#I'm doing my best not to let my frustration and anxiety leak over into this blog. Just... be patient with me please

[write-it-motherfuckers]

Sorry Darlings, no prompts today. We had really bad wind here last night, and the power has been going in and out ever since. Thankfully they are already checking the lines to figure out where the fault is, but for now there’s nothing I can really do but try and preserve as much battery as possible. 

Please bear with me Darling ones, and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves 🖤

[thelostconsultant]

The leak

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: Someone recorded you and your boyfriend having sex, and now parts of the recording are being released, letting the world know that you're seeing each other.

warning: mentions of sexual activities, bdsm-ish elements, dom!Oscar, dark!Oscar, aaaaaand that's it. I think. So MDNI.

note: It started out as something kinky, then I figured out who recorded and leaked the whole thing. This was meant to be a short drabble, something to take my mind off the other fic I'm working on...

This had to be a nightmare. 

Your phone began to buzz late in the afternoon, signaling message after message, but you didn't really care about it until your manager called and told you to check social media sites. And there they were, snippets and screenshots from a sex tape, showing you and your boyfriend in what seemed to be his hotel room two days ago.

Whoever recorded and shared this made sure to pick the spiciest parts. The most “popular” video was the moment he put the beige collar on you, then grabbed the golden chain to pull you into a hungry kiss. His orders could be heard crystal clear, and his dominant personality which was in such stark contrast with his usual behavior was now out in the open. 

Your first instinct was to send a message to your chronically online boyfriend, but then you realized this was an emergency and calling him was the best approach now. It didn’t take him long to answer, and his voice was so calm you thought he didn’t know anything. “Hey, baby, what is it? I’ve been thinking about you, are you–”

“Oscar, you haven’t checked social media sites lately, have you?” you asked, your voice thin from the anxiety that had taken over the moment you saw the first snippet. 

There was a short pause, then he went, “The videos? Yeah, that might be a problem.”

“Might be a problem? It’s already a problem!” you corrected him. “People know we’re together, and what’s worse, they know what we do in bed. We kept everything under wraps for a reason.”

Little did you know that Oscar was everything but surprised by this turn of events. Why would he be surprised when it was him who hid that camera in his hotel room, and it was also him who sent it out to someone he knew would spread it like wildfire. He remained an anonymous source, of course, but he knew it was all his work. And he was proud of it. 

He had been begging you to make your relationship official, but you were too worried about what your fans would say. So he decided to take matters into his own hands, showing the world what a good little girl you were for him. He was proud of you, he wanted to show you off, and he wanted you to come to as many races as you could. Just to be his lucky charm, and maybe the solution to releasing some stress if a session was frustrating. 

“Why don’t you come over until people move on from this? We can nestle in my apartment eating ice cream, watching movies… Come on, it’s gonna be fun,” he tried, his voice sickeningly sweet. 

You took a deep breath that you soon let out slowly, giving yourself time to think. “All right, my manager told me to stay under the radar anyway.”

“Great. See you soon then.”

He won. You come over, stay for a few days, and he’ll do his damn best to convince you to stay for good. You would have fun on your own. He would train you to be the kind of obedient little thing he always wanted you to be. Why would you need to make decisions when he can choose for you? You’d realize this was for the best, he just had to be smart and patient.

[travichughes]

You're literally so cool. Love this blog. I wanna hear about your Vic and Travis thoughts all day. How are the storyline for them in season 6 compared to the others, in your own opinion?

first of all, thank you!! i always think this fandom needs more travic stans hahah. but sorry this is going to be a long ass post because i have so much to talk about. also spoilers for the season finale

honestly, i dont have very nice things to say about travic together in season 6. i mean, they barely had anything, right? 6x01-6x03 were honestly their best episodes. vic being there for his anxiety, the humour, the soft, and then it all went downhill when eli showed up.

i think they really missed an opportunity when travis leaked the crisis one call to have them fight. vic had just told she could take over crisis one and the breach of HIPAA could have meant crisis one would have shut down, so that would have been a good storyline to navigate. i really thought they were going to fight and it was going to be rough, bit instead, we got not even a full episode of vic being slightly bad at him.

and now 6x08. the worst episode in the season for me. i spent that entire week spiralling about travis getting injured and then travic actually talking about what happened, but instead, vic and theo talked it out and then we got that god-awful trio hug which was the only travic hug we got this season!?!?!!? i was left so disappointed by that episode. it was the start of them diminishing travic and making it look like vic didn't need travis as long as she had theo. and that really hurt lmao. honestly i could go on a whole separate rant about 6x08 so i will restrain myself and move on.

everything was just meh until 6x12, a few cute soft moments dotted around (as usual) and finally, they got their first full scene since 6x06 where travis woke up from a nightmare and vic rushed into the room. instead of leaving like she could have, she came in and talked to him to make sure he was okay. let me also add this was the first time we had seen their house since season 5 so it was so glorious. i loved that scene and i just wish they gave us more relating to that. i would have loved to see travis have another nightmare and it be revealed that it was his third or something that week, and have vic just stay in his room for the rest of his night? apparently that was too much to ask LMAO

6x13... well i'm headcanoning that vic was calling travis to rant about the argument she and theo had had... and travis was uh, doing it with eli. my eyes still hurt from that

and then 6x14... what a glorious episode. i think it was the best episode of the season for them as a friendship, tied with 6x01 and 6x03. they were chaotic together, but when travis needed it, vic gave a pep-talk, and it was glorious. vc always knows exactly what to say to travis which is just so great because they they know each other more than anyone else. I'm glad it was vic talking to travis about this and not someone else.

6x15 as a whole doesnt exist to me ad the end scene of travis pushing vic aside to go say hi to cHaOs KaTe simply doesnt exist <3

6x16 and 6x17 were honestly just frustrating. vic and theo were clearly having issues, and they weren't having them in secret! you could have cut the tension in 6x15 with a knife but noooo, travis was just blind, apparently. the end of 6x17 with vic crying in her car outside of beckett's house broke my heart because she was losing theo, and she was probably just feeling really lonely and realising that she could turn into beckett and have no one to notice that she was gone, or that she was hurting. i would have paid good money for a travic scene there - travis pulling himself away from the celebrations to check where vic was and then them having a long convo about what was happening, etc...

for 6x18 i once again convinced myself that travis was gonna get injured and vic was going to have a whole crisis over the fact that she was breaking up with theo and quite possibly losing her best friend - which would have been a good callback to 6x08. instead, they were fine (thank god, but also... not?) i was honestly left a little disappointed as we didn't get any of our soft moments like we did in the finale, but yeah, thank god they're both fine. travis is gonna kill theo when he finds out that he made out with cHaOs KaTe.

also... how they kind of just made travic seem one-sided? how vic was unmistakably there EVERY SINGLE TIME when he needed support for his anxiety or whatever else, but when vic needed someone, and when she was visibly struggling, travis wasn't there? i know this show and i know that they probably had convos off screen, but the lack of support from travis to vic on screen really gave the impression to me that they weren't talking. so it showed us vic cared, but travis didn't. that's why this season to me has been my least favourite travic season, but as a whole it still beats season 5 because that was a godawful season.

individually, didnt care for the mayor storyline really after vic stopped being his campaign manager. i still hate eli so i wish they would break up and travic can just live together forever. next season, since travis probably thinks he's responsible for the death of dixon, and how he kept saying that jack saved his life, i'd lose to see him struggling with survivor's guilt - something that vic also probably struggled with post-pipeline explosion. travis is overdue for a mental health storyline so it would be the perfect time for one.

i'm also a little disappointed they didnt go down the route of travis being triggered about theo being his captain. there was so much opportunity there for feelings about theo leading him, vic and the team after he was responsible for michael's death, but no. travis was literally one of the only people to be happy that he was captain and even supported him! yikes

and for vic, she didnt really get anything until 6x06, but i loved how in 6x05 they kinda dabbled into her self-doubt because she really didn't think dixon would do something as low as leak travis's past arrest. i'm also annoyed that it took them until 6x11 again to even talk about vic taking over crisis one and what he was doing to do that.

as for her relationship with theo, thank god that's over. i swear they were doing a slowburn breakup LMAOOOO yeah, theo turned into someone vic didn't recognise and thank god she finally realised that it want good for her, but as i touched on earlier, travis not noticing the pain he was putting her through angered me beyond words. next season for her i would love to see her have a proper mental health storyline and i would love to see her adventures with leading crisis one

well, there's probably a lot more but that's all i have to say currently. i would love to discuss with you as well, feel free to dm me on here or on twitter/insta (travichughes on both) and thanks for reading this long ass rant. i really love travic and i hope they get what they deserve next season.

[afrustratedmom]

I'm annoying when I'm annoyed

The older kids both had a day off. Which meant EVERYONE was home on a day when they are normally at daycare or at the office. Working from home with a baby is hard enough. Having my partner and my two older kids here all day is something else entirely. I just have to remind myself how much I love them. The answer is: SO. MUCH. By the end of the day I was getting short with everyone. Still breastfeeding and rocking a baby all day except let me try and clean our home with Thing 1 and Thing 2 bickering over which toy they don't feel like sharing, my man taking a leak in both toilets and not flushing either one of them, and everyone using several dishes for every snack they have in mind. AND EVERYONE IS SCREAMING. If hell exists, it's me stuck in an apartment of less than 1,000 square feet having to hear my family scream at the top of their lungs, while treating me like I'm Molly the Maid. My anxiety is through the roof and it is always all work and no play. I'm a maid, I'm a cook, I'm a referee, I'm a dairy cow. I'm a mom. I'm on the 6th or 7th load of laundry for the day (I've lost count) and I'm folding the towels by myself after my partner promised me he would help. But it's the 3rd time now that I've asked him to put away his clothes that I washed, dried, and folded. I've spent hours doing laundry today, PLEASE just put that very tiny pile away. I'll get to it, he tells me. But I'm still waiting. I wait so long I end up putting it away without muttering a word. The kids started screaming about a doll, I don't know which one and honestly, I don't care, because there are 3 of the same baby dolls in that room which makes their lack of sharing especially infuriating. The noise level is rising and at that moment the baby starts getting fussy. I should probably change her diaper because my partner has been playing with the kids all day, trying to keep them distracted. My partner says something, I don't even remember what he specifically said but it was a request for something that he thought I should do. I've done so much today but for some reason, someone else expects just ONE MORE thing from me. Perfect. I get snippy. My response is short and to the point. His response? You know, when you're annoyed, you're really annoying. I actually had to hold back the tears because that hurt. That's all my partner saw. Someone who was being annoying. Someone who was ticked for the sake of being ticked. I didn't bother giving him a response. He didn't see someone who was overstimulated, overwhelmed, over these kids, and over these chores. He didn't see that I spent 6+ hours wiping down counters, throwing out trash that had accumulated around the apartment, reorganizing the kids room, doing several loads of dishes and laundry, separating clothes for 3 different kids, cooking, asking the kids for the millionth time to stop touching what they shouldn't be touching, cleaning out the closet, and cleaning the same thing over and over because clean spaces equal places that my partner thinks he can place more trash and more clutter. He missed all of that. Should I have said that? Probably. But have I tried communicating those exact sentiments that I'm drowning a million times with zero change and half the time he isn't actually listening but on his phone watching Tik Tok? Also yes. So I'm sitting here, stewing in my own anger and hurt. I don't remember the last time we didn't fight over finances and our bills, where we weren't having difficult conversations about how to best deal with our older kids that we share with unyielding and unhelpful co-parents. Where I'm not tripping over his three pairs of shoes that he's left everywhere but the closet while I have a baby in a carrier strapped to my chest. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, I'M ASKING YOU FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME, MOVE YOUR DAMN SHOES. PLEASE STOP CREATING MORE WORK FOR ME. But I'm just annoying when I'm annoyed. Signed, A Frustrated Mom

[rawratinyrawr]

Last Summer, Chocolate ice cream, & breastfeeding...

June 8, 2019

Micah turned 11 months on the 3rd. It feels like the day I got pregnant, I blinked, then BOOM he's here and he's almost a year old!

With Micah turning 1 soon I've had a terrible case of baby fever. I know he's only 11 months, so he is technically still a baby...

But it all went by so fast! All of it! My pregnancy. His birth. The last 11 months. I miss my baby bump, I miss being pregnant.

I even miss those hazy first few weeks when he was in the every 2 hours phase. You know, that-every two hours baby wakes, eats, pees/poops(usually both), gets changed, stays awake (sometimes) for a few minutes so you can gaze into their open eyes and blubber at how cute they are and how it's all worth it, and then they fall asleep again (that is, if they stayed awake when you fed them), -phase.🤣😭😂

I've been talking to my wife about the last few weeks before having him, the day I went into labor, and giving birth. Talking about and looking at pictures and videos of those hazy first 6 weeks as mombies.

Yesterday morning I pulled out the ice cream to eat a few spoonfuls after reading that it's national chocolate ice cream day. Then I spent the rest of the day thinking about last summer, the chocolate ice cream I ate just hours after giving birth, breastfeeding, and my breastfeeding cravings that led to a temporary chocolate ice cream addiction.😂 I obsessed all day all because I ate a few bites of ice cream. 🙄

When I eat ice cream now (especially chocolate ice cream) I can't help but think about last summer and the little cup of chocolate ice cream I ate just hours after Micah was born.

The hospital kept lactation snacks for breastfeeding moms in the fridge and freezer of a little kitchenette down the hall from my room in the mother/baby ward. Little brown bags full of yogurt, granola, and fruit cups, cheese & pepperoni cups, milk, juice, and in the freezer-little cups of chocolate ice cream! You know the kind with a wooden spoon. My wife made many trips to that fridge for me in the middle of the night those two nights after having him.

I didn't crave chocolate when I was pregnant. But when my wife brought me that first little cup after giving birth I devoured it. It tasted like the best ice cream I'd ever had. (Probably not really, but I had just given birth and hadn't had food yet lol)

Nobody told me that breastfeeding would make you want to snack like it's your job (and I pretty much did in the beginning). And nobody told me that it would feel alot like pregnancy cravings. And that's what the chocolate ice cream, while breastfeeding, ended up feeling like.

My milk came in the day we left the hospital. Within hours that day I went from kinda swollen boobies to my chest blowing up and having to hand pump to relieve the pressure. I hurt SO BAD and to top it off Micah and I were struggling with breastfeeding.

One of the first things my wife did for me when we got home from the hospital was put together and hook up my electric pump. I was drinking a ton of water and was seriously craving the kind of snacks I had eaten while in the hospital.

So my wife kept us stocked up on oatmeal, yogurt, granola, fresh fruits, fruit cups, cheese, pepperoni, nuts, black bean salad, milk, juice. And then, of course, CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM! My wife would make me little snack plates every 2 hours or so.

And the ice cream...well, at first it was just a serving here and there. Then it was 3 qts.(2 tubs) a week. My wife would have some as well. But not like me. There were whole tubs gone sometimes before she had even a bite. Lol. I craved it SO BAD! I craved other things too while breastfeeding. Fortunately the other cravings were things that were better for me. Oatmeal, cheese, nuts, and such.

When he was about 6 weeks old our breastfeeding journey unfortunately came to an end.

From the beginning there had been issues preventing a good latch and I spent a great deal of time sad and frustrated while pumping instead of breastfeeding to keep up my milk supply. I had wanted to breastfeed for as long as possible so badly when I was pregnant and had him. So I felt extremely frustrated, stressed out, and guilty when it wasn't going according to plan.

I had started to let the breastfeeding problems get to me. I felt like it was my fault. That my body, my breasts, my nipples, were failing me and my baby.

I felt so jealous of all those women in the happy breastfeeding pictures I'd seen who appeared so carefree while their little one suckled.

For us, breastfeeding was...

Me feeling like a failure every time he couldn't get a good latch.

It was him screaming because he is hungry and me crying because I was so engorged my nipple wouldn't cooperate for him to latch.

It was choosing to pump over going to sleep knowing he was going to wake up again in 2 hours and would need to eat again.

It was me trying to stay positive and determined because he latched earlier, no problem, but this time we can't get a latch. So I end up crying again when I have to give him pumped milk in a bottle instead.

It was both of us crying in the middle of the night because I couldn't get my nipple shield to stick long enough for him to latch. And I'm just so tired. And he's so hungry.

It was pumping, pumping, pumping!

Always pumping.

It was packing a hand pump every time I left the house, even if it was for just an hour.

It was packing and toting an extra bag with my electric pump, parts, bottles, nipple shields, on top of everything else we had to take with us, to visit my parents for the day.

It was spending x amount of time pumping while visiting.

It was crying while choosing to pump over peeing or eating or resting while he slept because I hadn't had a chance to pump while he was awake and I was starting to leak every time I moved.

It was everything but what I had imagined it being.

The act of breastfeeding was something that I thought should be beautiful, easy and natural, and I wanted it to be so badly.

But by week 3 it was, instead, causing severe anxiety.

After many shed tears and a discussion with my wife we decided that we needed to end our breastfeeding journey for my mental health. It was such a hard decision and I missed it so much for awhile. I even thought once or twice about trying to start again, but would then remember how consumed and overwhelmed it made me feel and decided not to.

When I stopped breastfeeding/pumping I felt less and less cravings and after a while didn't snack as much, and my ice cream addiction just...went away.

But I still crave chocolate ice cream once in a while.

And now, every time I eat it, I think about last summer, eating ice cream hours after giving birth, our struggle with breastfeeding, and how it all seems like it was just yesterday.

And I sigh a little, wishing I could go back and do it all again, struggles and all. Because it all just went by so fast!

And now, in the blink of eye, this little baby that cried with me in the middle of the night, will be 1 and calls me Mama!🥰

[dm7dragonfyre]

Things aren't... Great. If I'm honest.

I'm so stressed out I've broken out in hives and have been having constant chest tightness.

I know it's ultimately not a big deal and it could be worse and ask that but it still feels extremely daunting and I'm having more trouble getting out of the bad headspace. This isn't even all of it.

Main water pipe from the main line to my house has been broken, HOA gave me a run around while it's been leaking constantly for weeks only for them to tell me "ok you have to fix it and pay for it" and it's not cheap. On top of my astronomical water bill that they just let rack up in the meantime.

Work is slow bc the industry is in shambles and rates are too high, we've lost a lot of great people this year and we even lost some old guard recently and everyone is terrified that we're going to lose our jobs. Meanwhile everyone left is on a hair trigger and getting very rude which of course makes the whole daily situation just so much worse

My partner has pretty notable anxiety and agoraphobia and it's been very bad recently, and we've had next to no interactions or time together recently, and a recent comment from me that showed frustration about this caused a fight, our first in 1.5 years. Given my past this is likely the trauma speaking but I'm sortof terrified that's falling apart and I can't do anything about it, and it's one of the best people to have happened to me.

And last week I had an event my mother had been working on for ages in honor of my father who passed years ago; a find set up in his name for a company that helps educate and bring healthcare to rural areas of countries that desperately need it. And it felt like a second funeral all over again, all the stuff I had buried resurfaced that I again had to put on a face for and pretend I'm put together. There were speeches. But even sadder... It was under attended according to my mom. People just didn't come. It drove home how much people just move on and stop caring and or how many of those that did are dead now too. So that's really throwing me for a massive loop, especially when I've been feeling extremely alone and forgotten.

And on a bigger level, just, life as I've known it is falling apart. We lost abortion protections. Politics are disgustingly black and white and a constant struggle when it shouldn't be this close on races. Social medias are hemorrhaging money and people. Companies in control of things I enjoy are getting corrupted by corporate greed. You literally can no longer do or like anyone without someone finding a reason why it's bad. It's rapidly becoming too expensive to exist, both monetarily and theoretically.

I feel like I'm drowning in sludge. I constantly feel like I'm just on this side of not wanting to be here anymore. Everything feels so extremely bleak and I'm running out of positive things to bolster me in the meantime. This really does not feel like the life anyone should be living and it's getting harder to find proof or even just hope it will get better.

I guess until the world explodes I'll just keep going through the motions

[jackieboywynand]

Uhhh, some fic ig

Clutching onto his worn crossbow, Jack cautiously edged towards an apartment. He heard a hauntingly familiar tune coming from within, beckoning him to enter. He held his breath as he slowly slid the door open. Upon entering, he immediately knew who had lived here. He was met with a small circular stage with a microphone on it, posters were placed up in pride around the entrance. The name on all of these posters struck a nervous chord from deep inside. Cohen. God, he thought he had escaped that lunatic. He hesitantly moved into the building and cursed his luck as his radio crackled, coming to life.

"I hear your wings flapping in my home..." Jack felt himself tense up. "Flip flap, flip flap, flip flap.", came the obnoxious voice. "Come into the light, little moth, come in..." He had hoped he had heard the last of Cohen back in Fort Frolic but that wasn't the case.

He began moving further into the house and flinched when he heard a loud, maniacal laugh coming from a woman somewhere within the apartment. He peered around the stage and poster to see a pair dancing. He assumed the female was the culprit for the laughter that set him on edge. They were dancing under a light which acted as a spotlight, shining upon them amongst the dimly light room. He tightened the grip on his crossbow as he drew nearer to the pair, careful not to trip over any of the piles of unfinished musical pieces and staves strewn about on the floor. He heard the male humming. It was nothing like the tune they were dancing to but it didn't stop them.

"I see you're still testing your wings, little moth." The unwanted voice sounded through the radio again. "Stay and enjoy the dance, if you wish..." Jack contemplated the offer. It was an almost surreal scene. He had only endured chaos and nightmares since being in this city and this peaceful scene was eerie and out of place. "But don't dare RATTLE. THEIR. RHYTHM." Cohen's voice grew louder, angrier and far more punctuated with each word that came through the radio. Jack chewed on his bloodied, lower lip. He heard the couple muttering to each other and whistling. It was hard for him to try and listen to their mumbling as the music grew ever louder. It was almost unbearable and it made it difficult to think. It was becoming deafening and Jack could feel himself growing agitated. His eyes kept going between the couple and the phonograph that was causing all this racket. He frowned. His eye twitched. It was too loud. Unwanted. A cacophony. He growled. The all too annoying whistling of the man was interrupted by the whistle of a bolt, before being followed by the noise of the bolt making itself home in the man's head and hurtling him towards the wall where it pinned him. An ear splitting scream erupts from the woman's lips as she had her partner ripped away from her. Angry, vicious words were spat out from her lips as she hurled a ball of flames towards Jack. She was quickly put down by another carefully aimed bolt to the head.

"WHEN WILL YOU EVER LEARN TO TAKE INSTRUCTION?", he heard Cohen shout over the radio. He was surprised that he could also faintly hear the voice from within the apartment. "I'M COMING DOWN THERE, LITTLE MOTH... COMING DOWN TO TEACH YOU. TO. DANCE." The radio cut after that and Jack could hear a door open. Next thing he knows, he's got fire balls hurtling towards him and a very angry Sander Cohen in the room with him. He heard the telltale sign of Houdini as Cohen blinked out of view to reposition himself to try and get the jump on Jack. He frowned and listened out for the sound that will tell him that Cohen has reappeared. The music is grating now. He shoots a bolt into the phonograph, effectively causing it to explode. This angers Cohen further as he reappears and immediately attacks Jack with his flames.

"I'M SANDER FUCKING COHEN."

Just like that, the pair begin their own dance. It's a dance of fire and malice as the two aim to kill. Jack, teeth gritted and brows knitted, fires a bolt that catches Cohen's arm. The man glares at Jack. He is fuming. He hurls as many fire balls as he can muster at Jack before disappearing again.

Jack prepared himself for the next volley of fireballs. He readied himself and listened out for the telltale sound of Cohen coming to attack. He spun on his heels as he heard Cohen re-emerge behind him. A painful hiss left him as a fireball singed his body. He immediately fired back at Cohen, enraged. Jack swapped over to steel tip bolts and began during at the manic man in front of him. He caught his shoulder and felt a smug satisfaction as Cohen stumbled back from the impact and pain. Their battle continued like this for what felt like ages for Jack. He was getting low on ammunition. He looked up at Cohen and noticed the bolts, glistening with crimson, decorating Cohen like a hedgehog. How the hell this son of a bitch was still alive? He didn't know. He lunged forward and yanked out one of his bolts from Cohen, watching the blood pour out of the wound as he did. He quickly reloaded the bolt into his crossbow and fired it back at Cohen.

Jack was getting annoyed. Frustrated. He was using up far too much ammunition that he was saving to murder the bastard that had used him. Chewed him up and spat him out. Jack wasn't anyone's plaything. Frank. Fucking. Fontaine. Jack tossed his crossbow to the side and immediately felt a chilling cool spread through his left hand. He didn't need to see the blades of ice sticking out of him before he began assaulting Cohen. He didn't stop until Cohen was just as frozen as Jack had been when hunting down Cohen's disciples and doing his dirty work. He watched as Cohen slowed down and froze up. He approached the man, wrench in hand. He raised his weapon and slammed it down across Cohen's head. He listened to the sick sound of the ice crunching and the head being moulded into a new shape. He kept hammering down on the artist. He let his rage take over him. Cohen. Fontaine. Ryan. Fucking Rapture. It pissed him off. It angered him and when Cohen thawed and collapsed to the floor, he didn't care that he fell down with him. Nor did he notice that he had changed his wrench for his bare fists. Only did he realise when his fists grew numb, caked in blood, and when Cohen's face was no longer recognisable. His sweater was now a brownish-red and his face and hair had flecks of blood covering them. There was a buzzing in his ears. He looked down at the body beneath him and just stared. He had lost himself again. He sighed. Mentally gave himself a slap on the wrist. He picked himself up from off Cohen and went back to gather up his weapons that he had haphazardly thrown about the room during his fit of rage. He began go leave but not before he noticed the door to Cohen's room was wide open. His curiosity was piqued.

Jack saw a pink glow bathing the room and leaking out into the rest of the apartment. He entered the room, clenching his wrench. Upon first glance, he was met with a long staircase and so he began to ascend. As he reached the top of the staircase, Jack noticed more of the plastered "sculptures" that had been littered throughout Fort Frolic. He paled at remembering the moving, attacking statues. He closed his eyes and exhaled when he saw two giant plastered rabbit masks at the foot of a king-sized bed in front of him. Cohen was really into rabbit symbolism for someone that "wanted to take the ears off". What a nutter. Jack shook his head. As he observed the room further, he noticed large framed posters and bottles of alcohol strewn about the room. He thought to himself that Cohen truly was married and obsessed with his work. Jack turned around and saw a doorway leading into another room. He walked through, wrench at the ready.

Through a thin veil of steam, Jack saw numerous sinks lining up against a wall on the left, a glass divider in the middle of the room, and a porcelain bath which was on elevated ground. Jack noticed something whilst walking past the bath. He stopped and turned to inspect it. To his horror, it was yet another sculpture. He gave it a hesitant whack with his wrench; sighing when some blood splattered but the sculpture remained still. He slowly inched backwards, still anxious about the sculpture despite his confirmation on it being a corpse.

When Jack next turned around after exiting the bathroom, he came face-to-face with a Power To The People machine and thanked his lucky stars. His anxiety began to melt away. He always enjoyed working on his weapons. They were his babies and they deserved the best. He really wished there was an option to upgrade his wrench; his first and favourite child. He grabbed his trusty crossbow and selected the option to give it increased damage. He leant over the work station and got to work, applying the new piece. His tongue stuck out a little as he concentrated on perfecting his crossbow. He wondered whether he should even attempt to make his wrench rocket propelled for when he murdered the son of a bitch that dragged him into all of this. He scowled at the name written up in the machine in front of him, feeling repulsed. The bastard was everywhere. There was no escape. It was driving Jack beyond mad. He tried his hardest to busy himself in his work to prove himself a distraction.

Jack took a step back to admire his hard work. He was happy with this newest addition! He turned from the machine with a grin on his face, placing the crossbow back where he had placed a holder for the weapon. He began to head towards the door when his radio crackled and came to life as a voice came through. One he really didn't want to hear.

"Hate to see you this way, kid." The Bronx accent filled him with dread. "Hell, I was there when you were born." His expression soured. "You ever have a dog you gotta put down?" Jack scowled. Was he seriously being compared to a dog? "Breaks your heart." The radio cut off as Jack's week h went hurtling across the room, shattering a sculpture upon impact. How DARE Fontaine talk about heartbreak?! What the he'll did he know about having a broken heart?! Jack glared down at the floor as his vision began to blur. He tried to blink away his tears but they still began to roll down his face. He clenched his fists. The hot tears mixed with the dried blood on his gaunt cheeks. He let out a shudder and collapsed to the floor. Fontaine had no right! Jack still felt his anger through his sobs. He wasn't born! He was created! A scientific experiment that was sold off. Fontaine bought him for top fucking dollar just as a means to thwart the plans of Jack's biological 'father'. It was petty. Ryan was an unwilling donor who didn't know- hell, he probably didn't even want a child. Jack was a genetically modified freak and heir to the damn throne of this hellhole. Jack hated the purpose of his existence. He hated snapping that puppy's neck. Of course he knew what it was like to put down a dog. He bet Fontaine knew he had to involuntarily put down that sweet, innocent puppy. The sick fuck. Jack's face was soaked with fat tears that had turned a slight, pale crimson from the blood dried onto his face. His sobs were loud and echoed within the suite. Jack choked. How dare Fontaine have the sheer nerve and audacity to call Jack a kid? After everything they had gone through? It made Jack sick, right down to his very core.

He gazed around the room. Nothing really mattered to him anymore in his solemn state. Through his tears he saw the bottles of alcohol that were laying about the room. He wanted to forget his worries and troubles. He made a pathetic attempt to crawl over to the bottles. He picked one up and opened it, shaking. His body was still racking from tears. He desperately chugged the liquid before grabbing the next bottle. He grabbed another bottle and began pouring it down his throat. He chugged and he chugged. He didn't care. Nothing mattered. He didn't matter. His only function now was to down as many bottles as possible and hopefully, he would soon die. Pass out, at least. He didn't know how much he had drunk when he found himself nursing a bottle and spilling confessions to the sculptures in the room. He confided in them and told them all his problems and secrets. He kept necking bottles as he did. He found himself accompanied by piles of empty bottles. His vision was blurred. His head was fuzzy. He was stumbling over his words. Slurring. Everything was buzzing. The room spun. His mind blanked. He was soon met with unconsciousness.