saying what) such as “Kishdibatot / Search it.”. While they do have some forms of hierarchy, the term "boss" is used and some of the uruks are shown to be in charge in some way, we don´t get to know a lot about how uruk culture works in that regard. Which I´m fine with, that uncertainty after all allows some headcanons, but I´d be so curious about a couple of things:  - How much, or if they (higher or lower ranks or equal uruks) are involved in the decisions making process and planning, or if the “boss” uruks are solely/mostly handling and organizing whatever situation or battle is at hand, basically like a cog in the command chain?  - I´m still curious how the plan Galadriel reads about in scripts in Númenor (x), came to be, who originated it and how did Adar learn about it? And in this light, if it was discussed with the other uruks? Did they have a conversation about how they wanted to proceed once Sauron was out of the picture? Was the plan one they always wanted to follow through with (because the sun hurts) or did they grow tired of living in the world as it is, facing hostilities and then turned to that option?  - And you know .. just in general how does that society function? How do they handle conflict? Is equality a thing? Is one uruk heart worth the same as another?  Additional Question:  ** Why is Adar being used as a bit of a boogeyman figure and somewhat of a meanie or threat here? Surely an unquestioned boogeyman, one they´d do everything for, not even second guessing, but still a boogeyman?  Really wondering about this, especially in light of the fandom portraying Adar so much as a benevolent, loving father figure (despite the sun scorching moment, or sending some to be cannon fodder (x) and because of incredibly heartbreaking emotional moments like the one with Magrot, his speech before the battle or words to Galadriel, or generally his mission to give them a home free of sunlight).  | The Rings of Power | 01x06 "Udûn" |  Adar (Joseph Mawle), “Fabio” (Jed Brophy), Unnamed Uruk |

[swordsoprano]

this post talks fairly extensively about death and suicide, but it's mostly about, like, how society talks about those topics, rather than going into extensive detail about either of them in themselves

i talk a bit about my own experiences with suicidal ideation, but i do not go into detail about them and they are not the main focus of the post

there are also brief, non-detailed mentions of institutionalization (and my very negative opinions about therapists)

saw people (on twitter not on here) shitting on "unalive" again and. just. you realize people aren't using "unalive" because they WANT to, right? you realize people are using it not only to avoid being banned/flagged/what have you on social media, but also to avoid BEING REPORTED TO AUTHORITIES WHO MIGHT FORCIBLY INSTITUTIONALIZE THEM, right? you realize it's not ~sanitizing people's struggles~ for people to talk about THEIR OWN struggles in THE LANGUAGE THAT IS AVAILABLE TO THEM, right?

but even with all that out of the way...the original post i saw had this whole thing about how "the word and the act (of suicide) should make you uncomfortable" and that just...wasn't sitting right with me?

it's not a moral failing to be uncomfortable, on a personal level, with discussing the topic of suicide, but...idk, i've been suicidal on and off for the majority of my life by this point, and i don't see any sign of that going away. "suicidal" vs "not suicidal" is not binary for me. so i am, in fact, quite comfortable with the topic by now. if i wasn't able to gain at least some degree of comfort with it, i wouldn't be alive. and idk, it just kind of bothers me seeing a daily fact of my existence being described as some horrible violent uncomfortable thing.

not to mention that...like...you know who else is "uncomfortable" with the subject? therapists! therapists are so uncomfortable with the subject that they lock people up in Brain Jail for trying to talk about it, instead of doing things that could actually help them through it!

i absolutely think suicide is a sensitive topic that deserves to be talked about with respect! (by which i mean, like, on a broad societal level. i’m not about to suggest that people who have had those experiences should only ever be serious about them-if i could not joke about them, i would not be here. the “respect” i’m talking about absolutely includes allowing people who have had those experiences to be irreverent about them.)

and i think that "it should make you uncomfortable" is not the respect it's deserving of. (and, of course, shitting on people for trying to have open and honest conversations about it using the limited language that is available to them is also not the respect it's deserving of.)

death is a part of life. we all face it in some way at some point, we all react to it differently. and arguing that we should be MORE uncomfortable talking about (one specific kind of) death is. like. what society do you live in where people are too comfortable talking about death? bc it sure isn’t this one

[shoujoboy-restart]

Didn't Israel attack a celebrity for speaking out against the atrocities? Response to that post I just saw about them claiming the crisis actor thing.

Also about Israel, is everybody that still supports Israel are bad people like the people in that protest from days ago in Washington showing support towards them? Cuz I kind of do feel a little conflicted because one of those reasons involved the October 7th massacre, which is kind of rarely brought up and the focus is more on the Palestinians, which I'm not saying shouldn't be focused on but it looks like most people are making it seem like what Israel is doing is proof that every Jewish people are bad and that the Nazis had a point, which is something I feel like is alluded to somehow with the rise of anti-Semitic hate crimes around the world.

Like I mean come on a fucking man just killed a young boy to death because of this fucking conflict and this idea that Jewish people are the bad guys and the conflict shows that which I don't feel is fair at all to condone everybody because their government is following Hitler's steps with their own touch.

Yeah they tried to drag Bella Hadid(a model with Palestinian heritage) on their fucking Instagram stories, it was so patethic lmao.

I wouldn't say everyone who supports Israel is a bad person, that's a very pointless generalization, many of them are people that since babies believed this was some sort of birthright of them to have this land and all Palestinians were evil people who seeked to kill them, before the current conflict there was some random girl on TikTok who made storytime/vent about how she had these neighbors that were nice and lovely and sweet, but after she discoverwd they were Palestinian she immediately started to believe they would hate her, kill her hark and therefore want then harmed as well, again, completely unprovoked without any aggression from the neighbors, Zionist Jew are under some crazy powerful propaganda and cult like beliefs.

And it is absolutely disgusting to think every single Jew is somehow at fault for israel's actions, Netanyahu had a absolutely abysmall approval ratings before the conflict, and he will absolutely not be elected democratically again or still be in power if there any actual democracy in that place and the support for him is extremely isolated, Jews in and out of Israel have always protested and fought against the occupation.

Both Islamophobic and Antisemitic hate crimes are on the rise, and if you are talking talking about 6 year old Wadea Al-Fayoume that killed by his landlord it is absolutely a case of how the media was at first reporting completely favourably of the Israel government:

“The father said [the landlord] had built a tree house for the boy and allowed him to swim in a makeshift pool and brought him toys. But it wasn’t until he started watching the news and hearing the statements [about the war] that something changed,”

Obviously there was probably some sort on mental illness at fault too(still not enough for a insanity please as of now it seems), but divise politics got a whole generation of people saying and protesting wanting a little black girl hanged and lynched for just wanting to go school as well.

Although I don't agree with the Hitler comparison(even thought the Israel got caught saying the whole "children of children's, children of darkness" shit that was found to be a mindset within the SS army) yeah Jews shouldn't be penalized for what Israel is doing, not Israel citizens should, we can complain about collective punishemwnt for Gazans and Palestinian and then make excuse for the same thing with Jews and Israelis

[if-confessions]

hi, just wanted to ask if you have an opinion on one star ratings on itch.io in general? i understand supporting authors, and i don't support mean comments on reviews. but it also feels dishonest to keep your opinion to yourself only when you have a negative view of a game. It seems like (in the cog-ish community on tumblr) sharing an opinion less than good for an if is frowned upon

i understand authors write for fun, and sometimes aren't looking for constructive criticism. but if the last part were completely the case, there IS an option on itch.io to just... disable reviews and ratings. opening yourself up to getting stellar 5 star reviews means opening yourself up to less than happy reviews as well

but, let me know what you think. you seem very insightful for these things!

Insightful XD you are too kind, Anon. I usually have some mild takes...

Long post ahead. TLDR:

use all stars available, it's there for a reason

reviews are good to get more information out of a rating

constructive =/= mean

don't want to deal with it, disable ratings

-------------------------------------------------

==> The whole range of stars in ratings should be used.

So, this is my current itch rating distribution:

As you can see, it is currently a bit skewed to the top. But that's because I tend to forget to rate a game after I play it*, and mostly because I am currently reviewing games and I wanted to start with games I know I've enjoyed in the past**. And also because I haven't played a lot of games recently... *which I only do in the first place if I actually finish a game, or gave it a fair shot. And you can't rate the game during the voting period of a ranked jam **the ones I didn't really enjoy may not be on itch either...

Even then, I am still personally in favour of using the full range of stars on itch by creating your own metrics to base your ratings* on. Not every game is worth a 5-stars and less-than-good games should not automatically get a 1-star. There are 5 stars for a reason! Use them! *My rating metric on itch is based on my enjoyment of the game/how entertained the game has been to me.

To me, ratings are part of the game making experience. They are a way to judge whether it is well received or not. And even if it doesn't feel good to receive a 1-star*, it is important to remember that not everyone will enjoy what you make, and they are still allowed to express that (what's the point of ratings otherwise...). *it's a bit like a rite of passage to get one :P

==> Itch Reviews... are not really reviews.

Even if they call it reviews, they are more small comments on ratings. Itch reviews are not visible on the game page, only in the ratings list of the game on the author side, and in the feed of the reviewer*. It cannot be perused by itch users wanting to know more about what players thought about the game. *if the reviewer doesn't remove it from their activity. Also sometimes visible in the global feed

They are more like personal messages from the player to the creator, rather than what you'd expect of reviews (opinion publicly visible*). This can be great for creators who want to hoard those private messages and keep it for themselves, or hide the more critical comments. But it might sometimes leads to getting irrelevant or less-then-nice messages**. And the most annoying part: you can't reply to them to correct some things, or ask for further details. *I guess you have the comment section where you could post a proper review? **itch allows you to report abusive and spam comments.

That's why I kind of prefer the system of the IFDB: your reviews and ratings are public, you can comment on reviews or indicate whether the review had been useful to you. And because it is much smaller than itch, reports are handled faster.

==> Still you should leave some comments with your rating.

Ratings give creators some sort of an indicator about the reception of the game, but, since ratings are highly subjective and everyone have different personal metrics when rating, they can't tell what when right and what didn't, how well or how poorly the game is being experiences... Only words can do that.

So I personally believe we should leave some comments with our ratings, whether it is good or bad, from full novelette-length reviews* to a few sentences. If it is criticism, then it should be shown constructively; if it is praise, it should be explicative. This will give the author some concrete elements to focus on to fix issues or continuing the project. *maybe don't do that on itch...

Here are some examples of comments I got with ratings of CRWL : only gotten 6 total, which is 5% of all ratings

ngl that second one stung (I think cried for an hour...) but nothing was false about it. It definitely needed a re-write and I was being a bit dramatic. It might have been a bit harsh, but it is a good example of a constructive comment

I know itch will never enforce it, but I do think leaving a sentence or two of constructive comment on lower ratings should be a bit more of the norm. Being constructive doesn't mean it is overly negative or mean, it should target elements that do not work and explain why it doesn't (and maybe how it could).

Sidenote: this is not a place to request things or changes from the game/creator, obviously.

==> If you don't want any 1-star ever, don't enable ratings.

Getting a 1-star rating or a bad reviews might usually be a rite of passage when putting your stuff out there, but you don't have to suffer through them if you don't want to.

Itch allows you to disable ratings and reviews (and even comments) for a reason*. Enabling it is a bit of a gamble, you don't know how people will rate and what they will say about the game. It could be a flood of stellar reviews or a barrage of terrible ones, or a bit of both, or... nothing. If you don't feel like you could handle getting some low ratings or more negative comments (like the middle one screenshotted above), then I would advise you to disable them. *it will also affect the visibility of your game in the browsing section if you are worried about that

I personally think it helped me build a thicker skin and grow as a creator* and a person. Getting long reviews** about how how my game wasn't working and why felt to me like the reviewer respected me enough to give my game a fair shot and explain their reasoning behind their view. I know I don't have to agree with everything, and I don't have to take every piece of criticism on board, but they all have made me think about my games differently. *probably more the IFDB reviews than the ratings here, because they were more constructive and explicative. **Damnit, can't link it. It was a review for this game, but locked in the forum because the reviewer had submitted a game too.

[the-unspeakable-tsar]

X-Manson Chapter 3 by Doctor Benway - Annotated by Tsar

We now get into the portion of the story that discusses the raid and its immediate fallout. Tw for depictions of assault, gore, and child abuse.

[Shot of Douglas and Marie-Ange Ramsey]

DR: The raid. Oh, boy.

Int: Why did you not bring in the authorities?

DR: I think there was too much going on. I was freaking out over Ariel ending up there, then Elizabeth Braddock disappeared and there was that big manhunt and there were reporters all over the place, and then Professor Lehnsherr showed up and he was in a worse state than I was.

[Shot of Gabrielle Lehnsherr]

GL: He can't talk about it, can't even think about it. I only know parts, from what he cries out in the night and from the reports on the investigation.

Int: He went to Emma Frost for help?

GL: It seemed the logical place to start, since she knew about the School and was a psi. Also, at the time Erich was not welcome in the US at all. Besides the Cape Citadel incident, his interference in the deployment of nuclear weapons in Europe and his resolution of the Korean conflict had made him a great many enemies in Washington, especially in the State and Defence Departments. It was part of why we lived in Vienna. When we tried to live in Germany, the Americans had them revoke his visa. The French and the British were no help, since Erich kept messing with their missile programs also.

Int: So he entered the US illegally?

GL: Yes. He flew to Montreal on a commercial flight, then flew to the Academy on his own power. His original plan was to convince Emma Frost to engage the authorities in an assault on Xavier's school.

Int: But that's not what happened.

GL: No.

[Shot of Emma Frost]

EF: Ultimately, the responsibility for the raid on Xavier's school is mine alone. If I could go back and change anything in my life, it would have been my decision to attack without support.

Int: Just you and Erich Lehnsherr?

EF: Yes. I found that my resistance was not what I had hoped that it was. With Erich's panic and Doug's fear and my own guilt for not going myself to pick up Ms Braddock from the airport, I allowed myself to act precipitously. Xavier was going to New York to debate a fundamentalist preacher over mutant rights issues. Doug hacked into the computers at the Stryker Crusade and found that Xavier was to be accompanied by Summers, Grey and Logan. Worthington was supposed to be at some big pro-mutant fundraiser in Los Angeles, and McCoy was still in Princeton. From what Douglas and Angelica and Vance had said, that left the Russian and the Irishman in charge of the School. We thought that we had a chance. It was hubris, pure hubris.

*Takes place somewhere around God Loves Man Kills. Scott being there raises questions; maybe the raid takes place roughly after his liaison with Maddie.

[Shot of Doug and Marie-Ange Ramsey]

DR: I had a feeling that they were going to try something on their own. Vance and I talked about calling the FBI and then he told me about what happened with the cops again, so we decided that we'd have to call a whole lot of different places at once so that there'd be too many for Xavier to get his claws into. Vance was into calling the Avengers. Angie ran in and said she saw Emma and Erich heading for the chopper. Vance and Angie took off after them, but she sent them back.

Int: Manipulating them?

*at this point, the Interviewer has made a lot of suggestions that psychics are always manipulating people. perhaps rightly so.

DR: No, no. Just sending very forcefully. She told us not to follow. We had a big argument. I said we should follow, Vance and Angie wanted to do what Emma said.

Int: But you ended up there.

DR: I said goodnight to them then took a taxi and the train to Boston followed by a train to Rye. Then I took a taxi to Salem Centre. I got there at 10:30.

Int: Why did you disobey Frost?

DR: I just had this terrible feeling that something was going to go wrong. Kind of like what Marie-Ange gets when she deals the cards, but not so focused. I had this feeling that we'd overlooked something.

Int: Did you have a plan?

DR: Kind of. It was so insane in retrospect that I still can't get over the fact that I'm still alive. I had this crazy idea of sneaking around the outside and checking to make sure everything was OK, that they'd all gotten out. Then I would call for help, if anything looked wrong. I couldn't see anything from the road, so I got into the grounds by going over the wall and into the woods. I didn't even think that they had any security equipment in place. I found what was left of the helicopter under a tarp by the lake, but neither of them were in it. I was going to go and phone Vance and all the agencies when I saw the car drive up.

Int: Their car?

DR: The Rolls-Royce. I saw Xavier get out and go into the house with Logan and Summers and Grey.

Int: They had no idea that you were there?

DR: I'm resistant enough that he couldn't pick me up unless he knew where I was. If there hadn't been a storm blowing in, or if it had been blowing in from behind me, Logan would have picked me out. If I'd known how lucky I was, I would have just taken off and made the calls.

*ororo reference?

Int: But you didn't.

DR: No. They weren't racing in, so I knew, just knew, that Ariel and Ms Frost were still in there. I watched Xavier go into a side entrance to the house, kind of into a basement. I waited five minutes, then went to the door. It was open and it was dark inside, so I went in.

Int: What did you find?

DR: Guns. Lots of guns and grenades and something that looked like a missile. There was another door, kind of half open. I went over to it, and looked in. It opened onto a kind of balcony over this indoor pool. It was all tiles, and it really stank. There were people down around the pool chanting, and one of them was walking back and forth over the surface of the water. The water was, it was, it was-

*The x-men do have an armory.

MAR: Blood.

DR: It was like he was walking on a pool of blood, but it couldn't have been blood. Not that much..

*they had to store it somewhere, douglas.

Int: Did you see Emma Frost and Erich Lehnsherr there?

DR: I saw them, I saw Xavier, but not much else. From what I did see, Emma was being held by some kind of force and Professor Lehnsherr was floating in the air, moaning. I didn't know it at the time, but it was Cable walking on the water, holding them there.

*in an earlier post, i referened Xuan and Dani as being the second or third Psi Mentioned by Brian Braddock. I forgot about Cable. He could take either place, but it's likely Xuan's place.

Int: So what did you do?

DR: I thought of running, but I just knew that they'd be killed before help would come. Then it struck me. They might have all that power, but I was in a room full of grenades. I thought that if I could distract them like they did in all those World War 2 movies, then they might be able to escape. I found some grenades that said they were concussion grenades and some that were smoke. I laid out three of each and then I pulled all the pins really quick, then threw them through the door all at once.

Int: What happened?

DR: They always counted to ten in the movies, but these things had twenty second fuses. I counted onetwothreefour as I pulled the pins fivesix as I picked them up, seven as I stepped up to the doorway, eight as I threw them, nine as I turned and ran, then ten and nothing. I mean, I had it all thought out, and it didn't work, so I stopped dead, turned around, went back, and looked. They were all staring at me.

Int: Oh shit.

DR: Oh yeah. Emma sent to me: RUN. I ran, and I kept thinking of the car and I just got outside when all the grenades starting going off. I heard the roar and the glass breaking and I thought, I killed them all. I got to the car and the keys were still in it. I started it just like I'd seen my Dad do, and Emma sent to me and told me to drive it around the side. If it hadn't been an automatic, we'd have been fucked. So I drove this car, which was about the size of a bus, down across the lawn just as she's dragging Professor Lehnsherr out the door. There's people all over the place, crawling out the windows, throwing up everywhere from the gas, but they don't see us. She wrenches open the door and throws Erich in and sends DRIVE so hard I had a nosebleed. So I drove.

Int: Did any of them try to stop you?

SR: Logan was the only one in any shape to stop us. He tried to charge the car.

*fuck.

Int: So you drove away from him?

DR: Ran right over him.

MAR: That's enough. Stop the tape.

*Point to Tarot for stopping it before Doug has a war flashback

[Shot of Gabrielle Lehnsherr]

GL: Erich regressed. What he saw took him back to the War. He had a very bad War, as well you know. He didn't utter a single word for five years after that. It took a decade for him to make a full recovery. He did all he could, but he couldn't save my son.

*Xavier or Cable hit him with all his repressed trauma, i think.

[Shot of Douglas & Marie-Ange Ramsey]

DR: Sorry about that. I'm OK.

MAR: If you're certain.

*tension in the marriage?

DR: I am.

Int: How did you get back to the Academy?

DR: I had to get out of the grounds first, and I was panicking. I mean, I could barely reach the pedals and see over the dash at the same time. I remember driving across the patio twice and almost hitting people both times, then I somehow found the gate and drove out of it. I pulled over about half a mile down the road and looked in the back. The Professor was unconscious, and Emma was just sort of collapsed on top of him. I looked at her and said I can't drive or something like that and she just stared back at me, like she was some other person.

Int: She was possessed?

DR: Not in the classical sense. You know those old comics where someone sees a ghost and their hair turns white overnight? It was exactly like that, except that her hair was already white, it was just like her face matched or something. I could see people in the road, so I took off. I drove for like three hours until I found this phone booth by the side of the road. I called the school emergency number and got Mr. Fitzroy, and said that he had to come out and get us.

Int: How did he find you?

DR: I gave him the number, and I think he had some connection in the phone company. He was out with half a dozen masters in a van within 15 minutes. It turned out I was only ten miles from the Academy.

Int: Did you go to the authorities?

DR: When I got back, they sedated me. They didn't know that would break down my natural resistance to telepathy. I was almost asleep when they came to see me.

Int: Who?

DR: Xavier and Cable and Ariel. They were standing at the foot of my bed. They weren't physically there, of course, but they were there for me. To give me a message.

Int: Did you know it was her?

DR: Not until they told me. She was very pretty. She had long brown hair and these big brown eyes. She looked so scared.

-----

She sits up, upending the half-fill tub of chip dip onto the shag carpet. The chips follow, but she doesn't notice. She goes down on her knees before the set and touches the image of his face on the warm unyielding glass.