#leanne can be silly as a treat

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + sixteen

authors note: healing is not linear. regression, sadly, is a part of the process. and ultimately, if someone wants to hurt themselves, they will find a way to do so.

*this chapter contains extremely triggering content. please ensure to read all content/trigger warnings to make an informed decision regarding your mental state and ability to consume the following work of fiction. your mental wellbeing is forever and always more important than any story.*

cw/tw: heavy angst, violence, torture, ptsd episode, victim blaming, reference to childhood sexual assault, thoughts and urges of self-harm, suicide attempt

gentle reminder that you can call or text the free, confidential 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 anytime, 24/7.

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

masterlist

words: 8k

“I–I just want to see him. Please—”

It’s got to be the third or even fourth time she’s tried to ask, pleading with her husband’s Wise Man to let her see her husband.

It was hard enough to get Solo to agree to take her to where Roman is, a medical clinic that’s clearly only open to tend to him and any other Bloodline member injured in the shootout. That’s evident by the lack of anyone present outside of an impressive number of Bloodline security. 

An uninjured Bayley and Naomi met her at the house shortly after she arrived with Solo, and while she was pleased to see they were okay, to hear that Jimmy and Jey also made it out uninjured, the man she cares about the most is ironically the man she seems incapable of checking on.

She can’t find a way to settle her anxiety, continuing to play the scene of him shot, outside of her head. 

That’s why she needs to see him. 

She has to see him.

Paul sighs, and there’s irritation evident both in his tone and facial expression. “Solana, I don’t think—hey!”

Fuck it.

He’s silenced by Solana rushing past him, nearly knocking him over in the process. Eyes wide with shock, he stammers, looking just as bewildered as the security guards around him. “Well, don’t just stand there, stop her!”

The men rush to run after her, Solana well aware of the fact that the likelihood of her outrunning them is slim to none. 

Doesn't mean she can’t try. 

It’s a silly thought though because of course security would be up and down every hall of the clinic, sets of hardened eyes falling on her, ready to attack when they realize who she is. It changes the dynamic a bit. Expressions still stoic and lethal but also confused.

Solana freezes only for a bit as she forces out her request, a poorly delivered demand, really to the guards that line the hall that she suspects house the room Roman is being treated in. 

“I need to see my husband.” No one says anything, two of them sharing an expression as Solana decides to try her luck again, knowing that they wouldn’t actually shoot her, trying to sprint past them.

She’s unlucky this time though because one of the guards catches her, restraining her. This makes her tense up almost immediately, fear rising up yet again for the thousandth time tonight. 

“Let go of me!” Solana tries to wiggle her way out of the iron grasp, eager and almost needing to get these strange male hands off of her, such a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she feels when it’s Roman who has his hands on her. “I need to see Roman! Please!” 

The man holding her and probably pulling her away from the direction of Roman’s room says nothing, just continues to ignore her demands to be released.

“Man, what the hell you doing!”

Solana’s head snaps to the side as she lays eyes on an enraged Jimmy who stalks over, his mere presence and tone causing the man to release her. Solana gasps a bit as Jimmy grabs the man by his collar and slams him against the wall. “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again! You lucky it’s me here and not Roman cause he’d already have a bullet in your head for touching his wife!”

Jimmy looks around, shouting, “that goes to all of ya’ll asses!” He points to Solana. “She asks for Roman, you take her to fucking Roman, alright?”

Bowed heads of shame and a sudden focus on the laminate flooring of the clinic, Solana is relieved when Jimmy walks over, voice calmer, motioning her to follow him. “Come on, Soso.”

Solana wants to ask Jimmy if he’s okay, inquire about Jey, make sure that they’re okay. Bayley and Naomi already told her as such, but they don’t know that. It’s just what’s most polite and appropriate, but all she can think about is Roman and laying eyes on him.

She needs to see him.

And as awful as it may sound, she cares more about making sure her husband is okay before anyone else.

Caught up in her thoughts, she misses when Jimmy knocks on a door in a rhythmic pattern, followed by Jey cracking the door open.

Jimmy sucks his teeth. “Man, open the door. It’s Soso.”

Solana, however, has no desire to wait any longer and finds herself, pushing on the door, forcing Jey to stumble back. “Damn, girl!”

She’s not listening though, uninterested in apologizing because she’s focused on something else. 

Focused on someone else. 

An older man with blonde hair pulled back, dressed way too casually to be a medical professional seems to be finishing up bandaging her husband who stands only feet away, shirtless, revealing the shoulder tourniquet that conceals the wound. The place where he was hurt.

Where he was shot.

Emotion renews, and a new set of tears reload as she finds herself moving over to him, pressing her body into his, doing her best to avoid touching his left shoulder. Her eyes shut, tears spilling over when she feels Roman’s hand on the small of her back.

“Get out.” It’s directed to the twins and who Solana would guess is the doctor who treated his wound, that last thing being what causes her to pull away, to look over at the stranger.

“No. You—you have to help him—”

The man chuckles and removes the blue latex gloves from his hands. “Lil lady, that’s a job only the big Man Himself can handle.” She frowns a bit as the man with striking blue eyes and an almost country accent explains, “He’ll be fine. Bullet went straight through. Didn't hit any bones, artery, or organs. If he takes it easy for a couple weeks, he'll be good as new. That’s assuming, however, he actually follows the doctor’s orders for once.”

It’s that last sentence that makes Solana wonder if this is the same doctor who diagnosed Roman with high blood pressure and medicated him for it. It makes sense. 

But, it’s when they’re alone that the waterworks seem to really come out, Solana unable to hold it in any longer. “I’m sorry—this—this is all my fault.” She cries, Roman gently cradling her face as she shakes her head. “You–you got hurt because of m-me-.”

Roman looks thoroughly confused, asking, “what are you talking about?”

There’s such a heaviness in her stomach and on her chest. She doesn’t want to do this. God, she really doesn’t want to. But, it’s her not doing this in the first place that landed them where they are. 

“Roman…..” She closes her eyes. This is so much harder than she thought it would be, and she never thought it would be easy per se, but she also didn’t think it would be this damn painful. “My—my father. He…he wanted our marriage to happen so—so that I—” It’s like knives splitting and slicing the back of her throat as she forces out, “he wanted me to kill you.”

If Roman has a strong or visceral reaction to her dark confession, he doesn’t show it. His expression remains unreadable, maybe a bit of concern, but that was present the minute he laid eyes on her. 

“And he said that if I didn’t do it, then he–he would kill me, and that’s w–why you got hurt tonight, because—because of me, because I didn’t say anything.” A fresh set of tears generate as she desperately tries to help him and make him believe her as she explains, “but, I—I was never going to—I could never—I’d rather die than do anything to h–hurt you.”

And it’s the truth. 

She would have rather him let the bullet hit her than him. 

It’s not fair he had to pay for her actions. Or lack, in this case. 

“Solana.” He cuts her off, gentle, voice much calmer than she anticipated in response to such a confession. “I already knew.”

And just like that, she’s back to not breathing again, rendered nearly incapable of speech as she stammers out a response, “w–what?”

Roman sighs deeply, thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “I always knew your father was up to something. I’m far from stupid. He was too eager and pushy to make the marriage happen. It was obvious he had ulterior motives.” His eyes squint a bit, as he asks her, “why you think one of the first things I did when we got married was cut off contact between the two of you, huh? Whatever he was planning, I wasn’t gonna let him use you to do it.”

Roman’s words together make a logical, sensical sentence, but it’s the processing of it that she struggles with. Roman knew. He knew all along that her father was planning something. 

And yet he said nothing.

He has no reaction. 

He continues, admitting, “I didn’t know specifically what he had planned, but it doesn’t really make a difference. Murder. Coup d'etat. He wasn't the first, and he won’t be the last.” It’s the casual way he says it that Solana feels so conflicted about, so stunned how he can be so calm about constant threats against his life, against his empire. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, and it probably won’t be the last time.”

“Don’t say that.” She whispers. The trauma and shock of seeing him shot was bad enough, and seeing he appears okay is relieving, but the thought of it happening again feels almost unbearable.

“Solana, you know what I am and what I do. But, it’s like I told you before, I have a tendency to not die, which pisses people off.” His delivery towards the end manages to make her smile. It’s small and sad, but a smile nonetheless. “There it is….” His thumb brushes away some of her tears. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I don’t like seeing you upset.”

She noticed. The same way she doesn’t like to see him hurt. For him to be anything other than okay. 

Roman’s eyes shift into something softer as he asks, “why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a question born from curiosity versus the accusatory nature she would expect from someone who was just told their wife was sent to kill them. 

It’s a bit of a difficult one to answer too. “I was—I was scared. At the beginning of our marriage, I—I was scared what you would do to me if—if I told you.” 

There’s an almost pained look that flashes across his face as he vows, “Solana, you know I would never—”

“I know. I know that now.” She stresses, gently cutting him off. There’s not a doubt in her mind that Roman would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. “But, I—I didn’t then. And….I think I just—I didn’t want to think about it, because things were going good and—and I hadn’t seen him in so long, but I was wrong—and I should have said something sooner—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He’s the one to cut her off this time, shaking his head. “But Solana, your father has crossed a line this time. He tried to kill you.” Roman’s eyes are blazing with with the flame of anger and fury, a desire for vengeance clearly dancing at the forefront of his mind. “I know I told you I wouldn’t kill him until you told me—”

“I don’t care,” she affirms, voice darkening into something also angry. “He—he tried to take you from me. I don’t—I don’t care what happens to him anymore. Him or Wes.” 

Because while she doesn’t know the status of her brother and his recovery, Wes was just as involved with the evil plan, so what went down tonight had to have some influence from him in one way or another. It makes him just as guilty. 

Roman nods and kisses her temple. He then calls out, “Jey.” It’s loud enough for his cousin to hear, opening the door and asking, “what’s up?”

Roman doesn’t hesitate. “Get me Miller. Just Xavier.” Solana must look curious as he explains, “your brother isn’t well enough yet. I want him back to health, so I can prolong his torture.” It paints a picture of a brutal, gruesome ending, but she can’t find it in her to be repulsed. Whatever hope she had for her brother is clearly long gone, if it was ever there.

“You got it.” Jey nods and closes the door as Solana places her hand on Roman’s forearm, drawing his attention down to her. 

“I—I want to talk to him before—-” She swallows, asking, “please?”

Roman nods. “Of course.” She’s thankful for his agreement but not entirely surprised. He breaks away from her, countenance shifts into something stoic and determined. 

“This ends tonight.” 

________

Solana’s introduction to the place where her husband has probably taken and ended more lives than she’d like to admit is definitely a one and done thing. The atmosphere alone is so dark and depressing that if not for her hand in his and him walking closely alongside her, she might even find herself a bit scared.

But his presence along with her determination to get in her final words to her father manage to carry her over. 

She’s also both surprised and relieved when she sees Bayley and Naomi also present. She’s unable to ask them about their presence because Roman is already explaining, “I know you don’t want to be home alone tonight, and I’m not making it back anytime soon.”

She nods, not needing to know why. The edge in his voice is all the telling she needs.

Solana’s stomach drops a bit when she’s taken to her father, strapped to a chair, hands and wrists tied. His face is bruised up, cut, and bleeding. Her eyes must give away her curiosity, Jimmy answering, “he fell.” 

Jey suddenly punches him in the side of his head. “Ain’t that what you said when you and your boy was beating on your own fucking daughter?”

Solana swallows. Yes. That’s often what he said to cover up the result of their abuse.

Solana drops her hand and steps a bit closer to him, Roman not once moving or ripping his eyes away from them. It’s virtually impossible for Xavier to do anything to her, but she understands her husband is not willing to take any risks, regardless. 

She ignores the weapons and items around her, no doubt intended for unspeakable acts of violence and torture. She just focuses on the man before her, taking in the fact that this is the last time she’ll ever stare into his dark eyes and have to look at his evil face. 

“All—all I ever wanted….was for you to love me.” She hates the emotion that chunks up the back of her throat, making it a bit harder for her to speak. “But you never did, and you never will, and—and that’s okay.” She recalls one of the many powerful, profound quotes from her book, reciting it boldly and confidently. “Your inability to love me is not a reflection on my ability to be loved.” She’d like to say she witnesses some type of emotional reaction in her father at her powerful statement, but there’s nothing there.

There never was. 

Stepping back, she takes one final look at him, accepting this is the end of this road. The end of all the hurt and pain he’s ever caused her. After tonight, it’s all over. “Goodbye, Dad.” 

Solana is back by Roman, taking her hand in his as Xavier’s small, dark laughter draws her attention back to him. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder how they bypassed the security system? Both times?”

Solana’s brows are furrowed, confusion dancing in her eyes. Before she can say anything, Roman barks a rough order to the twins, “gag him!” 

One glance at him, and she sees something unfamiliar, something that looks strangely close to nervousness. 

To fear. 

“No,” she finds herself calling out, stopping Jey who was halfway close to doing just that, bandana in his right hand. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Solana, he’s just trying to fuck with your head.” She hears Roman, feels his slight tug on her sleeve as he tries to pull her away, but she also detects something else.

Avoidance. 

Roman is intentionally trying to divert her away from this conversation, topic, whatever it is.

Xavier chuckles cruelly, coughing up a bit of blood. “I warned that bitch. I told her what would happen if she tried to take Wesley away from me.” 

Now…now he has Solana’s full attention. 

She steps toward him, asking again, “what are you t–talking about?”

“Solana, please—”

But, she continues to ignore Roman and instead focuses on whatever it is her father is about to drop on her, something she feels is about to change everything. 

Xavier’s bloody smile is cruel and taunting as he reveals, “I was the one who ordered the hit on your mother.” And before she can even sit on that, another bomb is dropped. “And you.”

Solana staggers back, jerking away from Roman as he reaches to touch her. Her mouth is dropped, her heartbeat erratic. She all of a sudden feels dizzy, but it doesn’t stop her from asking again, “what—what did you just say?”

“Shut him up, Jey!”

“No!” Solana shouts both at her husband and his cousin. “I want to know!”

“Your mother was planning to take you and Wesley away from me, and truth be told, if she left Wesley and just took you, I probably wouldn’t have given a fuck. But no, she wanted both of her children. She was a problem, so I got rid of her.” Each word that leaves his mouth has Solana wanting to sink further and further into the ground. “The hit was for both of you, but of course, you fucking survived.” The venom in his voice and hatred in his eyes is almost palpable, further deepening the pain of this betrayal. “I refused to pay them the full amount since they botched the job and didn’t kill you, but that still left the balance for your mother….the balance you paid for me.” And with the most vile smile of all, he adds on coarsely, “who’d have thought a kid’s virginity would sell so high?”

And it’s that statement. That cruel, vindictive statement that breaks her.

Hand to her stomach, Solana almost collapses to the floor but Roman is behind her, catching her fall. 

Now that she can focus on him, on anything other than the millions thoughts racing through her mind. Random facts and statements finally coming together, painting a horrific, grim picture.

The failure of the security system both times.

The failed pin entry of her mom’s shaking hands and two years later, Solana’s shaking hand, as they desperately tried to enter the panic room, only for it to flash a red rejection notice.

It was him the whole time.

He killed her mother. He was the one responsible for her rape.

All of it. 

Emotions erupt to the surface as Solana tries to break from Roman’s embrace and lunge for her father.

“I hate you!” She screams, unable to think and see beyond her pain. “I fucking hate you!” She can’t stop trying to break Roman’s solid grip on her. She wants to hit him. Wants to stab him. Burn him. Anything and everything that can make him feel just a fraction of her agony. “How could you do that to me!” She cries, wanting, needing an answer. Needing to know why. “I was a child!” She’s never felt something so heavy, so painful. “I was your child!” 

As her physical resolve breaks, more diminishes than anything, Solana feels Roman trying to guide her away.

But it’s a mistake, it’s a mistake because she uses that slice of an opening to break away from him and snatch one of the guns on a table, pointing it at her father’s head. But then, she’s not. She’s not because Roman is suddenly standing between her and her target.

Her resolve falters for a bit, as she shouts at him, “move!”

Jimmy’s furious voice calls out. “Man, let her do it, Roman!”

Roman’s gaze is fiery as he silences his cousin with a shout. “Shut up!” But just as quickly as he was enraged, his expression softens almost inhumanly quickly as he pleads, “Solana, listen to me—”

She’s not trying to hear it though. She can’t hear it. “He killed my mother! My mother!”

“I know,” his expression softens into something solemn and sympathetic. “But you don’t want to do this—“

She snaps, her fingers on the gun tightening, her grip firm and focused. “He needs to die!”

“And he will, I promise you that. Slowly. Gradually. In the agonizing way that he deserves, but that can only happen if you let me do this for you—”

Solana cries, shoulders dropping but her aim still intact. “He let them rape me.” Her body trembles, a combination of her heartache and inconsolable rage. “He took her from me! She was my mother!”

If not for the severity and all around heightened tensions, Solana would notice the heartbreaking and furious expressions of the twins, Bayely, and Naomi who now know the exact horror she has experienced. The reason for her disposition. The source of her trauma.

Roman, however, remains focused on de-escalating the situation. “I know, baby, but you’re not a killer, Solana, and I’m not about to let you become one.” If she was thinking straight, capable of thinking clearly in this moment, she’d know he’s only protecting her. Only trying to save her from the thing she told him not even a week ago she could never forgive herself for. Taking someone’s life. “Once you do this, there’s no turning back.”

Solana’s eyes shut as another round of tears makes its way to the surface, heavier and harder to manage with the gun in her hand.

Roman notices this and takes a tentative step forward. “Please, Solana.” His tone is almost desperate, borderline begging. “Give me the gun.”

Eyes still closed and with a weakness she hasn’t felt in years, Solana relents, loosening her grip, allowing Roman to take the gun that he quickly hands to Jey. He moves to catch her as she falls into his chest, sobbing again. Roman cradles her head and kisses the top of her hair while Jimmy and Jey move to jump Xavier, taking that opportunity to get blows in on the old man, both careful to avoid any that could be lethal.

It’s obvious this son of a bitch is in line for a world of suffering that will extend far past tonight.

“Oh, we finna take our time killing you, motherfucker.” 

Everything sounds a bit distant. The sound of the twins yelling obscenities at the demon she called a father. Roman trying to comfort her, to settle her. It’s all too much. Too overwhelming. The crying settles into something sullen and solemn, silent tears streaming down her face as she murmurs against him, “I want to go home.”

The emotion is there, but her presence and awareness of everything is diminishing. Solana knows what’s coming, has experienced this state of separation, of dissociating. 

She needs to get away.

Roman says something she can’t make out, and before she realizes it, there’s another set of arms around her. Bayley. Naomi is chatting with Roman, the only thing she’s able to make out, 

‘Don’t leave her alone.’

Alone.

She’s not sure she’s ever felt that as strongly as she does at this moment.

________

It’s all such a blur.

Such a separate thing. Emotions separate from her. Emotions that are dark, heavy, confusing, overwhelming. Fleeting. There’s an oscillation of all the feelings. Tears that accompany heartache. Sobbing that accompanies grief. Nothing that arrives with nothing. 

It’s a brutal, miserable experience of feeling the weight of the world but also the emptiness of the void.

It’s obvious that Naomi and Bayley don’t know how to help her, don’t know how to comfort her, just continue to sit with her, letting her cry when she needs to and scream when she has to. Even Dulce sits by her side, whimpering every so often and licking her.

It’s appreciated. So appreciated. 

But….it’s not enough.

Losing her mother was heartbreaking. Losing her in the way she did, so violently and graphically was torture.

Being held down and gang raped by two grown men at twelve years old nearly killed her. They nearly killed her.

But, there’s something about finding out that her father, her biological father, was responsible for those two things that’s almost impossible to believe.

She knew her father was cruel.

She just didn’t know just how cruel until this very evening. 

Escape.

Her mother was trying to escape, trying to make a better life for herself and her children. And he killed her for it.

Tried to kill Solana too, and when that didn’t work, he traded her virginity in exchange for payment. 

Flashes. Glimpses. Images. 

They’ve been hitting her nonstop since the truth came out. Playing in her mind like some kind of sick horror film. It’s torture. It’s painful. It’s unbearable.

It’s too much. 

She places her hands on the bathroom counter, having finished using the bathroom after waking up yet again from night terrors.

Her eyes shut.

Solana is tired.

So so tired. Tired of the pain. Of the lies. Of the betrayal. Everything hurts. Everything feels so heavy. She tries to escape in sleep, but the memories haunt her and suddenly, she’s reliving it all, but now with the horrific knowledge that the first man who should have ever loved and protected her was responsible for her biggest traumas.

And it’s impossible to escape those flashes, those thoughts and flashbacks becoming more frequent and intrusive by the minute. She’s suffocating.

Drowning in her own head.

Drowning in her own body. 

Solana’s eyes open and fall over to the shower where her razor would have been available if not for her earlier strength and ability to hand it and the brand new box of them over to Bayley and Naomi.

Just an hour or two ago, she was able to do that much. Able to resist that temptation and not break years of sobriety.

But, now…. now she can’t. 

She doesn’t even want to.

That would only provide a temporary escape.

She’s just….just so tired.

She wants….needs something longer.

Something more permanent. 

Unable to escape the mental anguish, Solana leans down and digs through a toiletries bag from the trip she hasn’t unpacked. 

And she pulls out the bottle of sleeping pills. 

Roman’s request from months ago returns, smacking into her. 

“Any of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I don’t care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.” His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what he’s asking of her. “Understand?”

Her eyes water.

Roman….

Even with his lack of being honest with her, of somehow knowing but not telling her the truth, there’s never been a person that she’s loved more than him. Not since her mom.

It’s why she can’t call him. Can’t continue to burden him with having to deal with all her shit.

All she’s done since entering his life is make shit difficult. She’s done it with him. Bayley. Naomi. Jimmy. Jey. 

All of them.

They’ve had to adjust so much just for her, and for what? For her to end up right back where she started?

She can’t….she can’t do that to them again.

She can’t do that to Roman again.

She loves him too much for that, loves him too much to continue to hurt him.

She just….she just needs to remove herself from the equation.

Needs to remove herself from all of their lives. 

Forever. 

Shaking hands twist off the cap as she dumps a handful of pills into her trembling palm.

There’s the briefest second of a delay, a moment where she reconsiders, where she wonders if she’s making the right decision. But another flashback hits her, the feeling of the knife slicing through her mother’s lifeless body and entering Solana ripping her away from that reconsideration.

Another thought of Roman and her friends having to help her yet again.

Save her again.

She can’t do it anymore. She doesn’t want to do it anymore.

There is no saving her anymore.

This is the only way. 

And she swallows, using the water bottle on the counter to force the excessive amount of pills down her throat. A brief glance at her reflection brings on another set of silent tears. Broken. Empty. There’s nothing left for her to do, no reason for her to exist anymore.

Not even bothering to put the pills away, Solana walks out of the bathroom and into the dark bedroom where Bayley is the first to ask, still sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, dedicated to staying awake for her ‘shift’, completely unaware of this being the last time they’ll interact. “Do you need something?”

Solana shakes her head and climbs back onto the bed. Grabbing her phone, ignoring the tears that blur her vision, she types out a simple text to the one person she’ll miss the most. 

She’ll miss them all, but none more than him.

Solana: I’m sorry. 

Sent and delivered, she locks her phone, placing it on the nightstand, closing her eyes. 

Solana just wants to go to sleep.

And this time…..not wake up.

________

Rage. 

Fury.

Wrath.

And any word synonymous to anger, yet none of them adequately describe what’s coursing all throughout Roman’s body. Years. It’s been years since he’s felt this much anger, held so much of it that he has a hard time thinking and feeling.

He’s incapable of escaping the sound of Solana’s sobbing, the way she literally fell apart in front of him, breaking before him.

And it’s all because of the son of a bitch currently underneath him on the receiving end of  devastating blow after blow of Roman’s brass knuckled fists. How long he’s been hitting the old man is beyond him. Not long enough.

It’ll never be long enough.

Never painful enough. 

Not for what he’s done.

A hand on his uninjured shoulder temporarily pulls him away from his newfound life mission to make this piece of shit feel every type of pain imaginable before he takes his last breath. 

Roman’s roar bounces off the walls. “What!”

Jey looks unfazed by Roman’s irate tone and instead advises, “he’s unconscious, Uce. Let up or you gon kill him.”

That’s the fucking goal.

But not yet. Death is too sweet for Xavier to receive at this point.

Huffing and suddenly aware of all the energy expended as well as the blood splattered all over his clothes and face, Roman tosses the knuckles to the side and issues an order to Jey even while walking, refusing to acknowledge any appreciation for his warning, “let me know when Jimmy has them.”

Them.

Them being the two men who have no idea what kind of horror awaits them. Men whose names were tortured out of Xavier pretty easily by Roman.

Rapists.

Solana’s rapists. 

Reaching the locker room  in the back, Roman easily strips himself naked and steps in the shower, allowing the water to rain down his body, red mixing with clear and disappearing down the drain. Hands against the shower wall, he shuts his eyes.

He can’t escape the sound of Solana’s wails. He’s never heard or seen her so upset. Never wanted to. It’s the exact reason he settled on not telling her the truth, because he knew this would happen.

Knew this would destroy her.

It’s just the extent of the destruction that worries him.

Just how far back this has set her that has him feeling something he hasn’t felt in years but has now experienced twice tonight. Once when he saw the hand raised and gun lifted in Solana’s direction and now her breakdown.

Fear.

It has him scared.

And Roman doesn't know what to do with that emotion, doesn’t know how to handle it outside of beating the shit out of and torturing her father and rapists. But even that only does so much.

It doesn’t do enough, because she’s hurting, more than she probably ever has, and he can’t do shit about it.

Because making the fuckers who hurt her suffer doesn’t do shit for the pain she’s experiencing now.

And he hates that shit. Hates that she’s hurting and he can’t help her, take away that pain from her.

With all the frustration in his body, Roman slams his fist into the shower wall, forcing himself to calm down just enough to get cleaned up.

He uses a fresh set of clothes in the lockers to redress himself, redoing his bandages and using a towel to dry off his hair as best as possible. 

But, it’s when Jey comes and seems to interfere with Roman starting his next round of torture, a thought of starting to skin the old man sounding more than desirable, that his frustration multiplies.

“Not now.”

Roman continues to walk when he feels Jey forcefully grab his arm, forcing him to turn around. Roman looks at his hand and then back at Jey. “Have you lost—”

“Roman.” 

But, it’s the tone that stops the Head of the Table from issuing out his threat. In all the years he’s known Jey, he’s never heard his cousin use such a heavy, spooked tone.

“What?” There’s hesitation, and that only pisses Roman off. “What!”

Jey swallows, answering with an almost pained countenance. “Solana’s at the hospital.” Jey’s frown, sadness seeped and imbued into his usual gregarious voice. “She tried to kill herself, Roman.”

________

Three.

There’s now been three separate occurrences in a single day that have caused Roman to experience the emotion most unfamiliar to him.

Fear.

And this third time, it’s the strongest it’s ever been as he marches into the hospital floor where he was informed she was.

“Where is she!”

And when his gaze lands on a clearly disturbed and crying Naomi and Bayley, the anger only grows as he moves over to them. “What the fuck happened!” Roman doesn’t give them time to respond, too consumed with his anger that’s truly a mask hiding his fear. “Why weren’t you watching her! I fucking told you to watch her!”

Bayley is the first to shoot up from her chair, eyes watery but scowl intact. “We were! She—”

But, he’s not trying to hear shit what she has to say. Not when they’ve failed him in the worst way possible. “Obviously you fucking weren’t because we’re standing in a goddamn hosptal–”

Jimmy, who Roman had completely forgotten came along with him, Jey as well, does his best to diffuse the situation, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Roman, you need to calm—”

But the Head of the Table is too far gone, harshly shrugging off his cousin’s innocent attempt at calming him down. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Roman removes himself from their presence, not even wanting to see these useless bitches as he calls out once again. “Where is she!”

It’s only then he sees a blonde woman walk out from the back, dressed in a white coat, clipboard in hand. She looks irritated which only pisses him off because how the fuck do you work at a fucking hospital and look annoyed. But, when she sees him, or maybe sees how irate he is, her gaze softens. 

She steps in his direction as Roman also steps toward her, putting some distance between himself and the group. “Mr. Reigns, can—”

“Where is my wife?” It’s the same question he will keep asking until it no longer needs to be asked because he’s taken to her.

The woman, doctor, probably, frowns, motioning to the back. “Can we talk in private?”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best not to violate his code of never putting his hands on a woman. But, this bitch is really fucking pushing it. 

He just wants to see Solana.

He needs to see her. 

“You’ve got three fucking seconds to take me—”

She scoffs, relenting and “Fine, we’ll do it here. Your wife is in recovery. We were able to successfully pump her stomach, but we had to sedate her because she was inconsolable upon waking up. I suspect she’s in the midst of some sort of psychotic episode.”

There’s so much in that sentence to process. Roman doesn’t even know where to begin to dissect it, so he starts with the part that pisses him off the most. “She tried to overdose on pills and your solution was to put more fucking medicine in her?”

The doctor, however, seems to show no sign of backing down. “My patient needed to be stabilized, so I stabilized her.” Her voice softens a bit as she adds, not necessarily as something to throw in his face but rather an important note he shouldn’t ignore. “If you had seen how upset she was, you would have understood.”

Roman, however, can’t think about that. Can’t think about how upset and terrified Solana must have been. Somehow a level calmer, he expresses once again, “I want to see her.”

“I understand, but—”

Right away, Roman knows his brief respite from level 10 rage is about to be broken by whatever she’s about to say. “What?”

She takes a deep breath, informing, “I’m putting her on a 5250 hold.”

Roman looks from side to side. “What the fuck does that mean?”

There’s no sign of hesitation as she explains, “it means I’m keeping her here in the hospital for two weeks on a legally mandated psychiatric hold.”

Yeah….he was absolutely right. 

Level fucking 10. 

“Like hell you are!” Roman is seeing red. Who in the flying fuck does this bitch think she is to say Solana is staying in the hospital? “She’s coming home with me. Tonight. The minute she fucking wakes up.”

And that’s a fact.

“How much do you know about Solana’s psychiatric history?” A lot, and that’s why he knows she doesn’t need to stay here in this forbidding, sterile place. She needs to be home with him so he can take care of her. “This is her second suicide attempt. Now, I don’t know what the hell happened to trigger this psychotic break, but your wife is severely and actively suicidal.” She lowers her voice, softly and almost sympathetically sharing with him so only he can hear. “She was inconsolable because she was upset we saved her life. She was upset she was still alive.”

That’s it.

The thing that makes Roman’s anger crumble almost entirely. 

He wanted to believe it was a mistake, an accident of some sort. Didn’t want to believe that she truly intended to take her life tonight.

But this woman has no reason to lie, and beyond that, he’s innately adept at deciphering when someone is lying and when they’re being truthful. 

She’s not lying. 

Solana wanted to die.

Solana wanted to actually die.

And he doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

At all. 

The crack in his harsh exterior must be evident, because the doctor continues to try to convince him what he now knows probably is the right thing to do. “You can get her to sign an AMA and take her home, but I guarantee you that she’ll end up right back in this hospital for another attempt…..and the next time might be too late.”

He can’t.

Roman can’t lose her. He can’t even let himself think about what he would do if he lost her.

Especially if it was because of her own actions. 

She continues, desperate, “let us get her stabilized. On a medication regimen. As I said, this presents as a brief psychotic episode, which we can help her manage and treat but only if you let us keep her here to monitor her.” 

Roman tilts his head back, eyes closed as he scratches his beard. There’s an unfamiliar weight in his chest and stomach at the thought of having to leave this hospital tonight without Solana. But this isn’t about what he wants, it’s about what’s best for Solana. 

It’s about what she needs, and he’ll do whatever he has to do to make sure she gets the help she needs. 

“Jey.” His cousin steps up, previously keeping a respectful distance. “Get with security. I don’t want a son of a bitch that’s not Bloodline or Bloodline vetted to step foot on this floor while she’s here.”

Jey nods. “You got it.” 

Roman overhears footsteps followed by the woman speaking again, “Thank you.” She takes another deep breath and informs, “Now, it’s standard practice that we not allow visitors the first couple days—“

And just like that, the anger has returned, even more intense now that he knows Solana isn’t getting released tonight. Or anytime soon. “I don’t give a fuck about your standard practice—”

Bayley’s voice suddenly enters the conversation, Roman aware that the remaining group has stepped forward, obviously wanting to be aware of the plan and what happens now. “Roman, can you please just let Dr. Stratus do her fucking job? This isn’t about—”

Bayley, however, chose the wrong time to fuck with him. Because any filter he ever acquired because of Solana certainly won’t be used until she’s back home, with him, where she belongs.  “Like you were supposed to? Solana wouldn’t be here if you were watching her like I fucking told you to! This is your fault!”

There’s a small, minute part of him that feels bad when he sees the devastation on Bayley’s face, but it’s short lived, vastly overpowered by his tremendous anger. 

And fear.

Bayley is quick with the response though, ready and willing to aim just as low as he is. “Fuck you, Roman! You don’t get to blame this on us! You should have fucking told her! You had no right to keep the truth from her! She’s here because of you!”

The dark irony in her accusation is that It’s nothing he doesn’t already know.

Nothing he doesn’t already hate himself for.

Bayley is absolutely right.

This absolutely is on him. 

His attempts to save her only damned her. 

“Stop it! Both of ya’ll! This don’t do shit to help, and Solana wouldn’t want ya’ll fighting!” Jimmy suddenly jumps in, moving between the two highly emotional people, even if both are only expressing it as anger. He turns to his cousin first, as Naomi tries to pull Bayley away, also working to de-escalate an already tense situation. “Look, Uce, I know you want to see her, but—”

“I’m not leaving without seeing her.” Roman’s gaze is on his cousin but it’s directed toward the doctor who either takes some type of mercy on him or recognizes that Roman will literally kill everyone who gets in his way if she doesn’t give in to his demand, because she’s switching her tune.

“A couple of minutes,” she relents. “But only you.” 

Roman doesn’t care about the rest of them anyway. They can see her whenever they fucking see her. 

He’s the one who needs to see her. 

But, it’s in seeing her that a part of him wishes he didn’t. Because this isn’t right. She shouldn’t be laid up like this, unconscious, pale, such a sad expression on her sleeping face.

He hasn’t seen her like this since that first night he overheard and woke her up from her nightmare.

A nightmare. 

He’d give anything for that to be the case again. 

“I can’t lose you, Solana.” It's the first thing to leave his mouth, a plea and prayer. There’s nothing but vulnerability in his voice, and he doesn’t give a fuck. He’ll be as vulnerable as he needs to be for her. He’ll do anything for her. “I need you. I told you that, but I don’t think you understand how badly I need you.”

If there was any doubt before, it’s completely destroyed now. He doesn’t know how honest or comfortable he could be outside of these four walls, if it wasn’t just the two of them, but right now, with nothing but her steady breathing and rhythmic beating of the machines she’s plugged up to, he’ll pour his heart out.

“You can’t leave me, alright?” Roman’s hand moves to her forehead, thumb caressing her skin that feels too cold, doesn’t feel like her. “I don’t care what it takes, what you need, what I have to fucking do, but I need you to get better, and I’ll do anything to help you.” 

And he will. It’s why despite how much he hates this notion of having to leave her, the almost anxiety he has at having to leave tonight without her in his arms, he’ll do it. He’ll do it because he just wants her to be happy.

She deserves that, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it to her. 

His voice is thick with emotion. “I just need you to stay with me, baby, okay?” Not being able to see her pretty brown eyes, the curl of her full lips as she smiles, his favorite fucking thing in the world, it’s torture.

He never wants to see her like this again. 

He can’t. 

He won’t.

Roman kisses her forehead and forces himself to walk out of the hospital room, one of the hardest departures he’s ever had to do. Dr. Stratus is waiting outside the door, and just like that, the infamous stoic, unreadable expression is back.

With Solana, he’s just Roman.

But for everyone else, he’s the Tribal Chief. 

There is no other option. 

“No men on her care team. Women only.” If she’s going to be here, he’s going to make sure she

has everything she needs. “I want daily updates. Anything happens or changes with her status at all, I want to know. You understand me?”

Dr. Stratus must have also read the section in Solana’s medical records that alludes to her sexual trauma, because she doesn’t object. “Understood.” She swallows, bringing the medical chart to her chest. “You know…I head an inpatient women’s psychiatric clinic about an hour out. It’s not uncommon for patients like your wife to transition there following dis—”

“You can keep her on your two week hold, but she’s coming home with me as soon as that’s up. Try and get in my way, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

She’s wise to not push, smart to not try to stop him from leaving, because as far as Roman is concerned, there’s nothing and no one he’ll stop short from torturing, killing, and maiming if they try to get in his way of being with Solana.

He can’t live without her.

He loves her too much to live without her.

[theplottdump]

Chad: Do you want to play in here for a while with Daddy until Leanne comes home? Sunny: Okay. Shromp play too? Chad: I'll go grab him for you in a minute.

Sunny: Daddy mad? Chad: He's just tired baby. Sunny: Why? Chad: Cause you never let him sleep child. Sunny: Daddy silly.

Chad: Now, are you going to be good for a bit? Sunny: Mmmmmmmmm Chad: You have to promise. Or no ice cream treat. Sunny: okie!

Sunny: I love you Daddy. Chad: I love you too sunflower.

Val: How are you so good at that?

Chad: Good at what? Val: I don't know, making everything better.

Chad: She's your daughter, I can't control her as much as I can't control you. So at a certain point I either have to trick you into doing what I want or just go with the flow.

Val: I don't believe you can trick me. Chad: Oh yeah? How do you think I got you to watch all those Sim Elliott movies you hate? Val: You keep telling me there'd be a lot more violence but so far it's just a lot of squinting, dust, and horses.

Val: I don't think I'm cut out for this whole fatherhood thing. You're just so much better at it than me. I'd probably be dead in a ditch by now if it wasn't for you and Leanne. Chad: Val stop that, you're a great father. You're just sleep deprived.

Chad: Why don't you go upstairs, wash off your eyeliner, take a nap, and I'll watch Sunny until Leanne gets back. Sound good? Val: Okay. But first you're probably going to have to wrestle some clothes back on her.

Chad: Shit.

Val: Yeah, I'm pretty sure she gets that from you.

[reprisalet]

[ Sweet Bun Trio ] - A selection of traditional Faerghus pastries, all small enough to be eaten in one delicious bite! The first bun is filled with sweet cream and topped with icing and a candied cherry. The second is a sweet roll filled with almonds, pecans, and dried cranberries and glazed with honey. The third is a bun sliced in half, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar on top.

"Reyson!" Leanne flutters over to her older brother, excitement visible in her body language as plainly as in her heart. In her hands she holds the remaining one of the three sweet buns Rajaion had given her; the first two were fulfilling enough, so she'd strategically saved the one that she feels Reyson would be most likely to enjoy. She hands it over now without a word of explanation about the pastry, instead keeping up a train of enthusiastic chatter.

"I can't believe beorc throw parties like this! Isn't it amazing?" she says, "I even heard there was something called the White Heron Cup last year, where they had a dance competition!"

Which is kind of silly, when she thinks about it — if it's named after them, shouldn't it be a singing competition instead? Maybe the silly beorc just don't know the difference!

"Oh, and look what they gave me," she looks down, taking up her brooch with the black feather and placing it against her brother's white wings to see the contrast, "It looks pretty cool, right? Here, you can have this one, and then you can try to collect all of them!" She wants her brother to have the most fun he possibly can tonight, after all!

he smiles delightedly at his sister as she comes by, eyes already on the delicious-looking snack she carries. he does not dare ask for it—if his dear sister's heart is as generous as he suspects, then she is here to share. if not, then that is her right as the youngest to keep it for herself.

oh, but it seems luck is on his side. he accepts the treat without a word and immediately takes a bite, pleased with the flavors.

"thank you. your generosity knows no bounds," he says, smiling brightly. he is in a good mood, which good music, food, and company are sure to give him. his mood is better still among family.

"these beorc have thrown an interesting party. i... admit, i didn't know what to expect. silly of them, though, to name a dance competition after herons. we're much better-known for our voices than our steps, but i can't blame them for being ignorant. i guess."

he takes the offered brooch as well, and passes her his own in return. the one bearing the small bell that he has is pinned carefully to her outfit. "i'll be collecting, then. take this in the meantime."

he pats her on the head. "are you having fun? meeting any new people?"

[jaqobis]

okay, some thoughts on the rand love interest situation

i’m going to get out of the way upfront that OF COURSE it is incredibly silly that we have three gorgeous women head over heels for this protagonist at the same time. that said.

there was a solid space of time where aviendha/rand was my favorite ship of his, and that definitely had a lot to do with how relatively well-developed their buildup was. i love a good enemies to lovers arc! and they were really together all of the time for 2-3 straight books, a few ic months i think?, so in a series where people tend to abruptly realize they’re in love with someone they barely know i really enjoyed watching them get to know each other and care for each other. i also really like how they push one another to grow and change, how aviendha is never cowed by his dragon reborn or car’a’carn status and how willing to push back on rand she is, which is something he desperately needs especially as time goes on. and they’re just a sweet couple!

elayne/rand really was my first love though, and winter’s heart has been reminding me of why. they’re just SO SWEET together. it’s a crime they get so little time together on page because their scenes are always really cute and memorable. i love how elayne knew him Before Everything, and i love love love the material about the two of them together in the stone of tear, sneaking in kisses around lessons in ruling. elayne really gets why rand changes in the ways he does, fully understanding the demands of leadership and the need to make difficult calls. they’re both very duty-oriented people -- something they both also have in common with aviendha -- and it gives them similar priorities and a strong rapport of respect. for me, avirandlayne is THEE ship. the three of them love each other so much, have such strong bonds, and are so good for each other! let elayne be with avi and have the dragon reborn as her sidepiece the rare moments he’s back in caemlyn -- 

min/rand is a big oof. i don’t usually dislike female fictional characters when i can blame the writing for handling them badly, AND BOY THE WRITING HANDLES HER BADLY, but every time min is on the page is incredibly! grating! she is so insecure and controlling with rand?? this relationship is toxic to BOTH of them. min stop making changes for a man and love yourself. rand stop letting her treat you this way. there’s a lot i could say about min’s behavior once she’s done with the siuan/leanne/logain road trip and makes it back to rand (there is a LOT i could say), but it is wild to me how CONTROLLING she is of this boy with huge amounts of control issues. there’s a whole other meta i’ll write one day about ways rand tries to exert control in his life where his agency is constantly being ripped away from him, which makes it RIDICULOUS that his love interest who’s always with him is always being like this ?? she decides what he gets to know, she decides what cadsuane and other people get to know about him, she decides what impression he makes on people when she’s feeling insecure/jealous ?? she even decides when he gets to express vulnerability because when organic situations arise (rand stumbling from saidin sickness in front of her, rand being upset about deaths), she often misreads the situation or decides to distract him with sex instead of engaging with him on an emotional level. unless the moment arises when she wants him to open up to her, which tends to be at moments he’s not up to it, so of course nothing. happens. where elayne and aviendha really do seem happy to be in a poly relationship with rand, min is constantly privately thinking about how he should be in a monogamous one (with her) which is not her call! i just yesterday read the part where she tells rand she would’ve warder bonded him whether he likes it or not (min you’re not even a CHANNELER) and he compares that to alanna! MIN KNOWS WHAT ALANNA DID AT THIS POINT. meanwhile back at the bonding conversation where elayne did most of the talking, it was very much posed as an offer that he could say no to, and she was DISGUSTED once he told her how alanna bonded him without his consent. to be fair all the girls were, and it was good to see! 

this is a series that has a pretty wobbly relationship with consent in general, so i know min isn’t deliberately being presented in the way i’m perceiving her, but i am having an incredibly hard time with her and am dreading several more books of her being glued to rand’s side.

[sexualintimidationdemon]

Day 25

Reflections on: The Cave (2005)

Ooh baby this movie had everything I wanted out of a horror movie. It’s mysterious and ridiculous and that’s really all I can ask for!

I’ll admit, it starts out bad but unexpectedly improves as soon as all the HOT CAVE SCIENTISTS show up.

I guess they’re not all scientists, but everyone in this is ridiculously attractive! We’ve got Daniel Dae Kim (AKA Jin from Lost), Lena Headey (AKA Cersei from Game of Thrones), Piper Perabo (her name is fun to say), Morris Chestnut (perhaps the most attractive?), and Eddie Cibrian (AKA LeAnn Rimes’ husband). If you ask me it’s a crime to send this many attractive people into a spooky cave!

The dialogue is delightfully silly: “We’re gonna go deep on this one!”, “Demons, huh?”, “Respect the cave.”, “It’s awesome!”, “It’s dark, it’s deep and it’s wet.”, and “That’s some kind of eel!”.

I will never get tired of watching cave-based content. Everything looks so cool in caves! I don’t even care if it was shot in a set or not. I love it all.

This felt like Alien (1979) meets Zoolander (2001) meets The Muppets. I love all those things so this was great for me personally.

I don’t want to give too much away so I’ll just say the special effects were excellent.

I wasn’t expecting to enjoy this as much as I did. What a treat. Love u caves.

[archibaldcurothers]

Take the Long Way Home, Part Six

Author’s note: Sorry for the super long wait and thank you for your support and patience! I hope you enjoy c:

—————————————————

The sun rose from its slumber, and so too did Sesshomaru’s rag-tag team of strays. Sesshomaru and Jaken were fully alert and ready to depart, but the humans were less eager. Jaken wasted no time chastising (Y/N) and Rin, condemning them as lazy and slothful for their comparatively slow rousing. (Y/N) stood up, annoyed by the small creature’s abrasive nagging, but ignored him as she stretched her tired body; Rin eagerly mimicked the movements. The two girls had slept well on Sesshomaru’s luxurious boa, and (Y/N) carefully gathered it up, brushing off any debris, and brought it over to his Lordship.

“Thank you again, it’s so soft! I think that’s the best sleep I’ve had since I came to your world.”

Sesshomaru showed no expression as he took back the fur. “I’m glad it was of use.”

(Y/N) smiled at him and then turned to go back to Rin and Ah-Un. Sesshomaru watched her, noticing her movement seemed more fluid and relaxed. The small comfort of the boa really did appear to have made a difference. As he wrapped it back around his shoulder, he found himself tensing. The movement of placing it had rustled up the scent of (Y/N) that clung to the fur, causing an aromatic cloud of sweet rain and florals to hang heavily in the air around him. The demon’s breath quickened ever so slightly, his mind adrift in a thick fog, and his slender fingers flexed and curled in a steady rhythm.

“My Lord! My Lord! Can you hear me!”

Jaken’s shrill voice pierced through the veil, and Sesshomaru looked to his servant with a severe gaze. Jaken shrunk away, taking on a meek tone as he pressed on, “Apologies, my Lord! You appeared as though you had been vexed; an impossible thing, to be sure! There is nobody who could possibly take such hold of you! I admit it was a foolish thing for me to have even considered but-”

“Let us go,” Sesshomaru interrupted.

********************

It wasn’t difficult to see that something was amiss about Sesshomaru. He had seemed fine at daybreak, but soon after, his demeanor had become tense. As the group had set off, following his lead, you had noticed him turning his face into the fluff of his boa, only to quickly jerk his head back away from it. You worried that perhaps you hadn’t cleaned it off as well as you ought to have. It had looked pristine, by your estimation, but you supposed a powerful demon would be able to perceive things your silly human senses couldn’t. Throughout the day, Sesshomaru periodically nuzzled into the fur adorning his shoulder, and each time, after a second or two, he would abruptly turn back away from it, as though it electrocuted him. Laying on the fluffy mass had been a treat, but you suspected you wouldn’t be allowed to do it again.

*********************

Night fell once again. (Y/N) and Rin had taken to riding atop Ah-Un as their feet had become sore, and Jaken loudly mocked their weak human constitutions.

“You won’t find Lord Sesshomaru or myself needing such frivolous accommodations! You humans are all the same, soft and weak! Why, before the two of you, Lord Sesshomaru and I could cover three times the ground we do now! You’re lucky Lord Sesshomaru is so merciful as to allow you to ride atop Ah-Un or your enfeebled bodies would be left behind. On top of that-”

“We will rest here tonight.”

“Oh, of course my Lord! What a fine location you have chosen!” Jaken continued to yammer as Sesshomaru walked past him and over to Ah-Un as (Y/N) helped Rin dismount from the great dragon-like beast. In this small window, Sesshomaru caught himself turning his face into his boa, noticing that the scent from the morning was largely gone from the fur.

As soon as (Y/N) set Rin on the ground, the little girl skipped over to Sesshomaru. “I can’t believe we get to camp two nights in a row!” she beamed.

(Y/N) joined Rin and meekly offered her gratitude. “Yes, thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

Sesshomaru showed no emotion, but removed his boa and proffered it to (Y/N).

**************************

You took it hesitantly, unsure why he was giving it to you again considering he had seemed put-off by it all day. Maybe he was telling you to wash it? Before you could get clarification, Jaken exploded with indignation.

“You would just stare at his Lordship when he is so benevolent as to give you his exquisite stole? The ungrateful nature of you humans!”

Sesshomaru stopped the angry gremlin’s tirade by speaking calmly to you, “It seemed that you were more well-rested after sleeping atop it. Use it again, if you like.”

“Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru,” Rin gleefully exclaimed.

“Yes! Yes, thank you, m’lord! This is very kind of you!”

He gave you a small nod and then turned away, walking to a nearby tree to sleep against. Rin helped you arrange the fur beside Ah-Un and the two of you laid down, the young girl cuddling up closely to you. You gave her a hug and she giggled with glee. This life was certainly more difficult than the one you had left behind, but it wasn’t so bad.

The two of you stared up at the night sky; the moon was full and bright. “Did I ever tell you that the people in my time have been to the moon?”

Rin bolted upright and regarded you with mock suspicion. You laughed at her incredulousness and assured her you were telling the truth. The girl had many questions.

***********************

Sesshomaru listened to (Y/N)’s fantastical story that humans had climbed inside a large metal vessel and gone to the heavens to walk on the moon. That there had been a race between two nations to see who could get there first, that only very special humans had gone to the sky like this and they were called “astronauts”, and that (Y/N) was very passionate about the unfair demotion of a celestial body called “Pluto”.

He could hear the pride in her voice as she told Rin all of this; how proud (Y/N) was of the humans in her time and what they had accomplished. He wondered if she resented this time she had stumbled upon. Even the highest-ranking humans of this time were pathetic when compared to the heaven-roaming individuals she spoke about, and, as much as it wounded his pride to admit, even he could not visit the stars. If she couldn’t get back to her own time, was there any way she could possibly be happy in this one?

He silently cursed himself. (Y/N)’s happiness was none of his concern. It wasn’t his responsibility to keep her spirits raised. He put the thought from his mind, focusing instead on the sound of the leaves rustling on the tree. It was none of his concern. None of his concern.

*

*

*

Tag list: @fierysins @blck-bmbi @berryblossum @neeadinghugs @sailor-earth-1 @thefandomzoneisdangerous @afuckingunicornn @grace-writes-shit @rememberourlastkiss @morphituu @samanthaa-leanne @probablyzombiedinosaurs @blacklotussai @poemfreak306 @moonchild2190 @ohjammers @crispygummy @bottled-poet @seohee-hwa @themarblefox09 @dottie-witch @soshitan @nellaphine @skrilltia @florssils @katherine12123-blog-blog @reignofglitter @katialvi @ameonna97 @velveteencurls @jessicarosequinzelfleck @zoilalove213 @scorpios-unite @maixx @lysawayne @tanyeonn @radicalcannoliqueen @viktorian-horror-story

[rreeaahh]

“I would be falling without you” | George Weasley

pairing: george x hufflepuff!reader (fem)

word count: 3,645 (unedited)

request:  “ Hi honey!!! 💖 Can I request a a hufflepuff reader x George?? I'm thinking something about him failing Herbology and needing tutoring😉 “ - @alwaysnforeverfangirl​ a/n: sorry for the long, long waiting, my dear! hope you like it!

prompt: 33. Don’t make me get violent.

summary: after Fred gets on her nerves, Y/N is a little more stressed than usual and a little more aggressive, but George still needs her help.

warnings: maybe some angst? a little fluff? the reader being called ‘hun’ by george? are these warnings?

“You need to take a break, Y/N,” Madam Sprout laughed as you watered the plants in the greenhouse. “Kids your age spent their Saturdays at Hogsmeade, not with their Herbology teacher.”

“You mind my presence, Professor?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

It was true that you, sometimes, preferred to spend your free time in the greenhouses, to water and take care of the plants or to clean the place, and your Head of House really appreciated all your hard work – that’s why she supported you and talk with Professor Snape and Dumbledore himself to create a Potions Club, where all the members talked about Potions and Herbology – the two subjects being practically inseparable – and they helped each other with anything they needed.

“Of course I don’t mind your presence, Y/N!” she rapidly said, making you laugh as you arranged the pot of a plant.

“Well, I think I’m done for today,” you announced her and took your gloves off.

“Thank you very much, darling,” she said, her voice warm and sweet as always – she was a lovely person, always telling every Hufflepuff that, in her heart, every one of them were her children. “Have some rest, will you?”

“You know I have to write some reports for Professor Snape, Ma’am,” you sighed and thought about how you always wrote down what happened at every meeting of the Club, because Snape wanted to know if you used his classroom and in what way. The truth is that even if the name was “Potions Club”, none of the members really wanted to enter that classroom – you’d always meet in the greenhouse and study together at those two objects. You went to Snape’s classroom only if necessary.

“You work very hard for that group of yours, don’t you?” Sprout asked again, a proud smile on her face.

“You know it’s my dream,” you also smiled and tried to hide the disappointment in your voice, “Only if more students would like to join.”

“Ah, don’t worry, Y/N! I’m sure only the best want to be in such a great club,” she tried to cheer you up and you gave her a smile, thanking her and leaving the greenhouse.

In the courtyard the sun was shining but it was a little colder, the temperature from the greenhouse being higher than the one outside, so the plants could grow beautifully. You were only in your shirt and the wind gave you goosebumps but it was pleasant after a long morning of working.

You knew the library was already full of students who were late with their due dates for projects or essays, so you didn’t go there – you needed to focus and not be disturbed while writing those papers. Your Common Room was by far a better idea, because many of your housemates were in that trip, probably drinking butterbeer and eating chocolate frogs, so the place must be quiet. And you were right, the welcoming room was empty, the yellow sofa cushions were at their place, the little plants were healthy and everything was as it should be – your Common Room always gave you that feeling of home, it was simple and comfortable and just perfect. You sighed in relief as you laid down on the couch, looking at the roof and then closing your eyes, only wanting to enjoy that little moment of peace. Your body felt relaxed, like a big weight was take off your shoulders. You thought about how you needed to write those papers and how to attract more members, how to make the club be more appealing to the students. Sure, it wasn’t as fun as the Dueling Club, but it was important in its way. More images of students filling the greenhouses, chatting and helping each other with their homework, taking about plants and making new potions were playing in your mind and you felt a feeling of peace, falling asleep with a smile on your face.

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up!” whispered a sweet voice, a warm hand touching your arm.

You opened your left eye, sleepy, looking at Leanne who was smiling friendly at you.

“Rise and shine, Y/N,” she laughed, “it’s time for dinner,” she told you as you got up, your eyes wide open.

“Dinner time?!” you shouted, already stressing. “I need to write those stupid reports for Snape, shit!”

Leanne seemed to find your situation funny, because she continued to laugh quietly as you searched for some parchment on the big, round table in the center of the room.

“You need to come to dinner, Y/N, the elves made mashed potatoes, your favorites,” she tried to convince you but you rolled your eyes.

“They make that nearly everyday, Leanne,” you laughed and sat down, your quill in your hand, already starting to write down the activity of your club. “I’m skipping dinner tonight,” you let her know so she could go without you, but she didn’t approve your decision.

“You can’t skip meals and stress over paper-work, Y/N,” she said and tried to get you up, but no success – she was only making you laugh at her failure.

“Let me be,” you asked her but she was too stubborn, continuously trying to make you leave your seat and follow her to the Great Hall.

“What are you two doing?”

“Cedric, thanks Merlin!” Leanne greeted him with a big smile on her face, nearly smirking devilish. “Y/N wants to skip dinner,” she said and you watched Cedric’s face become serious as you got ready for a speech. “Would you help me?”

Instead of answering her or tell you how important was to eat three meals a day and stay hydrated, Cedric came to you and his arms surrounded you, grabbing you from your waist and lifting you up from your seat. In that moment you were able to held to the quill and some papers and asked Cedric what in the name of Helga Hufflepuff he was going.

“I’m taking you to the Great Hall, in the name of Helga Hufflepuff,” he laughed, Leanne behind him, laughing as well.

“I have work to do Mister Prefect!” you said laughing, but still a little annoyed by his actions. “Besides, I’m not hungry.”

“And I’m not hearing you,” he continued and walk out of the Hufflepuff Common Room, walking on the corridors with you in his arms, holding tight. Everybody was looking at you when Cedric stepped in the Great Hall, but they were aware of your friendship and Ced’s silly jokes.

“You can let me down now, Diggory,” you scoffed when you got to your seat. He did as you asked and he sat down next to you, Leanne in front of you, on the other side of the table.

While eating, you took advantage of the fact that you grabbed some parchment and your quill so while eating, you could write a thing or two; well, actually you were eating while writing, more or less, because the mashed potatoes started to cool down as the papers started to fill with ink.

“Could you guys be a little quiet?” you sighed stressed and looked at Leanne and Cedric, who were talking about his next Quidditch practice. “I need to focus.”

“Hi, Y/N,” the voice interrupted the conversation going on between your friends and you looked at Penelope Clearwater, a friendly smile appearing on your lips.

“Hi, Penny, what’s up?” you said happy to see her. Last week she couldn’t come to the meeting of the group, a sickness making her stay in bed the whole weekend.

“I’m fine, much better, actually,” she said and you invited her to take a seat, so she took a place next to Leanne, who only greeted her and went back to pay attention to Cedric. “How about you? Doing Snape’s reports?”

“You know how he can be sometimes,” you rolled your eyes. “Anyway, how can I help you?”

“Um, well,’ she started and you already knew it was about a favor – you didn’t mind, but it wasn’t exactly the right time, ‘you know the twins, right? Percy’s brothers? A year above you?”

“Yeah, who doesn’t know them?” you laughed.

“Well, I told George that I know someone who can help him with Herbology, he’s failing and his mum’s going to kill him if he doesn’t do something about it. Maybe you could… help him?”

You looked over to the Gryffindors’ table, two pairs of identical chocolate eyes looking directly at you. From that distance you couldn’t say who’s who, you weren’t able to tell them apart even if they were in front of you. That until one of them would open his mouth, of course, because Fred’s the first to talk and George’s the one who’s patient enough to explain his brother’s idea. And that was somehow strange – from the two of the George was the one failing, not the louder twin.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Penelope added when ypu didn’t come up with an answer. “I know you’re really busy with your own homework and the Potions Club and all.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I think I need to talk to him before, to see what are his problems and how we could fix them, but not right now. Maybe tomorrow, after the meeting?”

“Sure! I’ll let him know, he’ll be excited,” she said happily and got up, smiling brightly to you. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You told her it was your pleasure as she left, going back to the Gryffindor table where she always sat, eating her meals with her boyfriend, Percy Weasley – they were cute together and Percy treated her amazing, you saw that everytime he would wait for her to finish the Potions Club by the greenhouse entry.

Leanne and Cedric didn’t bother you anymore, giving you some peace to write those papers as fast as you could. And you were so focused that you didn’t notice another person’s presence until they grabbed the paper you were writing on.

“Hey!” you shouted and looked angrily at the red-head who sat were Penelope did, an identical clone behind him.

“Well, hello,” he greeted you with a smile on his lips, reading the stolen paper. “You must be Y/N, if I’m correct.”

You weren’t so sure who was who, because you never were good enough to figure out which twin is Fred and which is George. By the daring attitude and confident smile the one who was in front of you, you thought it was Fred; Cedric always told you how loud he could get, describing George more responsible, but not too much.

“You’re correct, Weasley,” you spoke giving him an ugly look. “Besides that, I’m busy, so give it back, please,” you asked nicely and Fred continued to read peacefully.

“It can wait,” he said nonchalantly and put his hands on the table, the parchment still in his possession. “Penelope told us you’ll help Georgie with Herbology.”

“I said I’ll think about it after I have a chat with him,” you corrected him and looked to George, who gave you a friendly smile. “Tomorrow, not now,” you added looking back to Fred.

“Oh, c’mon,” Fred laughed, “what’s a little time, right, George?”

His twin cleared his throat. “Maybe we should leave, Fred,” he muttered looking at how frustrated you seemed to be.

“No,” the older twin said annoyed with his attitude and looked back at you. “Look, Y/N,” he started, playing with the paper’s corner, “George needs you to tutor him. Mum will kill him if he’s failing classes.”

You were a calm person – quite, friendly and always wanting to help other people; you hardly got mad, but in that moment you felt your self-control leaving your body. If you hated something it was the moment when someone would tell you what to do and treat your problems less important than theirs. And it was not the case.

“Listen here, Fred,” you laughed slightly. “I won’t say twice,” both of them were paying attention to you and George was feeling like something really bad was about to happen. He felt it in his stomach, that feeling of sudden sickness which was knocking in his body. “It not my job to tutor your brother over here,” you began and looked at George, “and if I said I’ll talk to him tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll do it. My responsibilities are way more important than your little games and I won’t ignore them just to please you.”

You got up, grabbing your things – without the parchment in Fred’s hand – and slammed your hand on the table, making eye contact with him. “And if your brother needs to be tutored he could speak for himself, y’know? Tomorrow I have a very important meeting in the greenhouse with my Potions Club – I can speak to him after that,” you let him know, speaking like George wasn’t present.

You started to walk away from your table and leave the Great Hall, too annoyed to even finish your dinner or your paperwork. A part of you felt horrible for the way you acted but the stress took control over you – the fault was half yours and half Fred’s, so he couldn’t blame you. But then it was George, who just wanted a little help and didn’t really bother you at all and you still spoke of him like he wasn’t there. You hated how easily you could get mad, but sometimes you just couldn’t help it. The worst part was the regret that came afterwards.

It was still early and the weather was lovely, a warm night was about to come above Hogwarts and that was another good reason to finish your activity in the greenhouse; the Common Room was always crowded during the night, a lot of Hufflepuffs chatting and doing homework, and the library was a risky place – Mrs. Norris and Filch were always inspecting that part of the castle, searching for students to get in trouble.

You casted Lumos as soon as you entered the greenhouse, the specific smell taking over your senses. You sat down at Madam’s Sprout table, the quill in one hand and your wand in another, and you started to focus again in those papers.

Your concentration was over, anyways. All you could think about was the guilt that was born inside you – George did nothing wrong and you still were a prick. Now he won’t ever ask for your help again, he’ll tell everyone what an unbearable person you are and nobody will ever sign up for your club. You putted down the quill and read the last sentences again, trying to find the logic in your own words.

When the door opened you immediately casted Nox and stood in silence, you held your breath and waited. It wasn’t Filch, for sure, because the steps were lighter and there was not a single caterwaul from his cat.

“Who’s there?” you asked, making an effort to hide the fear in your voice.

The silence continued to scream in your ears so you casted Lumos again, but the distance made it impossible for you to see anything. “It’s not funny, Cedric,” you said without realizing, not even thinking if it was or not Cedric.

When a red-head appeared in your sight you rolled your eyes. “What do you want, Weasley?”

The boy continued to walk to you, his face being more pale due to your wand’s lighting and his red hair. “I might have something for you,” he informed you, showing the parchment that he stole from you earlier.

“Give it back,” you simply said, facing him, He stopped from walking at two steps from you and he was watching you like he wasn’t sure how to start or even what to say. “Give it back,” you repeated and reached out for the paper, approaching him.

In a fast move, he lifted his arm up and held the paper above your head. “You need to hear me out, first,” he warned you.

“I’m not negotiating with you,” you scoffed and went even closer.

“I won’t give it back,” he laughed and looked down at you.

The tip of your wand made contact with the skin of his neck, the surprised look in his eyes making you laugh internally. “Don’t make me get violent,” you whispered as the wood pressed harder into his neck. You could see how he swallowed and looked at your wand and then at you, directly in your eyes. You could swear you saw a little sparkle in his brown iris.

“You’re a little too small for that, hun,” he chuckled and grabbed your wand, taking it away from him.

“Give it back, Fred!” you shouted annoyed and jumped, trying to get back your parchment.

You both were holding into your wand, his other hand having the paper and yours trying to get it back, but that action – you jumping – only made you lose balance and step wrong, causing you to fall on him, his back making contact with the ground.

“Auch,” he complained and opened his eyes, seeing you now over his body, your hand laying on his chest and your eyes big, doe-like. “I’m not Fred,” he started and you felt a little bad, because your harsh feeling were meant for his brother.

“Why didn’t you give it back to me, then?” you asked, too scared to move away from him.

“I wanted you to listen to me first,” he said and cleared his throat, looking away, as he was embarrassed. “I want to apologize.”

A bright color of red came across your cheeks as you heard him. You literally threatened him not even knowing what he was about.

“I’m sorry my brother and I bothered you at dinner,” he continued, “Fred can be a little impatient sometimes, but he didn’t mean to upset you,” he explained and you could see how much he wanted to clear his brother’s name. “He’s just worried about my grades and how mum could react, that’s why I need your help with Herbology.”

His voice was warm and calm, like he didn’t want to scare you. You were mesmerized by his tonality, by the way his lips were moving with every word he said.

“I’m sorry for being a prick,” you started, whispering. “I should’ve made some time to listen to you.”

You got up and George helped you get on your feet, your hand still in his – that made you blush and he seemed to notice but did nothing about it.

“It’s fine,” he smiled, “I’ll come tomorrow at the meeting, if that’s alright.”

“You don’t have to, George,” you said looking around. “The meeting is over at 11, you could come then.”

He continued to smile when your eyes were back on him, “I actually wanted to participate to one of the Potions Club’s meetings.”

“Oh,” was all you could say at that moment. “Ok,” you added.

“You guys start at 9, am I right?” he asked and gave the paper to you. You nodded and looked confused at the parchment, like the writing wasn’t yours. “See you then, hun,” he said and left, leaving you in complete confusion about what just happened.

That night a part of you didn’t believe that George actually wanted to spent his Sunday morning in the greenhouse, talking about homework and plants. That idea was even stronger when ten minutes passed by 9 and he wasn’t there, but five more minutes later he came in, apologizing for being late. He sat down on a chair, with a notebook in his lap and a quill in his hand, writing down every idea that he thought it was important or interesting. He even asked you and the others some questions, made assumptions and tried to find logic in what you were saying.

“Thank you guys very much for joining me today,” you told to your little team and waved them goodbye as they left the greenhouse. You were alone or so you thought until a clapping sound made you jump a little in surprise.

“It was amazing,” George said to you, proudly.

“Thanks, George,” you laughed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You did well today, I actually don’t think you need tutoring if you’ll pay more attention.”

“No,” he said fast, “I need you to tutor me, I’m a mess on my own.”

“Then you should join the club.”

He got up and came closer to you, your body already kind of burning when he was in front of you. “I will, but I still need some private lessons.”

You bit your lower lip to stop a chuckle and looked at him, “Fine, George, I’ll tutor you.”

He shouted in joy and grabbed your hand, spinning you like in a waltz and making you laugh loudly. “Thank you, thank you!” he laughed too, stopping you from spinning when you bumped into his hard chest, a big smile on his lips before he kissed your cheek and a bright blush appearing on your face. “You’re my savior.”

You laughed lightly, looking in his eyes as he radiated pure joy all over the room. “I would be falling without you,” he declared, making you confused.

“You mean failing?”

“No,” he simply said, “Let’s have my private lesson next Saturday, is that fine?”

“Yes?” you said still confused with his words.

“Great, I’ll take you to Hogsmeade,” he smiled confident.

“Is this a date, George Weasley?”

“It’s a study date, hun,” he rolled his eyes. “But I take it any way you like to call it,” a smirk appeared on his lips as he winked at you.

“What did you mean, George?” you asked, referring to his declaration from earlier. “You would fall without me?”

“I said what I said, Y/N, and I mean it,” he told you in a serious tone. “I would be falling without you.”

[killianmesmalls]

There's toxic KR fans out there, just as in all fandoms. I've encountered them, unfortunately, at least on Twitter, not so much here. I couldn't get into s7 when the only dynamic left I liked was GQ, and my fave was an altered version of himself that was missing what we saw of him for 5 years (barring flashbacks). But I have nothing against s7, I like seeing you all enjoy it and have fun with it's content (cont.)

(cont.) But because I didn’t watch s7, I’ve been called a fake Hook fan and told that I don’t love him, told I don’t love or support Colin, that I only see Killian as a love interest, only care about CS and Emma, and that I’m not a Oncer. None of which are true. All by WH/KR fans, with usernames and faces. They’re out there. Just a handful, but a number just the same. The way I was treated, their assumptions and their labels, is what makes them toxic, not those harmless opinions on Emma or Hope.

Hi Anon!

First, thanks for your message! I know for some people writing what could come as even remotely confrontational messages (I know this isn’t, but perhaps someone could view it as such if in the wrong hands or even maybe in the right hands but wrong mood) can be a bit nerve-wracking. I feel like sometimes fandom is like a debate class where some want to be sure they have the most prepared answers out of concern anything they possibly say can be misconstrued, others would rather just not get called on because they hate debate, and others think debate and arguing are the same thing.

Now I’m picturing the debate scenes in Clueless, but I digress.

I do want to give a bit more clarity to what I said yesterday, and I do think Sandra had a great addition here. I don’t mean to imply that there are absolutely zero toxic KnightRook fans, and certainly no toxic fans who were at all pro-S7 or even tolerant of S7. As with any group of a decent size, there are bound to be some people who are unnecessarily aggressive and exclusive. What I meant was, since I’m admittedly very much in this Colin/Rose/KR fandom with dabblings of others, when I see accusations that we’re “just as bad” as the rude anons we get that call us fake fans for appreciating this season and this relationship, I want to see the proof.

Admittedly, I avoid Twitter. I think it’s a dumpster fire that lends itself less to creativity and more to getting notoriety for overly passionate, often anti, behavior. Now, that’s not to say there aren’t awesome Twitter communities, it’s just been my personal experience and in no way is anyone who enjoys interacting with other fans through that platform incorrect for doing so. Therefore, since I’ve avoided the majority of Twitter drama until it bleeds into Tumblr, you’re correct: there might be something on Twitter I’m missing and is blatantly obvious to anyone who is on there.

However, when I repeatedly see accusations that we’re just as aggressive or cruel as those who inappropriately use social justice platforms to degrade someone because they ship something the anti doesn’t like, I do want to see where this is coming from. I’m not meaning to say it doesn’t exist, just that if my small corner of the fandom is being troublesome, I’d like to see how.

After all, just because my experience most of the time is teasing the actors about their awkward silliness or discussing at length the characters’ bathroom habits with fellow KnightRook fans, that doesn’t mean the whole of our corner of the fandom is sticking to low-brow humor and pacifism. Though, those that aren’t really should try it some time. It can even be educational in its silliness! I have learned what a burpsnart is, and there’s a whole pamphlet that includes someone using flatulence to blow out 23 candles! Well, until they “beshat” the last one. Good times.

I am sorry to hear that pro-S7 and pro-KR fans have been rude to you on Twitter. No one should feel the need to defend themselves as a fan because they don’t like certain parts of something. You’re a Once fan, plain and simple. I’m not the biggest S4-6 fan, but I’m a Once fan just the same. I adore S7, and we may not see eye-to-eye on that, but that’s not to say you don’t have a valid opinion. This whole “you’re fake because you like x” rhetoric is exhausting and, frankly, embarrassing when it gets actors and writers tagged into it.

It’s the fans that attack anyone for a different opinion and throw things out as if they’re facts (like Lill’s interesting interaction yesterday or continued anon hate today) and those that attack people who are just wanting to do some good in the world (like Leanne’s anons today, like this one) that are the troublesome sort. Not those that just shrug their shoulders, admit some piece of what they love isn’t their cup of tea, and choose to live and let live.

Anyway, I know I’m long-winded, but I hope this clarifies how I feel, and I do appreciate you coming in to voice how you feel.

[fierceawakening]

Can I ask what, by your definition of empathy, is the difference between empathy and compassion?

Empathy as I’m using it is an emotional response to other people’s emotions, like a contact high or low. Deandre smiles at you so you smile back and your mood improves a little, even though you’re so annoyed at Leanne. Amir is devastated because his boyfriend broke up with him, so you feel vaguely bad most of the day, not because anything bad happened to you but because Amir’s emotions affect you.

According to most people in the discussion though there are two things, which I think is likely true (it seems to be how the Science is done, at any rate). The thing I describe is “affective empathy”–an emotional response–but there is also “cognitive empathy,” which means, loosely “ok so I had no idea you were sad, but now that someone told me, I want to make you feel better because I dislike you being sad.”

There’s debate about which of these is low in various neurodivergences (most people say autistic people lack affective empathy, but one person in the previous discussion cited studies that seemed to show normal affective empathy and low cognitive) and various mental illnesses, and… I’m inclined to think if only one is low, the person might sometimes seem to behave oddly, but can definitely still be generally compassionate. (Will get to what compassion is in a sec.)

But I don’t see how you could be compassionate and lack both, which is why I have trouble understanding how people with ASPD can be consistently compassionate.

(Maybe they are! But the stereotype is that they aren’t, and that this is a reason for those who are to be wary that they may be taken advantage of at worst or, even at best, be part of a relationship that is not emotionally reciprocal.)

Compassion is… treating people in a respectful and merciful way. Seeking to understand their troubles and understand how their views, or their bad situation, or their fears flow from that, even if you think those views are repugnant, those fears are silly, or that situation is in part their fault. Looking at others through a lens that acknowledges that we all are flawed, and seeing past those flaws and behaving kindly or helpfully or listening attentively. Seeking to be clear about your own boundaries and back away with grace when you have to, rather than going off. 

In a broader, social case it may be philanthropy, or dedicating your life to assisting others through working in a helping profession, being a doctor, etc. But it flows from this way of seeing and treating others.

People say that lack of (both) empath(ies) can coincide with compassion. I am not convinced that they are right, because I am not sure how you can treat and see others in that way if you NEITHER have emotions about their emotions NOR have a desire to understand them and to act on that understanding. 

But they may be right and I may be missing some elusive extra piece. However, the previous discussion didn’t seem to yield one. The closest thing, I felt, was “a moral code,” but I was having trouble understanding why with neither empathy one would adhere to one, or why they wouldn’t be heavily tempted to ignore it when deeply angry, etc.

Which I always *thought* was why the ASPD criteria are so damn heavy on “lack of remorse” and “has actually performed actions that harm others.”

[orbemnews]

JPS Chaplain Service Working Nonstop To Help Frontline Workers Keep The Faith In Battle Against COVID-19 FORT WORTH (CBSDFW.COM) – I know a lot of health care workers. The stories I’ve heard over the last 10 months are often surreal. I can’t imagine their daily jobs in normal times, with life often hanging in the balance. Now add Covid-19, and the madness of overflowing facilities, and workers doing all they can, but carrying the extra burden of, what happens to their own families if they get infected. But not one worker has told me they are done. Walking away. Not one. Most tell me despite the stress and fear, they are more committed than ever. Part of the reason for that I believe, is their commitment to what is often described as “a calling.” Those who work in health care, and care for us when we’re sick, are just flat out special people. But Covid has provided perhaps the greatest mental challenge many of us, including at the top of the list healthcare workers, have ever seen. So who takes care of them, when they are out of energy, when they are scared, when day after day, watching people they talked to yesterday, die? In our premier edition of “The Super Ones,” I highlight the pastoral team at JPS Hospital in Fort Worth. JPS Chaplain Service (CBS 11) Unless you’ve been in that hospital, and requested pastoral services, you wouldn’t likely know about them. But they are there, 24/7, for families who often are losing a loved one. Providing words of comfort, prayer, and holding hands and hearts in moments that are so very hard for anyone. In this year of pandemic madness, the team has found that while their focus has always been on staff and patients and their families, the mission to focus more on staff grew to a level last year they couldn’t have anticipated. La’rissa Harris is a nurse in the Covid unit at JPS, she told me the hardest days, are when they lose someone. Even simply telling me that brings tears to Harris’ eyes, and a moment that overwhelms. Same goes for Covid unit nurse Josh Knickerbocker, who shared this with me. “One of the most difficult days was seeing someone a lot of us knew, pass. Then it’s setting up face time with families and hearing them talk to their loved ones certainly will bring tears to your eyes. It’s kind of a combination of all of those things.” These workers are drained. Physically, mentally. And having really hard days has become routine in this new age of Covid. JPS Chaplain Service (CBS 11) It begs the question, when the heroes are having hard days, who is there for them? To keep them going? At JPS, that question leads us directly to Leann Franklin, and her pastoral team. They’ve become the big shoulder for the 7,200 workers at JPS, from sanitation, to senior directors, to lean on. Leann doesn’t mince words about how quick things changed. “When Covid hit, you know everything was immediately different. All of a sudden those who care for people in trauma, are traumatized themselves.” Almost instantly, those who always provide the hope, need it themselves. First thing that came to mind for the pastoral team, a place to simply let feelings go. The tree of hope was born. A simple birch tree, now filled with over a thousand hand written messages of hope – by those who walk and work these halls every day. And the team found that writing down feelings is often met by the chance to talk about them, too. JPS Chaplain Service (CBS 11) Covid nurse Josh Knickerbocker told me this. “I’ve had a lot of chats with my pastor, kind of debriefing and talking with other nurses about their experiences. And unquestionably, the pastoral care team, I can’t even put a number on all the things they do for us.” Things like something they’ve named “the love bomb!” Basically, surprise visits, in halls or rooms, with chaplains singing songs to lift spirits. And often with them on a cart, is what they call the soul cafe, drinks and sweet treats. And what’s sometimes needed most. A diversion. La’rissa told me as small or as silly as it might seem from the outside: “It’s nice for that moment, just to step outside patient care and just for that moment, to focus on yourself in that moment, and revive yourself.” The pastoral gang is a small but mighty team that leans on faith, and figures out new ways to help our heroes keep the faith. Leann Franklin put it best, when I asked her to try and sum up in one sentence, what they do. “We’re people of the light, we’re people of hope and we’re gonna hang on to hope. Because that’s who we are. That’s what we do.” The team is made up of six full time chaplains, and a few part-timers. They are always there for patients and their families, but never before has the need for what they do not only for them, but also the 7,200 workers at JPS Hospital, been so great. Sharing fun, feelings, and faith, to help everyone keep the faith. MORE FROM CBSDFW   Source link Orbem News #Battle #Chaplain #covid-19 #Covid19 #dfwnews #faith #Frontline #JPS #jpschaplainservice #jpshospital #nonstop #Service #thesuperones #Workers #working

[donheisenberg]

Orange is the New Black S5 Review:

Much of the discourse around OITNB’s fifth season concerned the structure and its “experimental” nature, having the episodes only span the three day riot. While this certainly was a highly experimental move, I come out of the season thinking that really it was just another season of OITNB, a show that has always had tonal inconsistencies, a show that year after year has really lacked enough plot to fill thirteen hours of TV, a show that has stuck by a flashback structure that has been paying diminishing returns since season 1, but also a show capable of moments of real power that few others can compete with.

The structure really only went to heighten all of these good and bad qualities of the show, meaning that moment for moment this was both Orange’s most compelling and maybe its most problematic season. The condensed time-span meant that even when the show was having its annual lags early on in the season there was still a certain amount of momentum that previous seasons never had. At the same time this season is littered with plots that either don’t amount to enough or are in and of themselves bad.

Let’s start with the most troublesome part of the season, Piscatella. Others have already made this point and said it better than I could anyway but the Piscatella arc is one bad call after another. Season five ninth and in particular tenth episodes descend into the realms of torture and showcase the worst, most sadistic side of the show.

That is only part of the problem though. It is probably worth mentioning at this point that as a whole season 5 is not nearly as horrible as season 4. Season 4 is packed with a far higher number of look-away now moments (imprints, mice and suffocation) but the horrible bits of season 5 lack the justification that similar moments in season 4 did. Just about every nasty moment in season 4 builds to this cathartic final beat where Humps gun falls to Daya, while also emphasising just how broken the system is, this was not the case this year.

The whole Piscatella arc and all that came with it had no greater thematic purpose, nor did it add shading to arguably the show’s most one-dimensional character. I had no idea what to make of his flashback, was it another case of Orange trying to treat a character who is categorically a bad person as something other than that (Healy and Coates being the biggest examples of this) or was it merely a filling in the blanks exercise, that killed some time.

While the Piscatella arc was flat-out bad, there were a few other stories that never really amounted to enough. The stuff with Linda springs to mind, she gets a flashback early on in the season, in Orange’s annual here’s a flashback for a character who definitely did not need one, but in the end all her plot culminates in is a funny no I’m Spartacus riff, never really informing the riot in the way it might have.

The stuff with Angie and Leanne was also at best irritating. Orange has this habit of on a season to season basis re-purposing characters in the story. Back in season 1 Pennsatucky was the villain but never again, in season 4 Maria spent some time as our primary antagonist but in this season her role was somewhat different and here with Angie and Leanne they ascend from comic relief to antagonists only to inevitable return to comic relief next year.

Maybe the worst example of this is the Nazis. When they were first introduced onto the show they were pretty clearly villains, or at the very least seemed to be positioned to occupy the role of primary antagonists. This season though they are almost exclusively played for laughs. At times they are quite funny, but the idea of having neo-Nazis as comic relief never really sits easy. 

Orange is ultimately driven by its characters and they are at the heart of its success, but it does somewhat grate on me the way they take characters on the periphery and have them perform whatever role they need them to in order to move the story forward.

The Daya arc also fizzled out. If I had any criticism of those final season 4 episodes it was that the gun fell to Daya. I always just felt that of all the characters for it to fall to Daya seemed a little bit random. It was such a dramatic moment in and of itself that I never thought too much about the factors  behind that discussion on behalf of the writers but season five only goes to highlight the strangeness of that choice. Once Daya loses the gun we immediately see her part in the story diminish. She gets a flashback episode, but firstly its a characteristically weak flashback and secondly it comes a little too late in the season. She has some quite effecting scenes in that episode but after that she just about disappears from the action.

Then you have Sophia. Laverne Cox’s busy work schedule has acted as an almost unavoidable obstacle to Sophia’s promising character arc. This season she spends a few episodes on the periphery of the action only to then go to max and not be seen again. Why this is frustrating is that back in the show’s early days Sophia was a character who promised so much, but through no fault of the show it has not really been able to fulfill this initial potential.

The other thing that has driven the discourse around this season the most is the show’s tonal imbalances. Again I think its worth emphasising that Orange has always had this problem, it only that the nature of this season has highlighted this issue more than usual . The comedy and drama has never coexisted peacefully on Orange. That’s not to say that it is not a consistently funny show, but Orange is at its funniest with just throwaway punchlines rather than when it does these big silly set-pieces. 

For the higher stakes of this season and for the horrible Piscatella arc in many ways this was one of Orange’s sillier seasons. At the very least the truly negative consequences of the riot are really only implied here. No one dies other than Piscatella and while the separation of the inmates is not good news, we don’t fully know what is happening there.

If we do start next season following two prisons that could be interesting but it also strikes me as the show recognizing that after 5 seasons it needs a change and manufacturing one for that reason. Orange is set to run for, at least, 7 seasons which in my opinion is too long and I think it has forced the writers into a position whereby they need to change it up and that may or may not pay dividends, we will have to see.

I feel like I have been criticising this season a lot and I don’t really mean to because while these are all legitimate criticisms I liked this season a fair amount. So here is a list of this seasons MVPs: Danielle Brooks as Taystee, her arc was the strongest this season and the one that grounded the riot most. Her relationship with Poussey was one of the show’s most complex and Brooks made Taystee’s pain feel palpable all season, making her worthy of some awards recognition. Natasha Lyonne as Nickles, her arc was not as tied to riot as most but the stuff between her and Lorna was the most emotionally resonant this season. I was skeptical of it initially, as it started with a very clunky piece of writing as Nickles verbalized her unrequited love to some stranger but as it progressed it continually struck me as one of the strongest, most human stories of this chaotic season. Selenis Leyva as Gloria, she doesn’t get the fanfare but Gloria has always been one of the show’s most well-rounded characters. She was another character who played an important role in grounding all of this chaos and continued to be a very strong presence on the show. Adrienne C. Moore as Black Cindy, now here’s a character who has not always been my favorite but gradually she has become a character who can get a laugh but also elicit something else from the audience. Her work this year was her strongest yet and alongside Taystee made that plot thread the season’s most reliable.

In the end I’m not sure we can fully assess the strength/importance of season five until the show is over and then upon returning to this run we might discover that some of the arcs that felt frustrating actually payed off in a worthwhile manner, but for now season 5 can’t help but feel just a tad underwhelming after the excellent forth season. B

[whole30problems]

Day 5: 1/5/17

I’m in a bad mood. I can’t believe it’s only day five.

I still have a crazy amount of energy, like yesterday. And today was the first day I didn’t do ANY snacking between meals - if you know me, you know how incredible a feat that is. I wasn’t hungry at all other than right before I ate actual meals. And I even think I feel a little skinnier!

But today was a difficult day. Besides the specific annoyances which I’ll get into, I’m just starting to feel really exhausted by this whole thing. I can’t remember the last time I thought about (or did) anything other than work or food. I’m in whatever phase of the Whole 30 is characterized by a severe apathy and walking around saying things like “Sure, I’m healthier, but what’s the point of being healthy if I’m not really LIVING?”

It really is starting to feel like this is a little silly. Anyway, here’s what I ate (and got annoyed about) today.

Breakfast

I had another leftover egg sausage not-muffin thingy. It was still very good.

Last night Leanne and I were texting and she asked me where I got the compliant salami I mentioned snacking on yesterday. This led to the realization that salami isn’t actually compliant and I’m dumb and despite my best attempts I ATE SUGAR. UGH. 

Basically what happened is that Erik and I have been struggling to find compliant meats (like bacon and sausage and salami). An ingredient that a lot of them have is “dextrose” which is another word for sugar. He looked up dextrose the other day because he couldn’t find ANY sausage without it, and found a thing saying the Whole 30 had recently decided to treat dextrose as an exception to the no-sugar rule because it’s in table salt as a preservative and therefore impossible to avoid. So I was like great, dextrose is allowed, and I bought things like this salami, which included dextrose in the ingredients.

Leanne pointed out that it appears they actually meant that table salt (even if it includes dextrose) is an exception because you can’t avoid that. But dextrose outside of that situation is still non-compliant in general. So basically, I ate sugar. I couldn’t sleep last night because I was so upset about it. This morning I looked dextrose up on a bunch of Whole 30 forums and it seems like Leanne was right. I am so pissed at myself for eating that stupid salami (and also the sausage I’ve been eating for breakfast for the past 2 days). I’m sure it’s a tiny and non-destructive amount of sugar, but I really feel like a failure. Anyway, suffice it to say I’m no longer eating deli meats. (As this man on one forum said to a sad person looking for their favorite deli meat, “Honestly, you do not need Turkey pepperoni.” This is my new life motto.)

When you’re on the Whole 30, you say things like “oh god” when people mention dextrose to you. Dieting is fun, you should try it.

Lunch

I made one of my longtime go-tos (I think I discovered this when I was temporarily paleo a few years back) which is a favorite of mine even when I’m not extreme dieting. It’s this “summer salad” with tuna, tomatoes, avocado, cilantro, green onions, and lime. (I also add hearts of palm, an idea I got from another recipe on this same food blog.)

I definitely took a picture of it at lunch today but it has disappeared from my phone for some reason, so you’ll have to just click through and look at her photos. Anyway, it was very delicious and filling. No lunch complaints. My coworkers continue to be fascinated by my weird life choices (as they eat hearty sandwiches and cookies and cackle in my direction).

Dinner

On my way home, I got a text from my cousin with a link to this Cosmopolitan article about how the Whole 30 is actually the worst diet you can possibly do. I’m not gonna lie, this almost pushed me over the edge to quitting. What is the point?? If it’s this much work and it’s not even good for me? TO WHAT END?

But I’m not a quitter. So this is still happening. For some reason.

Anyway, I was very proud of myself for leaving work almost on time today. We’ve been eating dinner super late every night and neither of us is enjoying it (especially because that means that with cleanup and everything we’re not getting to bed until even later). So I got home at 7:30 and started preparing the lazy person dinner I decided on, a “Mexican” version (it’s not very Mexican) of the frittata we successfully made and enjoyed over the weekend.

I brought dinner out all proud of myself to Erik, and I said something like, “Look we’re eating on time! It’s only-” and then of course I looked at the clock and it was somehow 9pm already and I started crying. How did it take me an hour and a half to make a frittata?! What the hell kind of time warp do I enter when I walk into my kitchen? When will I ever get to enjoy ten minutes of anything I like ever again? Ugh.

Anyway, the frittata was fine. I’ll eat it again for breakfast tomorrow. Nothing means anything.

In other news, I had to finish planning next week’s meals and order everything on Fresh Direct (we’re going out of town this weekend so I have to make sure it shows up when we’re back on Sunday). So as soon as I finished eating my frittata, I spent an hour and a half with my cookbooks and my laptop and spent another round of way too much money on a bunch of food which hopefully will feed the two of us for 7 days next week.

We’re on day 5 so... uh... something positive... I got nothin. As Erik put it, our morale is super low tonight. I’m very tired of this.