#but i don't know where i would insert that here? so this is how it turns out i guess

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty eight | part one

authors note: see at end of chapter.

warnings: angst and graphic depictions of violence. gore. torture. not for the faint of heart.

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

***gif credit goes to @romanreigns ***

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

"We need Tribal Combat!"

"There's no time for that! We need a leader now!"

"We need to follow the order of command!"

"What command? Roman is dead! There is no order anymore!"

"This is why he should have been dethroned a lot sooner! He left us no heir!"

"The child wouldn't be old enough to rule anyway!"

Aleki runs a hand over his haggard face. In a matter of weeks, he feels like he's aged another ten years.

He's getting too old to be dealing with this shit, and that's exactly what all of this is. A bunch of shit.

"Tribal Combat is the way our ancestors would handle a situation like this," he finally speaks. The situation being the fact that for the first time in his lifetime, the Bloodline is without a leader.

Roman is dead.

Solo is dead.

Roman left no heir, thus there is no clear path moving forward for what should occur. The past two weeks since the former Tribal Cheif's murder has been nothing but chaotic to say the least. Aleki is far too prideful to admit it, but a part of him blames himself. He should have known better than to trust Rikishi to get the job done. Should have known that just like he did years prior with Jey, he'd fall short.

Should have known his plan was not without holes. Holes that have left them in the mess they're in now. Allies demanding to know who is in charge, threatening to sever partnerships with a syndicate that boasts no formal, official leader.

A mess.

"And just how do we determine who is eligible for combat?"

Someone, another annoying voice, inserts their question among the mumbled conversations.

Another Elder handles the answer, offering, "it could be open to anyone."

Sione sighs, saying more to himself than anyone in particular. "Nakoa's bloodline has ruled for generations."

"And now his bloodline is all dead," Aleki counters. Cold. His voice and expression are as cold as the ice in his veins. "His son in his stubbornness has damned us to this mess." He gestures around the room, anger growing as he mulls over the situation. "We should have never allowed him to rule for so—"

His pending rant is cut short by the arrival of another attendee, which instantly has him scowling for two reasons.

One, all attendees who were allowed for this audience are present and accounted for.

Two, the identify of said attendee has him pissed.

"Dwayne." His voice is clipped. "This is a closed—"

"I don't give a fuck," comes the dismissive response of the man nearly insufferable as his late, younger cousin. Dwayne saunters over to an occupied seat, easily grabbing the seat by the back, yanking it out and knocking the person to the ground. A smug smirk sits on his face as he plops down and props his big ass feet on the table. Dwayne lifts the sunglasses from the bridge of his nose to the top of his bald head. "Oh, don't stop on my account."

"This doesn't concern you," Sione dismisses.

"Come on." The 'n' drags on as he props his hands behind his head. "I'm still Bloodline, aren't I?"

"You were apart of Roman's Bloodline, and he's dead now, so you have no place here anymore." Someone, an attendee whose name Aleki would never bother to know, counters with a huff. "Plus, where the hell have you been the past few weeks?"

Dwayne shrugs. "Around."

"Around." Someone else mocks. "Our empire in on the brink of collapse, and you've just been around."

"It's like candy ass small dick over here said." Dwayne gestures with his thumb. "I'm unemployed."

The insulted man slams his fist on the table, shooting up, "you smug son of—"

Dwayne quickly silences him by pulling out his Glock G-19 and shooting him directly in the temple, his lifeless body instantly dropping to the floor. Gasps sound around the table, Aleki angrily calling for security.

"You need to leave now!" He hisses. Aleki glances toward the door, wondering why the hell security didn't come barging in at the sound of a literal gunshot.

"See, I would, but I don't answer to you anymore." Dwayne replies in a significantly more serious voice. Gone is the nonchalant "devil may care" attitude. His big body shifts as he moves both elbows onto the table, gun still in hand. "I only answer to the Tribal Chief."

Aleki hisses. "Roman is dead. There is no Tribal Chief."

Dwayne's growing smile can only be described as sinister and predatory. Knowing. "You sure about that?"

Seconds later, not even a full minute, the sound of grunts and thuds from outside the conference room. The Elders and other attendees looking around in confusion.

Except for Dwayne.

He just keeps smiling.

And an almost thunderous sound is accompanied by two more unexpected arrivals. One significantly more unexpected than the other.

Jacob Fatu's unhinged, crazed look of insanity is accompanied by his big body throwing down two dead guards, their heads awkwardly and sickly hanging from their lifeless bodies. Snapped. Their necks have been snapped.

But, that grotesque sight is severely outmatched and borderline underwhelming compared to the inconceivable sight of a dead man walking.

Roman's hair is down and wild, his murderous gaze steady and focused forward. Brass knuckles attached to a chain are secured to his right fist. The table of men are suddenly in shambles, falling over and working to put as much distance between themselves and the man everyone has believed dead.

Again, everyone except Dwayne.

Aleki can barely compute what's happening before him. So much so that there's no time to react, no time to think, just a tremendous of pain that courses through his aged body. Because one minute, he's in his chair at the head of the table, and the next he's on the floor, an enraged Roman having slapped the heavy metal chain against his body.

The old man cries out in agony as the chain is whipped once more, cutting into his skin and laying heavy onto his already brittle bones.

"Please!" He begs, allotted a brief respite as Roman redirects his focus onto Sione and the other Elders, each being mercilessly whipped with the chains.

Punishment.

He's punishing them.

"You wanna take me out!" Roman's infuriated voice slams against the walls the same way he starts to slam his fists against the broken, bloodied men who sought to see him six feet under. "It ain't ever fucking happening!" Roman lands a bone breaking kick to the neck of one of the elders, killing him instantly. The next is killed not directly by Roman but by proxy, as he screams for Jacob.

Jacob, who grabs his gun and shoots out a window, marches over, snatching the man up, dragging him to the window and not wasting a second of a minute to toss him out of said window.

Onlookers watch in horror as one by one, Roman kills them all in various brutal ways. Suffocation. Slit throats. Snapped necks. A brutal beating with the brass knuckles. Various, violent methods and manners in which each meet an untimely, grisly demise. But, the best is saved for last. Aleki. A thorn in Roman's fucking side since he was a boy.

The older man is barely clinging onto life when Roman easily snatches that life away with each slap of the heavy chain, the brass knuckles slammed onto his face until it's disfigured beyond recognition. And finally, the severing of life is achieved via the slicing of the large hunting knife across his throat.

Heaving, splattered with blood, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, nothing but adrenaline and unbounded rage soar through Roman. His lethal gaze falls on the room of people who've been forced to watch the gory bloodbath.

The faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

Good.

Dwayne whistles. "Well, if it isn't obvious, he's not dead."

Roman shoots his older cousin a glare. Dwayne simply shrugs while Roman tips the chair back over, kicking Aleki's body to the side, rolling the chair and sitting down.

And silence. A piece of lint could fall off the wrinkled shirt of the man sitting a few seats down from Roman, and it could still be heard.

Fear.

Fear fills the room and dances off the walls, surrounds the men who just witnessed a bloodbath unlike any.

And then, finally, a brave—or stupid—soul decides to take a risk. Take a chance. "You're….you're alive."

Roman's gaze easily flickers to the man whose wide, horrified gaze is focused on him, trembling finger pointing in his direction. "We—we thought—"

One nod toward Jacob, and the man is barely able to stammer out an "I'm" before his head is violently forced to the side, the sound of his neck snapping followed up with the loud thud sound of it dropping onto the table.

The men around him back and cower away, eager and desperate to escape the death that's already claimed their pathetic lives.

"I was betrayed." Is the first thing to leave his mouth, the word 'betrayal' leaving a bitter, disgusting aftertaste that has him craving more blood. Craving vengeance. "They tried to overthrow me. Tried to kill me, and they should have." Roman stabs the large knife into the table, almost certain he heard someone whimper, as if about to cry. As if they were already crying. "They should have because they killed my wife, and now there's no fucking place on this earth anyone can hide or escape my rage." Saying it aloud is more difficult than Roman anticipated. Playing along with this storyline where Solana is no longer among the living. The discomfort is only quelled by the constant reminder that she is okay. That she's safe and simply waiting for him to return to her after handling business.

And, that's exactly what he's going to do.

Roman digs the knife deeper into the wood. "When I'm done with everyone involved in this shit, the only thing anyone will be able to see is red, and that's the fucking blood I'm going to paint this whole fucking town with." Sitting back in the chair, Roman leaves the knife protruding from the table. "But, until then, I need you all to send them a message."

Another foolish, ignorant, naive soul decides to ask what will be the final thing to leave his mouth before he leaves this room. "Wh—what m-m-message, s-s-sir?"

And for the first time since his entrance, Roman offers something other than a menacing glare. He smiles, but there's nothing humorous about it. If anything, it's predatory.

"That I'm coming."

Similar to the onslaught Roman bestowed upon the now deceased Elders, it's quick and violent. Jacob and Dwayne work almost simultaneously, not killing, but maiming the men. Severed, bloodied pieces cut from bodies. Fingers, noses, ears. Nothing fatal. Just warning enough.

And, it's only when each men has been left with a mark, a sign of Roman's pending revenge, they're ushered and forced out the room. Jacob landing a particularly painful looking blow into the back of the last disfigured, partially dismembered man.

Rolling his shoulders, Roman doesn't even need to instruct them on what to do next. Dwayne is reaching for the laptop, ripping a shirt off one of the dead elders to use it to clean it of the blood. "Fucking disgusting," he hisses, throwing it down once its completed the job.

Roman's eyes cut to the clock on the wall. Right on time.

He's uncaring of his appearance, focused on one thing and only.

Blood.

Roman is out for blood.

As Dwayne works to get everything set up and synced to the large TV screen anchored onto the wall, Jacob stands off to the side, waiting, observing, protecting almost.

Roman would be lying if he said he wasn't skeptical when Solana first told him about Jacob.

Told him how he allegedly protected her and vowed his loyalty to Roman and Roman only, as he recognized Roman as the Tribal Chief.

The only Tribal Chief.

Told her how not everyone in the Bloodline was involved in the coup, and many were waiting for Roman to show up.

Truth be told, Roman is still trying to test that. Test Jacob. So far, he's proven useful, offering Dwayne and Matteo intel and information on those allegedly involved and those not involved.

He's a a hell of a body to have around, capable of the most violent desecration of people. Useful. He's useful, but only time will tell to what extent Roman can trust him.

Can trust anyone, really.

"It's ready," Dwayne announces. Roman breaks from his thoughts, rolling his shoulders once more, ignoring the throb. Solana would have his ass for all the physical exertion. But, it needs to be done.

The sooner Roman handles this, the sooner he can have her back home with him.

Right where she belongs.

Dwayne and Jacob move to take seats, both on opposite sides of the table but in view of the TV that also serves as a casting source. The television screen is then filled with the exact person Roman wants to see next.

"This is a fucking waste of time." Luca's irritated voice is heard, his irksome ass face focused on something beside him. It looks like he's signing something. "Without someone of Italian blood at the head of your table, we have no alli—"

He stops, finally turning to look at the screen, and if there was ever someone to be as pale as Casper the fucking ghost, it's Luca.

"Roman." He all but whispers.

The Tribal Chief remains stone face. "Luca." He tilts his head. "You look surprised."

The younger man stammers, eyes darting around, hardening slightly when he lands on Dwayne who offers a small, mocking wave.

He then narrows his focus back on Roman. Clearing his throat, trying to play off indifference, he straightens his tie. "We were told you were dead."

"Were you?" Luca makes a sound. "I suppose that would have made things a lot more easier for you, now wouldn't it?"

Luca glares. "Just what—"

"Don't fucking play with me," Roman growls. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know you've been trying usurp me. That you were behind that missing shipment. The hit that killed our men. That you sent my brother to spy on me. That you were working with them to kill me."

Roman refuses to name them. Refuses to have their names on his lips. They're not fucking worth it.

Luca, to the best of his limited abilities, tries to remain unbothered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

At that, Roman chuckles, smiling, looking down and nodding. "That's….that's good." Roman can give credit where it's due. Albeit a paltry amount. But, just as quickly as he was smiling, he's glaring. "But, here's the fucking problem, I'm better. I'm better than you. Better than anyone else in this fucking family. I've always been better, and I always will be better." Always. "And you know what else?" A beat. "I'm always three steps ahead."

Luca opens his mouth to respond, fire and fury dancing in his irises when commotion can be heard through the TV.

Roman smirks.

Luca looks to the side, once angered, now confused, and then disturbed.

Gunshots. It's the sound of gunshots.

He curses in Italian, barking orders at what's probably security.

Roman says nothing.

It makes no difference.

None whatsoever.

He just sits back in his chair, enjoying the sound of men crying out in pain, bodies dropping, bullets being emptied into now lifeless corpses.

Luca's clearly shitting bricks, perspiring, gun in his shaky hand. He calls out another order that's cut short by what sounds like the door being kicked open.

Gunshots ring once more, back to back, strategic and aimed.

Luca curses loudly, holding onto his shoulder where he's been shot.

And seconds later, the base of his neck is exposed as another figure stands behind him, forcing his head back, gun pressed to his temple.

Matteo

True to his character, Luca uses his dying words to curse at not only Roman but Matteo who stands with a smug expression, giving Roman only a simple nod of acknowledgment.

Roman smirks.

He sits back in his chair, voice calm and collected. A contrast to the mayhem just unleashed. "Luca." The man in question struggles and works to move out of Matteo's unrelenting grasp. "Take this free advice. If you're gonna go for the devil, you should go always go for the head, because if you miss." A quiet chuckle. "He sure won't."

A loud bang followed by blood and brain matter splattering the screen, partially obscuring the view of Luca's lifeless body slumped over.

Like a bug, Matteo shoves him away, taking the seat, seemingly unbothered by the blood that stains his clothes, hair, and skin.

"It's done."

"Good." Sitting forward, Roman's mind travels to the mental list curated. "Get on the first flight back here."

Matteo nods. "Will do." The connection ends, and Roman closes the laptop.

Looking around the room, he readies to order Dwayne to start seeing about replacements for the Elders council but ultimately decides against it.

It can wait.

He has bigger, important things to worry and focus on, like making his way down his infinite kill list.

The OTC is coming.

---------

There are many, many things on Roman's to-do list once he arrives back home. Many bloody, violent things. Lives to take, primarily.

But, while that remains near the top, there are other things that also require his attention. Things he'd moderately prefer to not have to do but things he needs to do.

It's what leads him a few days later standing outside of Jimmy and Naomi's house. One of his first of many stops during his "revival" tour of sorts.

But, the minute the door is ripped open, and Roman is standing face to face, directly across from Jimmy, a new influx of confusing emotions fill him. The same way they paint the face of his wide eyed cousin.

Roman can see the way Jimmy continues to grip the door so tightly that his knuckles whiten. "It's….it's true." Roman's jaw twitches as he briefly looks away. "You're…you're alive?"

"We need to talk," is Roman's response. He looks at Jimmy. "Can I come in?"

A delayed response is followed up with an almost distracted head nod as Roman makes his way inside of his cousin's home, a place he's been in countless times over his almost 40 years on this earth. But, this…..this has to be the first time where it's felt different. Felt off. Felt wrong.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jimmy breathes. Roman turns around to face him, seeing the shock and confusion melt away into a bowl of anger. "We thought you were dead, Roman. Almost everyone thinks you and Solana—" He stops himself, pausing, eyes widening slightly. "Wait, is she—"

A pause. Hesitation. The moment Roman wrecked his brain over and over again trying to navigate the best way to handle such a tricky, complicated, complex situation. Ultimately, Solana's words and recommended or requested approach taking front seat. "She's safe."

Once the words leave his mouth, there's a semblance of regret. Like, he wishes he had gone a different route. Almost like he wishes he'd continued to maintain the story being spread about the fate of his pregnant wife.

Jimmy places both hands behind his head, walking away just enough to blow out a big breath. "What the fuck, Roman?" He growls, walking back over and pointing upstairs. "You got any fucking idea how gutted Naomi and I been?" He scowls, the anger and relief clearly at odds. "Thinking you and Sol were—"

"I know what you thought," he interrupts, hating his own emotions being at war. "You thought what we needed everyone to think."

Jimmy swallows. "Even me?" Silence. He once again motions upstairs. "Even Naomi?"

Silence

He runs a hand over his face, and in that moment, Roman can see for the first time the toll all of this has taken on him. He looks drained. "Roman….I know….I know what happened was fucked up. I'm not denying that. But, to treat Naomi and I like this when we ain't even do nothing?" He shakes his head. "When I'm already having to mourn my brother and father—"

"The same people who tried to kill me?" Roman interrupts, his voice sharp and even. "The people who kidnapped and were going to kill my wife?"

"I know that, Uce—"

"Do you?" A pointed question, as anger starts to overpower everything else. "Cause you're acting like I did something fucking wrong—"

"You did!" Jimmy snaps. "You kept us in the fucking dark when we deserved to know the truth!"

"The same way you kept me in the dark?" Is Roman's almost quiet response. He sees the way Jimmy's anger twitches, how it's briefly interrupted by what Roman considers to be a valid point. "For years, your father was trying to get ya'll to challenge me, trying to turn you against me, and you never said anything. Never told me shit!"

"I told you, I didn't realize—"

"I don't give a fuck what you did or didn't realize. I had a right to know!" He needed to know. Roman needed to know that the same people he considered family, the closest thing he had left to a father figure, even with them never necessarily being super close, was plotting against him the entire time. "If you had just told me—"

"Then what? It would have changed something?" Jimmy shouts, also unwilling to back down like the man across from him. "Would have stopped all this from happening? Would change what happened—"

"I don't know!" A forced, short, angry response as the Tribal Chief turns away, running his hand over his face. This conversation is equally heavy as it is challenging. He wasn't stupid enough to expect anything about it to be easy, but Roman can't deny a small part of him hoped it would go….different. In what way, he's not entirely sure. Just something….not this.

"Uce, we can figure this out—"

Roman briefly turns to him. "Can we?"

And, when Jimmy doesn't respond immediately, doesn't respond at all, Roman realizes in one area of all of this shit, they're on the same page. They're both confused as to how to untangle this massive mess of betrayal, lies, and hurt. Because for Roman, it's not even the coup organized by the people he once considered family, it's the fact that he also has to come to grips with that same "family" was a part of the plan that cost Roman his entire immediate family.

Left him essentially alone.

In many ways, that's what hurts the most.

But, it's also something Roman has opted to not tell Jimmy. As much hatred the Tribal Chief holds toward Solo and Rikishi, he can still acknowledge that was Jimmy's brother and father. He won't complicate his cousin's grief.

Because Roman doesn't hate him.

Doesn't hate him at all.

He just can't trust him anymore, and he's not sure if and when that will change.

Which is why he settled on the decision he did. The decision he's ready to finally share.

"When Solana comes home, and she will come home, I don't want to see you."

Gaze focused on the wall art in Jimmy's living room, Roman doesn't need to be looking at his cousin to know he's floored. "W-what?"

He swallows, recalling the specific wording he decided on. "You're out of my inner circle. I'll have Dwayne find a position for you in the Bloodline when things settle—"

"Roman—"

"Solana can decide for herself what she wants her relationship with Naomi to be, but I don't want either of you at my house."

"You can't—"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want." Even if he's not entirely sure it's exactly what he wants. It's the best Roman can do under these circumstances.

All he can do.

That doesn't mean there's not the reappearance of that damn weight that's been on his chest ever since he had to leave Solana. Even before that, if he's being completely honest with himself.

"My decision is final, Jimmy." Because maybe sticking to the facts, or rather the stipulations Roman has decided to put in place until he can navigate a better solution might be helpful. Emotions are getting in the way of business.

Jimmy just looks at him, stares at him, unwilling or maybe even uncaring of how visible his many emotions are. "So, that's it?" Roman's jaw clenches. "After everything we been through, the good, the bad, the everything in between. Almost 40 years of friendship, of being family….." He swallows, emotion and vulnerability on full display. "You're like my brother, Roman—"

"But not a brother, right?" Silence. "That's why you didn't say anything."

It's a deeply rooted point of insecurity. One that Roman hasn't really allowed himself to think too much about since he was a kid. That feeling of being "not like them." Of feeling like he didn't necessarily "belong."

An outsider among his own blood.

"This isn't fair, and you know it," Jimmy finally responds. "You're punishing me, punishing Naomi, for something that we didn't even do."

Perhaps. The Tribal Chief won't entirely deny that. He knows he can be vindictive, and maybe some part of him does want to punish them in a way he can't the deceased. But, the vast majority of him only seeks to have a temporary solution in place to relieve him of all the other very many tasks on his plate.

And, the deep fucking truth of the matter is also something he won't allow himself to admit aloud but feels fully.

He needs Solana.

Roman needs his wife to help him sort through all of this. He needs her support. Her safety. Her sage wisdom and soft way of helping him navigate these things. So, until that can happen, this is what needs to happen.

Roman takes a deep breath. For as nice and big a home Jimmy and Naomi have, it's suddenly feels a lot more stuffy than he recalls. A lot less welcoming. His presence more…intruding than anything.

"I have to go." Both a truth and a lie. The day is practically just getting started, but time waits for the Tribal Chief. He could stay longer, could maybe talk things through with his cousin.

Problem is he doesn't want to.

Not right now.

Not for a while, most likely.

Roman is a bit unsure why he's some level of bothered by Jimmy not protesting his leave. It's what's best….

Right?

"You're going to do it, aren't you?" Roman's hand is halfway to touching the doorknob when he's hit with the question. The one he knew was coming but hoping wouldn't. The one that makes sense. "You're going to kill him."

His eyes shut.

Debated. Roman debated the hell out of and with himself to try to figure out how he would tackle that one. Of course, Jimmy would want to know that. Would want to know if another person will be added to the list of lost loved ones. Especially his brother.

Jey.

Roman also considered how to respond to this, how much he wanted to share, if he wanted to grant Jimmy some sense of peace with knowing the answer or grief with also knowing the answer.

Roman swallows once more.

And, he walks out the door.

-----------

The only way for Roman to decompress from his heavy conversation with Jimmy and all that will come from the decisions that have been made is to cope the best way he knows how.

Murder.

Roman needs to cross off another name from his hit list.

Two, precisely.

"Where the fuck are they?" Dwayne complains and swats away a pesky fly that seems to prefer to fly around and in his personal bubble. "Fucking hate the outdoors."

Matteo snickers. "So, you wouldn't accompany Afia, the kids and I on a camping trip?"

Dwayne just stares at him. "Do I look poor to you?"

Roman manages a chuckle and a thought of something else. About the sacrifice Matteo is also making by being here with him. Standing with him. He's also separated from his wife. From his children. Agreeing to no contact to help keep Solana being alive a secret.

Roman swallows.

He didn't really realize until just now how massive an ask that was.

And how Matteo never once hesitated to agree to join him.

The sound of a truck engine revving is a welcomed distraction and something that allows Roman to reorient his focus to the task at hand. Jaw clenched, he watches the ambulance come to an abrupt stop followed by the drivers door being flung open.

Jacob's large body drops down, his boots leaving imprints in the slightly muddy ground as he stomps to the back of the truck and snatches the door open.

Hate fills the Tribal Chief as he watches Jacob angrily and almost erratically yank the two hospital beds out the back, both participants crying out in pain as they tumble onto the ground.

But, the cries of pain from one ease into a sick, twisted, laugh.

Roman's stomp onto his neck effectively silences that laugh. Seth's brown eyes peer up into him, that deranged smile on his face causing Roman to lift his foot and stomp once more. Seth almost instantly coughs up blood.

However, it's wheezing from the rotund man on the ground a few feet away from the lunatic under him that snatches Roman's focus.

Carefully, slowly, he walks over, anger accompanying each step until he kicks Paul over, a loud howl leaving his former advisor's mouth.

Tears stream down his face that has a large bandage on the right cheek and other unhealed cuts around various areas. "Pl—please."

Roman growls. That damn word has easily become one of his least favorites.

Similar to Seth, Roman lands his boot down on the top of Paul's fat neck. As the man screams out in pain, Dwayne chuckles.

"I know that hurt."

It all must hurt, Roman realizes. Hurt tremendously. Good.

For the first time, he takes in the sight and state of the two men before him still in hospital gowns. Their legs and arms covered with bandages, peaks of red, burned skin peaking out, the lesser of their injuries minimal compared to the latter end of severe.

Severe…

Nothing will ever be severe enough for them.

Roman barks for a knife, and the minute he's handed one, he crouches down and begins cutting. Not just the bandage. The fresh, still healing skin graft underneath the bandages as well. The screams of pain are ear piercing and music to Roman's fucking ears.

Methodically, like a butcher mastering his craft, he cuts away, ignoring the blood and body matter that splatters and splashes his clothes, tossing the mangled, ruined patches of fleshto the side like trash to the can.

Around him, no one interferes, no one stops him, and no one damn sure responds to Paul's blubbering as he transitions between screaming, apologizing, and eventually begging for Roman to just kill him.

That last is definitely on the agenda. Just not yet.

Because, one he's done butchering victim one, he transitions to victim two. Seth. Seth's torture is the eerily the same, the maniacal laughing eventually melting into sobs of agony. But, he doesn't beg for death, doesn't beseech the Tribal Chief for mercy.

No, that doesn't come until Roman is handed the electric chainsaw.

It comes then. Screams and shouts of unimaginable pain as Roman saws off arms and legs, one by one, blood shooting and spurting out. Again, the man intent on making their last minutes on earth nothing but horrific, forever uncaring. It's satisfying in a demented sort of way, but Roman doesn't care.

They're getting exactly what they deserve.

Heaving and sweating from the exertion expended through the torture, Roman only stops when all that remains is exposed bone from where he cut off their arms below the elbows and their knees slightly above the knees.

He would have continued too, if not for the fact both men are starting to lose consciousness, and that won't do.

He wants them awake for as long as humanly fucking possible.

Especially for the grand finale.

Roman snaps, speaking to Jacob. "Douse em'."

An order that doesn't need to be repeated. As Roman lifts off his shirt that's caked in blood, pieces of bone, and human flesh, tossing it to the ground, Dwayne hands him a towel to dry off and remove some of the other unmentionables.

Jacob moves quickly and efficiently, pouring the gasoline all over what remains of Paul and Seth's carved up bodies. Drenches them.

And with a wicked smirk on his face, Matteo tops it off, tops them off with the cherry on top.

An accelerant.

He forces their mouths open, the sound of them gurgling and choking sounded out with a kick to the side of the head. It's effective, allowing him to empty the bottle that he tosses to the side.

"Done," he says, voice ice cold as he goes to stand beside Dwayne and Jacob. None of them showing even the slightest hint of disturbance. If anything, there's more of a pleased, satisfied aura.

Recognizing they've reached the end of the road, that the men are mere minutes away from unconsciousness—and death—Roman stalks over to them. Slowly. A predator enjoying the final moments of his prey's existence. Moments that must consist of pain beyond human comprehension.

He looks down, the sight grotesque and enough to evoke vomiting from anyone without a seasoned stomach, but Roman is anything but. The sight makes him smile. The putrid smell of exposed bone, organs, and extensive blood pleasing to him in every sense of the word.

A dark, quiet chuckle leaves his mouth. "So much for that spoiler."

Stepping back, his eyes dart between the both of them, studying and committing the grisly image to memory.

Gratifying, indeed.

And without much thought, he pulls out the matchbox, lighting two matches, each thrown onto the men.

Turning on his heel, Roman walks away, tuning out their screams of misery and suffering.

"Let's go." It's spoken to the three men with him as they head out of the forest and to their SUV's. Extracting his revenge on the two men grants Roman with a sense of relief. He's relieved to know those two fuckers no longer breathe, or will breathe, the same air as him.

But, as gory and sadistically satisfying as Paul and Seth's deaths are, it still doesn't dull or ease the mixed emotions that fill the Tribal Chief at the thought of his next task.

Arguably, one of the hardest he has to complete.

----------

There's one reason and one reason alone why Roman asks Matteo and Dwayne to be present for this.

One very valid, important reason that can't be ignored or pushed aside. It's not his preference though.

Not really.

This is so personal that it feels almost wrong to have other parties present, but Roman also knows himself. Knows that when he fully succumbs to that uncontrollable rage that dwells within him, he can't see or think beyond it. It totally and wholly consumes him. Controls him.

Thus….his need for a contingency plan.

Roman has his back toward the door that's flung open, the intensity causing nearby photos on the wall to shake. Roman sighs. As effective as Jacob can be, he's…..a lot.

The Tribal Chief turns around just in time to see one cousin throw down the man Roman also once considered cousin.

Considered family.

Considered to be a brother.

As prideful as he can be, Roman would never deny the fact that he could have done a better job with being less hard on the twins. Less…..him. But, the truth of the matter is that despite the frosty disposition and irritation that marred a lot of their interactions, no one but the three of them know what they've been through. The countless times they've had each other's back out in the field. Protecting and looking out for each other.

The times Roman looked out for Jey.

All those moments that have boiled down to and left them right where they are now.

Jey, on the floor before him, hands on the ground, his fiery gaze on the man he also once considered family.

And seeing it, seeing Jey be upset with him?

It pisses Roman the fuck off.

He walks toward his table and grabs the brass knuckles. Both pair.

"Get out." A command directed only toward Jacob who offers no protest, walking out the same way he came in, standing watch outside the door.

"Roman…"

Roman has completely tuned out the voice of either Dwayne or Matteo. He doesn't know nor does he care.

Roman lifts his foot, kicking Jey right in the face with so much force that his body jerks back violently.

"You son of a bitch," he growls, not wasting a second to pounce on top of him, aiming for his ribs first. Jey's' howl of pain drives his determination—and fury—and distracts the Capo from his own lingering pain. The injuries that have not yet fully healed, marginally due to the fact that Roman has done nothing but exert himself from the moment he landed back home.

He'd kept his promise and continued rehab, continued to follow the doctor's orders, but that was all in between carrying out violent, bloody, brutal punishments for every fucker who turned on him.

Including the one underneath him.

And thinking of Solana, thinking of how she's not here, not with him, it only deepens the color of red he sees.

It's all he sees.

The sound of Jey's ribs cracking and his fruitless efforts to push the enraged man off him only drive Roman to lift the man up and slam him against the nearest wall. Another brutal kick to his ribs. Roman doesn't care if every single one is broken.

He grabs Jey by the chin, squeezing, enjoying the way his face remains scrunched up in pain. "You broke up my Bloodline." Not the massive crime syndicate that Roman has spent the better half of his life improving and making it into the billion dollar empire that it is now. He's referring to the family component, the familial bond and connection they shared.

That Bloodline.

"My wife isn't here because of you, Jey. You understand?" Roman continues. A part of him wonders if anything, especially that, means anything to Jey. He's unsure if Jey knows that Solana is actually alive or if he even cares, because his wife is most certainly not.

And, it's that, Roman is sure, that fuels Jey's hatred. Has him, despite the brutal beating he's receiving, refusing to cower, to show any sign of fear. Just impenetrable defiance.

"I looked out for you, I spared your fucking life, saved your ass time and time again, and what do you do?" Another fresh wave of rage, as Roman slams Jey's head back against the wall, shouting, "you break up my fucking family!"

Again, double, maybe even multiple meanings, all with one heartbreaking conclusion.

It creates a brief fracture in Roman's anger, paves the way for a small glimpse of what lies underneath all of that fury that courses through his big body. "I would have never done this shit to you, Jey."

Because, he wouldn't. Because for all the bad things Roman is, how awful he could be, he would have never stooped so low. Would have never allowed whatever prideful feelings he was struggling with to lead him down a path that could only end in heartbreak. But, Jey did. His insecurities got the best of him, and it's cost him.

It's cost him dearly.

Because as far as Roman is concerned, Nicki's death is on him.

"So just…." Jey coughs up blood as Roman realizes at some point in his inner dialogue, he'd moved back to pounding Jey into the floor. "Just…do it." Roman stops and stares at him, his own chest heaving. "You wanna kill me…..fucking do it then, Uce. It's…it's what you want, ain't it?"

Bullshit.

Roman can see right through it, right through the paltry front he's trying to put up in the face of a true life or death situation. Stubborn as all outdoors, very much like himself, Roman knows that Jey loves his kids more than anything. He would never want to "leave" them.

Especially after what's happened.

He's calling Roman's bluff, and that pisses him to fuck off.

For more reasons than the man under him and the two before him can realize.

Roman closes his eyes.

"Please." It's the pleading nature of her voice as well as the borderline desperation in her eyes that has Roman struggling. Struggling with it all. "I know….I know what he did was wrong."

"It wasn't just wrong, Solana," he calmly counters. Roman is working hard to be mindful of his tone with her. The anger that dances and burning within is 100% not aimed or geared towards her. Whatsoever. "It was unforgivable."

She swallows. "I know." He shuts his eyes once more as she continues to gently massage his scalp with one hand, the other tracing his inked arm, carefully maneuvering the ridges of disfigured skin from his burn scars. "But, I'm not….I'm not asking you to forgive him, Ro."

"No," he murmurs, jaw flexing. "But, what you're asking is a lot fucking harder."

Solana moves closer, her hand traveling to his face. "Roman….his kids lost their mother." She licks her lips and shakes her head. "We both grew up without our mothers, and I know that your relationship with yours was…..complicated, but….mine wasn't and not having her…." Her eyes watering is something he can't avoid. Can't ignore. "No child deserves that, Roman, and you know it." His silence is all that she needs to continue. "Baby, I know I'm asking a lot from you, but….please don't kill him."

He's always said and "joked" about never being able to say no to her. But, this….this might be a first. "Solana…."

"Please, Roman." Her voice cracks as she leans up, her forehead against his, breathing. "For me."

Roman is returned to the scene before him, to the decision he'd made just this morning. A decision he's not sure how he'll handle moving forward, but it's one he's accepted as his final answer.

"I'm not going to kill you," he announces. Jey can't hide his surprise, and Roman would bet his cousin and brother mimic similar expressions.

He hadn't shared his decision with anyone until this very moment.

"And, the only fucking reason I'm not is because of the woman you almost got killed," he hisses. Jey continues to look dumbfounded. "But, you are fucking dead to me in every other sense of the word. You've got a fucking week for you and your kids out of the city. Your security access is revoked, your position with the Bloodline done. You are done."

Jey continues to look around, obviously struggling to process what's being said. Like, he hadn't expected Roman to actually kill him and yet still expected Roman to kill him.

"I never want to fucking hear or speak to you ever again, you understand me?" It's a watered down warning. It's all watered down, truly. Even the fact that Jey lays before him, potentially half dead, in need of medical assistance. It's not enough. Nothing will ever be enough, even if he took his cousin's life with his bare hands. And, Roman knows this.

Still, this has to be one of the hardest decisions he's ever made.

"But, if you ever fucking step foot in this town again, I don't care what Solana says, I'll fucking kill you. I swear it on Fetu's grave." A vow to carry out the act of vengeance, love, in all the irony, prevents him from completing.

It's solely Roman's love for Solana that stops him from killing Jey.

Nothing else.

Literally nothing else.

Roman's final declaration is accompanied by another stomp, this time to Jey's face, effectively knocking him out cold. Standing up and rolling his neck, Roman grimaces and grabs at his shoulder.

Way too much exertion. Not that it makes a difference.

Jey is just one of many he plans to visit today.

He looks over his shoulder, uncaring and unwilling to discuss what transpired. What's done is done.

Roman so casually, and coldly, walks over Jey's slumped, unconscious body and snatches his jacket off the hook behind the door. "Let's go."

Footsteps of the other two men follow him swinging the door open, Jacob standing at attention.

"Make sure he's gone by the time I'm back," Roman commands. What's done has been done, and while there's a tremendous amount of unspoken, unresolved issues between himself and the man he's just effectively banished indefinitely, it's not a task he's up for.

Not now.

Not ever.

Roman meant what he said.

Should Jey ever try to return to the city, Roman will absolutely kill him.

But, until then, he might as well already be dead.

Because he is to Roman.

---------

Following Roman's dramatic, bloody return from his supposed demise, he places the city on lock down.

No one enters, and no one leaves.

Armed guards, a mixture of verified Bloodline loyalists as well as soldiers from the Legado Del Fantasma, remain stationed at every entrance into the city, whether it be by land or harbor, to ensure that this order remains non-violated.

Roman intends for not a single fucker to escape his bloody vengeance.

And bloody, it most certainly is.

Nothing but unbridled rage courses through Roman's body as he spends the weeks making his way down his list eliminating target after target. Traitor after traitor. Life after life, taken.

Doors are kicked down, pieces of shit dragged out. Some granted quick death. Simple head shots that leave blood and brain matter splattered in the nearest vicinity. Some are tossed off of buildings, leaving their splattered remains for all to see. Some are used as examples. Their tortured, mangled remains tied up on display in the middle of the streets as both a reminder and a warning. A reminder of what happens to all who dare to cross Roman fucking Reigns, and a message to those who played in any role in the coup that he's coming, and he's coming for blood.

Roman has the city in a state of terror and fear. Families keeping their children in the house. Picking them up and dropping them off to school to avoid being caught in the cross hairs. A bit unnecessary, as despite Roman slipping back into that dark space that consumed him before Solana, his few morals remain the same. Women and children are off limits.

Neither of those groups are included in his hit list.

Everyone else though…..tough.

But, while the adrenaline that races through him fuels his revenge tour, that fuel of sorts easily melts away when he arrives home later in the evening. Arrives to an empty home. No sweet, delicious aroma of Solana's cooking to greet him. Or the pitter-patter of Dulce's feet as she races to the front door, eager to jump at and try to lick him but mostly just wanting to be petted and to have her belly rubbed. Being able to come up behind his wife, holding her, kissing her temple, taking in the feel of her body up against his.

Things he'd gotten used to.

Things he misses.

He misses a lot.

He misses her.

He thinks about her, about what she could be doing, about whatever pregnancy symptoms she could be experiencing, as he follows along via the app she'd installed on his phone. He checks daily, each time wondering about the swell of her stomach, imagining the excitement she must feel. Or, the sadness.

Because there is something undeniably sad about them not being able to experience this together. Something that was so important to her.

Important to him.

Being there with her to support her as she carries his children, their children, is important to him.

But….but, her safety comes first.

Their safety comes first.

Her absence is with him every fucking second of the day, though on the back-burner when the sun sits comfortably in the sky, and he has the distraction of his murderous rampage. But, when the sun is replaced with the moon, and he lays in that same bed where they've made love countless times, where she's laid on his chest, talking about her day. Where he's held and slept with her, rubbing her belly, allowing himself to feel genuinely happy for a long fucking time.

All of that is soured and dampened by the cruel reality. Solana is not there. Dulce is not there.

She's not with him. They're not with him, because of them.

And then the rages builds up all over again.

It's a vicious, cruel cycle. One that he can't escape. One that leads him to the place he wasn't expecting or planning to visit anytime soon.

Too difficult.

But, necessary.

"Not gonna lie…." Lita trails off, shifting in her seat. It's one of the few times he's noticed she's not almost casually lounged, legs tucked under her. She's sitting with both feet planted on the ground, a small frown on her face. "Believing you to be dead only for you to show up with quite the return….and now having you in front of me, I'm not quite sure where to start except to tell you that I'm so sorry about Solan—"

"She's not dead."

Silence.

Lita, for all her expertise and experience, can't hide her shocked expression. "What?"

Roman looks away. Just as he battled with whether or not to tell Jimmy the truth about Solana, he experienced the same battle regarding just how honest he wanted to be with Lita.

That's not to say he doesn't have a host of other issues he could probably, definitely, benefit from talking and working through with her.

Like the two panic attacks he's had since returning home.

Or, the several nightmares that have awoken him from the little sleep he has received. The nightmares that started when he was in the hospital in Mexico. The reason Solana refused to go home and leave him alone, staying and sleeping with him. Comforting him.

She's his comfort, and not having her has him six different shades of fucked up. On top of the pre-existing level of fucked up-ness he is on any given day.

If there was any doubt in his mind before just how codependent Roman is with his wife, this whole experience has successfully zapped it all away.

Still, that doesn't take away from the fact that Solana isn't here, and he's not okay, so he needs to find a way to get his shit together.

And, the woman before him is his best bet.

It didn't take much research and digging to realize Lita had no connection or involvement with the coup, thus eliminating her from the hit list. But, there's still this overwhelming importance of only keeping Solana's true status a secret from anyone who doesn't need to know.

And, while Roman wouldn't consider Lita someone who needs to know the truth, it would help him a hell of a lot considering the whole reason he's sitting before her.

Plus….while Roman isn't sure just what trust means to him anymore, he trusts that if she didn't know before, the bodies dumped in the streets, should be all the reminder of what happens to anyone who crosses Roman fucking Reigns.

"She's….she's in hiding. Safe." He clarifies, not willing to offer much more than that. "I'm not bringing her back home until I'm sure it's safe to do so."

"I see…." Lita trails off once more, slipping into her usual sitting position, legs tucked under her. For some reason, it makes Roman feel slightly more relaxed. "It all makes sense, then."

He eyes her. Skeptical. Cautious. "What do you mean?"

She takes a deep breath. "Roman, I don't….I don't fully understand how all the crime shit works, but I know and have heard enough to know that you were betrayed, Solana was kidnapped, and my guess would be that they tried to kill you both." He says and offers neither agreement or disagreement. "I can understand why you're so angry and why you've been on a murder spree, making the town look like something out of a horror movie, but it's….it's deeper than that." She tilts her head, assessing in a low voice. "It's even more personal, because she's not here….you don't have her with you, and that's….difficult, I'd gather."

He looks away once more, fist forming at his side. Roman's voice is also low and quiet, as he admits aloud for the first time, "I'm not….I'm not used to it." He swallows, pushing back the pride, knowing he needs to talk about this. To unload at least one thing on his plate. "I'm not used to….to being without her."

He doesn't really know how to function properly and normally without her. Just knows how to channel all of that frustration in his killing and torturing.

"I'm sure," Lita murmurs.

"I—" He struggles, the word a tremendous weight that weighs him down to the point of needing release. "I miss her."

Lita presses her lips together, voice sympathetic. "Are you….are you able to spe—"

"No," he interrupts, voice gruff. "We're no contact to ensure her location can't be tracked."

"I see." She's quiet for a few minutes, eventually and gingerly approaching all of the other shit Roman now has added to his collection of baggage. "I've also heard that….that you were betrayed from the inside. That it was….some of your family members."

"They were never my fucking family," he growls. Roman has shifted from that place of vulnerability to that stainless steel wall of defense. "And don't fucking call them that."

"My apologies." She nods, recognizing that the extent of his regression might be more than she realized. Understandable though. Completely understandable. "Can I ask you something?"

His hesitation is noticeable. "What?"

"With Solana gone for the time being, who do you have?"

It's a delayed response. The question requires contemplation.

"My cousins, Dwayne and Ava," he finally answers, and for the first time, in a long time, Roman allows himself to be honest about the very thing he's avoided for years. Tried to pretend wasn't a thing. But, it is. And, it's been more than proven in the past few weeks. "And Matteo….my brother."

This time, Lita expertly shields her surprise at yet another shocking confession. "Your brother?" He says nothing. Expected. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had a sibling still living."

Tense and partially uncomfortable, Roman nods. "It's….complicated."

"I bet," she murmurs. "Do you…do you want to talk about it?"

No. He doesn't want to talk about anything. What Roman wants to do is be with his pregnant wife. He wants to not have to deal with any of this shit. Wishes it never fucking happened in the first place, but it did, and now he's here trying to use a dollar store mop for a rainfall of issues.

But….

But, in this midst of this storm of epic proportions, there have been some glimpses of….something.

Like the fact that Roman can't and won't continue to deny something he's spent his whole life avoiding. Trying to avoid.

That he has a brother.

That despite all off the bitter feelings of resentment and jealousy toward the man that got the same short end of the stick that he did, Matteo has more than proven himself to be someone Roman can….can trust.

Such a difficult, virtually impossible thing considering what happened, the depth of the betrayal, but the truth of the matter is that Matteo and so many others showed up when Roman needed help the most.

Needed his brother.

It's why he's decided to stop denying the truth and maybe, just maybe, himself.

Roman shifts in his seat. "I've…I've realized that….I should…probably try to form some kind of relationship with him." Because, it's time. "It's what Solana thinks I should do, and….one of my aunt's dying wish that I….make things right with him."

"Sure." A pause. "But, what about you, Roman? What do you want?"

A lot of things. The biggest thing? His wife back home with him, so he could have her by his side as he works through all this shit. But, that's not an option. It's not an option, and he has to learn how to be without her for the time being.

Has to learn how to navigate the waters closest to him.

No matter how much he hates it.

"I—I—" He also hates this fucking stuttering and stammering. It's so unlike him. "I don't know how….how to go about that."

An almost embarrassing admission but a truth, nonetheless. Solana is good with these sorts of things. Not him.

Lita keeps a contained smile. Regression has certainly occurred but not, perhaps, as much as she initially believed. There's something there she intends to grab and hone in on as much as she can while still acknowledging his already complex treatment plan just got significantly more complicated.

"Well….." She starts, standing up and walking over to grab the infamous box of Giant Uno off her bookshelf. "Murder and mayhem, I don't know, but that…." Trailing off, she takes a seat, offering another small, patient smile. One step at a time. "—That I can certainly help you with."

----------

"Ya know," Ava starts, lifting her beer from her mouth after taking and swallowing a decent ass amount. "I'm a little offended none of you fuckers have invited me along for the kill tour."

Dwayne chuckles, the beer in his hand looking significantly smaller than it actually is due to his big ass overall size. "Didn't realize that was your thing, cuz."

"Psshhh." She makes a sound, leaning back in the chair, lifting her middle finger to the sky. "They came after our family. Of course, I want my pound of flesh."

Matteo's smile is small as he traces the mouth of his bottle. "Well, there still remains a few outliers we haven't caught."

Being reminded of that makes Roman scowl as he tightly squeezes the bottle in his hand.

Despite his shutting down the city, a few bitches were perhaps smart enough to get the hell out of dodge when they realized Solo was also dead. When they realized that while Roman had been "eliminated," not having the protection of the men who led the charge meant their fates were left up in the air.

So, they ran.

Not that it's made a difference. Roman has accompanied Dwayne on various trips to other states where the Bloodline has locations, where tips from traitors who were dumb enough to stick around and ended up singing like canaries from a little bit of torture. Or, if Roman doesn't accompany Dwayne for said trips, Matteo does.

They're smart enough to know it's not wise for all three to leave the city at once. Not when they're working to restore order and balance.

A process that's…..going, which is good, but it's still going, which is the problem.

It's been two weeks, and they're still not there. At that point where Roman can bring his wife home, and that….that's been rough, to say the least.

It helps to have the people around him, but even them combined together don't equate even half of the comfort and relief his wife provides him.

"Good," Ava replies, smiling craftily. "Save some for me, then." She then gasps, looking around the room. "Has big ears told you what we came up with for you know what?"

At that, Roman rolls his eyes, but he can't ignore the skip and leap of hope that dances within at the shift in topic and conversation.

"Hopefully, you did most of the thinking, cause Lord knows this man ain't got a romantic bone in his body," Dwayne scoffs, gesturing to Roman who only scowls in response.

"I'd argue there's maybe one there." Matteo shrugs. "Or, half of one."

Ava snorts. "More like a quarter." Roman flips her off, something she entirely ignores. "Anyway, so here's what we came up with…."

As Ava moves into specifics, excitement painting her face and accompanying her hand gestures as she almost illustrates what they, what Roman primarily, intends to do for his wife upon her return. A plan months in the making, marked and interrupted by several setbacks but something he's ultimately decided to follow through with.

Roman tunes them out to a certain extent, focused less on the conversation at hand and more the people.

In under a year, his life has taken such a turn. Many unexpected turns. He's gained and lost, lost and gained, gained some more, lost some more, and started all over. Overwhelming in a lot of regards, especially considering the latest chapter has easily been the most traumatic.

But, there's also something else he can't deny. Something he's been working on in therapy with Lita, that he'd love to be able to talk with Solana about, but something he can't really deny, nonetheless. Even if he wanted to.

He's gained such a loyal, strong inner circle. People who, if he continues upon the path of honesty, have always been there for him. It's just been him, Roman, who's kept that wall up.

The wall that, according to Lita, kept the "bad" people out but also kept the "good" people from getting in.

She wasn't wrong.

Roman has spent so many years pushing people away, only letting a select few close to him, and while a few of those select few have caused him an insurmountable of pain, hurt and trauma, there still remains the fact that he still has people he can trust.

He still has family.

Even more, Solana's several statements regarding as such return to the forefront of his mind.

"The girls deserve to have a big family who love and support them, Ro."

Solana was also right.

His family might look slightly different now, but they're still family.

"I—" He cuts in, interrupting the conversation among the three regarding that. Equally important but not as germane as what he wants to say. Needs to say, really. "I want to thank all of you."

"Hell hath fucking frozen over." Ava scoffs. "Did you just…..thank someone?" She smirks, crossing her arms, head tilted. "I didn't think you were capable of that shit. Not unless it's Solana."

Roman scowls, but he doesn't disagree. "Are you done?" She rolls her eyes and lifts her hands in a defensive manner, signifying her silence. Roman shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the three sets of eyes on him. "I know I….I'm not the fucking best with this shit, but I….I do appreciate the three of you. What you've done…..for me." He primarily looks between Dwayne and Matteo. "Especially you two….you saved my life." He swallowed. "I don't….I don't take that lightly."

"You better fucking not," Dwayne shakes his head, sipping some of his beer. "I don't risk my life for just anyone."

"And, you're not just anyone, Roman," Matteo adds, his tone more on the serious side. Sincere. "You're family."

"We're family," Ava corrects, looking among the men. "A dysfunctional ass family of killers and shit ton of trauma but family nonetheless."

Roman chuckles. "Yeah…." He clears his throat, carefully trying to balance vulnerability with some element of business. "Matteo…." His brother looks his way, eyebrow raised. "You said you trust Vinci, right?"

Vinci. The man who assisted Matteo in making his way back to Italy without the Administration finding out, allowing him the element of surprise needed to carry out his hits. A man who, according to Matteo, has worked hard for and with him for over a decade.

He offers no hesitation, just a nod of confirmation. "With my life." Skepticism is raised. "Why?"

A bit of a delayed response, because that damn trust thing. Roman isn't sure how he's supposed to trust anyone outside of the group of people who helped him ever again, and while this Vinci fucker isn't anyone he knows, Matteo does. Matteo is vouching for him, so that has to be enough.

For now.

"We'll need someone we know we can trust to handle business over there." At that, he and Dwayne share questioning expressions. "Because I need you two stateside with me."

Matteo is the first to respond, that skepticism still looming. "Yeah?"

Roman rolls his neck, explaining. "I….I need people around me I know I can trust." A survey of the gatherers. "And outside of Solana, I don't know anyone I trust more than the people in this room."

Ava sits forward, seeing her cousin's gaze on her. "Wait…." She lowers her beer, small smile growing on her face. "You're inviting me into your inner circle?"

Roman nods. "You may be a pain in the fucking ass majority of the time, but you're smart. Loyal. I know I can trust you, and I know you'd be a valuable asset."

"Hell yeah, I would." She agrees. "Some estrogen to tamper down all that testosterone would probably do you all some good."

Roman doesn't entirely disagree. He just continues to share the tentative plans he's been mentally mulling over since returning home. "I'm also….I'm considering including Escobar."

"Escobar?" Dwayne's look of skepticism sure. "Brotha, you sure you didn't hit that big ass head of yours at some point?" A sarcastic question, of course, but there's also a hint of truth. "You hate Escobar."

"Dumbo hates everyone. What else is new?"

Roman ignores Ava. Her being on his council will be….an adjustment, for sure. "I did, or I do, but….I can't deny what he did, and Lopez wants him to be the liaison between us and the Cartel, so it only makes sense to include him. In some things. Not all."

"Isn't he technically your in-law as well?"

"Don't remind me," Roman mutters, trying to wipe his brother's valid but irritating reminder from his mind.

"I hate to break it to you, Roman, but it seems Solana's maternal side of the family is….large." Matteo's comment doesn't help, but it's not meant to. Meant to remind The Tribal Chief that his future is most likely filled with forced interactions with….people. "It might benefit you to get used to….large family functions."

"Make sure that Stephanie girl is there."

Matteo frowns. "Did she not tell you, not so eloquently, might I add, to fuck off?"

"Sure did." Dwayne answers. Proudly, almost. "I'll wear her down."

"Oh my God." Ava rolls her eyes, standing up and heading to the kitchen. "I need another beer."

"I'll join you," Dwayne announces.

"Please don't," she objects. Not that it makes a difference as he says something about warming up a slice of pizza.

Their departure leaves Roman and Matteo alone. A blanket of silence befalls them. One that has Roman moving around in his seat, eager to down the rest of his beer. In the madness and chaos that's thrived and consumed his life in the wake of fixing everything, this evening of just….calm, of normalcy, is appreciated.

Needed, even.

"So…." Matteo starts, placing his beer down on the coffee table. "Your inner circle…"

The younger man nods, stroking his beard. "Well, there are openings now."

While Roman is dead serious, Matteo laughs quietly, shaking his head. "I bet there are."

For the Elder council as well, but that's also being taken care of. Another task Roman is overseeing with the help of his cousin and the man before him.

"Thank you, Roman." Matteo's voice has shifted to a serious, solemn tone. "I don't take the honor lightly. Especially after what's happened…."

Roman says nothing initially. Just nods as something unfamiliar and indescribable fills him. Emotion, maybe? Some form of it, perhaps. He just knows it's partially settled by the conversation he had with Lita about this.

One step at a time.

"You've earned it." Is the response he settles on. The latter portion of his response a bit difficult for him to share but a truth, nonetheless. "Besides, it might be kind of hard for us to work on this….brother shit, if you're on the other side of the world."

While it's not the first time Roman has referred to Matteo as his brother, it's certainly the first time he's verbalized it in an accepting manner.

Especially in front of Matteo whose small smile can only be described as one of relief.

And joy.

Happiness.

"I suppose you're right, fratello," he hums. "I suppose you're right…"

Fratello

Brother.

And for the first time, Matteo's use of the word doesn't anger Roman. Doesn't pick at a long-term, never healing, always open, fresh would.

It feels relieving.

Healing.

---------

Despite an evening of relaxation and camaraderie, the next day brings about more work. More shit to work through.

"So…." Matteo starts as the two walk into Bloodline Headquarters, Dwayne planning to meet them later in the day, tasked with carrying out a side quest for Roman. "Who are we killing today, fratellino?"

Little brother.

Again, no irritation. No vexation. Just….the calm.

"Depends on who pisses me the fuck off," Roman mutters, and the two brothers share a small laugh and chuckle that's almost instantly washed away from both the minute they walk into Roman's office to see someone already waiting, sitting in Roman's seat.

Roman's fist forms at his side. Alicia's days are fucking numbered.

"You got a minute to tell me who the fuck you are, and maybe I won't blow your brains out just yet."

The man smiles. Older. Very old. His face reveals that he's seen decades of this world past him by, his eyes filled with countless stories of mischief and mayhem. A smirk on his face accompanies him standing, revealing a height rivaling Roman and Matteo's. He comes to stand in front of Roman's desk, leaning back with his arms crossed over his slim build.

"Well, I'll be damned." His voice is thickly accented. Familiar. Italian. "Can't say I ever saw this shit coming."

Roman is ready to kill the old man and be done with it, but Matteo grabbing his arms stops him from adding to his never-ending kill count. Roman looks over to see Matteo's head turned slightly, studying, observing, but something else. Something unfamiliar. Alarmed. He looks alarmed.

Roman frowns. "What?"

But, Matteo says nothing. Not to his brother, at least.

"Nonno?"

And, at that, Roman's gaze shifts back and forth, quickly, between the two men.

His chest tightens, asking again, but for a completely different reason. "What?"

Gaze on the old man, Roman sees how he simply raises his chin, offering a nonverbal response. And confirmation.

Only then does Roman see it. The slight but now visible similarities between not only Matteo and this man, but himself and the man.

In all of them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Matteo speaks in Italian, his voice even, the former shock and confusion easing into a coldness that Roman often feels and see in himself.

"Well." The older man makes a sound, rolling his shoulders, face turned up in a brief grimace. "Given all that's happened the past few weeks, we realized it was time—"

"We?" Roman cuts in. It's the first thing he's said to the man he now recognizes the same way Matteo does.

His nonno.

Their grandfather.

This is their maternal grandfather.

"Hi, boys..."

Another voice speaks, but this time, this time there is no word to describe just what courses through either of the brothers as they turn around in almost perfect synchronization. Initially guarded and partially alarmed, that's punted away the minute their sight confirms what the auditory already knew.

Roman doesn't get disturbed often. If ever. It's not in his character. Matteo's neither.

But, it's a miracle that neither man stumbles back at the sight before them.

She stands in the doorway, an expensive, beautiful, intricately designed scarf over her head, tied under her chin. A wrap that slender fingers with disfigured looking skin slowly moves to undo, allowing it to crumple in her hands. She swallows, the lines on her face prominent as she frowns, her familiar light brown eyes bouncing between the two stunned men.

The weight on Roman's chest has grown to an unbearable amount, so much so that it prevents him from speaking. From thinking. From breathing, it feels like.

No, Matteo is the one that finds the wherewithal to speak the word Roman can't find in him to verbalize.

"Mom?"

------

welp. do ya'll agree with roman's decisions regarding jey and jimmy?

also, yes.....matteo and roman's mother is still alive.

reminder: next chapter is the last one.

[iamfuckingsorry]

so i really didn't like fugitive telemetry nearly as much as the rest of the series on my first listen, in part because i spent a big chunk of it confused about what the hell i missed because i was listening to it in publishing order, and in part because mb spends a great deal of it feeling super uncomfortable about basically everything

but i'm listening to it again now and i can really see why people seem to like it.

mb's really struggling with its identity in this one oh god. it knows it's a secunit it wants to be a secunit it is not a human or a bot or anything else and it does not want to be treated as anything else but what it is. but it also. fucking hates being treated as a secunit. and it's especially bad because so many of the people on preservation are trying to be nice about it, like there's several instances of people going "oh hi--- oh wait fuck the feed id says secunit oh shit it's the secunit--- wait no calm tf down it has rights yeah i know it's scary af but you still need to treat it like a person oh god okay let's be weirdly polite and pretend you're not scared" and mb clearly hates that immediate reaction to what it is, but it seems to hate people forcing themselves to be aggressively polite around it just as much, because at least that immediate reaction is what it's used to

ah mb both wanting to be equal and being horribly freaked out by the idea of being equal because equal means human and the idea of being human is so incredibly gross will never stop being entertaining (and very very relatable)

pin lee is also just so aggressively in mb's corner, she doesn't really play /that/ big of a role in the book but she's 100% fighting for mb basically from the moment it comes back to save mensah in exit strategy, and here mb just needs to be like "ew i don't wanna do that" and pin lee feels like she would fucking. kill someone. to make sure mb doesn't need to do things it doesn't wanna do. can i also get a pin lee please.

also the bit where mb talks about people seeing it on tv or something? i can't remember if it's the documentary or if it maybe comes up in another context but there's definitely a part where mb talks about how it wouldn't mind that actually. and knowing what happens later on i'm just like. ahhhh foreshadowing!! nice!!

and it gets to do proper secunit stuff! it's so happy about it, like "yes i liked this plan better. partially because it was a better plan but also because it was a secunit plan, not a combatunit plan". like i know we all (me included) wonder if/what kind of sexual abuse mb's been through the way it reacts to maybe being percieved as a sexbot and stuff, but it also clearly doesn't want to be perceived as any other kind of construct either. it's not a comfortunit, it's not a combatunit, it's a secunit goddamnit (insert bones "im a doctor not an ---" gif here)

and the way it just. doesn't understand the preservation bots at all. jollybaby probably thinks it's being all cute and friendly including and mb just finds it. annoying. the other bots are a variety of genuinely friendly and lowkey an ass but doing the same Nice and Polite thing that some of the preservation humans do to it, and mb feels all sorts of ways about it, like if all of them are playing some kind of weird game where they roleplay as happy content bots even though they couldn't possibly be since they're not really free

and its relationship with indah, and the way it goes from "ugh i hate this human" (because said human is very much treating it like a dangerous murder weapon, very fair reaction) to "ugh i still don't like this human but i wouldn't necessarily /hate/ having to work with her again" (because said human has actually started to realize that secunit 1. fucking loves saving people is just can't help itself, 2. is actually fucking amazing at its job, and 3. maybe really does deserve to be treated like a person)... like they're not friends by the end of it but they're much, much closer to something like coworkers who don't work the same way but are generally fairly okay with each other. god it just can't fucking help making some kind of connection with humans can it

anyway i dunno where i was going with this, my memory is too shit to actually pull up any specific examples and i'm all just about vibes, but it's just like

good book actually

[lilly-of-the-vale]

Just binged your Suguru and I’m clawing at the walls!! Where have you been all my life??? He’s so…. I will be devoting all my night time imagining to your Suguru.

So… speaking as a type A, “i can do it myself”, type of person, would you be able to expand a little on doting Suguru? Like, how does he react to a reader that can care for others but believes in “walking it off”— someone who is all smiles and “don’t worry about me”s and tells little lies so that the people around her don’t worry.

If you’d like to🫣🤗

Hello darling!!!! Im so so so so so sooooo happy that reading from my blog made this happy. Truly i can't explain how much love i have for you for giving me a chance 🥹🥹

I wish you only the sweetest of dreams after you doze off from your nightly sugu day dream session my dear 🩷🩷

Im so so so so so happy you said this omg you should've seen the evil ass grin on my face when i finished reading 😭😭 bcuz this is actually me in a nutshell and my obsession with the the doting suguru agenda stems from exactly that.

Let me start of by saying that suguru understands your need to care for others, and he LOVES this quality about you. He admires you to no end, he's so so so so so so so fond of sweet helpful people, and honestly i believe he would find it much easier to trust and open up to someone like this bcuz he can relate to them a lot better.

That being said, suguru will absolutely not be falling for any of that bullshit 💀 you're little attempts to brush your discomfort under the rug will not go unnoticed by him, he knows you like the back of his hand, one look at your face is enough to see that you are indeed not ok.

As previously mentioned he loves you for who you are but he will definitely be trying to change it 😭😭 he will absolutely NOT stand for his baby hurting themselves for the sake of others (especially if it's cult!suguru oh my god that man has no regard for anything that isn't you) so you WILL be having that uncomfortable conversation he knows you are trying to avoid (maybe I'm projecting here), he can be very direct when he recognizes that you need something, he knows how hard it is to change the way you perceive others and how you act around them, but he knows you need this so he'll do it for you, anything suguru does is for your own good don't forget that!!!! And ok, fine, call him selfish, but what if he thinks the time you spend taking care of others is better spent being taken care of by him?? You're not helping by refusing to let him help you either. He will actually lose his mind if you continue to torture him like this 😭😭 of course he would be a lot more insistent when you both begin to officially date. Pre-relationship suguru knows he can only intervene so much. His ass is chewing the bars of his cage like a feral dog 💀

Anyway!! If speaking to you doesn't work, he's going to resort to inserting himself in literally everything you do until you eventually learn to just expect him to be there. He's cooking for you, hand feeding you, tieing your show laces, doing your skin care bathing you, brushing your hair, making your coffee in the morning, doing your laundry, before you can do any of it, you could be in the middle of something and he just...STOPS YOU AND TAKES OVER!!! the whole mother package pretty much, he basically drops you head first into domesticity (borderline codependency 😭😭 ) and you have no say in the matter.

The transition might be weird and awkward, and you might try to fight him but all you'll be getting back is a sickening sweet coo, "awh baby....just let me take care of you" while enveloping your entire body with his arms in one of his suffocating bear hugs then leaves you with a kiss on the top of your head to go back to cooking <- evil man with terrible intentions of making you depend on him forever.

[name-is-tired]

Head empty just the thought of Starscream being so bored that he starts to go through almost all of earth's music. And then when he finally finds songs and genres that he likes he slowly starts to also have favourite artists. (Soundwave is aware of this new thing Starscream has going on but he thinks that he's gonna sabotage Megatron with music somehow but he can't figure out how)

And of course anything Starscream likes is automatically better than the rest. So when decepticons plan to attack some festivals (due to G1 shenanigans it's probably super normal for it to be a weekly occurrence), Starscream will already know if any artist that he likes is going to be there (he always keeps tabs on their activity and tours). So if they aren't, then okay no problem but if they are he's a hundred percent snitching to the autobots. Something like

Megatron: We must enforce fear onto the humans! We'll attack them at their places of joy -insert stadium or something-

Starscream internally: Wait that's where -random band- is going to have their first performance in 5 years. I've counted each second down to this very performance I can't let Megabum ruin this glorious moment for me.

At the Autobots base

Optimus Prime: Autobots I have called you here due to this anonymous message we have received about some Decepticon activity that's apparently taking place soon

Pops it on the screen

Jazz reading what it says: Megaglitch- yeah it's definitely Starscream who sent that, not really anonymous anymore. But why would he tell us this, it's not like him to care about human activity unless it's a plan to kill Megatron for the gazillionth time

Cliffjumper: Probably an artist that he likes is playing there, I mean there's this band that hasn't performed in 5 years playing there that I like, was hoping to go watch it anyway

Prowl: I highly doubt that that's the reason, we all know Starscream is not one to like anything that's from organics

Cliffjumper: Hey I know my kid (-cliffjumper is his papa I don't care talk to the wall-) better than you all and I know it has to be because of that. Hopefully the few good characteristics he has left from me means that it's also about the same band that I'm thinking about.

Ratchet: What do you mean 'my k----

Jazz: Dude total lore drop right there tell more later. But shouldn't we be going now

Optimus: It is decided. Autobots roll out!

After the confrontation there's now a video of the bands performance with giant robots fighting in the background being spread by the internet to the point everybody now knows the band

Cliffjumper messaging Starscream: Son have you seen it

Starscream: Seen what autodork

Cliffjumper: If you were here I would have grounded you (literally) but I'm to excited. WE'RE IN THE MUSIC VIDEO

Starscream let's out the loudest scream of joy which has now awoken unicron

Yeah idk I'm sick. Thought it was funny. Probs won't be when I'm better. You can rip cliff and star papa and son duo from my dead, decaying, cold hands cause I love it now so much even though it was just a crack little thing I thought of randomly when I was bored

Read rags they are going to be funny.

Hopefully

To the few people who like this cliff and star dynamics. I like you. You have great taste.

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

And then there was 3.

All these years in space and now we're on Earth. In Vancouver.

Anderson is an Admiral. Kaiden's a Major and we

Are grounded. Partially for wiping out the Batarian colony, *I think*? And for. Other stuff.

Not a Mass Effect game unless something explodes in the intro. I can't really tell how long it's been between ME2 and now but boy oh boy does Shephard sound tired.

Vega, this new guy is pretty much what I'd concur is the definition of 'beefcake' look at the SIZE of this man.

Anderson gave up his Council Position huh? I wondered why he'd gone Admiral. Now I know.

So the kid in the vents wouldn't let us save him, but he's okay later. We go to Mars, and Kaiden and Shephard have enough (sexual) tension to cut fucking glass. At this point you two ought to punch this out or SOMETHING. A fight (or idk something!) might do you both a world of good. Perhaps moreso on Kaiden's end, but eh, who can really say.

Gentlemen have you heard of marriage counseling.

WE CAN FINALLY CLIMB. AND RUN LONGER THAN TEN STEPS WITHOUT WHEEZING.

LIARA. Always good to have Liara back she's fabulous. Where's my GF tho, I guess Tali is probably off doing stuff with the migrant fleet.

Is this a woman? A biotic? An AI who knows!

Illusive Man is once again a royal pain in the ass because of course he is.

KAIDEN.

I wandered around the Citadel largely wasting my time because I was putting off talking to Udina I have priorities.

What HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE BAILEY WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU

:( Shep :( He sounds SO SAD here. The Dr's behind him just let him talk. They don't even bother interrupting him. But then, why would they?

SHOCKING SHOCK OF SHOCKS Council can't help, and the sky is blue.

Oh and we dream now.

You know what Samantha you're completely valid EDI does have a very sexy voice.

*Insert EDI and Glyph ship here*

The memorial on the Normandy is an awesome detail that also sucker punched me right in the feels.

My priorities are in order:

I find myself wondering as I play if Mass Effect was always planned as a trilogy from the get-go because it absolutely has that sort of feeling to it.

And man if Hackett isn't a real one. Man's had our back since day one and has yet to let us down. Pouring one out for Hackett.

[pleasantspark]

I've noticed this post got a bunch of people butthurt, so here's some clarifications:

Children and Adults specified secondly in the post THAT THEY CAN'T HANDLE CRITICISM. Case in point when you take into account that these are the same people dealing with issues.

No, representation regardless of if they defended or sided with us aren't good representation (Sims), Sims have less clothing options for males (Where's the rep for Males then?) just because we have Black Rep doesn't mean it's good rep. People FOR YEARS have issues with the represtation and most of the time it's rehashed and sold in another pack. Yes we had actual Black Simmers collab with EA but sometimes we WANT to get more, which leads into modding our games, RACISM is still relevant in Sims and you don't really look that hard.

SML isn't a cutesy puppet show, like Hazbin it has it's shit to sort through. Rape Jokes (Usually characters being raped by females and other characters mocking them for it, jokes about CSA, Racism, etc etc.)

A media can have reprenstation and it still can be shit. Eating up something just because it recognizes MLM relationships is not exempt for criticism.

Saying THE MOST TOXIC FANBASE is a lie because there was NO MOST TOXIC fanbase mentioned at all. Every fandom is toxic in their own way and this post is related to criticism within the fandoms I listed, again, no one reads my post. Can people stop commenting about "HOW DOES-" read my post and THEN come back to comment, it's tiring and exhausting. Or do I have to BOLD AND MAKE MY TEXT BIGGER?

Now to also clarify regarding toxicity here's my two cents on the fandoms I've been in (In or no longer):

DBZ - It has a fair share of people who would spread verbal harassment over powerleveling or get mad at you when you point out [Sidelined Female Character] is bad.

HazbinHelluva - Toxic for shipping culture, starting wars, defending popular fans or creators or operating illegal behaviors.

MCYT/Dream - Toxic because of the fact that they weren't properly handled earlier own. Toxicity only spreaded because of inbreeding.

TCOAL - I am not gonna even touch this, you already know that anything remotely involving incest = discourse.

K-Pop - This is hard to digest but most of the stans get a little too violent or creepy about how they handle criticism. I just wanna hear Jung-Kook sing stfu.

Sims - The issue aligns with how people can be too toxic based on the line of how they handle people, they don't respect creators or their creations and sometimes steps over peoples boundaries, that and they don't support piracy (LMFAO I don't know why people assume that Sims Community supports it when it's ONLY A SELECT FEW AGAINST SIMS 4, it's obvious you don't actually see the shit going on in Reddit/X enough, one person literally threatened to report Aniadius.) also Paywalling Mods, fuck people who do that, perma paywallers are also breaking TOS and TOU. Perma Paywallers are stealing from other content (such as c*wb**ld and claiming it as their own. So what have you.) people don't notice that, yea? Because I've played these games before.

With every single fandom it breeds it's OWN unique of toxicity. Saying a fandom is more toxic then another is cutting it short. There's no competition for a fandom being toxic when every single toxic thing about a fandom is different. I don't even know WHY I am arguing with people on this, but this is literally how it is sometimes. I clarify shit, people get mad (Yeah get mad at the Autistic person who has issues with clarification) and then I give clarification and they still don't like it.

What? You want me to drop down and bow down to you? This blog isn't some internet hugbox where you can cry about [Insert pointless drama] you're getting truth from me, I am nothing like most people here because I simply hate mincing my words and censoring myself.

I'd rather be an asshole then becoming someone's pushover.

Next time I see another reblog or comment or ask confused. Then REREAD IT. I am not gonna hold your hand, I hate when people do this.

And the similarities?

All three of them have children in their fanbase and adults who refuse to accept or understand criticism!

[cerbreus]

baking never feels more like science to me than when i'm trying to cobble together an intricate multi step recipe together from several different recipes and tutorials online because the recipe I'm imagining doesn't exist....

[x-adoringvoid-x]

Apparently that's called the 'irresistible force paradox'

[jessiesjaded]

I know that we're so used to having everything handed to us immediately these days but it does drive me crazy how people cannot wait for confirmed reports on serious things- like the information will come eventually but no one can sit and wait until shit is confirmed, so they just start spreading any rumour they see and it's like.... you're not helping. You're only muddying the waters. When it's something serious, it's especially not helpful. What is so difficult about not spreading unconfirmed rumours? what is so difficult about actually waiting to find out specifics? Jumping to action isn't always helpful, sometimes inaction until further notice is better.

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[kqltlc]

Filter lists and block button my beloved, I will forever appreciate the work you do to help keep me browsing / sane.

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[syoddeye]

simon doesn't pursue people, he operates more like a one-man strike team. his approach to human connection is transactional, pragmatic, a matter of logistics.

on the rare occasion he's looking for company, he wants someone easy, who won't fuss when he introduces them to a thin motel mattress. won't ask what he does for work or try to make plans for the morning. won't bother him about 'next time'. nothing long-term. no strings.

he doesn't have a 'type' so much as a protocol: pick someone malleable, pliant, and preferably on the pill.

then you start working at his local.

the first time he sees you, he doesn't notice much beyond the basics: efficiency, attentiveness, pouring pints and bantering with the regulars with aplomb. by the second or third time, he's paying closer attention. you're not just good at your job—you're quick, always three steps ahead of the chaos. you give out smiles left and right, but it's more muscle memory than genuine warmth. and you're clever, too. funny, even, when someone manages to earn your attention for longer than a transaction.

you could probably keep up with his humor. go toe-to-toe.

you're off-limits, though. that's the rule. bartenders are switzerland—neutral territory. don't shit where you eat. it's a system that works, so long as he doesn't let himself think too much about the view when you lean over the counter or the lilt of your voice when you ask what he's having tonight.

then one evening, you take another man's number. some leering idiot, too comfortable with inserting himself into your space, grinning like he's cracked your code because you haven't humbled him. simon doesn't react, not outwardly. he nurses his drink and watches as you smile, slip the napkin into your pocket, and turn back to the bar.

but that's when you become a problem.

he tells himself it doesn't matter, that it's nothing. he doesn't want a number or a date. but the thought of someone else having you—someone who doesn't know what to do with a woman like you—it's a splinter buried just deep enough to keep him thinking about it. irritating, prone to fester.

how to approach you, though? he can't be as direct as he'd like, can't pin you down with a look or crass words. no way to corner you when you're safe behind the counter, or disappearing through a staff door. hanging around until you're off would be pathetic. dog behavior, he thinks, with a twinge of contempt for the mental image. he's got too much self-respect for that, at least.

no, he's got to actually make an effort. use his words.

the next time he comes in, he waits. no more corner tables or watching from afar. he sits close, pretends not to notice how your hands look slicing a lime. he orders his usual and tries not to overthink your tone when you set it down in front of him.

"you alright?"

you reach for his card, fingers pinching the plastic, but he holds on, smirking when you tug and then huff.

this is the moment. his moment. the one he's been building toward in his head for days. but there's a hitch, a blip in his usual confidence, and he fumbles. he blames your perfume.

"so…you come here often?"

not what he meant to say, but not the worst.

the shockwave of his nuclear-level failure doesn't register until your lips twitch, and it finally sinks in. his eyes widen a fraction as the realization lands. oh, he's fucked it. all his rehearsing, for nothing.

"…yeah," you say, voice flat, a single brow raised as you gesture vaguely toward the bar around you. "i work here?"

his mouth dries, but his face doesn't change. he doesn't fight it when you pull the card out of his grasp. there's the barest glint of something in your eyes—amusement, maybe, or pity. he's not sure which is worse.

you turn away to ring him up, but when you glance back, he's gone.

next

[astonmartinii]

but daddy i love him [guilty as sin part two] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

when an unstoppable force (the sainz men when they feel aggrieved) meets an immovable object (charles and y/n)

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, marcmarquez93 and 783,409 others

carlossainz55: never forget where you came from

view all comments

user100: insert cricket noises here

user101: who on your PR team said this was a good idea?

user102: they need to be fired, sorry not sorry

landonorris: i love your dad (tell him to stop beating me at golf)

carlossainz55: if he never lets me win he's definitely never letting you win

landonorris: so unfair i thought i was the third sainz sibling :(

carlossainz55: i'm an only child

landonorris: oh-

user103: i need this man to choke i'm being so serious rn

user104: that's so unbelievably fucked

user105: the fact his dad is probably co-signing this shit is insane that's YOUR DAUGHTER

user106: also someone give lando a lil slap around he's on the wrong side of history on this one

yourusername: scandal does funny things to pride

carlossainz55: if the scandal is betraying your family that's all you

yourusername: if we're talking about betrayal then that's your specialist subject mr. i've cheated on every girl i've ever been with - and while we're on the topic of betrayal, yes i was the one who told them

carlossainz55: i've never cheated why are you stooping to lies?

yourusername: you did it right in front of my face when i was a part of this family

carlossainz55: so you've always been comfortable going behind my back

yourusername: that's the thing, when you're treated like you don't exist by your family you learn that blood is not thicker than water

carlossainz55: i can't wait for charles to cheat on you

yourusername: btw i already called marca, they know any of those allegations from you or dad are false - good luck!

user10: obvs i know they should be doing this in private but MORE DRAMA FOR ME BABY LETS KEEP THIS GOING

user107: thank you for the validation y/n i KNEW THE SHIT STIRRING COMING FROM THAT PAPER WAS THE SAINZ CAMP

user108: and they've got the nerve to be talking about stooping - the call is coming from inside the house

maxverstappen1: ugly twins

carlossainz55: really?

maxverstappen1: i said what i said and i mean what i said

carlossainz55: i would say she's not going to fuck you bro but you really never know with her

maxverstappen1: she would never, homewrecking is a trait only the male sainzs seem to have

user109: OOP

user110: max is a real lestappen queen fighting the battles he knows charles can't

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,405 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: if you know within one glimpse, its legendary

view all comments

user114: i love how she goes from fighting her brother in one comment section to just showing off her hot bf

user115: tbf charles does have a face you'd go to war for so i get her

user116: i'd abandon my family for that face

yourusername: finally someone who fucking gets it

charles_leclerc: you made me believe in love at first sight

yourusername: awwwwww you're such a sweet talker the REAL smooth operator

pierregasly: i can verify it was love at first sight cause the man did not SHUT THE FUCK UP about you well... ever

charles_leclerc: is it a crime to love my girlfriend?

pierregasly: apparently!

yourusername: he's too cute to go to jail :(

charles_leclerc: they'd ruin me

yourusername: that's my job 🤨

pierregasly: you keep that to yourselves

user117: does this girl need to shade carlos on every single fucking post... yeah we get it he's the only reason you're relevant but god you reek of desperation

oscarpiastri: is this carlos' burner account?

user118: are the grid just sat around waiting to be tagged in to the fight against carlos?

oscarpiastri: what's he going to do? crash into me? he does that every weekend anyway

user119: uh oh carlos oscar is finally fighting back off track what are you going to do

user120: don't worry i'm sure he'll post a selfie with lando and try the whole carlando shtick to get some more PR points

maxverstappen1: oh this was not the shit slinging post i was hoping for

yourusername: something tells me you're having way too much fun with this

maxverstappen1: yeah you might have been abandoned by your family but have YOU considered that this is letting me express all my mean girl energy off track so i am level-headed on track

maxverstappen1: actually i don't even think i'm being mean tbf

yourusername: i'm glad my suffering could be your therapy

carlossainz55: BOO HOO you're not suffering ... it's something called the consequences of your actions (read: actions being a snakey slut)

yourusername: bro over here acting like i committed fratricide

maxverstappen1: TAP ME IN

maxverstappen1: not this man talking about the consequences of actions. kids, here's a little life lesson: if you spend all your time at your current job talking about how you have a much better job waiting for you and how you're too big for this job and plant stories about your co-workers, you can't be surprised that that same job doesn't want to keep you

carlossainz55: i am better than charles

yourusername: lying is a sin

maxverstappen1: and you're going straight to hell

user121: you guys might be mourning the loss of charlos (whatever the fuck that is) but i'm celebrating the absolute shit ton of LESTAPPEN we're getting

user122: max was like oh my bff is dating charles here's my excuse to be nice about him again

user123: if we're being real here the biggest crime of this whole situation is the fact that charles can't really dig the knife in

user124: @ silvia i have maybe £4.50 and a greggs sausage roll to my name but PLEASE LET CHARLES TAP IN

f1

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,298,006 others

tagged: oscarpiastri & carlossainz55

f1: f1... the sport that gives you just as much drama off track as we do on track!

view all comments

user125: at this point even before the whole carlos ousting his sister i think oscar was about 👌🏻 this close to rocking carlos nascar style we should let him do it

user126: i will personally pay his legal fees tbh

oscarpiastri: i'm only 23 i don't need two F1-related legal cases to my name

yourusername: i've watched legally blonde about ten billion times let me represent you

oscarpiastri: yeah sounds legit

user127: THAT'S IT WE NEED PROXIMITY CHAT IN F1

user128: the way we know there was a shit talking session like no other after this race

maxverstappen1: i don't kiss and tell but well - yes!

user128: okay since this is clearly a safe space... who was there please spill mr. verstappen

maxverstappen1: ME! charles, pierre, oscar, checo, alex and george!

user128: why the fuck were the last two there?

georgerussell63: i was on official GDPA duty 🤓

alexalbon: that's a lie we're just very nosey

yourusername: they're the biggest PTA moms ever don't even lie

georgerussell63: yes i'll make allergy friendly cupcakes for the bake sale but i'll also spit in them and gossip about your cheating husband - sorry about it!

alexalbon: he's not

georgerussell63: i'm not

user129: carlos slagging off y/n but she's really brought the grid together

user130: george and alex being like we do not care about that but we do want the latest scoop

alexalbon: oh don't get it twisted we're firmly team y/n

user131: we even got the f1 admin in on the drama

carlossainz55: she's probably fucking them as well

yourusername: BORING get a new bit babe

carlossainz55: if i see whore i'm going to say whore

yourusername: aren't you still in that damn stewards office?

carlossainz55: tell your little lap dog to keep his front wing away from my car and maybe i wouldn't

oscarpiastri: suck my dick

yourusername: now that's true poetry

user132: oH!

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 763,409 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, logansargent & oscarpiastri

yourusername: florida !!!!!!!!!!! is one hell of a drug. no seriously what is in the water here i keep picking up these little guys everywhere i go

view all comments

user135: she's really like i AM spanish and i will colonise this grid

user136: stealing all the lil cuties for her cause

oscarpiastri: proud to be a part of this weird little circus thing we've got going on

yourusername: oh dibs on ring master

logansargent: i feel like my name is written all over tight rope walking

yourusername: okay yes skinny legend

maxverstappen1: obvs we're a cruelty free circus so no lions but if there were lions, that's me babe

maxverstappen1: SOME people could learn... cough, cough trophy hunters

charles_leclerc: idk i'll just take the one where i can sit there and be pretty

yourusername: and you would be the best at it

oscarpiastri: which one does the least? i'll take that one

user137: bro can we slow the fuck down i was just getting over osc telling carlos to suck his dick now we're talking CIRCUS?

user138: for real couldn't it have at least been cabaret i wanna see ALL of that

charles_leclerc: 🤨

carlossainz55: i think a circus is a perfect way to describe your desperate attempt to stay relevant

yourusername: don't you have a job to go to? oh wait...

carlossainz55: as if i'm threatened by a group with the likes of logan sargent in it

logansargent: bit harsh, i'm a nice guy (unlike some)

yourusername: carlos here's a little bit of a wild thing i'm about to introduce to you.... people have friends?

yourusername: also you WISH you had a face card like logie

carlossainz55: i have friends?

yourusername: no you have PR strategies, there's a difference

carlossainz55: bro learnt the word PR and ran with it

yourusername: tell me one person who would let you crash on their couch?

yourusername: QUICKLY.

fernandoalo_oficial: and don't even think about mentioning me

user139: she hit him with the bianca del rio

user140: OOP and also nando just popping up out of nowhere to diss carlos and never say anything again

charles_leclerc: the drug in question being puppy fever

maxverstappen1: tell me you didn't get a dog

yourusername: boy do i have news for you

carlossainz55: are you trying to baby trap him

yourusername: first woman in history to birth a dog you heard it here first

charles_leclerc: you simply can't be babytrapped when you would literally jump off a bridge if asked to

user141: @myboyfriend TAKE NOTES HONEY ^^^

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,745,093 others

tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc: two kids in one month? someone stop us

view all comments

user142: y/n really lost an apartment and a brother and gained about 27 f1 drivers and a dog

user143: glow up of the century some might say

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername: soz it's a coping mechanism

charles_leclerc: and that's okay <3

maxverstappen1: anything to help with that emotional CONSTIPATION

yourusername: have you tried to live with those narcissistic and emotionally unavailable men?

maxverstappen1: you're asking the wrong person that question honey

yourusername: girl are WE good?

maxverstappen1: no

yourusername: BUT THAT'S OKAY

charles_leclerc: not to rain on this parade but i think therapy would really be a positive move here

user144: i feel bad for charles cause i know these hoes are the type to just tell each other EXACTLYYYYY when they make poor decisions

maxverstappen1: true, no smart bitches would let their bff live with THAT man

yourusername: and let their bff constantly chat shit and ruin their image

maxverstappen1: can't ruin my image if i'm spitting FACTS

user145: max will nawt let this go

maxverstappen1: i'll forget you but i'll never forgive the smallest man who ever lived

yourusername: GIRL

maxverstappen1: whoops, one sec. spoiler alert: y/n unleased poetry. trigger warning: c*rlos s*inz

olliebearman: ollie bearman erasure

charles_leclerc: GASP OLLIE I AM SO SORRY

yourusername: no he actually is he's crying

charles_leclerc: it's the pregnancy hormones

olliebearman: it's okay i swear

charles_leclerc: I'M A TERRIBLE FATHER

carlossainz55: i could've told you that for free

olliebearman: why are you in our family buisness

user146: charles is channelling all of his carlos rage through ollie oh my

olliebearman: i am a happy conduit for my father who is in the ferrari PR jail

yourusername: can we send carlos here and throw away the key?

user147: charles is really out there like keep my girl's name out of your mouth cause even the bitch who stole your seat for a weekend is my SON

user148: y/n wasn't joking about with this grid domination

user149: but also i'm glad all of this fun stuff is happening amongst all of the shit that's been thrown at her from her family

oscarpiastri: a leclerc and proud (i race like my dad and throw shade like my mum)

yourusername: the best way to be

charles_leclerc: proud of you, you're such a good dog brother :)

oscarpiastri: i've just learnt to be patient after alpine and lando

yourusername: you still took your shoes being leo's personal bathroom really well

oscarpiastri: he's too cute to be mad at

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen, charles_leclerc and 824,109 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: first mother's day with my boys

view all comments

user150: gonna enjoy this super wholesome post before... he... ruins it

user151: manifesting a y/n post without that bitter old hag in the comment section

charles_leclerc: the best mother for our fur baby and our miscellaneous other children

yourusername: only the best with you :(

charles_leclerc: ugh i love you so much

yourusername: i love you even more

user152: they're so fucking cute

user153: damn carlos i too would be angry if my baby sister and my teammate outshined my third PR relationship in six months

user154: the sainz family have generational levels of hating, but one does it for good (poetry) and one does it for bad (anything carlos ever says)

oscarpiastri: happiest mother's day to my grid mum! here's to reading them to filth xx

yourusername: OSC!! i always knew you were my favourite aussie

danielricciardo: did my enchante PR mean nothing?

yourusername: i mean i wear it all of the time... but it's osc ...

danielricciardo: true, i broke my hand before i could even think of accidentally hurting him

user155: also babe is looking so unbothered, moisturised and free we need the skin care routine

oscarpiastri: the tears of carlos sainz

yourusername: and cleansing your life of toxic family members

user156: okay clearly oscar was done with the whole "i'm so chill" bit cause since his adoption by charles and y/n he's been non stop on carlos' neck

oscarpiastri: i'm a ride or die for my mum cry about it

maxverstappen1: as the kids would say ... mother is mothering? @olliebearman did i do it right?

charles_leclerc: stop trying to steal my kids

maxverstappen1: BRO I'M TRYING TO COMPLIMENT YOUR GIRLFRIEND

charles_leclerc: that's literally my job 🤨

yourusername: tbf i'll take as many compliments as i can

charles_leclerc: are mine not enough?

yourusername: when you've got a self esteem this low, you gotta take what you can get

charles_leclerc: oh :(

user157: max and y/n fighting over who trauma dumps more about their upbringing

carlossainz55: this bit is very tiring. you'll be a terrible mother and all these people you think are your friends will drop you as soon as they know who you really are.

yourusername: you done?

carlossainz55: as you loveeeee to point out, i don't have much to lose anymore so i really wouldn't test me

yourusername: trying to make me homeless and stealing all of my money wasn't enough?

carlossainz55: charles will know the truth soon enough and you won't have us to come crying to

yourusername: i'll take those chances thank you

user158: hold ON what do you mean stole all her money

yourusername: i was never allowed my own bank account so all my earnings have gone to them!

user159: okay that's it WE RIDE AT DAWN

fin.

note: oh girl life has been BUSY!!! i just got a new job and have been looking desperately for a flat to move out to. also i've had family visiting and going here, there and everywhere. but i hope you enjoy! this was a lil more light-hearted lol (until the end) so enjoy the addition of the leclerc family lore xx

ALSO i wanted to say a massive THANK YOU FOR 6,000 FOLLOWERS love you all <3

note: hiii extra note from me here. first, i will fix this tag list at some point idk why it's not working rn. secondly, i have been made aware by multiple people that there is a series just like this one down to characters and the name of the series on here and i can't lie i'm bummed about it. as i said on the first part (?) this is an idea i've had since the release of TTPD (and people will back me up on this) so it bums me out that there are blatant copies coming out! i'm all for inspiration but sometimes there's a difference between taking inspo and copying especially when my masterlist was posted ages ago and my first part was posted on the 9th of may.... anyways that's all i have to say! enjoy xx

taglist: in comments!

[captainadwen]

Damian Wayne vs the World

Sixteen year old Damian Wayne is on the hunt for a younger sibling. Being more discerning than Bruce 'child collector' Wayne, Damian's firm criteria for Batman's latest adoption problem includes but is not limited to: black haired, blue-eyed, tolerable humor, not evil, and most importantly - younger than Damian.

Lucky for him, fourteen year old newbie vigilante Danny Fenton is the perfect fit. Now, to fulfill his end of their deal, Damian must defeat the evil government organization hunting Danny in order to gain a baby brother.

Or, @livinghalfway your post made my brain go !! but in such a different way I figured it was better to make a separate post, hope you don't mind/enjoy still

~~

Damian Wayne re-entered Tim Drake's life like a gnat revealing itself in a closed bedroom space. Tim was in t-shirt and a boxers, maneuvering ramen into his mouth with one hand and scribbling out an epiphany on a murder case with another, when Damian's demonic dulcet voice echoed down from the ceiling. "Drake," said Damian, judgemental, "You live like this?"

Tim nearly choked on his ramen, because the day Damian doesn't attempt to murder him - however doubtfully accidental this incident might be - is the day Darkseid decides to be friends with the Justice League. "Fucking knock," Tim coughed out. "And get out. No one invited you in."

"Put better traps if you don't want me here," said Damian, dropping from the ceiling where he'd crawled in on wall-clamps.

"This is my apartment," said Tim. "It's called courtesy."

Damian sniffed. He padded around to Tim's desk and frowns at his cases, then said, with no further lead up, "I need your assistance."

"No," said Tim.

"You did not even listen to my request."

"Don't need to," said Tim. "Answer's still no. Door is that way. Bye."

"Father says mutually assisting each other is beneficial," said Damian.

"Father," said Tim sarcastically, "blamed me for you exploding a glitter bomb in the batcave two weeks ago."

"That is your fault for not being able to provide evidence to the contrary in an appropriately efficient manner," said Damian. He squinted down at Tim. "And he apologized. Eventually."

"I would not have glittered the batcomputer," said Tim. "Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to backup those servers? No, because you don't like tech work, you just profit off it."

"Blaming me for Father's mistake," said Damian, "Most mature of you. But we must put our differences aside. I have selected a new family member and I need you to dismantle a government organization."

That drew Tim up short. He blinked down at his ramen as though it might explain Damian's words to him, but the ramen remained disappointingly uninformative. "Repeat that," said Tim, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Slower, and with more detail."

Damian pulled out his phone and sent him an email. Silence surrounded them in the brief moment it took Tim to set aside his chopsticks and open the email. The subject line was titled 'New Baby Brother', which birthed all sorts of horrifying nightmares of Damian Part 2: Demon Child Boogaloo. The teen in the inserted picture, however, was reassuringly not in possession of Damian's bone structure.

He did have black hair and blue eyes. "Who am I looking at?" asked Tim.

"Daniel Fenton," said Damian. "He is fourteen years old, enjoys puns, and has recently awakened 'ghost powers' that allow him to transform into the vigilante Phantom to fight other ghosts."

"Is he also an orphan with a tragic backstory?"

"No," said Damian, and Tim relaxed. "But that will not be an issue. We can share custody if they cannot be removed from the picture."

"Jesus H, kid."

"I am joking, of course," said Damian blandly. "Murder is wrong."

"Ha ha," said Tim. "If he has parents already he's not joining our menagerie."

"He will," said Damian, with a smug upwards tilt of his lips. "He and I have a deal."

"So you're coercing him in addition to stalking him. Anything else you want to share with the class?"

Damian considered this query with a serious frown, which was how Tim knew this was not a flight of fancy or a very early midlife crisis (although with their lifestyle and Damian already having died before...).

"He has," said Damian after a moment, "a rogue that calls himself 'The Master of all Technology' and is a technopath." This was clearly meant to be of interest to Tim, and not to be a stereotype, but it kind of was.

"Great." Tim turned his attention back to the email the demon child sent him. He scanned through it quickly. There was apparently a secret and evil government organization dedicated to the investigation and extermination of 'ghosts' and other paranormal creatures in the world. Their latest efforts were focused on the town of Amity Park, Illinois, which was 'infested with ectoplasmic pests'. Their words, not Damian's. (It was specified in the email.)

"Okay," Tim drummed his fingers against his desk. "Before I help you defeat this secret evil government organization so that," he opened the email attachment with a contract on it and squinted at the legalese, "this poor newbie teen you've harassed into signing this joins the family in exchange."

"I did not harass him," Damian huffed. "It was a gentleman's agreement."

"Does he know that?"

"I am not a politician, Drake. I thoroughly explained the terms and legalities before presenting any contract. Now ask your question."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because," said Damian, tone implying 'you are stupid and haven't noticed something obvious, idiot'. "Father has begun saying he misses the noise around the manor and looking wistfully at old pictures."

"We still live there though?" said Tim. Damian looked flatly at him. "Sometimes."

"If you lived there frequently enough," said Damian, "you would already know Father is having...empty nest syndrome." Damian sounded disgusted. "I refuse to tolerate whatever inadequate and incompetent child he will find."

"So instead you found an incompetent and inadequate child for him?"

"Don't be stupid, Drake," said Damian. "I would not have chosen someone inadequate. Daniel is merely lacking formal training. Father can rectify this. It will keep him occupied for at least the next two to four years, which gives me enough time to find another black-haired, blue-eyed, tolerable child I approve of to be his successor and my second younger sibling." Damian paused. "Or until one of you procreates and gives him a grandchild."

"You're really serious about this," Tim whispered in horrified awe.

"I am serious about everything I do," said Damian. "Now, you will help me defeat this evil government organization so that our new sibling joins us."

"Okay," said Tim, but his mind snagged on a minor, throwaway detail, so utterly in odds with Damian 'Demonic Jealous Child' Al Ghul it surely came from another person - "Did you just call this kid your successor?"

[aquanutart]

I was talking and I mentioned that I have my old Game Boy and original Pokemon cartridge. I said, "I think they still work."

I was told, "The internal batteries on the Game Boy cartridges have run out. They're all dead."

"Oh," I said, trying not to show how crestfallen I was. I felt like I was losing nerd cred for not knowing that, although I never kept up with that type of info anyway. I'm here for the fantasy and imaginative aspects of games, and tend not to follow the competitive or technical details.

I tried not to feel anything as I went home. If they were real animals, I reminded myself, I would have had to say goodbye long ago.

But like so many other people, Pokemon was my childhood. It was all I thought about and dreamed about, and the closest thing I could imagine to heartbreak was the knowledge that they weren't real. I spent nearly all my time writing longhand self-insert Pokemon fanfiction--far more than I spent actually playing the game. My Pokemon were with me in my imagination wherever I went. I started playing Pokemon Blue when I was 5, and the last time I had played it was probably when I was 9 or 10. I remembered I had turned it on again one more time after that, not to play it, but to look at my childhood Pokemon.

It was during high school, after a move overseas that completely upended my life, and I was struggling with the crushing blow of being taken away from everything I knew and trying to make sense of anything (least of all adolescence) in another language. All I wanted was to go back to childhood and have everything go back to how it was before.

Seeing my Pokemon, just as I'd left them, had comforted me. I had looked at their stats pages, taken photos of them with my digital camera (that I don't even know if I still have), and then turned it off without doing anything.

That was probably 9 or 10 years after the games came out. It had been a long time since then. I had long since taken the AA batteries out of my Game Boy Color and left it untouched. I didn't even have AA batteries anymore.

It had worked then. But now it had been 27 years... I thought about not trying to turn my cartridge back on. As long as I didn't turn it on, I could believe my Pokemon were still there, the way I remembered them.

On my day off, which happened to be Pokemon Day, I googled and read that some people on forums and Reddit were still able to play their original Pokemon games.

Then... it was possible. I went out to buy toothpaste. At the store, I asked where I could find AA batteries.

It was a big thing for me to be able to go to the store and buy things myself. When I moved at age 13, I felt like something went wrong with growing up. It was difficult to follow what people were saying, and people didn't always understand what I said either. I had been introverted even in English, but now I had enough negative experiences that I became afraid and stopped trying to talk to people altogether.

I threw myself into video games and reliving childhood memories. The internet was where I could communicate in my first language and understand. I lived online and didn't interact with the real world. On the internet I felt like I was understood and could find people who shared my interests the way I did, but in the real world it always felt like I could get hurt if anyone knew me.

I realize now that I could have had a better experience overseas if I'd known how to adapt and socialize, but this was not something I knew even in English, and trying to learn in another language made it ten times harder. I'm sorry now for missing out on interactions that I know I could have had, but I just didn't know how. I wouldn't know how until I learned, and it took me a long time to learn.

I grew up online, in the company of others who had trouble fitting in with the real world, even in their own language. Those experiences shaped me, and the friendships I've made and support I've received online are invaluable to me. The internet gave me a way to live, and through it I learned how to interact with others. But in many ways, for many years, it felt like my life was put on hold and I stopped growing up.

Several years ago I moved back, to not far from where I was born, and I was able to work for the first time. I began to interact with people and feel like I had a place in the real world.

After shutting myself away for so many years, every little step I made out in the world felt terrifying. But every little thing I did on my own made me feel like I was living for the first time.

Even something as little as going to the store and buying a pack of batteries.

I was directed to a shelf at the end of an aisle, and found myself looking at a rack of lithium AA batteries. Did they not sell the old kind anymore?

I walked around to the other side and was relieved to find the familiar black and brown Duracell batteries I'd known from my childhood. I felt more confident about putting in a battery that looked the same as I remembered. The smallest pack they sold was an 8-pack for $12.99. I really didn't need 8 batteries. I didn't have any other devices that used them.

I thought, what if I turn it on and it doesn't work and I'll have wasted $12.99?

I also thought we might already have batteries. I might be able to say, "Mom, do we have any batteries?" and she'd pull out two AAs from a drawer somewhere and I'd save my money.

But somehow I felt like part of what was important about this was being an adult and being able to buy my own batteries.

Yet... what if it just ended up making me sad? Was it better not to know?

I went to the checkout with just the toothpaste and stood hesitating at the edge of the checkout line.

If I didn't get the batteries now, and it turned out we didn't have any batteries, I wouldn't try it. I knew I would just put it off until even more time passed, and then... "Are you in line?" someone asked me.

"No," I said, and I turned around and went back to the shelf.

I bought the batteries.

At home, I took out my original Game Boy Color from the drawer where I left it, the one my dad had surprised me with when I was 5 years old and that I had brought overseas and back.

I put the batteries in and turned it on without a cartridge first to make sure the batteries were inserted correctly. The Game Boy logo scrolled across the screen and it made the familiar blinging Game Boy startup noise. I turned it off again, satisfied.

I took out my original Pokemon Blue cartridge, momentarily having to remember which way it went in, and slotted it in.

I turned it on, watched the whole Pokemon Blue intro out of nostalgia, and then pressed START.

My heart leaped for joy.

MY POKEMON!!!! MY POKEMON ARE ALIVE!!! 🥺🥺🥺

My original Pokemon, that were with me in 1998 when I was 5-6 years old, are still with me 27 years later. I want to cry!!! I love the old sprites, I'm SO happy to see them again 😭😭😭 the Pokemon look so little and cheerful at the same time, which I love 🥺🥺🥺 I know there are people with many more hours on their games, who have leveled all their Pokemon to 100. But these are my Pokemon who were with me through my childhood, and I spent many more hours making up stories about them than actually playing the game. I'm so happy to see them again 😭😭😭

All I want is to see my Pokemon. My other Pokemon are in boxes. Now, how do I get to the nearest PC? Where am I?

Oh... Oh. I have to confess something. When I was a kid, I was scared of the dark cave areas, and whenever I got to them, I stopped playing for a while. (I was stuck at Mt. Moon until I was like, 7.) So I never actually beat the game.

And here I am on Victory Road, with the team of Pokemon I was taking to the Elite Four, without an Escape Rope.

The only way for me to see my other Pokemon is... to finally make it through Victory Road, after 27 years?!