#Line Item Veto

[schraubd]

Wisconsin is a Failed State

Folks are cackling at a line-item veto Gov. Tony Evers (D-WI) made which took a one-year increase to the school budget and, though some clever deletions, turned it into a four-hundred year increase. The veto goes "for the 2023-24 school year and the 2024-25 school year, add $325." The new version reads: "for 2023-2425, add $325."

Obviously, this is hilarious and, as trolling goes, it's trolling for good. And there's nothing new about this in Wisconsin either -- when I teach about the line-item veto, I show an example from former Wisconsin Gov. Tommy Thompson, who similarly vetoed individual bits and bobs from an enacted law to create a brand new spending program where none previously existed.

But still, it's fair to say that this is not how a functioning government should proceed.

Meanwhile, Wisconsin Republicans have blocked a proposal to require schoolchildren be vaccinated against meningitis. It's become increasingly clear that the anti-vaxx takeover of the GOP no longer has anything to do with COVID, and has become a general opposition to public health initiatives of all stripes. While this isn't Wisconsin specific, it is another instance of the state's ludicrously-gerrymandered legislature drinking fully and deeply of the waters of the death cult.

Finally, I'd be remiss if I didn't talk about the chaos that has afflicted the Wisconsin Supreme Court in recent years. Of course, we all remember when one justice on that august court tried to choke out his esteemed colleague. More recently, members of that Court have repeatedly flirted with 2020 election denialism. One former member compared affirmative action to slavery. And while it may be the single funniest thing I've ever witnessed, having the Court's liberal faction celebrate the victory of a progressive challenger by marching into a watch party room to "it's bad bitch o'clock" also probably isn't exactly the sign of a perfectly healthy judicial body.

So yeah, Wisconsin isn't in great shape. Maybe folks should try Minnesota instead?

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/GSl5s24

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirteen

authors note: welp. the gala is finally here, friends! i hope you enjoy. well, the enjoyable parts.

ya'll remember that promo where kevin and sami tried to jump roman and he was furious, throwing shit out the ring, yelling at solo to position sami for the spear? that's how angry our collective favorite grump gets in this one...

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

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of torture, fighting violence, language, angst, fluff, livid roman, and discussion regarding family loss.

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

masterlist

words: 11k

“Guys, is this really necessary?”

Truth be told, Solana already knows how both of her friends are going to respond. Bayley, however, is the one who briefly rips her focus from finding an x-large size in the top to the matching bottoms she’s picked out for Solana.

“It absolutely is necessary.” She takes a second to gesture to Solana’s outfit for the day. “You’ve come so far in so many ways, including not hiding your body as much, so we have to keep that going.”

“Exactly,” Naomi chimes as she reaches yet another dress to Solana, adding it to the pile of clothes she already has stacked on her arm. “Besides, who doesn’t love shopping with other people’s money?”

Other people would be Roman. Despite her horror at the totals every time Bayley and Naomi sucker her into these outrageous shopping trips, her husband never seems to bat an eye. It’s not unsurprising. She knows he’s filthy rich. But still, just the thought of spending so much money on clothes is a struggle.

And as Bayley adds the two piece suit to her arm, Solana starts to notice there’s a theme in the items they’re picking for her. A lot of bathing suits. Sun dresses. Shorts and thin sleeved tops. All appropriate for summer, of course. But, something else. 

Like a trip.

Curious, Solana suddenly asks, “why are we getting so many vacation type outfits?”

Naomi looks at her with the perfect confused expression. “What?” She laughs, picking up a bright orange top with a low neckline. “Girl, it’s summer. These are summer clothes.”

“But all these bathing suits—”

“Because we finally got you to embrace a two-piece, so now we need to make sure you have plenty of em’ whenever you and Roman decide to go for a swim.” Her wink makes Solana look away to hide her blush. She doesn’t regret opening up about trying to eventually consummate her marriage, but the way Naomi and Bayley never waste a chance to crack an innuendo can be….a lot at times.

“I’m gonna go bring these up front.” Solana gestures to the heavy stack of clothes that she’s holding. The second, or maybe third, stack they’ve accumulated for her. There’s always a check-in regarding if Solana likes it or not, which she appreciates. Even if they’ve become exceptionally good at distinguishing whether she doesn’t like something because it’s just not her style or whether she doesn’t like it because of insecurity. And when it’s the second one, they never hesitate to invoke their veto powers, instructing the cashier to ring it up.

Solana finds the sales girl from earlier up at the register, messing around on her phone as the line is non-existent. Her emerald green eyes dart up from the screen and an almost crooked smile falls on her young looking face. Solana would guess she’s either in her late teens or early twenties. 

“Got more for me?”

Solana giggles. “Just a little.” 

The girl also laughs, accepting the new pile and adding it with the others. She turns back around with a bit of skeptical look. “Hey, uh, can I ask you something?”

Curious, Solana nods. “Sure.”

She leans over the counter, red hair sprinkling past her freckled shoulders. “How did you meet your husband?” Eyes widening a bit, Solana’s surprise at the question must show. “I’ve seen you come in here a couple times now over the past few months, and every time you spend more than what my parents probably make in a month combined. And your ring is so beautiful. I guess I’m just kind of wondering how I can get lucky too. Cause your husband clearly loves you a lot to spoil you so much.”

Love…..

Not until this very moment has Solana ever thought about Roman and the word love in the same sentence. Hell, in the same universe. 

He’s….he’s done so much for her. Changed her life, for the better, in almost every way. And she’s gathered that he must care for her to some extent. Why else would he do the things he’s done? But love….that’s such a strong word.

Too strong.

Not to mention, he’d made clear to her the first time he came to visit her at her job that he could never love her. He was very honest about that, and in a weird way, she appreciated it.

But…..but he also said that she was a business arrangement, and nothing about the way he treats her feels like a business obligation.

So…..

It’s such a big thing, a big thing she’s not sure she wants to tackle in public, let alone while standing in front of a complete stranger. 

“He’s really great.” That’s the answer nonanswer that she settles on. “I just….I got really lucky with him.” Because she did. God knows she did.

“Fair,” the girl laughs. “Well, if he has any younger brothers who are kind and generous like him, I’m single.”

Solana smiles a bit when her attention lands on the word brothers. Siblings. Family. 

It takes her back to a few months earlier, the night he rushed off because of conflict with this Cody Rhodes person. The night he shared with her he also lost his mother at the age of ten.

But…..but there was more.

Brief glimpses, flashbacks almost of a different night. Her body pressed against his. His strong arms around her. Comforting her almost.

“....all of my siblings….”

“.....only one…..”

“....alone….”

And though she can’t make out everything, can’t remember verbatim what he’d shared with her that evening. there’s enough bits and pieces that she’s able to string together a coherent, heartbreaking realization. 

It wasn’t just Roman’s mom he lost that night.

He lost his entire family.

He was the only one who made it out alive. 

There’s a crushing, cumbersome weight Solana feels in the back of her throat as well as the pit of her stomach. She knows better than most how devastating the loss of family can be, but to lose your entire immediate family in one night. As a child?

That’s a pain she can’t even imagine.

Roman makes a lot more sense now, his coldness, the constant aloof disposition. The way he always has his guard up. Beyond just his title as Tribal Chief. How can one not lose trust in most and all things with a loss like that?

How can one love after a loss like that?

Realizing her epiphany is unfolding behind the sales girl, Solana manages to murmur out a, “I’ll keep that in mind” before excusing herself. She just needs some space. Needs some—

“Solana?”

The woman in question is close to the entrance of the story when a voice, both new and familiar, calls her name, forcing her to turn around. And it’s when she does so that Solana realizes why it’s familiar.

“Dom?”

It’s been years since she’s seen him, and he looks both the same yet different. Facial hair that seems uneven and unconnected with a hairstyle to match, bangs almost entirely obscuring his bushy eyebrows. He’s dressed in all black, clothes draped over his still slim build. Once upon a time, she would grow nervous around him, insecure of herself in comparison to someone she thought was so much more attractive than he actually was. Now though, she just wants to pretend this unexpected encounter never happened.

“What are you—”

“Did you get bigger?”

And there it goes. One simple question asked with almost a hint of a mocking smile, Solana is briefly reverted back to those days of deep rooted insecurity. Where she’d hold her stomach in around him and always only order salad the few times he took her out.

For a second, she’s tempted to cross her arms, suddenly regretting the top that doesn’t entirely connect with her high waisted shorts, exposing a strip of skin. 

“Damn. I really thought you would have gotten yourself together by now.” He scoffs, crossing his arms as he tilts his head. “You still not putting out? Cause your tits are actually not that—”

“Shut up.”

Solana isn’t sure who’s more surprised by her interruption. Him or her. Perhaps him, because his smile is dropped, replaced with an almost scowl.

“What the hell did you say to me, mami?”

But instead of cowering, instead of her anxiety growing at him, a man, moving closer to her. Trying to intimidate her. Solana doesn’t back down.

She doesn’t back down because she’s not scared. 

Chin lifted, she keeps her voice firm and unwavering. “You don’t get to talk about me anymore. Not my weight. Not my body. None of it.” Seeing the shock in his eyes at her actually standing up for herself, not allowing him to talk down on her like he always would, makes Solana’s assertiveness that much more fulfilling. “Now leave me alone.”

She turns to walk away when she hears footsteps behind her. “Where do you think—”

Call it the result of her training or the fact that she’s still very much in her feelings and head about her heartbreaking realization regarding Roman, Solana hasn’t a clue just what leads her to spin around and connect her fist directly with Dom’s nose. However, as soon as she does it, sees him stumbling back into a rack, she slaps her hands over her mouth.

“Oh my….” But instead of apologizing, instead of feeling terrible for hitting another human being, she finds herself almost laughing. A shocked, amused smile hidden underneath her palms. Her first is hurting a bit, but that sting is dulled by the satisfaction of his dumbfounded facial expression.

It’s a bit short lived though as he straightens up and starts to stalk toward her. “What the hell? You crazy puta—”

“What the fuck did you just call her?”

Solana turns to see Bayley and Naomi. It’s hard to distinguish who looks more pissed. Who looks more ready to commit murder.

Naomi steps forward. “I know you did not just call her a bitch.” She turns to Bayley. “That’s what puta means in Spanish, right?”

“It sure does.” Bayley answers, coming to stand beside Solana. Protectively. “He called her a crazy bitch at that.” She scoffs, dressing him up and down. “Everyone knows you’re an idiot, Dom, but I didn’t think you were that stupid. Who the hell do you think you are talking to her like that?”

“He’s my ex.” Solana answers, partially unsure why she would let slip a piece of information that could only make the situation worse.

Naomi’s mouth drops open, one thumb gesturing to him. “Dirty Dumbass Dom is your ex?” Her eyes widen even more. “The one who said—oh hell no, Solana. We’re kicking his ass.”

Bayley lifts her hand, effectively stopping Naomi as she moves forward, no doubt ready to lay into him. Head tilted to the side, she smiles. “No….I have a much better idea.” Solana is understandably confused as Bayley tells Naomi, “I still have my stuff in my trunk.” 

Naomi’s eyes light up. “Oh, this just got so much better.” She turns towards the sales associate who’s been watching everything unfold from a distance like it was a TikTok storytime. “Hold the items, please. We’ll be back in a little bit.” 

Solana turns around to see the girl just give a thumbs up and shrug. “Do what you gotta do.”

Dom groaning in pain is what makes Solana turn her attention back to him, only to see him doubled over, holding his crotch as Naomi hits him in his back and starts guiding him out the store. “Get walking. Now.”

“I’m not going any—-” He cries out once again when Bayley kicks him in his face. 

“Shut your bitch ass up!” She curses in Spanish, motioning for Solana to follow them. “Come on, girl.”

Confused but following suit, Solana asks, “what are we doing?”

Naomi answers with intentional vagueness. “Having a lil’ fun.”

Something tells Solana they have different definitions of fun. 

But she remains silent as her two friends quite literally drag Dom out of the store, through the rest of the stores until they reach the parking lot. She’s again surprised when they take him over to Bayley’s car. She unlocks it and opens the trunk, pulling out a black bag that she hands to Solana. Solana starts to peek inside when something else catches her attention. 

Bats. 

Metal bats. 

She has two. One of which she reaches to Solana.

“I—just what are we doing?”

Bayley’s smile is nothing but mischievous. “Having some fun.”

Naomi suddenly pulls out a knife and presses it to his throat. “Take us to your car. Now.” 

Dom is quieter than she’s ever known him to be as he follows Naomi’s directive, leading them to his fancy pickup truck that Solana, even with her limited knowledge about cars, can tell is worth a pretty penny. 

They make him unlock it to ensure it's actually his truck before Bayley starts to circle it. She nods, as if impressed. “Nice. Can tell you’ve put a bunch of upgrades in.” Solana’s mouth drops open as Bayley takes her key and slides it along the truck as she walks. “Might need a paint job though.”

“What the hell! You—” He’s silenced by Naomi kicking him in his back, forcing him to the ground, knife still pressed against his throat. “You’re all fucking crazy!”

That only makes Bayley smile as she directs Solana to lay the bag on the ground, bending over and pulling out a portable bluetooth speaker. It’s only when seeing the glitter, paint, and glue that Solana starts to put two and two together.

“Are we—”

“Uh huh.”

She gasps. “But, we can’t—-we…..” And suddenly, she’s trailing off, thoughts of all of the cruel, unkind things Dom would say to her, the way he would put her down, fat shame her, bringing her to tears. The memories help her tune to change a bit. “C—can we?” 

Bayley stands up and places a hand on her shoulder. “Solana…..you are Solana fucking Reigns. Wife of Roman Reigns, the Tribal Chief, the Head of the Table.” Out of the corner of her eye, Solana can see Dom’s eyes go wide as saucers. He clearly wasn’t aware of this. Of her marriage. Of just who she calls husband these days. “You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

Bayley’s hype is effective as she pulls out her phone, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker. A small smile falls on Solana’s face as she hears the familiar and oh-so fitting song. 

Right now,

He's probably slow dancing with a bleach blonde tramp

And she's probably getting frisky

Right now,

He's probably buying her some fruity little drink

'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

Bayley gestures for Solana to move closer to the truck. “Your ex. First hit is yours.”

“Solana, wait, please. I—I didn’t know you were with him.” Dom’s pleading and begging is desperate and embarrassing. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

For some reason, that word has never made her feel so irritated. 

“No, you’re not.” And without a second of hesitation, she takes the bat and swings it against his passenger window, effectively shattering it. On the side, Bayley and Naomi cheer her on, Solana not even needing encouragement as she moves around to the other side, doing the same to the driver’s window.

Bayley howls out, “let’s fuckin’go!” She takes the bat and brings it against the rest of the truck, creating dents, scratches, and anything else that can desecrate what she’s sure makes up for other deficits. 

Solana just took out the mirror on the passenger side when she hears Naomi aggressively yell at him not to ‘fucking move.” And Dom doesn’t, just watches helplessly as she moves over to the bag, pulling out the glue and glitter. She smirks in his direction, lifting the materials of destruction. “Time to glow, bitch.”

Solana laughs as Naomi rips open the door and starts pouring the deadly combination of glue and glitter all over the interior. 

I dug my key into the side of his pretty

little suped up four wheel drive

Carved my name into his leather seats

Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights

Slashed a hole in all four tires

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

The ironic and iconic lyrics serve as a manual and guiding force for Solana as she catches the tossed keys from Bayley who’s on the hood of the truck going HAM on the roof with the metal bat. Solana finds herself feeling almost giddy as she effectively slashes all four of his tires.

This is the last thing she ever saw herself doing: completely destroying her ex’s car without a care in the world, but it’s also exactly what’s happening.

And she can’t even say that she feels any regret about it.

Doesn’t feel bad about it.

Why should she? He never felt bad about any of the shit he did to her. 

And she especially doesn’t feel bad as she finds herself carving her name not only in his leather seats but the outside of the truck as well.

Naomi looks over at Dom who is now actually crying and laughs. “Look at it this way, Dom. We’re only doing this to your truck. Imagine what he’s going to do to you once he finds out what you did to his wife.” It brings her a great sense of satisfaction to see the terror in his eyes. 

It also makes her send out the brief video she recorded of Bayley and Solana beating the shit out of the truck with bats to her group chat with the men.

Naomi: Just doing hot girl shit. 💅🏿

Their replies start coming in only minutes later. 

Jimmy: Idk what’s going on, but I’m turned tf on. 

Jey: Why ya’ll females always go after our cars and shit? 

Roman: Why the fuck is it everytime you two take my wife out, it’s always some shit?

Roman: What the fuck is going on?

Naomi: Because you all asked so nicely 😐, turns out Solana used to date Dom back in the day.

Jimmy: Rey’s boy? The fuck? She too damn fine for that weasel. He could never handle all that ass.

Roman: One more time, Jimmy. Just one more time.

Jey: Naomi, please give us the rest of the story before Roman make your ass a widow.

Naomi: 🥴 Anyway, she told us some of the stuff he used to say to and about her, and honestly….even more trash than we thought.

Roman: Like?

Naomi: We promised Solana we wouldn’t say anything. Just know he was mean to her. So I guess she ran into him and he said some out of pocket shit, she got upset and PUNCHED him!!!!!!!

Jimmy: Soso HIT someone?!? 

Naomi: Sure did!

Jey: Damn! Our Soso growing up on us!

Roman: I wanna know what the fuck he said to her.

Naomi: Ask her when you get home. 🙄

Naomi: So we’re fucking up his truck while he watches helplessly. 😊

Roman: The dead don’t need cars anyway.

Roman’s chilly response is both given and, in her opinion, well overdue. She’s never heard anything nice or good about Mysterio’s boy, so she can only imagine the full extent of what he put Solana through. 

It’s why she’s mostly pleased by how Solana allows herself to let loose, to get her receipt. She deserves it.

As Solana and Bayley pour glitter in his gas tank, Naomi casually calls out, “what should we get to eat after this?”

________

“I committed assault and vandalism in one day. One.”

Roman smiles as he adjusts his tie, partially thankful his clearly distressed wife is unable to see his humored response to her frantic worrying. 

“That bitch got what he deserved, Solana.” Part of it. But, Solana doesn’t need to know Roman absolutely plans on making sure she never has to run into that alelo ever again. No one will. “You shouldn’t feel bad.”

She really shouldn’t, because he can only imagine what was said to her, the treatment she received from that piece of shit. None of which she deserved. All of which makes him want to say fuck the gala and get straight to torturing the fucker.

Through the mirror attached to his dresser, he watches the bathroom door open, Solana stepping out, a robe only partially covering the length of her red dress. Leaning against the door, she crosses her arms, clearly in her head over what he partially wishes he could have been present for.

He would have taken the metal bats to Dom himself versus the truck.

But, he’s also him, and she is her. 

Two very different people. 

Roman moves across the room, pulling her against him as her hands lay on his chest. “You really mean to tell me you didn’t feel the least bit good at fucking his shit up?”

And he sees it, the way she’s fighting back the agreement. He reminds, hands moving to undo her robe. “You’re not ever required to be nice to people who are cruel to you, Solana. You owe them nothing.” She seems to be mulling over his words as he pushes her robe off her shoulders, watching it fall to the floor. “Fuck….” She always looks good, but there’s something about seeing her in the red, the way the dress hugs her curves, taunting him, testing his resolve, that has them wanting to ditch the gala for an entirely different reason. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Her smile is bashful, but he’s pleased to see her not look away, to maintain eye contact as she murmurs a quiet ‘thank you’. She gasps a bit, informing, “Oh, I noticed earlier you were running low on your medicine, so I called it in and picked it up for you.”

That takes him off guard. It was on his to-do list. Somewhere on there, he’s certain. But for her to go out of her way to take care of it for him, it makes him feel something he can’t really explain. 

Solana’s smile dims a bit as she gently reminds, “you’ve gotta stay on top of that. It’s—it’s important, Roman.”

“Yeah…” It’s a response to her, but he’s still very much in his head over whatever this strange ass, yet somehow comforting feeling is. Fucking confusing ass shit. Clearing his throat, Roman forces himself to get his head back in the game. “Solana….” His tone is something different, something that makes her a bit nervous, that weighs down her previous smile even more.

She does her best not to reveal the alteration in her happiness level. But, she can just tell the mood is about to shift a bit. “Yes?”

To his credit, his hand moving in circles on the small of her back gives her a bit of comfort. Eases the weight of whatever he’s about to share. “Tonight..tonight I need to be on. Focused. The fucking annoying part about these things is that everyone’s there to see if they can seek out some type of soft point. Some kind of weakness.” 

This confuses her. Soft point? That’s not an issue for Roman, and she points out as such. “But, but you have no weaknesses.” 

Something flashes in his eyes and before she can say anything, not that she necessarily would, he’s back to explaining himself. “I don’t want you to think that I’m being cold with you. I’m not upset or avoiding you. I just—”

“You need to show them why you’re the Head of the Table.” His latter explanation provides the previously missing clarification. Reaching for his hand, she offers a gentle smile. “I understand.” 

“Do you?” For a second, it almost sounds like there’s a sense of urgency to his tone. Like he needs to know that she knows it’s nothing personal against her.

And it’s not really until this moment that Solana realizes there are two sides to Roman Reigns. The side that she sees, the almost gentle, caring side. The man who always goes out of his way to ensure her comfort and safety at all times. The man who’s changed her life in ways he’ll probably never be able to fully understand.

Then there’s the other side. The side that makes his name alone strikes fear in even the strongest of men. The most violent. The most diabolical. A god among men. 

Two completely different sides of the coin, but still a single coin.

This other side though, the side only she gets to see because it’s reserved for her. The side that might even be considered a form of vulnerability…..he only shows that with her, only shows it to her.

A….safe space, of sorts.

She is his safe space. 

This second, or maybe third, major realization of the day only makes that love aspect so much more confusing. Though it makes her heart swell to know she can provide that for him. That she can be that for him.

Pulling from floating thoughts, Solana brings herself back to the conversation at hand. “I do.” She offers an explanation of her own. “I know I asked if you’ll stay with me the whole night, but—but, I don’t think I need that.” And before he can protest, she gives the valid reasons why. “I didn’t know Bayley and Naomi would be there. I’m fine with them. I just—I didn’t want to be alone in a room full of people I don’t know.”

“I would never leave you alone.” He brings his hand to the back of her neck, informing in a low voice. “I might not interact with you much, but that doesn’t mean I’m not watching. 

“I know.” She cuts him off, again working to reassure him that he doesn’t need to be so focused on her. It’s clear there’s a task for the evening, a box that needs to be checked. And she doesn’t want to interfere in any sort of way. “I’ll be fine.” With a half smile, she reminds, “especially if there’s a bat nearby.”

A genuine smile grows on Roman’s face as he pulls her into him, Solana resting in his safe embrace. Being in his arms is starting to become one of her favorite things. “My fine ass, bat swinging wife.” She giggles against him as Roman drops his hand to her ass, giving a slap. 

“Let’s go.”

________

The minute the SUV door opens and Roman climbs out first only to offer his hand as Solana steps out behind him, her gaze taking in the beautiful mansion that looks like something out of a movie premiere, her anxiety starts to rise. Taking in the scene around her, she’s met with an actual red carpet leading up the steps to the mansion that has large, glass, double doors with swirled marble intricate designs that match the stone of the building. There’s a line of cars both behind and in front of their SUV, indicating guests are still arriving.

That makes her feel at least a little bit better.

She didn’t want to make Roman late. Even if something tells her he wouldn’t care one way or the other.

It’s not missed upon her how he gives her hand an almost gentle squeeze and rubs his thumb over her knuckles all the while keeping his gaze up and focused. She sees how his light eyes subtly survey the perimeter as he leads them up the steps. She stills when two large men dressed in black suits wearing earpieces, guards clearly, stop them with a raised hand.

“Please walk through—-”

“Do I look fucking stupid?” Roman’s question needs no answer as he motions for Solana to walk ahead of him through the metal detectors that separate attendees from entering. Slowly, with a bit of anxiety at somehow setting them off even though there’s no way for her to, she does so without incident. Roman does the same looking every bit annoyed as he feels, but it makes her feel a bit better when he takes hand in his again.

“No weapons allowed.” Is all he says. Calmly. Simply. Without anything else. She nods, figuring as such, but a brief sideways glance at her husband, and she wonders how beneficial that actually is when he, himself, is a walking weapon.

She’s more than certain he’s killed before with his bare hands. Not a weapon needed.

Solana takes in the setting before her. Circular tables litter the first and second levels of the beautiful building, intricate, opulent centerpieces decorating each table. A live band plays some unfamiliar song as guests mingle about, many of which are admiring the various art pieces that occupy almost all of the walls. The lights are dimmed and the smell of lavender and honey penetrates, creating an almost calming atmosphere that starkly contrasts the fact that almost everyone in eyesight is a part of the crime underworld. Trained, brutal killers. 

Including the man who continues to soothe his thumb across her knuckles. 

“Come on.”

Solana stays close besides Roman as he leads them through the sea of people. Many of which, men primarily, seem to settle their gaze on her, her chest, only to travel up to see the man beside her and smartly redirect their attention literally anywhere else.

In some sort of strange way, that brings a sense of comfort to her. To know that just his presence wards off any and all unwanted attention. Makes her feel safer.

Then again, she’s not sure if any environment exists where Roman doesn’t make her feel safe. 

She feels even better when she realizes where he’s led them. A table full of familiar, equally welcomed faces. 

Bayley is the first to greet her. She stands up from the table, and Solana is in awe of her teal dress that hugs every curve beautifully. “You look fuckin amazing.” She reaches over, pulling Solana away from Roman and into a hug. “Aren’t you glad you went with this one?” She gestures down to the dress.

Solana laughs and nods. “Yes. I am.”

Naomi and Jimmy are also standing now, forming an almost line to hug Solana. Naomi pulls her in even tighter. “How's the fist?”

Solana gasps as Naomi laughs only for Jimmy to crack his little joke. “I made sure ain’t no bats around just in case you get upset again, sis.” 

Allowing him to hug her, Solana rolls her eyes and murmurs, “that’s not happening ever again.”

“You might wanna watch your shit, Big Dog. Soso believe in breaking shit when she gets angry.”

Feeling a bit defenseless, she grasps at straws. “It was—it wasn’t like that.”

Jey scoffs, pointing out after downing some of his wine, “girl, we saw you on that video. You was swangin the hell out of that thing.”

Cheeks flushed, Solana sits down in the seat Roman has pulled out for her. Right next to him. Bayley on her other side. She looks over at Naomi. “I can’t believe you sent it to them.”

“Are you kidding? Our sweet little Solana beating the shit out of her ex’s car with a bat? That’s Kodak worthy.”

She rolls her eyes, eager to take the attention off herself as she notices Jey’s seat beside him is empty. “Is Nicki not coming?”

Naomi answers with a chuckle. “Girl, Nicki got banned years ago after she—”

Jey quickly jumps in, depriving Solana of a story she’s certain involved some type of altercation between him and his wife. Their marriage truly does not make any sense to her whatsoever. “Aye, we don’t need to rehash the past.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Naomi leans over and whispers, “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Solana hopes she follows through on that. Roman asks the twins something in Samona, the three of them starting a dialogue in a language only they can understand. And judging by the serious expressions on all of their faces, she surmises that it’s business related. 

Especially when Solo and Paul join the table. It’s almost like the ladies don’t exist after that, but it doesn’t bother Solana. It can’t when Roman already made it clear what tonight would be like.

It’s nothing personal. 

Just business. 

Bored and kind of eager to explore what seems like one of a kind masterpieces, she turns to Bayley and asks, “can we go look at the art?”

Bayley scoffs. “Hell yeah.” Standing up and adjusting her dress, she remarks, “it’s better than sitting here doing nothing.” Glancing at Naomi, she asks, “you wanna come with us?”

Naomi sucks her teeth. “Girl, you don’t even have to ask.” 

Solana smiles, grateful for their attendance and companionship. 

Roman’s deep voice cuts through with a simple two word command. “Watch her.”

She looks back at him, offering a small smile she hopes will settle any concern he may have about her. He doesn’t need to worry about that. Just needs to focus on himself. 

Linking arms with the other ladies, they move through the crowd, starting with the art near the entrance and making their way around. Solana seems to be the most intrigued by the pieces selected, trying to detect a theme in each one. Naomi and Bayley, however, seem to settle for a combination of roasting and admiring. More of the first than the latter. 

“Oh fuck, I was hoping they didn’t show up.” Solana is in the midst of deciphering a piece of abstract art when Bayley’s almost steel exclamation pulls her from her focus. 

Confused, she asks, “who?”

Naomi answers, subtly gesturing across the room. “Don’t stare. It’ll draw attention to us.”

Solana does her best, but it’s hard not to when she sees a set of new arrivals, most of which are absolute strangers, faces unseen prior to this very moment.

But one is not.

One is a face she saw, a person she spoke to, just days prior.

Brandi. 

She’s holding hands with a tall man, striking blue eyes Solana can see from nearly across the room, bleached blonde hair that somehow compliments his tanned skin. There’s a boyish look about him that Solana would guess is a facade, something that deceives people, cleverly hiding the fact that he’s just as much a killer as the guests around them. 

Before she can ask who he is though, Bayley offers introductions. “That is Cody Rhodes. And the pretty lady on his arm is his wife, Brandi.”

And just like that, Solana’s stomach drops. Her mouth feels dry. “Wife?” Solana looks back and forth between the couple. “Brandi is Cody’s wife?”

This just got a lot more confusing and complicated. The kind woman whose young daughter Solana ‘rescued’ is married to Roman’s greatest enemy? The man he hates most?

And suddenly Solana is thinking about her interaction with Solo after she mentioned Brandi’s name. 

He knew.

So, why didn’t he say anything to her?

Why didn’t he say anything to Roman?

________

Roman ignoring Solana for the majority of the night ends up being a lot easier than she anticipated. 

It’s quelled by the fact that she’s had one hell of a day, several major revelations clogging up her mental space. 

Remembering what Roman told her about his family.

Trying to figure out if she’s in love with Roman.

Trying to figure out if Roman could ever love her.

Accidentally helping out his sworn enemy’s wife.

Her personal guard being aware of this last piece of information yet saying nothing to her or her husband. 

Even though she’s sworn off alcohol after the last drunken disaster, there’s a burning temptation to walk over to the open bar and request something that can at least take the edge off. 

Something to help her clear her head.

It’s after dinner, and Roman, Paul, and the twins are moving around, briefly speaking with various guests. Roman and Paul, in particular, seem to keep the conversations perfunctory before moving onto the next one. Clearly checking off certain, necessary boxes.

Solana again is viewing artwork, doing whatever she can to distract herself when someone unexpected comes up to her.

“Hey.” She looks to her side to see no one other than Solo. He looks almost….nervous. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Does she want to talk to him at this current moment in time? Not really. But, something tells her she needs to. 

“Yes.”

Solo guides them to a corner that’s as close to secluded as they’re gonna get at the crowded event.

“Listen, I…..I wanted to apologize to you.”

Solana’s eyes widen. The surprises just keep coming. “Wh–what?”

“I know….I know I’ve been ass.” She wouldn’t necessarily use that word to describe his behavior and disposition, but it’s not exactly an inaccurate usage either. “It’s just….before you came around, I was just getting my chance to show Roman I deserve a seat at the table with him and my brothers. Then he assigns me to you, and I just feel like I’m not proving myself no more.”

Solana started to figure as such. Guessed that maybe he resented her to a certain extent because he’d essentially been assigned as her adult babysitter. That would probably annoy anyone.

“But, at the end of the day, Roman is the Tribal Chief. His word is final. I have to respect that.” He sighs, shrugging. “And as his wife, I gotta respect you too, which I ain’t been doing, so I apologize.”

Solana has never really been one to be on the receiving end of apologies from people. It’s still an uncomfortable experience as she murmurs an ‘it’s okay’ followed up with her question about his omission. “Why didn’t you tell me who Brandi was? Or tell Roman?”

He sighs loudly, voice lowering a bit as he explains his actions. “You’re new to the family, so you don’t know the history between Cody and Roman. Telling him would only kick off some shit. I figured if she came around again, then that I would tell you.” His explanation makes sense, Solana nodding slowly. He too doesn’t seem to want to upset Roman if possible. “I’m sorry for that too.”

She shakes her head. “No. I—I get it, and—I’m sorry, too, that you got stuck with me.” 

Solo smiles a bit. The first time she’s ever seen him do so. It feels…..odd. “You ain’t so bad.” He then asks, brow lifted a bit. “So, we cool?”

Solana swallows. What reason does she have for them not to be at this point? Everything he’s said makes perfect sense. “Of course.” Offering a small smile, she says sincerely, “thank you, Solo.” 

He nods, not saying anything else as he walks off.

Left alone, blowing out a big breath, she looks around. Solana spots the hall that leads to the ladies room. Making her way through the crowd, she walks in and goes into the first open stall. Relieving her bladder is an unexpected, small but significant enough type of relief. It feels similar to the peace she now has with the whole Solo situation. 

Solana walks over to the sink, pumping some soap into her hands, activating the motion sensor to shut on the water as she rinses, watching the suds empty down the drain. 

“Hey, sis.” 

Solana’s head snaps up the second she’s met with the voice she hasn’t heard in months. Her brown eyes, through the mirror, locking with an almost identical set of brown. The only difference being the glimpse of emotion that’s always been unfamiliar to her but a resident friend of his.

Hate.

Solana moves as quickly as she can, but it’s not fast enough, because he’s got a fist full of her hair. Wes yanks her head back and shoves her away, providing him the access he needs to bring his hand across her face, backhanding her so hard that it makes her double over in pain. 

Feeling an unfamiliar wetness, she feels her cheek, only to see blood on her fingertips. A glance at Wes' hand shows that the rings on his fingers must have cut her. 

But she can’t focus on that too long because his hand is wrapped around her neck as he thrusts her against the adjacent wall, searing pain shooting across her back at the violent impact.

She claws at his iron grip, his dark eyes narrowing against her. So much hate. “You dumb slut, did you really think you could hide forever?” Her eyes shut, her mind screaming Roman’s name in a way her mouth cannot. “Were you stupid enough to believe he could protect you from me?” Solana winces as he tightens his grip. “You’re a weak, stupid bitch and you always will be.”

Weak

Slut

Stupid

Dumb

Bitch

All words that she’s heard before. Cruel names she’s been called over the years in conjunction with beatings. Beatings like this that have left her bloody and broken. Feeling empty. Feeling like every hurtful thing she’s ever been called. Feeling that weak adjective that he’s always made her defining trait.

Solana closes her eyes and starts to retreat to that mental place of superficial security, bracing for what’s sure to be a beating like no other. She tries to return to that spot in her brain that’s accepted that this is her reality, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

The only problem is that that place doesn’t exist anymore.

She can’t find it.

She doesn’t feel weak or dumb or stupid. Doesn’t feel helpless and victim to his sadism.

Not even in this moment with his hand wrapped tightly around her throat. 

No….

She feels something else. 

Something much stronger, powerful, fueling.

Anger.

She’s pissed the fuck off.

It’s when she sees his other hand pull out a knife, that for a second, a brief moment, she hesitates. She hesitates, momentarily paralyzed by the fear and trauma that single item has brought her over the past twenty years. But, she closes her eyes and centers herself, tapping back into months of training, of sparring, of fighting.

Snarling almost, her rage and determination growing synchronously, Solana lifts up her leg with all the force she can muster, her knee coming into direct impact with Wes’s crotch area. Instantly, he releases her, dubbed over, groaning and cursing. Solana’s a bit lightheaded, but she powers through it, quickly grabbing the vase of flowers on the counter and swinging it with all her might over his head.

“Fuck!” He grunts, falling to the ground, his knife tumbling across the intricately designed tile flooring. 

Rushing to grab it, he does the same, but she manages to outpace him. Her speed gives her the upperhand. And with a cry of her own, she slams it down directly into the palm of his outreaching hand.

Wes howls in pain as she rips it out and kicks him in his side, watching as he tumbles onto his back. Solana slams her heel down on his other arm, pinning it and forcing the knife through his right hand this time. 

He cries out again and she backs away for a second, tempted to drive it through another part of him when he growls with all the rage and pain, “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you bitch!”

His threat, unlike countless times before, doesn’t frighten her, doesn’t make her tremble and cower in fear. 

It just pisses her off even more.

“Come on.” Solana motions for him to come at her, for him to climb off the ground and fight her. “Come on!” Using the bloody knife, she takes and slices it across her dress, allowing her more freedom and fluidity with her movements. Kicking the material to the side, she crouches down, egging him on. “Hit me, you son of a bitch!”

Finally to his feet, Solana sees him ready to charge at her. Her eyes never leave him, studying every single movement of his bleeding body. And just when he’s about to slam into her, she jumps to the side, watching him slam into the wall. Solana doesn’t waste a single second as she rushes behind him, lifts her leg and kicks him in the head, intentionally trying to drive her heel into his neck. His shouts of pain further her drive as she drops her leg, snatches him by his hair and slams the knife down into his shoulder. 

She jumps back as his body plops to the ground again, Wes rolling over and writhing in pain, profusely bleeding from several parts of his body, black suit staining dark, bloody red. Solana moves toward him, utilizing every bit of strength coursing through her body as she lands brutal kick after kick into his side, intentionally aiming for his chest. A kick for every broken bone, every bruise, every cut, every burn, every time he waterboarded her to the point where she was unconscious. Every fucking thing. She only stops when she hears the satisfying crack of one or several of his ribs. 

But, it’s not enough. It’s not enough because all she can think about now is all the times he made her bleed, made her scream, made her flail with fear and terror. It’s his turn now. 

Kicking off her heels, she grabs him by the collar of his suit jacket. “Come here, you bastard.” He’s heavy, and it’s a strain to drag him, but she does just that, pulling him into one of the stalls. Solana shoves the back of his head into the toilet and holds him down face first into the water.

Wes flails against her, but her grip is just like her spirit. Strong and unrelenting.

“How does that feel?” She taunts, tears streaming down her face because as vindicating as this moment is, it still doesn’t strip away the pain of years of abuse and torture. Yanking his head back, pleased by the way he coughs violently, gasping for air, she continues to mock him with the same taunts he always threw her way. “Say something, bitch!” Solana slams his head back down into the water. Repeating the same act of torture he utilized on her for years. 

She does it until she feels her strength starting to wane, eventually releasing his clumped body down as she backs away, leaning against the counter. 

Chest moving up and down from her heavy breathing, exhaust settling in as adrenaline fades out, it’s only then she turns to look at her reflection in the mirror. Face reddened, hair disheveled, red dress stained with his blood splatter, a mixture of her blood from the cut that probably wont need anything more than a liquid bandaid, and tears running down her cheek, yet she’s never felt fucking better.

This….this is liberation.

It’s freedom from shackles of fear. 

Fear of the one person she never thought she wouldn’t be terrified of. And yet, that same source of so much heartache lies before her: bloody, bruised, broken. 

All because of her.

Commotion outside the door and banging against it alerts her to the fact that somebody has clearly caught onto her absence. Roman, most likely. 

Body suddenly very heavy, she moves over to the door, leaning back against it, eyes landing on Wes who’s coughing up blood. For a brief second, she feels a sliver of sadness, if guilt. But just as quickly as it’s there, it’s knocked out the way, replaced with pride. Roman’s words from earlier in the night returning and cementing her satisfaction.

“You’re not ever required to be nice to people who are cruel to you, Solana. You owe them nothing.”

And fewer have been crueler than the man before her.

Voice and body trembling from the weight of it all, Solana affirms with all the emotion and sincerity through her body. “I am not scared of you anymore.” She turns the lock, stepping out of the way to avoid the avalanche of bodies about to enter. “And I never will be again.”

Sure enough, it sounds like a stampede. Solana closes her eyes, stealing a moment to rest and relish in her inner peace.

“Solana.”

His voice is urgent and pressured, and seconds later, he has her in his arms, holding her against him. She breathes in his scent, comforted by his arms around her.

“I’m fine.” She knows he needs to hear it, needs to hear the words come from her mouth. Even if she knows she probably looks anything but, clothes and body splashed with her brother’s blood. 

“Solo!” Roman’s voice is filled with unbridled rage that, any other time, she’d probably tremble at. But, in this moment, it’s valid as hell. And beyond that, she knows without a doubt now that he would never make her the object of his anger. “Pick him up!”

Solana sets her gaze on a barely conscious Wes as Solo drags him out of the stall. 

Jimmy and Jey being present, Roman’s fury, and Solo holding him in position are all the things that  alert her to what’s about to happen. 

Jimmy whistles, taking in Wes' battered appearance. “Damn, she beat the hell out of you!”

“No.” Solana says it too quietly, too softly. She has to place her hand on Roman’s chest to get his eyes back on her. “No.”

“I don’t want you to kill him.” And before Roman can protest, ask her if she’s lost her fucking mind, she steps toward Wes, explaining to all parties but directing her wishes to him. “I want him to live in fear….to know what that’s like.” Eyes burning with a fresh set of tears, she emphasizes. “It’s his turn to be scared.” Head tilted, scoffing a bit at how pathetic he looks, she mocks him one last time, “who’s the bitch now?”

Without even thinking about it, Solana lifts her hand and connects her fist directly with the side of his jaw, knocking him out cold. 

“Goddamn!” Jey shouts with all the amusement in the world as Roman pulls her back into him, lips pressed against her temple.

“I’m okay,” she reiterates, holding onto his sleeve. “I promise.” She is. Maybe better than she’s been in some time. 

Better than she’s ever been.

Roman steps back for a second and slides his jacket off, placing it around her. 

Solana reaches for his hand and gestures for the door. “Let’s go.” He still looks so angry, so furious, but she knows it’s not toward her. Nevertheless, he doesn’t need to stay in this headspace. Not with his high blood pressure. Not with his health at stake.

Roman says something to Solo in Samoan and begins to guide her out of the bathroom that’s been completely destroyed in the fight. A crowd of most of the guests has gathered around, clearly curious and wanting to know just what the hell happened. It’s fair and almost expected. 

But, despite looking like everything she’s just been through, Solana doesn’t shy away from the stares and whispers. Doesn’t necessarily care. Because as ironic as it is, this might be the most confident she’s ever felt in her life. 

But, it’s when she sees Cody and Brandi that Solana just knows something is about to go wrong.

Cody smirks, calling out loud enough for all to hear, Roman especially. “I guess women and children aren’t off limits after all.” 

There’s more to it. There has to be more to it, because the second Roman rips his hand away from Solana and charges at Rhodes seems to take even the instigator off guard. Instantly, Jimmy and Jey are rushing toward their cousin as he lands a blow against Rhodes that sends him flat on his ass. 

“Roman!” She calls out after him, moving in his direction, only to feel herself being restrained. She looks back and catches Bayley and Naomi looking with worried expressions. 

“We need to get out of here!” Naomi urges, but Solana can’t seem to look away from what’s turned into an all out brawl. Jimmy and Jey struggle to hold back their irate cousin as he spits venom against Rhodes who looks just as pissed off now, blood running from his nose.

“I’m the head of the table!” 

“I’ll whoop everybody’s ass around here!”

“This is my kingdom, you little bitch!”

“I can’t just leave him!” Solana pleads, trying to pull away from Bayley who clearly has no intentions on letting her go.

“He’ll be fine, Solana. But, he’s pissed the fuck off, and now Rhodes is pissed, and it’s about to be a shitshow that if he was thinking straight, he would never want you around.” Naomi explains and adds on, “the twins won’t let anything happen. I promise you that. Now let’s go.”

And despite everything in her screaming not to, to stay with him, to somehow find a way to help him calm down, there’s a logical part of her that knows the girls are right.

Even with him clearfly only seeing red as she continues to shout at Cody, the other man also being held back, barely, by his men. 

“There ain’t a man alive who can touch my button. If I had one, you wouldn’t be able to locate it. Can’t no man knock me out! I’m tired of being humble! I’m tired of letting people think they got a chance! The Tribal Chief is heads and shoulders above everybody! I run this all!”

Roman is almost a different person, so consumed by his rage, no doubt most of it because of Wes, Cody just being on the receiving end but not just taking it without responding with threats of his own.

“Time and place, you narcissistic son of a bitch!”

“Not everyone is fucking scared of you, Reigns!”

“I’ll fight you any fucking day!”

Solana’s eyes briefly lock with Brandi who’s also being rushed away, and she swears, she sees what looks like an almost sympathetic expression. Like if she could, she’d apologize.

It makes Solana frown.

Naomi pulls on her again. “Let’s go, Solana.” 

Security for the gala is now rushing over as some of Roman and Cody’s men are now throwing fists as well. Solana hates this. Hates how this has all played out. But, she also knows that she does nothing to help the situation by hanging around and risking getting hurt.

That’ll only upset Roman more. 

So even with a tremendous amount of apprehension, she allows them to guide her out, never once not thinking about the man she’s almost certain she more than cares about at this point. 

________

Solana is up and alert the minute she hears him enter their front door. In the living room, lying on the sofa, her go-to spot when waiting for his arrival, she partially expects him to walk in and meet her. The way he has several times before now, but this time is different.

Heavy footsteps don’t bring him to meet her. They instead carry him past the living room, through the kitchen, and outside the backdoor. 

Instantly, she’s sitting up. 

She goes to follow him when Jimmy and Jey enter the house looking every bit the night that they’ve all had. 

It’s a stupid question, and she knows as such, but she can’t help but ask. “How is he?”

Jimmy is the one to answer, blowing out a breath. “Honestly? Still pretty pissed but calm enough to come back home.” He then shares, “I tried to get him to sleep it off at my place, but he wanted to come back here.

Good. Solana doesn’t say it, but she sure is thinking it. Not even from the perspective of her being uncomfortable being in this big house all by herself with just Dulce. That’s maybe a part of it, sure. But, the biggest thing is that this is their home. And if he needs something, she wants to be there to help him with whatever that is.

“It’s okay. I can watch him.”

“Solana….” Jey cuts in, stuffing his hands in his suit pocket. “You know he would never hurt you, right? I know he was definitely on one tonight, but—”

Seeing where this is going, she cuts in, calm but firm. “I’m not scared of him. I—I know he would never hurt me.”

They seem to be pleased by her answer but still a bit hesitant, Jimmy offering, “if you want, I can stay over tonight. Make sure—”

“He’s my husband.” She swallows, nothing unwavering about her reiteration. “I’ve got him.”

Jimmy and Jey still look unsure but follow her wishes. Each giving her a hug before reiterating to call them if she needs anything. She’s thankful for their support but mostly their making sure Roman made it back home safely. 

Solana carries Dulce up to her shared room with Roman and closes the door to avoid any unnecessary interruptions. It’s only then she finally makes her way back downstairs, venturing through the living room and kitchen to the backdoor. Hand on the knob, Solana doesn’t hesitate to turn it, bringing her to the man she’s had on her mind nonstop the past few hours.

Roman’s hulking figure is plopped down on the edge of the patio chaise lounge. His button down shirt is discarded, his muscles stretching against the cotton of his white undershirt. Playing with the sides of one of his shirts she threw on after her shower, Solana sees there’s no need to announce her presence.

He’s already aware. 

With calmness that contrasts his demeanor just hours earlier, he advises, “you should be asleep.”

His voice is hoarse, heavy, weighed down with something he seems keen on internalizing. No matter how much it wrecks him on the inside. It brings a frown to her face and a pain to her chest. 

Swallowing, Solana moves closer to him, calmly countering, “you know I won’t sleep until I know you’re okay.”

“Okay….” Roman chuckles, and it’s almost bitter. An almost ironic tone as he repeats her chosen word. “Solana, nothing about tonight was okay.”

Her heart grows even heavier than it’s been following tonight’s events.

It tears Solana up to see him in this state. To see and almost feel his turmoil and not be able to do anything about it. Because he doesn’t want help. Because he’s so used to handling everything on his own, as he’s stated to her multiple times before.

But, that’s the thing. He’s not alone.

She just needs to get him to see and understand that. 

Setting aside any reservations and trepidation about her next steps, she closes the distance between them, kneeling down on the patio stone directly in front of him. Naturally, his eyes lock with hers, and for a second, she sees a tremble of his nearly impenetrable wall. “Roman….” One hand on his knee, the other reaching to grab his hand. “Please….please talk to me.” His eyes briefly dart away, a sign of her words doing something to his resolve. “Whatever….whatever happened tonight, let me help you work through it.”

He sets his focus back on her, the hand under hers lifting to cup her face, thumb ghosting over the cut she cleaned, tended, and sealed with a liquid band-aid. “You got hurt tonight….”

“I don’t care about that.” Her dismissal is aggressive but slides into something soothing almost as she reiterates. “I—I care about you.”

His jaw clenches. “I lost my temper tonight.”

“I don’t care about that either.” Again, she’s dismissive, pushing aside anything that could prevent him from hearing her right now. Really hearing her. “I wasn’t scared of you. I’m—I’m never scared of you, Roman.” Swallowing, she stands up and moves herself on his lap, relieved when he wraps his arms around her. “But…I was scared for you.” She pushes back some of his hair that came out of his always neat bun during the brawl. “I just….I wish you would talk to me.”

But, she also knows that she can’t force it. Can’t make him. Even though it physically aches her to know he’s dealing with so much and won’t let her help.

Won’t let her be there for him the same way he’s been there for her.

“Cody and I grew up together. We were….good friends.” Solana isn’t sure she’s still breathing as Roman begins to explain in a low voice, his hand moving soft circles against her side. She says and does nothing, not wanting to do anything to risk deterring him from this rare occurrence of vulnerability. “We…we bonded over being groomed to take over our families legacies. His…his father was good friends with mine.” 

Friends….

It feels almost impossible to imagine Roman and Cody as ever being anything more than sworn enemies. She’s not sure she’s even seen a deeper level of hatred than what she saw in their eyes tonight.

“It was my 10th birthday. We were gathered at the house to celebrate, and it was fine, until it wasn’t.” Roman grows quiet, as he clearly hesitates. She starts to tell him that he doesn’t have to, that she doesn’t want to trigger him. But, he continues. “I don’t remember everything. Just the sound of bullets, screams, and then heat from the fire that someone set.” Fire… Solana’s eyes naturally drop to his tatted arm, tribal ink covering burns he clearly received that night of pure hell. Eyes watering, she continues to listen to him relive what sounds like a night of horror. “I was the only one who survived. My parents, my aunt, uncle, and my seven brothers and sisters were all killed.”

 “Oh my god….” Her heart literally breaks in that moment, hearing him confirm what she’d remembered just earlier in the day but didn’t want to actually believe. It’s just too devastating. To lose his entire family in that manner, all while celebrating his birthday of all days….it seems inconceivable.

Solana isn’t sure she’s ever felt this much sympathy towards another human being. 

Roman’s voice, however, never wavers. She can see he’s doing his best to simply recall and not feel. “And it wasn’t until I was 14 that a mutual friend of ours at the time, Seth, let it slip while he was in one of his manic states, that I should talk to Cody about what really happened that night.” His voice takes on a darker, angrier tone, and she can feel him shift underneath her. “So, I did, and I found out….that his father was responsible for the hit. That he betrayed my father. And that Cody knew the whole fucking time.”

There’s understandable anger in his words. Anger at such cruel betrayal. “For four fucking years, he pretended to be my friend. Pretended like he didn’t fucking know that his father was the reason my family was all dead.” His voice dips into something low, something much darker. “I can’t tell you…much after that, because I was so angry that all I saw was my rage.”

Solana brings her hand to his chest, a comforting placement, though she’s not certain anything could comfort this level of trauma. 

His expression is blank as he shares coldly. “I killed them all. His parents. His siblings. Everyone. I left him the same way his father left me: alone.” He swallows thickly, still not looking at her. “I told you before, Solana. I’m not a good man.”

“That’s not true.” She finally speaks, voice hoarse,  eyes watering at the truth of it all. She had no idea he’d been through so much. Lost so much more. “I don’t think I’ve met a man better than you, Roman.”

She’s never met any man like Roman.

Moving her hands to cup his face, it settles her a bit that he’s finally looking at her again. Closed off and back to being unreadable, it’s still eye contact. And she’ll take it. She’ll take whatever she can get from him. “No one….no one can know what it’s like to lose like we’ve lost. I….I get you. And….and I think you get me too.” Sniffling, she shakes her head, never wanting to invalidate his experience. “And no, I know….I know it’s not the same, but what I do know is that I haven’t felt alone since…since being with you.” She hasn’t felt a lot of things since being with him. Hasn’t felt the same amount of depression and emptiness. Just happiness and joy. “And I don’t want you to feel alone either, because….because you have me, and….and I’m not going anywhere.” Her tone drops into a soft whisper. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

Because I love you.

But, that can’t be stated. Not aloud. Not right now. Maybe not ever. It’s not what he needs. Because it’s for selfish reasons. Because it would make her feel better to verbalize what she’s finally realized what she’s been feeling towards him. What she feels for him.

Love

“Besides….” She offers a small smile, messing with his beard, knowing the weight of this conversation might be too much for him, offering him a bit of a detour. “Who else is gonna bail me out the next time I fuck up someone’s truck?”

He cracks a small smile, and it makes her heart swell. It’s the best thing she’s seen all day. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss.”

Relieved to hear a growing lightness in his voice, she buries her head in the crook of his neck, murmuring, “guess you’re rubbing off on me….”

Roman brings his hand to her hip, tugging her closer, kissing her temple. Lips pressed against her forehead, he murmurs. “I’m proud of you.” That means so much to her. His approval. “Cause while I hate to agree with my dumbass cousin, Jimmy was right. You whooped his ass.”

Solana can’t help it. She laughs into his chest, looking up while biting down on her bottom lip. Voice quiet, she expresses both a question and agreement. “I did, didn’t I?”

He rolls his eyes but nods, bringing his hand to her cheek, thumb and index finger lightly cupping her chin. “Sure did, baby…“ He doesn’t say anything after that. He doesn’t need to. Neither does she. She just nestles closer to him as he stands up, still holding her, grip protective and firm. 

Like he has no intentions of letting go.

Solana prays he never does. 

Because while Roman Reigns is the last person she ever expected to end up with, to care for, to love…..that’s exactly what’s happened.  

That’s exactly who she’s with.

Exactly who she cares for.

And exactly who she loves.

________

Xavier stands in front of the hospital bed, a hospital bed he was still in days prior, where his son stood before him as they schemed together to create what he thought was a foolproof plan. It’s a plan, however, that didn’t go the way he intended.

Far from it.

Wesley was always supposed to attack Solana in the bathroom, was supposed to rough her up a bit to see if Reigns would come to her rescue, the prediction being he’d move to kill Wes but Solana would interfere, would stop him.

Because his stupid second born has always been a victim to her love mentality. Would be blinded by whatever fruitless hope she still has that some part of him or his son loves her. Because they’re family.

But, that didn’t happen.

His son attacked her, yes, but the bitch fought back.

And now he watches helplessly as a brutally beaten, stabbed Wesley is laid up in the ICU yet again, but this time in a coma. Limited brain activity. 

Prognosis….not well.

And it’s all because of her.

Xavier is a prideful man, but even he can admit he never saw this coming. Never anticipated Reigns would have the girl trained, never thought his weak ass daughter could be capable of something like this.

Capable of almost taking away his son. His heir. 

Xavier is seething and would shoot her dead right now if he could, but he has to be smart. Especially after tonight, which wasn’t an entire loss.

He snatches his phone, sending out a text. 

Xavier: I want that bitch DEAD.

Xavier: We’ll proceed with the plan.

Because while most will see Roman’s outburst as expected given Cody Rhodes was present and almost everyone knows the history there, Xavier knows better.

Xavier knows that Roman’s rage was primarily at the fact that Solana had been attacked, confirming what he suspected.

And he’ll give the bastard credit. From what he heard, Reigns did a great job masking his feelings for her, practically ignoring Solana the entire night. 

Never showing his hand.

But, he did.

He does care for her.

And just that thought brings a wicked smile to Xavier’s aged face. 

After all these years, the impossible has happened. 

Roman Reigns finally has a weakness.

________

translation: "i'd do anything for you."

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Rafal headcanons (not all have a basis in canon):

He doesn't and will never get hype culture much to Rhian's chagrin.

He probably has some item, like an article of clothing, such as socks, that he buys duplicates of, so he doesn't have to waste thought and energy on them everyday.

He likes olives, especially the sour ones, in some of his sandwiches.

He suffers from "irony poisoning" by a certain stage in life.

One of the worst things in the world to him is writing Thank You cards, usually to people like alumni who send generous donations. He always foists the task off on Rhian because he can’t bring himself to sound sincere or fawn over anything. Also, it irrationally humiliates him to have to thank someone for something in person, even if it's something small. He doesn't know why he feels that way, and doesn’t care enough to find out. It’s an unplaceable, inexplicable feeling, and it’s just there.

On the converse, Rhian lets him respond to the letters of complaint and petitions for reform. He vetoes almost everything.

He likes to manipulate the sky and weather patterns, particularly lightning, to look more foreboding, as if nature were his personal backdrop. He secretly lives for drama as long as it stays a spectator sport for him. (This one might be canon going by the Snow Ball edict scene in Rise, but it's sort of unconfirmed.)

If he ever appreciated sentimental elements in the tales (unlikely), he’d never tell anyone. And he would only play those things out in his head where there would be no record of them.

In his own thoughts, or if he were a writer, of course he’d write about taboo subjects, but the one obvious thing he intentionally wouldn’t write about would be love (or specifically romantic love). He’d probably write around love. He’d write the negative space that makes love’s presence known, but somehow not engage with it directly, eye to eye, and instead define it by what’s not present in his work.

He’d avoid thinking or writing about the human condition, even if all writers, by default, end up writing about human condition in some shape or form, by hazard of being a human. He’s immortal and he’d view himself as above human and above humanity as a sympathetic trait. Simple as that. (He’d be in denial, essentially.)

And yet, he’d write about it. Incidentally. The same way he’d write around love—somehow managing to snare everything he’d circumvent into his works while he circumvents it.

His critics and fans would have a field day, trying to parse out what might have been intentional or not on his part.

For his part, he’d never give interviews, and would let his works stand for themselves, alone, as art, as they’re meant to be read: gone into blind. He hates it when educators flatten his works, so they can be consumed by a broader, apathetic (in his eyes) audience. He hates abridged versions.

He even hates abridged versions of the tales the Storian writes, and he unconsciously spurns the laymen of the Woods.

Even if he wouldn't write about love, a subtle, recurring theme of his would be sacrifice. Sacrifice for personal gain and ambition, or whatever else there is that he’d value, that wasn’t always in his hands, that didn’t always drop into his hands immediately, if he couldn’t orchestrate it.

He wouldn’t admit to valuing Rhian, but well… that’s one other “thing” he keeps like an object to be owned. It’s a form of "love." And to him, sacrifice is a form of "love" or devotion, because you let go of everything else for the one gain, in pursuit of it.

He often thinks along the lines of “all-or-nothing," "the thought doesn't count," and “actions, not thought, not words.”

If he wrote, lectured, or thought around love, he'd also leave a gap for his students or readers to fill in for themselves.

And it's just as well that he probably would only ever write the povs of hard-boiled figures like detectives, or the solvers and perpetrators of crime that would never fall prey to emotional appeals. He can’t stand putting himself in the shoes of the “fool” or the duped, even in an imaginary world, even in the safety of his head—because what if it bled into his real life? He's not superstitious, but what if, one day, he were played for a fool? Never. He would never allow that.

And it makes sense really, as, ironically, writing these figures, the least emotionally vulnerable characters for an audience or outlining them on the blackboard for his students when discussing a tale is probably at once the most impersonal route and also the most revealing. To his students, those behind-the-scenes decisions are themselves telling in some way.

It’s all just up for interpretation—because, what would he be if he didn’t leave gaps and holes in his character? The chinks in his armor are left there for others to do the work for him because he’s impressively lazy and apathetic about "introducing” himself, and has the good fortune of having a job that doesn’t require introductions to new faces, aside from the students he doesn’t truly need to know by heart in order to teach. They can just fill in the gaps however much they want, ideally or relationally and so on.

And he’s content to leave them with a false image of himself because even that’s less unnerving and disconcerting as people being too close for comfort, and knowing too much of what he can no longer moderate in the privacy of their own minds. You can’t unknow something or someone after all.

He’s afraid of the "mortifying ordeal of being known" in a less conventional way. To an extent, humanity is fear-driven deep down. Thus, he doesn’t want to give anyone a window into his psyche—lest he be taken advantage of, so he contents himself with not being known at all, feeding into his paranoia that the world is out to get him.

Why give it more ammo? He should deprive the world of anything it could use against him. Maybe he has a fear of being mocked for however he really is? Though, if there is a facade (I mean, he is a public figure), it's not actually that far removed from whatever he doesn't reveal anyway.

Perhaps, he would respond to mockery internally the way he did at his own Nevers expressing their hatred of him with a brief, sharp, jabbing twinge of hurt, at the disapproval he largely never cares about, but that under the right conditions, he may indeed care about.

Now, he's no longer in a position to be mocked, but perhaps, before becoming School Master, he used to tell others harshly: "Do. Not. MOCK. Me." whenever they would mirror him because he did not think as far as to realize that emotional reciprocation was two-sided, especially with Evers and their behaviors. Yet, he mocks Rhian, Evers, pirates, and everything else in sight. Nothing is immune from being subject to his irreverence, and he is both hypocritical and hyper-critical.

[hisunshiine]

— burning love | jhs

♨ pairing: firefighter!hobi X firefighter!reader ♨ au/genre: fire department AU, workplace au, anti-valentine’s, coworkers2lovers, fwb2l, fluff, smut, angst ♨ rating: M ♨ wc: 5,266 🜂 warnings: longtime pining, reader gets a minor injury in the line of duty, catching fire, explicit smut, fingering, handjob, shower sex, vaginal penetration, oral (m receiving), multiple orgasms, cuddling  ♨ an: thank you to @downbad4yoongi​ and @ressjeon​ for beta reading, and to @colormepurplex2​ for storyboarding last night! this fic has a small bit of self-indulgence in celebration of @peachiilovesot7​‘s birthday, which she shares with our birthday man, Hobi! i wanted to post this yesterday, but unfortunately, due to circumstances outside of my control, it’s only a day late. i hope you enjoy!

Rolling out of the bed, you glance at your phone to see it’s just past 5:30am. Silencing the alarm that had been blaring for the past few minutes, you stretch before tiptoeing your way through Hoseok’s room. Once in his bathroom, you eyeball the marks he left. 

You know that Hoseok likes you, hell, you know that he wants more out of this ‘friends with benefits’ deal the two of you have worked out, but you just can’t bring yourself to be in a relationship. As coworkers in a dangerous field, you think it best to keep the distance you have, seeking out one another for sex. 

The only issue is that you tend to seek him out daily. The two of you work the same shift, and spend time together off the clock as well. You practically live at each other’s apartments, and according to your friends, you act like an old married couple. Except you refuse to acknowledge the feelings you’ve grown for him, and he for you.  

Climbing into his shower, you reach for your bathing items that he’s set aside in their own designated spot and while the action warms your heart, it also makes you nervous that you’re becoming too comfortable carving out a space in his life that’s meant for a girlfriend. After showering, you grab your toothbrush placed next to his at the sink, and notice after the fact when you go to hang up your wet towel back where you procured it from that Hoseok recently added a hook to the wall next to his towel for yours. 

It’s all a little too much, especially today. February 13th. The day before the day you hate. All of these things are just a reminder that maybe you’re too involved with Hoseok, and that despite not having discussed it, he may start to expect something you aren’t ready to give to him tomorrow. You finish getting ready in a silent panic, noting that Hoseok is still sleeping peacefully as you leave early for work.

Arriving at the two story building, you smile as the rising sun glances off the upper glass windows of your workplace. The bright red number seven showcases that you work at the best station in the district. Station 7 is your pride and joy, and as you open the door to enter, it’s a day like any other. Of course, today is a Monday, which means the station will be filming their weekly segment for the news, and with it being National Heart Month, the focus for the day is on ‘How to Keep a Heart Beating (with CPR)’. 

As an anti-Valentine’s Day person, you find it a little cheesy that your coworkers want to decorate the station for Valentine’s Day tomorrow, as you’d much rather have a nice taco spread for Taco Tuesday, but your idea was vetoed at the monthly station meeting last month. So imagine your surprise when you walk in and see a lack of red and pink hearts decorating the front reception area.  

Park Jimin, one of your closest friends, yawns from where he sits at the desk, covering his mouth before offering you a lazy wave. 

“Morning, Sunshine.”

You look around the room, trying to find who Jimin is calling ‘Sunshine’. 

“I don’t see Hoseok anywhere,” you announce after concluding it’s just the two of you in the intake area.

“Ha-ha, you are so funny this early,” Jimin says with a glare of his eyes. “But why am I not surprised that Hoseok is the first thing on your mind?”

Dropping your backpack onto the counter, it’s now your turn to glare at him.

“Shut up. We’re just fuck buddies.” You hide your face by unzipping your bag and pretending to look for something.

“Does he know that?” Jimin questions, and you break your defense to look up at him puzzled.

“Um, pretty sure he does, seeing as he literally was just pounding into me a couple of hours ago.”

“Sweetheart, while I typically love the details of your sex life, you know that the emphasis was on the ‘just’ part of the sentence. ‘Does Hoseok know that you two are just fuck buddies?’” 

“He hasn’t ever said he wants more from me, so…just leave it, Jimin.”

“Hmm…touchy. Are you maybe…upset that he hasn’t expressed wanting more?”

Once again you dig in your bag, wishing you had just said good morning back and not engaged in this conversation.

“What? No, pshh, I told him when it started that we wouldn’t be more.”

Jimin sighs, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. 

“Idiot.” 

You throw the first thing you grab in your backpack—your deodorant— at him. “I meant that in the most loving way!” 

“I’m going upstairs to put away my belongings. You’re off at 9am, right?”

“Yup, and then the next two days I’m off. Just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

“Oooh, hot plans with Theresa?” you ask over your shoulder as you begin climbing the stairs.

“She planned a surprise for me, you know Valentine’s is about the woman doing something for the man.” Jimin says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah, and next month for White Day, it’ll be your turn.” The stairs turn once you reach the first platform, so now you can look down into the desk area and the top of Jimin’s head. He looks up at you with a smirk as he tosses your deodorant up to you.

“And if you don’t make a move tomorrow, you’ll be eating black jjajangmyeon in your black sweatpants the month after like the single loser you are!”

Stomping the rest of the way into the firefighter’s dormitory, you notice that two beds are occupied. Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are two regulars who work the same 6-day shift as you. Today just so happens to be your first day back from your rest period, so the three of you and Hoseok, will be doing the day shift from 9am to 6pm today and tomorrow. 

“You guys slept here last night?” you ask, sitting on the bed across from Taehyung. You’re already dressed in your uniform, but still have a little under an hour until your shift starts so you put away the small deodorant canister and get comfortable. 

“Yeah, we covered for Sammi and Vanessa. They were supposed to be on call for the One-Stop Support Center for residential fire fighting devices, but apparently they needed to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Why couldn’t they prepare today?”

“Oh, trust me, our doting, pregnant fiances have spent the past few days whispering and  plotting away.”

You laugh at the image Taehyung paints of their significant others. Sammi, his fiance, is four months pregnant and works in the Control Center of the station with Jungkook’s fiance, Vanessa, who is also five months along. The two are often seen together giggling and chatting, and much like Hoseok, are rays of sunshine in the office. 

“I bet it was boring being on call for the Support Center.” You make conversation as the two get up and begin shrugging on their field uniforms over their tank tops and athletic shorts.

“We had maybe three calls the entire time, and we were home until the last call came and it was this elderly man, he needed installation support at his shop. He runs a bakery and was about to start the ovens when he noticed that his gas detector wasn’t lit up. So at 4am, I’m in a deep sleep cuddling my babe, when the phone wakes us up and we have to stop here and get a new HKA-800 to install.” Jungkook sighs as if the elderly baker ruined his night.

“I hate installing gas leakage alarms,” Taehyung sighs. “They’re always in hard to reach spots, and I would’ve rather stayed in bed to be honest.”

“I feel like they knew a call was going to come in at that time…they’ve never swapped on call shifts with us before.” Jungkook muses.

“So, which of you pretty boys is filming today?”

“I am!”

You turn to the doorway of the dormitory and see Jung Hoseok enter with his duffel bag on his shoulder. He looks stunning as usual, black hair styled effortlessly to frame his face. He’s fully dressed in his field uniform, reflective vest situated over his lithe frame and you kind of hate how all of his clothing hides the marks you left last night, unable to show that he belongs to you, even if you tell yourself he’s only yours when the two of you are alone. 

“I’m surprised Hobi, the whole place isn’t covered in candy hearts or red and pink decorations,” you tease. “I thought you would have wanted it to be all pretty for airing.”

Hoseok’s face makes a surprising change to irritation.

“When would I have had time last night to decorate?” He says with a raised eyebrow at you, alluding to your activities that kept him busy. “Besides, the Fire Chief didn’t give the approval until this morning! I saw the email when I woke up. I’ve got all of the supplies right here in my bag.”

“Oh no, you better watch out, Hobi, you know Sunshine over here hates Valentine’s Day.”

You roll your eyes, laying back onto the pillow and feigning disinterest. 

“I just don’t understand why women have to declare their feelings first and then wait a whole month to have them reciprocated. What if you break up during the month between?”

Jimin trudges into the room, flopping onto a free mattress. Glancing at the clock, you see it’s ten till nine, and figure his replacement must’ve just arrived. 

“Sammi is too pregnant to leave me, she wouldn’t make it five minutes down the road before calling me crying from the car to say she misses me. She would turn around and be back in my arms. Plus, Jaykay and I have already planned our White Day surprise for them. They have no need to worry.”

“If only we all could be so lucky to date best friends, get engaged, and pregnant all within a couple months of each other.”

“I mean, if you would—”

“Park Jimin, you shut your mouth right now!” You effectively cut him off as his eyes land on you, full of mirth. You wish looks can kill—Jimin would be frying under your burning gaze.

“Well, I’m going to start putting up the hearts now!”

Hobi begins to unzip his bag but jumps when the siren begins to sound.

Jumping out of the bed, you grab your vest from your bag, and the four of you hustle down to the trucks. 120 cases of fire are called into dispatch every 12 minutes across the country, and the life of a firefighter is always a race against time.

Valentine’s day is just another day to you, in fact, it’s your second day shift in a row, leaving you with ample time to celebrate, if you were the type. Yesterday was busy, which is unsurprising—the day before Valentine’s day many women are baking sweets and chocolates for the person who has caught their affection, and the stress of making the perfect treat often leads to a level of carelessness not usually seen. Eleven small kitchen fires took up the whole shift, and Hoseok was unable to film his CPR news clip or decorate the station. 

The next morning, Hoseok is ready to turn your workplace into a Valentine’s Day extravaganza. As you approach the main door, you see window clings in the shape of hearts and cute phrases plastered against the glass.

Walking in, you see candy hearts attached to red yarn strung along the edge of the reception counter. Behind the desk, Hoseok stands on a ladder, hanging up red balloon letters that spell out L-O-V-E.

Unable to hold back a groan, you cause Hoseok to teeter dangerously as he realizes he’s not alone. 

“Morning, babe!” Kim Seokjin greets cheerily from where he’s supposed to be holding said ladder, but you look around dejectedly.

“Damn it, Chief Kim really vetoed my Taco Tuesday idea?”  

“Tacos?” Jungkook appears from the back room behind the reception desk, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Yeah, I thought maybe he would decide to order us tacos for Taco Tuesday.”

“It’s only 8:30, sunshine. Maybe it’ll be here at lunch time.”

“Good thinking, Kookie! So, let’s hope today is less busy than yesterday, so we can leave on time and you and Taehyung can enjoy your surprise.”

“I am begging. Tomorrow we work the night shift, so I’ll have plenty of time to sleep in. Do you have any plans?”

“Nothing planned, no. You know I don’t do Valentine’s Day.”

You miss the way Hoseok’s face falls as he turns back to the task at hand.

“Ah, yes, one day you will find someone, and maybe you won’t hate Valentine’s Day so much.”

“Maybe when pigs fly.”

You can’t lie though, Hoseok has the reception area looking festive in a non-cheesy way; you actually don’t want to vomit at the sight of it. Luckily, he isn’t able to make it far into the building with his bag of ornaments and tinsel, and the sound of the alarm going off halts his efforts once again. 

“This is bullshit,” he huffs under his breath, but you hear him anyway as you walk side by side to the truck. 

Valentine’s Day is really not your day. The first call of the morning sent you out to a residential area where a wild boar wandered into. Being chased by a wild boar before you even have a chance to stretch is not your idea of fun, but the guys were able to herd it back to where it came thanks to your sprint.

Back at the station, Fire Chief Kim Namjoon greets you in the hallway, and when you ask about tacos for lunch, he apologizes.

“I’m sorry, it slipped my mind. In order to feed everyone on staff, we would need to put in the order ahead of time, there’s too many departments. How about next Tuesday?” he offers, buff arm rubbing the back of his neck in guilt. You can’t stay mad at his dimples, so you let him off the hook, saying next week will be fine. 

It’s not, not really, but you aren’t the type to say no to free food. You had just hoped to have something else to take your mind off of Valentine's Day. Especially with your crush/fuck buddy walking around the station in his perfectly fit uniform decorating the windows with hearts and talking about how much he loves today. 

The only reprieve is that today is just as busy, and the window clings are as far as Hoseok gets before the alarm rings loudly, sending your group running once again. This time, it’s a fire, but not as small as the baking incidents yesterday. This one requires full gear and an extra truck from a neighboring station. And when Hoseok disappears back inside the building with Jungkook to locate a tearful child’s missing pet cat, you find yourself antsy to reach him. 

Five minutes later, Jungkook comes stumbling out, saying that the smoke was too thick on the path he took to the left, but the right hallway Hoseok took should be easier to navigate since the fire started on his side.

Pacing as you wait for Hoseok to show, you can’t help the fear growing if he weren’t to return. You knew it was your own self-sabotage that kept this thing with Hoseok from turning into something more. You have had your heart broken in the past; you put in more effort to a man who did not deserve it and it backfired on you. Growing up you were raised to feel that it was safe for you to share your love with others, but now it just felt safer to keep Hoseok at arms length. 

Still not seeing Hoseok return, you now know that you would have rather explored the feelings he brings out of you and let it turn into a burning flame than to lose him in one. There’s a reason why Sammi and Vanessa no longer fight fires with their significant others. Long before either was with child, the two switched to dispatch services, because of the warnings of the dangers of loving your firefighting partner.  

Breaking all types of protocol, you run into the building and find Hoseok appearing through the heavy smoke with the cat in his arms, and a sigh of relief spreads through your body. This pause to take him in, inspect him for damages while still being inside a burning building is exactly why you shouldn’t have run inside.

A wooden beam, brittle from the flames eating away at its hold, crumbles to the ground around you. Hoseok, arms full with the fluffy pet and voice covered by the roar of the flames, is unable to do anything but watch as you fall to the ground, semi-pinned under the remnants of the beam. 

Sprinting, he has a clear enough mind to leave you behind to get the cat to safety before returning with help from Taehyung less than a minute later. The two are able to lift the wood off of your leg, and Hoseok carries you from the building, now empty of residents and their pets. The other station takes over dousing the flames as a second station arrives to help, and with orders from the Fire Chief, your unit brings you back to the station. 

You’re not that hurt, no broken bones, just a minor sprain and first degree burns where the beam lay on your leg. Luckily your protective gear prevented worse damage from occurring had you been in civilian clothing and in the infirmary at Station 7, you sit under the watchful eyes of your Fire Captain and Lead Aid Car Specialist, Min Yoongi.

“Please explain to me why I have to do a write up for Chief Kim explaining that you broke protocol and ended up injured.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi-Op—Captain Min.”

Your older brother glares at you. 

“I promised Eomma that you would not get hurt under my watch. Luckily, I wasn’t there or I would’ve dragged you back myself.”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking, Yoongi. Hobi had just been in there for so long and Jungkook had already returned, and the flames were getting worse, so I just—”

“You just forgot your duty as a firefighter, and I think it’s time you tell him how you feel, Sunshine. In the meantime, you’re grounded.”

“What? But—”

“You had a beam fall on you in a burning building, leaving you with first degree burns—lowkey second degree—on your leg! You aren’t going out on any more calls until you’re cleared.”

Of course, before your brother can finish treating your wounds, the alarm is already calling away Hoseok, Jungkook, and Taehyung. This time, it’s a small incident with bees swarming a preschool’s playground area. You know Hoseok hates bugs, but with only three members of the team available, he has to go. 

Seokjin strolls into the infirmary just as Yoongi bandages the last piece of gauze around your burn, and you prepare yourself for a stern talking to. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day, sunshine. And you almost died trying to search for the man you deny having feelings for. I think it’s time to do something about this crush, don’t you think?”

Well, that was unexpected. When did everyone learn your true feelings?

“You’re not subtle in the slightest.” Seokjin shares, reading the look on your face. “Neither is he. You both like each other, so stop being stubborn.”

“Valentine’s Day is almost over, Seokjin. Even if I wanted to do something, I’m injured and there’s no time.”

Seokjin’s face morphs into determination.

“Hobi is the easiest man to please. You should know, he likes you, doesn’t he?”

“Rude!”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious. So let’s think, what has he wanted to do this whole time?”

“Decorate the office to celebrate Valentine’s Day.” 

“So what do you think would be a good way of showing him you care, and making yourself ineligible to participate in Black Day in a couple of months?” 

“I…” you pause as if thinking about what you could do, but you already know the answer, “I can use his decorations and finish what he started. Maybe cave, and celebrate Valentine’s Day for once.” 

“I knew you were smart and Hobi had to like you for a reason.”

“I’m also really good with my—”

“Really don’t want to know what you’re good at doing to my best friend!” Yoongi cuts you off, placing a cold compress to the wound.

“Alrighty!” Seokjin claps, “Moving on, so what are you going to have prepared when he asks to stay with you tonight, which we know he’s going to do, because he wants to take care of you.”

“Surprise him with tacos for Taco Tuesday and some bomb ass sex,” you say with a smile, happy to fulfill your own wish as well

“Sounds like a great plan. Though you may want to just accept the sex will be mid until your injury heals.”

“Alright, so this is all a great plan, but, small problem. I’m stuck here under medical watch until I get off! Who can help decorate my apartment?”

“Don’t be dense, Sunshine. I already texted the pregnant ones. They’re off today and done setting up for Tae and Jaykay, and they’re on their way to your place now. Text them your keycode so they can get in.”

“Why would they help me? They’re pregnant! And have their own things to prepare for!”

“Because, sweetie, we love you and we love Hoseok and we’ve had a bet going for ages that we’d love to have settled.”

You frown at his words, but understand. You love all of your coworkers too, trust them with your life—literally—and the fact that everyone has been rooting for you and Hoseok to work out thaws your frozen Valentine’s Day heart.

When your crew arrives back from the playground relocating the bees, you watch as Hoseok’s face breaks out into a blinding smile.

“Wow! You guys really did all of this?”

Seokjin is sitting at the reception desk with you and he nods his head in your direction. 

“It was Sunshine’s idea.”

Hoseok turns wide eyes to you, and you think you see a little hope in them. Part of you knew that Hoseok always wanted more, but the other part of you doubted he could actually see you as his girlfriend. In the past, the guy who broke your heart couldn’t see you as his girlfriend despite you doting on him as if you were his wife, which is what led to your walls being so high. But thanks to your friends and the incident today, you realize that Hoseok is someone you can trust with your heart. You already trust him with your life. 

“I thought it was the least I could do, I know you really wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”

Coming around the desk, he kneels in front of you being mindful of your propped up leg.

“Thank you, Sunshine. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

You can’t hold back your smile, and he pulls you into a hug. He’s warm, and you melt in his embrace as Seokjin pretends to wipe back happy tears as he watches the two of you. 

“Sunshine, I’m sure you want to go home, but I still have to record the heart health clip, and then we’ll head to your place, okay?”

“No worries, Hobi, Seokjin and I took care of that for you too. And we made sure to showcase all of your decorations.”

If he could physically do it, Hoseok would be staring heart eyes at you. Even without transforming the shape of his eyes, you see more than the hope from earlier in them; there’s gratitude for making his very long day easier, and something else you aren’t sure if you can put into words.

“I’ll be right back.” Hoseok sprints from the reception area and up the stairs, returning only a few moments later with his duffel bag hanging to his side. Grasping your backpack from the counter, he threads his arms through the straps before bending his knees and reaching for you. Lifting you up bridal style, you laugh as he walks you out the glass doors, enjoying the smile adorned on his face. 

Hoseok refuses to let you walk once at your place, carrying you from the car to your second floor apartment with ease. You were already showered from being on medical leave for the day, but as Hoseok types in the code to your door, he promises to shower fast so as not to leave you alone for long.

The words fade from his lips as he crosses the threshold with you in his arms, the sight of your apartment decorated romantically for the holiday shocking him silent. You thank your coworkers silently for their efforts, before tucking your face into Hoseok’s neck. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hobi.” Your voice is low, but he hears you, and his spine shivers when you press a kiss to his neck. 

He’s still silent, but you can feel his heart racing as he looks down at you in his arms. 

“Shower with me.”

You nod, and he rushes to your bathroom, setting you down on the closed toilet lid so he can strip down, and you do the same, standing up gently once naked with your hand balancing you on the sink. Opening the glass shower door, he turns the tap on to a medium level due to your injury. Your brother said you were okay to shower, you just had to make sure to redress the wound and he would bring your antibiotics by tomorrow after he picked them up from the pharmacy.

Hoseok tugs you towards him lightly as you follow him gingerly into the warm water. The two of you silently wash each other, being gentle around sensitive areas. Once clean, he pulls you to his chest and into a hug you didn’t realize you needed. Being in his arms like this after today’s events, it finally hits you. You love this man. You feel your eyes start to water, sniffling, and he looks at you closely. 

“What’s wrong, does your leg hurt, baby?” the pet name slips out. 

“No, it’s fine. I just—” you take a deep breath before looking into his pretty brown eyes. “I think I have some really big feelings for you, and I was so worried about you earlier, if something had happened to you…”

“Nothing happened, Sunshine. I’ll always make my way back to you, you know that.”

“You better.”

He leans down and kisses you, soft, heart-shaped lips calming the storm in your mind.

“I will, baby.”

You pull him by his neck back to you, this time deepening the kiss as his hands begin to explore you. You feel his fingers slip between your thighs, spreading you open and entering you without wasting any time. Gasping into the kiss, you reach for him, feeling his semi-firm cock harden as you begin to stroke him. The water helps with your speed, and the two of you twirl your tongues together as you match pace. 

“I need more, baby,” you pant, and Hoseok removes his fingers from where your walls have gripped him, reaching for the backs of your thighs to lift you up. Putting your back to the wall opposite the faucet, you squeal from the cold tile along your spine. Hoseok just chuckles while angling his now fully erect member at your opening, pushing himself inside slowly so he can savor every ridge of your pulsing walls. 

Thrusting into you, his mouth decorates your skin with blooming maroon marks until you cry out in satisfaction as he makes you cum. The angle he holds you in is perfect for kissing your g-spot with the tip of his cock, and your skin tingles as your nerves react to the climax. Sliding out of his hold, he grunts when you push him where you had just been pinned, using his body to help you glide to your knees, careful of your shin injury. 

Taking Hoseok into your mouth, you rival the loud sounds of the shower as you lewdly suck and slurp your essence off of his cock as his hands firmly hold the sides of your head. You look up at him as you press your nose to his taut abs, eyes wet with unshed tears as you breathe through your nose to gather enough to pause and swallow around him as you grip his thighs. You can tell when he’s at his breaking point, the pads of his fingers dragging along your scalp as his muscles tense and you bob with sucked in cheeks and flicks to his frenulum until he’s spilling his warm cum down your throat.

Hoseok grasps you under your arms and pulls you to him, kissing you hard. 

“Fuck, Sunshine,” his nose drags softly along yours in an eskimo kiss. “I think I—” 

The sound of your doorbell chiming through the apartment reaches your ears, having installed a small speaker in the bathroom and bedroom so that you never miss a delivery.

The two of you giggle as you decide who will get the door, but Hoseok, ever the gentleman, grabs a towel and your robe. You spend a few extra moments cleaning between your thighs before turning off the water and following Hoseok out of the bathroom. 

Catching sight of him in the hallway, he’s walking a delivery bag from your favorite taco restaurant in Seoul to your kitchen counter. Stepping over the rose petals littered along the hallway, you join him.  

“You even got us tacos?” he asks in awe, adoration lacing his tone.

“Of course, I did, it’s taco Tuesday and Valentine’s Day, and I just wanted to show you how I feel about you.” It feels good to admit it.

Turning away from the unopened bag, Hoseok picks you up again, carrying you to your bedroom. 

This time, he makes love to you slowly, his hips rolling in that magical way he does, fingers laced with yours by your head as your bodies fit together deliciously. Your eyes never leave his, both of you staring deeply at each other as you rock in tandem. Feeling him all over you, reaching the deepest parts of you, you cry out as tears roll down your cheeks in pleasure. 

“F-fuck Hobi, I’m so close,” you whimper, hands squeezing his tightly as the pressure builds.

“Give your all to me, Sunshine,” he begs, and you know he isn’t just asking for your orgasm.

“It’s yours, Hobi,” you admit, “I’m yours.”

Your words encourage him as he picks up speed and depth until you release together. 

Cuddling into his arms, you turn your lips to his chin, placing tender kisses to his smooth skin. 

“I love you, Hoseok.”

In the quiet of your room, it’s as if a roaring fire fills your ears as you wait to see if he’ll extinguish the worry that begins to spread—

“I love you too, Sunshine, have for a while.”

He tilts his head so he can return kisses to your lips before your bodies align once again to create a friction of burning love that blooms bright enough to consume you.

© hisunshiine 2023. All rights reserved.

thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are much appreciated! 

[usafphantom2]

President Bill Clinton line-item-vetoed the entire SR-71 program. All operations except routine maintenance stopped. But then, in June 1998, the Supreme Court overturned the Line Item Veto Act.

While the SR-71 began its career in Asia, its reach would become global—gathering intelligence on targets in America’s backyard (Cuba, Nicaragua), as well as in the Middle East (during the 1973 Yom Kippur War and its aftermath, and at Benina Airfield in Libya after the 1986 El Dorado Canyon raid).

Peripheral SR-71 missions included those flown off the borders of East Germany, Poland, and the Soviet Union and later missions yielding radar images of Soviet submarine ports.

By the end of 1989, Air Force SR-71s had flown 3,551 operational sorties.

But in the late 1980s, even as SR-71s flew missions worldwide, its days as a reconnaissance platform appeared numbered. Key staff members of the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. Larry D. Welch, and Lt. Gen. Leo W. Smith II of the Budget Review Board all favored its retirement. They promised that they had a manned airframe in the wings that would replace the SR 71 in 1988. These Pentagon generals lied to Congress. Congress allotted money to bring the SR 71s back temporarily over the protest of the Air Force generals, who won the money for their own special projects, I was there at the ceremony when SR 71 #971 #967, and #956 shared by NASA, were to be reinstated into the Air Force in 1996. As everyone knows the Air Force Generals at that time, were determined to retire the SR 71 but NASA stepped up and used several SR 71s until 1999.. my Dad, Butch Sheffield was so upset about dirty politics that were used that he gave his invitation to myself and my husband and we went. They even had an SR-71 cake at Edwards while I was there I talked to Colonel Storrie and Colonel Ken Collins.. friends of the family and former SR 71 pilots.. pictures two, three and four were taken by my husband, Rodney Miller

@Habubrats71 via X

[fantasyqueen502]

Mrs. Miller

Summary- (Before the infection/apocalypse) A look into the life of Mrs. Miller. The day the Millers become parents.

Relationship: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rated: PG Fluff, Pregnancy, labor pains Word Count: 809

"Yeah!---" Joel exhales out of breath, four large travel bags in hand. "---Tommy---" struggling with his phone pinned between his ear and shoulder. "---It's happening."

He missed a step, sending all four bags tumbling down the final flight. One bursting open in a confetti of diapers, pacifiers, and bottles following two by two. Dropping to his knees collecting the fallen items. "---This is it---" he says, forcing the bag shut with a huff and a smile present on his face. Lining everything up by the front door.

"Yes, this is the real thing." He assures now holding the phone by hand checking boxes to his mental checklist. "Kay…I'll call you when we get there."

Hearing the jingle of glassware from the fridge, "Y/N?"

"Yeah." She returns, closing the fridge door after checking the date on a jar of mayonnaise.

Holding the receiver to his chest. "What are you doing!?" he exclaims.

"Making a sandwich." She answers plainly. "Now out of my way." She swats him to the side waddling to the counter, where other items are.

"It's time. Your water broke, we should be on our way--"

"Only when the contractions are less than five minutes apart." coating a slice of bread with the condiment. "I don't want to get sent home again." She adds topping off the finished sandwich titled the double decker.

"She takes after you." He couldn't help but snicker. "Indecisive." He whispers, placing a peck on her temple.

"I have a knife." She holds the mayo-covered butter knife at him threateningly. He chuckles, clicking his tongue at the adorable sight. Taking the “weapon” cleaning the blade with his tongue.

She gags, looking away just before pinching his bicep, making him yelp.

"Let's be an angel today. 'Kay little monster." giving her belly a comforting rub. Continuing his chat with his brother. "We'll meet you there."

She looks up as his brows furrowed in confusion, unable to listen to the other end of the conversation. "The hospital, idiot!" He snaps, making her giggle.

"Ha, ha, ha." He mocks sarcastically, making her snort at his cockeyed expression, which he often does when his brother does something that he deems stupid. She was surprised his eyes never got stuck the amount of instances it's happened. "Tommy." He informs her, holding the phone to her ear.

"Hey, Tommy." She greets finishing the sandwich, cutting it diagonally just how Joel likes it, and makes a trade, handing him his half as she takes the phone. "He's just anxious. You know how snippy he gets when he's anxious." She teases.

" ‘ey!" He objects with his mouth full.

"Just made him the double decker." She smiles. "Of course. Payment in advance for babysitting, see you there." She smiles. "Bye bye." She ends.

"You made him one?" He says words muffled by bread, lettuce, and bacon.

"Of course." She answers by holding up a brown paper bag. "Only the best for Diana's favorite uncle."

"He's her only uncle." He corrects. "Back to Diana, huh?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "You choose, babe." She pushes a sheet of paper towards him.

Without giving the list of names a glance, "Joel Jr." He answers taking another larger bite without thought.

"C'mon." She huffs. "Our daughter's gonna have twenty-four first names. Pick one."

"Any name?"

"Any name."

"No vetoing?"

She shakes her head in agreement.

"Alright." He swallows his bite. He takes a moment to look over the list before looking up at the mother of his first child. "Sarah."

"Sarah?"

"Thought of it, few weeks ago. After the drive in,"

"Thought you hated that movie."

"Loved to hate. There's a difference." He corrects. "I quite enjoyed Lost World."

"Sarah." She hums. "I don't like it." She makes a face, causing Joel's expression to fall in dismay. "I love it." He snapped up, and his face beaming.

"That's lame." He scolds, pulling her close for a kiss. "You're lame." He combates patheticly.

"I know." She grins proudly, receiving another kiss. She pulls away. "Ow." She whines, holding the countertop while rubbing her belly with the other hand. Squeezing her eyes tight.

"Big one?" Placing his hand to her lower back.

"Yep." She groans, exhaling a long breath. He begins making soothing circles to dull the ache.

"Lean on me." He instructs her to lean her face into his chest, inhaling the scent of Irish spring.

"Mmmm." She sounds as the grip of pain loosened. Then it faded all together.

"Think that's our cue." He chuckles, placing a hand on her bump. "Time to finally meet our baby girl."

"Time to finally meet, Sarah."

Series Chapters order:

Mrs. Miller

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 2

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 3

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 4

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 5

[the-final-sif]

The single funniest thing in American governance is the line item veto, because it's LITERALLY tumblr black out poetry but rather than using it to make shitposts, governors can use it to change laws or budgets in a bunch of different states. Wisconsin is the most famous for it but you can find funny examples elsewhere.

Like if you're wondering how drastically a budget can get changed, in Wisconsin last year the democratic governor managed to change a school funding increase from 2024-2025 to 2024-2425. How?

Through this nonsense.

It's very funny and I hope this never changes.

[gamebunny-advance]

Design Survey Reflection

Things of note:

Hardware is gonna be a gold star~

As you could probably surmise from all the polls I've been making here, most people are okay with some of the keychains being unique.

However, even though I threw Kliff up there as one of the ones that was gonna change, I've decided against it. At his current scale, changing his pose is gonna cover too much of his scarf, and I consider that a charm point, so Mayday and Zuke might be the only ones to hold an item in this set. Which is fine, cus they're always holding their instruments in-game anyway~

I kinda lied a while ago: there were actually a few suggestions to have DJSS hold his ice pop, but I internally vetoed that early on. Not because it wouldn't look good, I'm sure it would look fine, but since most people are buying him in a pair with someone else, I think it'd be better if both of his hands are free so he looks fine on either side of them. Maybe I'll do a separate ice pop themed design down the line if these do well enough.

Sayu is keeping her unique heart eyes~

Frowning Tatiana technically won, but since the response to this survey was so low, and it was literally down to a one vote difference, I'm gonna pick my preference and keep her smiling. The response just wasn't definitive enough for me to change my preference for this one. If you really wanted Tati frowning, then ya should have participated in the survey~

Eve however was a little more definitive, so she'll smile too, even though I prefer her frowning~

1010 are keeping their original face style, but with the version B expressions. (So... exactly how they appeared in that poll. Maybe I'll fix Red's teeth...)

They're also going to be one big keychain. I'll probably boost them up to the full 4 inches, or 3.5 to accommodate the size, so they will be more expensive than the base keychain, but it's still gonna be cheaper to buy the 1 big keychain as opposed to 5 individual ones~

If there's enough demand for individual ones during round 1, then I'll make individual 1010s available for round 2.

Alrighty, I guess the last things on my end are to finalize the designs, set up shop, get 'em made, and get 'em sold~

I don't have a timeline for when any of those things will happen, but I'll shoot for the end of this year. With good luck and planning, I might be able to get these done before Christmas. (No promises though.)

Thank y'all for the support during this project! We're almost to the finish line~

[gwydionmisha]

So very clever.

[two-trucks]

she line on my item till i veto

[aita-blorbos]

Am I the Asshole for not adding backdoor access to my killer robots?

Alright, so I [52M] own a massive tech company that produces a wide range of items for a wide range of consumers. One of our most recent projects was a line of highly advanced war machines capable of autonomous self production via the consumption of biomass as emergency fuel. These things cost a pretty penny and have been tested extensively to ensure that they're safe. Well, as safe as a killer robot can be, anyway. These people know what they're paying for, right? I mean, these things aren't really supposed to be killing humans, given that the front lines of every major conflict is all machines nowadays, but they're still pretty deadly. That's kind of the point.

Anyway, given how deadly they are, my engineers insisted on leaving an emergency backdoor, but I vetoed that. These are supposed to be the most secure, unhackable war machines on the market. They've got layers upon layers of encryption and protocols to keep them 100% safe and secure. We don't want anyone claiming that our company is using backdoor access to tamper with the machines, and we don't want customers to be able to hack each other's robots (at least, not without the robot specifically designed to hack other robots). Again, these things have been thoroughly tested, and I really didn't think we needed a backdoor.

Well, fast forward to now, and one of machine swarms is experiencing a minor malfunction. Basically it's severed its own chain of command, and is no longer communicating with its owner. It's on a bit of a rampage, consuming plants, animals, really anything organic to continue to fuel and produce more copies of itself. It sounds very concerning, I know, but I think we can deal with it. The US military is on my ass about it right now, making it out to be my problem, but I don't think it's my fault? I couldn't have predicted that the swarm would go rogue and that we would need backdoor access. I was just making sure these things were secure, and it's not my fault that they experienced a glitch.

Anyway, I have a meeting in a few hours with an old business partner of mine [45F], she's really smart and I'm sure she can help come up with a solution here. It may take some work, but it's not going to be that difficult to take out the rogue swarm and issue a software update for our other customers. My old business partner and I are both smart people, and I have access to pretty much every resource on the planet. This will be easy! I just don't get why everyone is making it into such a big deal.

Tl;dr some killer robots went rogue and everyone thinks it's my fault for not including a backdoor in the code. I think it's an unfortunate fluke that we can fix with ease. AITA?

[sukimas]

honestly i think the wisconsin-type line-item veto is great. i think it should even be allowed to remix sentences, really. the thing is, if a governor does anything really heinous, they'll be slapped back by 2/3s vote in the state legislature (US vetoes after all are not tribunal vetoes! they can be cancelled!) and if the governor and the legislature are of the same party, they won't have reason to run line-item veto anyway. it is a pretty good measure to implement a Get Along Shirt between the legislative and executive, especially since a lot of the time the executive will not use its power of veto even on bills it disagrees with (due to the fact that government might crawl to a halt if it does).

like yes this would be absolutely obscene power if vetoes could not be overturned, but they can. in this sense, either you pass bills that your whole legislature can actually agree on (the original intent of the 2/3s rules, not making it so even if your party is elected you can't get anything done) or you accept that the governor is roughly equivalent to a genie and actually try to get along with them too.

[generallemarc]

And this is why the line-item veto is a bad idea: it literally allows executives to directly create legislation, something that the American system is explicitly designed against.

[beardedmrbean]

Boston Mayor Michelle Wu rejected a City Council proposal that would have cut funding for the city's police department and veteran services.

"Our budget must be responsive to the needs of our constituents, fiscally responsible, and built on a foundation of effective delivery of City services that are central to our residents’ quality of life," Wu said in a letter to members of the Boston City Council on Friday, according to a report from the Boston Globe.

The Democrat mayor's letter comes after the council approved a $4.2 billion operating budget for the city that would have reduced funding for the Boston Police Department by $31 million and $900,000 in cuts to veteran services. Along with the proposed cuts were an $8 million increase funding for participatory budgeting, a city process that allows for more engagement on how tax dollars are spent by Boston residents.

The figures came in vastly different from Wu's proposed budget, which only included $2 million for the participatory budget process. In her letter to members, the mayor said the council's proposed cuts to the police budget "are illusory, as the City is obligated to cover salary and overtime expenses incurred by the department."

The veto means the budget will now be sent back to the council where it will need two-thirds of the members to override Wu. With 12 members serving on the council, that would mean eight members would have to vote to override the veto. Seven of the 12 members voted to approve the proposal sent to Wu.

Councilor Tania Fernandes Anderson, chair of the city's Ways and Means Committee, told the Boston Globe on Friday that the council's proposed cuts would not have led to any city employees losing their jobs, instead arguing that her analysis found the Boston Police Department could have close to $25 million in extra funds next year.

Fernandes Anderson also blasted the Wu administration for not providing more transparency, saying the "administration does not work well with the council."

But Fernandes Anderson, who has a son who serves in the Marines, expressed regret about the proposed cuts to veteran services, noting that funding would not have been affected because the proposed cuts were a line item that was eligible to be reimbursed by the state.

"I want to extend my apology, I don’t want to send that message," she said.

Fernandes Anderson's office did not immediately respond to a Fox News request for comment.

Wu's veto was also criticized by the Better Budget Alliance, a group that has advocated for more participatory budgeting.

"It is unacceptable that Mayor Wu vetoed a higher $10 million [allotment] for participatory budgeting and used false criticisms to undo the council’s critical investments in Boston’s underfunded working class, BIPOC communities," the alliance said in a statement, adding that Wu "has chosen to protect unused police funds and excessive overtime in the bloated BPD budget instead of funding real community investments."

The decision to veto the proposal was praised by the head of the city’s largest police union.

"Undoubtedly, we’re grateful the mayor saw fit to reject the council’s misguided efforts to dramatically and disproportionately impact the BPD budget, and, by extension, the department’s ability to effectively protect and serve the people of Boston," Larry Calderone, the president of the Boston Police Patrolmen’s Association, said in a statement, according to the Boston Globe.

The mayor's office did not immediately respond to a Fox News request for comment.

[thymewayster]

Okay that's amazing and hilarious but obviously it's not going to stand, right?

WRONG

If you go to the Wikipedia page for line-item vetoing...

IT'S LEGAL.

And apparently it's not just Wisconsin—44 states have some form of line-item vetoing.

That's an insane amount of power to give a single person and probably shouldn't be allowed, but also just the idea that the governor of Wisconsin single-handedly changed the entire state budget by crossing out letters like a cross-out poem is just so, so funny.

Link to tweet here. Transcription of screenshots below the cut.

[ID 1: screenshot of a tweet by Alec Stapp, who comments "How is this real" on a screenshot that reads:

Gov. Tony Evers got creative in using his partial veto power to extend an increase in school funding by a few centuries.

Among the 51 partial vetoes the Democrat issued Wednesday before signing the budget approved by the Republican Legislature was the crossing out of 34 characters that significantly changed the future of school funding to the tune of nearly $270 million annually.

[the paragraphs below are highlighted]

The budget sent to Evers increased the revenue limit for school districts by $325 per pupil for "the 2023-24 school year and the 2024-25 school year." Using his veto pen, Evers turned that into: "for 2023-2425."

He did so by cutting out "the," "24," "school year and the 20," a "-" and the second "school year."

ID 2: screenshot of a Wikipedia article

Wisconsin

The Governor of Wisconsin is empowered with a sweeping line-item veto. Wisconsin governors have the power to strike out words, numbers, and even entire sentences from appropriations bills.

[/end ID]