#this was a bad idea in hindsight but I didn't think about it cause I was already wearing it before leaving the house

[idiotsquadassembly]

My underwear for my packer hasn't come in the mail yet I'm just praying it doesn't fall out in public with what I'm working with atm 😭

[dollfacefantasy]

ONLY BAD PUPPIES ♡

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: when you get needy, you act up. lucky for you, logan understands that means you just need a firm hand to get you back in line.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, masturbation, pillow humping, pet play, light anal play (plug), daddy kink, praise/degradation, brat taming

wc: 1.9k

kinktober slot: day 23 - pet play

Of course, he'd do something like this. You should've known your punishment wouldn't be so simple. He wouldn't just make you touch yourself in front of him while he watched. That wasn't Logan's style as it pertained to taming you when you acted up. When you bratted out like you had earlier, he took it upon himself to truly humble you.

Today had been a busy day for both of you, but you'd been having a rough week. You felt extra needy for him as of late. The exact cause behind those feelings remained a mystery, but regardless of the specifics, you knew that the long list of tasks you performed over the last several hours did not make you happy.

All you wanted to do today was curl up with your boyfriend. You longed to sit in his lap while the tv played in the background, to have his hand stroking over your head and down your back, to feel him brush his thumb over your lips as he told you what a good girl you'd been.

But you didn't go about getting that attention the best way. In hindsight, you could admit that. It probably wasn't the best idea to tease him. Multiple times you rubbed the softest parts of your body against him and looked up at him with puppy eyes while innuendo spilled from your lips. You'd made a point to be huffy when he rebuffed you to finish up his work around the mansion. You tried giving him the cold shoulder to no effect which made you whiny.

And that was the one thing that guaranteed you a punishment. Because only bad puppies whine.

Right as the high-pitched words about him being so mean to you fell upon his ears, he suddenly finished up with whatever he was doing much quicker.

His hand curved around the back of your neck, guiding you up to your bedroom.

"You think you're cute, huh?" he asks under his breath, "Think you can get what you want by stamping your feet and throwing a tantrum?"

"I didn't-" you try to deny. But Logan doesn't take excuses either.

"You did. You think I don't know you? That I can't see the gears turning in your little head?"

The door to your room flings open with the force of his hand. He shuts it behind you firmly and leads you to the bed, sitting you down.

Already, your head hangs in shame, like a guilty pet who knows they're moments away from being scolded. He clicks his tongue at you in disapproval.

"What happened to all that attitude?" he taunts, yanking you by the hair to make you look up again, "C'mon. Let me have it. I was so mean to you today, wasn't I?"

Your lip sticks out into a pout. "I didn't mean it…" you try to justify.

"But you had no problem saying it before. So let me hear it again," he goads.

You whine and try to plead with your eyes to know avail. "I just wanted you to spend time with me," you say, guilt making your words much less convincing. You knew you'd been bothering him and that you could have waited. You just didn't want to.

"Spend time with you? Is that what you call it?" he says with a raised brow, "Be honest. You were getting fussy because you wanted me to 'spend time' bouncing you on my cock."

Heat creeps up from your belly, through your chest, and into your neck and cheeks. You can't answer because you know that he's right.

He chuckles, his hand rubbing down your scalp to massage the nape of your neck. "Mhm. You don't have to hide it, baby," he says. Dropping his hand away from your head, he walks over to the other side of the room to grab a few things you'd be needing soon. "I know how you are. You just can't help it. My puppy can't function if daddy doesn't give her attention for a few hours."

When he invokes his title and your own, the humiliation brewing in your belly feels more severe. You now know exactly what he's grabbing. As soon as he turns around to return to you, your suspicion is proven correct.

His hands hold the exact items you expected. One palm holds your collar while the other cradles the fake ears and tail. Your chest aches at the sight of them. They felt so good most times, but when you'd been bad, they became the ultimate tools to put you in your place.

He can see your reaction, and if the grin on his face is any indication, he loves it.

"What's wrong, pup? Thought you wanted to play," he says.

You don't have any coherent response to that. In no time, he strips you down and buckles the sleek band around your neck. The simple tag that reads 'puppy' dangles at the front. Next, the ears slide into place on your head. They were a nice set, pointing proudly upright. Last comes the tail. You don't get any real lube for it. That's a treat for good girls. All you get is his spit spread over the bulb before it prods at your puckered entrance. It slips in with relative ease, only drawing a tiny whimper from you as you adjust.

He stands back to admire his work. You kneel on the mattress, looking at him with the same guilt from earlier. Anticipation chews up your spine as you wait to hear your sentence. In the past, he'd made you get off on his boot. Another time, he leashed you to the bed while fucking you rough. Once he made you crawl around with a vibrator in. You could only shudder now as you imagine what lies ahead.

But it doesn't seem to be anything so drastic based on his words.

"You wanted to cum so bad all day today, puppy, so I'm gonna let you. You're just gonna have to be a big girl and do it yourself," he says, heading to the chair several feet from the bed.

He sits down and settles in, eyes staying on you the whole time. It's weird. The idea of starting to touch yourself while someone else just sits there. Doing it was one thing, but beginning feels separate to you.

Either way, your hand ventures between your thighs to rub at your folds. But before it can really get into it, he stops you.

Now you find out what the real punishment is.

"Ah ah ah, sweetheart. Puppies don't get to use their hands," he chides, that fucking smirk plastered across his face

You blink at the statement. It replays in your head again. His expression only grows more smug as you gawk at him, heat creeping up from your belly into your chest and neck.

"But… how?" you ask, as if you didn't already know, "What do you want me to do?"

"You're smarter than that. Use that little brain," he teases.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, air puffing out from your mouth. The solution is right in front of you - or rather, behind you, resting against the headboard at the top of your bed.

Slowly, you turn around and reach for his pillow. You bring it around your body and crawl on top of it. The smoothness of the linen is cool against your cunt. It feels wrong there, like it won't provide enough friction to make you cum.

You give the puppy eyes one more try on him, but they yield no success.

"Get to it, pup. Let's see you take care of yourself for a change," he says.

And that's that. Arguing any further would be pointless and only get you in more trouble.

You lower yourself a bit more, making sure you're flush against the cushion. It puffs up from the pressure of your legs on either side. Then you start. You begin to drag your cunt back and forth, rocking your hips in small strokes.

It doesn't do much at first except make your head foggy with shame. Humping a pillow is a much more intensive process than just using your fingers. All of you moves with each thrust of your pelvis. Your breasts bounce with your momentum. The tail sticking out of your ass shakes and catches on your leg. Even the tag on your collar bobbles around.

"Atta girl," Logan praises from the sidelines, "You're gonna learn how to do this, so you don't have to bother daddy when he's trying to work."

You nod before your head falls back. Despite this method of self-pleasure not feeling that great at first, you were finding out it was a slow burn. The more you rutted on the plush surface between your legs, the greater the intensity of the sparks of ecstasy between your thighs.

He can feel himself starting to stiffen in his jeans. Everything about you was so needy and pathetic right now. It drives him crazy. His hand slides over his lap to palm his semi-hard bulge. From the sharp jerks of your hips to the shaky whimpers coming out of your mouth, everything about you calls to every cell in his body.

Like always, you don't last long. Puppies are never good at being patient. As soon as you find a rhythm you like, it only takes a couple minutes for you to work yourself to the edge. Your eyes go glossy, breaths morphing into harsh pants. Your tongue practically lolls out of your mouth. And then, once you realize how close you are, come the pleas.

"D-daddy," you choke out around other sounds of carnality, "Please, can I cum? Please please please please."

You were a natural when it came to begging. But you were bad, so he doesn't let you off easy tonight. He doesn't answer your calls for him and continues to watch. Being ignored is worse than a no to you, and he knows this.

"Please. I need it- I- I can't wait," you cry, "Pretty please, daddy."

"You think you've earned it?" he asks.

"Uh huh, I did. I earned it," you repeat, slurring your words a little.

He pauses for a moment, making you wait before he gives his permission. "Alright. Go ahead then. It's the only one you're getting tonight."

You try to force the words 'thank you' out, but instead, you can only moan as release crashes into you. Your hips buck wildly on the pillow. Arousal gushes from you and darkens the already existing wet patch. Your chest heaves with all the feelings rushing through you, your back arching before you topple forward.

Even with your face smooshed against the blankets, your hips still twitch in the afterglow. You ride out the little remaining bursts on his pillow. When you finally get yourself to sit up, eyes droopy and mind hazy.

He's in front of you now. His cock is out, his hand stroking it slowly.

"You did good, puppy. You were a very good girl," he praises.

You bask in it for a moment before your eyes fall down to his hard shaft in front of you. He smiles, knowing you could never resist a chance to have his dick.

"That's right. You were good, so now you get a treat. Daddy knows how much his puppy likes to lick."

[homunculus-argument]

Weird to realise in hindsight about how the things you were taught at home are actually weird, when you exclusively interact with people who aren't weird about that specific thing. Not even things you were explicitly taught at home, but something you just picked up from just the way your family talked about things and looked at you when you talked about something they didn't approve of.

At one point I thought it'd be funny to have a car that's decorated in some novelty way, with a distinct theme of some sort - the kind of vehicles you sometimes see around town and mention to your friend like "hey I saw that cool car again, the one with the funny novelty decor on it" and it just brightens your day a little to be reminded that someone actually went out of their way to have a car that's like idk painted entirely in tiger stripes just to get a laugh out of people.

And my sister looked at me like I'd just said something disgusting and said "so you just want to draw attention to yourself." My mother agreed that a vehicle that stands out in a way that's distracting could pose a danger in traffic and might cause accidents. With my fun idea expertly deflated, I didn't want a fun novelty car anymore.

This morning my boyfriend showed me an electric scooter he found online, and we agreed that while the ~Sleek Modern Design~ itself was boring as hell, essentially just a rectangle with wheels, it would at least have a good blank canvas for custom print wrap. You could probably get a print/paint job of a photorealistic leather texture on it and look like you're driving an oldschool leather suitcase around town. That would make people look twice.

And it popped into my head that now hold on, why did my family think so badly about that sort of thing in the first place? Why is it bad to draw attention to yourself, where the fuck did this "all attention is negative attention" attitude even come from? Did they really think that it's a sin for any person to want to be seen and/or heard at all, or was it just me who shouldn't want to remind people that I exist?

People need weird, unexpected little novelties in their life to not get bored of living. I'm allowed to to be weird just to get a chuckle out of people who needed one.

[cinnamonest]

I've been thinking more about promiscuous darlings which led me to the idea of prostitute!darling, and I was thinking about that like in that event a while back where Paimon says Kaveh seems like “the kind of guy that would be easy to take advantage of” and it got me thinking how quickly and readily he would fall in love with a prostitute… literally lured and baited as easily as a fish to a hook.

He doesn't like the thought of what he's doing, initially. He's never been the sort of person who associates with morally questionable things — he’s heard that a lot of those girls don't really want to be doing it, they just need money, so participating would be taking advantage of them, wouldn't it? He couldn't do something so awful.

But he's got a lot of pent up frustration. His work is hard, he's not in a good place financially, he's stressed, pent up, and has no outlet for release. And even if he strives to be a good person, he's still a guy, still has urges that, when gone unmet, only contribute to that frustration.

In hindsight, he feels like something possessed him. Couldn't say exactly what caused him to take a course of action so far removed from what he would have thought was his personal character.

It's just a particularly bad day, after particularly disagreeable clients spent a particularly long time endlessly getting in his face and complaining and snapping at him, he worked particularly late and is particularly frustrated and seething and wallowing as he sulks home so late at night, and he's particularly irritated because some construction going on forces him to take a different route home, and—

You just so happen to call out to him. And when he turns his head, he immediately stiffens up.

So pretty. You have that specific body type he’s always found most alluring, always pictured in his head when he would lay in bed and jerk off all day after classes. And he can certainly tell, because those outfits you girls on this part of the street wear certainly leave very little to the imagination. So much skin, he can see your entire leg, from the hip down to the ankles and all the curving along the way, he can see most of your tits too, cleavage spilling out from the top. It's immediately captivating. If he was thinking straight, he would suppose that's kind of the point, but he's too lost in the sudden burst of stimulation to his eyes to think about much at all.

You have such a nice smile, such a sweet voice. And now that you have his attention, you put on that whimsical feminine charm, shift your weight from one foot to the other, hips swaying all playfully, and he has to ask you to repeat what you said because he didn't hear you the first time, he was too distracted, and it feels so embarrassing to say that, but you just giggle — it's so cute — and repeat your question — if he wants to come inside.

He swallows, stumbles over his words at the prospect, you're being very forward — oh, wait, you probably mean come inside the building. Oh… that makes more sense, at this stage in the process. Whoops…

But that isn't much better. He's still red in the face and hesitates, all uh, ah, I, um, I just…

Yes, he isn't sure exactly what possesses him. It’s not something he would ever do on his own, surely. It feels more like the word comes out of his mouth on its own.

Sure.

The following events seem almost surreal, in hindsight. He can't remember what you even talked about, some empty meaningless conversation about what he does for a living or if he's been around this area before, some placeholder of a conversation that he knows full well is merely a courtesy to make it all feel a little more natural, empty words that are mutually understood to be just a buffer to prevent awkwardness as you walk up the stairs, to fill the short span of time before you get to the point.

He remembers said point a lot better. Long after it's over, he can remember the feeling of your mouth on his, and the way you pulled on the back of his neck to pull him on top of you, the rush of euphoric chemicals to the brain the moment you pulled just one little button undone and the whole thing you're wearing comes falling off, the visual of your body (he’s never actually seen a girl naked in real life before, it’s so captivating, the anatomy textbooks don’t do it justice), and the way your tits bounce with the movements and the way they feel in his mouth and the image of his cock driving into you over and over (no one ever told him it feels so warm and wet, so good, has he really been missing out on this all this time?) and the sounds you made are practically permanently burned into his brain.

So much so, he keeps thinking about it for days on end. He felt kind of sad when he left, but he knows that he only paid for a limited time slot, so it would be unfair to ask to stay any longer, but the way you smiled and waved and told him you hoped to see him again — still naked, body pressed up against the doorframe, the way your chest shifted when you waved — made him feel so warm, made his heart beat fast all over again.

It's all so distracting. He works at a much slower pace than usual, the following days, keeps getting distracted by the lingering visuals in his head and the way he keeps getting hard whenever he thinks about it, and not to mention the guilt.

Yes, as euphoric as it was, he feels terrible. Like he's done something wrong. Swears to himself that he'll forget about it and never do it again, that it was a one-time thing.

But he begins to rationalize it to himself.

Sure, you do it because you need money, but that means that if no one participated in the exchange, then you wouldn't make any money at all, and that would be worse, right? Besides, everyone knows some of those guys that engage in this sort of thing are terrible, mean people — but he's not, he's a really nice guy! So by seeing you, by being the one to buy your time, he's protecting you from potentially having to do it with really bad men. So, when you think about it, he's actually doing something really good.

And it improves his life, too. The next day, he finds that the nagging clients don't really get under his skin at all. Sure, they're complaining and being mean to him, but he's not really paying attention, it all feels far away, like it's not even real. He just feels full of this warm, fuzzy feeling, total bliss, like floating, without a care in the world. He isn't stressed, isn't worried. He even thinks to himself that, you know what, that task or that work can wait until tomorrow, no rush, and if someone gets mad about it, too bad.

He ends up just laying in bed, grinning like an idiot, basking in the euphoric high that lasts him several days on end.

…Except then, it fades away.

Soon he's back to the stress, constant state of being overwhelmed, the little things start to upset him again, and he actually feels more miserable than he did before, now that he has such a good feeling to compare to.

You said you hope he comes back, didn’t you? And he’s pretty sure he stuttered out an o-oh, okay, so now he’s obligated.

Thus, soon enough, he's back.

It's not like he's intentionally seeking you out. He just felt like walking home a different way today, is all, which just so happens to be the route that took him by you last time, and he has no intention of seeing you, it just so happens to be the case that you are standing around outside and you do happen to see him and you choose to call out to him (by his name!! You remember him!!), you're smiling and have such a sweet voice, you clearly want him to come in (do you like him? You wouldn't be smiling if you didn't, right?) and it would be mean of him to reject you, wouldn't it?

Yes, you're clearly happy. You smile all over again. He's not doing anything wrong, it's only wrong if the girl doesn't like doing it. He would never taken advantage of one of those vulnerable girls that's forcing herself to do it for money. But you're not like that, so it's okay.

Which is how he ends up back there a third time. Because it's okay, and it makes you happy, and it makes him very happy, so it's all okay.

And besides, what you two have is different. It's not like the normal cases, where the girl is just in it for money and doesn't want the guy at all. You clearly enjoyed your time with him. Probably a welcome relief from all the gross old guys you have to see.

And it's different because it's not just sex. Normally, with this sort of thing, it's cold and impersonal, isn't it?

But you smile so sweet and run your fingers through his hair, and cradle his head in your arms and pull him close and coo and fuss and run your fingers down his back. And since he intends to pay for the entire night this time, you get to just lay there together, and you're so warm and soft and you smile and giggle as he talks, so pretty, so nice to him, your skin is so good to touch, you smell so nice.

And the sex itself is different too — you like it, genuinely, he can tell, you make such nice sounds and lewd faces and look directly into his eyes and pull his head forward to kiss him (he one heard someone say that prostitutes never kiss clients, so if you do that it must mean he's different), and you hold him so close and tighten up around him and it feels so so so so good, and the way you quiver and the sounds get louder and you squeal and spasm and it's so so SO good, too good, it feels so passionate that it has to be real.

Yes, it is real. It's not just acting. He can feel the slick wetness all over his hips from you, that means it's real. And you don't even mind when he gets a bit lost in the feeling, starts to really let all the pent-up irritation out, gets rougher and harder and holds you by your throat. He feels so terrible after he cums and realizes what he was doing, keeps sputtering out apologies over and over, but you smile and wave your hand and say it's more than fine, giggle and kiss his forehead, say you wouldn't expect it from such a sweet boy like him, but you like it. If you're fine with it, if you like it, then you're not scared he might actually hurt you. You must really trust him, then.

The downside is that now, work feels so miserable. He keeps thinking about how much he wants to go back to you. Each project feels like torture — why is he here, negotiating with these disagreeable people, slaving away all night, when he could be balls deep in you again, hear your voice, feel your touch?

And he starts to get so irritated and frustrated again, and he finds that this time around, he doesn't have to sit there and let the frustration hit a peak before deciding to do something, he doesn't have to rationalize it for hours on end just to allow himself to give into the urge — the moment the frustration rises, his mind immediately settled on the decision. He has to go see you. You'll make everything better.

Except now, he realizes as he reaches into his drawers, there's a different problem.

…He has no money left.

That means he can't see you. He spent all his savings on you last time.

It makes him feel sick. This can't be happening. What is he supposed to do? He can't just go back to dealing with the frustration all the time! Now that he knows what it's like to be so happy, he can't go without it. He needs it.

It's not just the sex itself, he's not some kind of degenerate, he wants to see you! That's wholesome and good, isn't it? So it’s not like he’s some sort of pervert addicted to sex itself, he’s addicted to you.

And besides, if he isn't there for you, you'll have to deal with other men, and most guys who see prostitutes are bad guys, right? What if one of them hurts you? What if you're expecting him to come, and then you'll feel hurt and sad if he doesn't? You'll be disappointed. He can't let that happen.

So where is he supposed to get money from…?

Well. He has a few means, as he starts to brainstorm a bit. Right, there is a small stash of emergency money he had put away at the bottom of another drawer, that he was saving for a situation where he needed it, but put it away so he wouldn't be tempted to spend it on something unnecessary.

But this isn't like that. It is necessary, for him to continue functioning properly. And for you to have the money to get by! Not only is he guaranteeing your safety for the night, but what if you didn't get anyone if he didn't come? Well, it's unlikely no one would come, but still, you might not make enough money, and what happens then? Don't those guys that own the brothels get really mean to the girls that don't make enough? He can't have that happen. So, this situation absolutely justifies the use of the emergency stash. It's enough to give him another three nights or so. He can just use enough money for one visit, and then by the time he needs another one, he'll have brought in some new money.

No, no, you know what? You need it more than he does. He just gives it all to you at once, and to be honest, it does make his heart skip a beat when your eyes widen in shock. This way, he can reserve the next three nights in a row, right? He originally intended to space them out a bit, but, no, he’s already here, and he’s really needy right now, he’ll just do three nights in a row and figure out how to get more later. He'll just pay upfront. You're so happy. It makes him feel good.

And then, as the night goes on, when you're laying there all curled up together talking about all sorts of things, he off-handedly mentions that you wear that dress of yours all the time, he's never seen you without it, is it your favorite?

And then you get this sheepish look on your face, give an awkward laugh, say that well, you don't really have any other clothes, you sold them all to get by before you ended up here, and you give so much back to the owners that you just don't have enough to get any more…

That's so sad. Poor thing. You can't just not have enough clothes… well, he only has a few things he changes back and forth himself, but girls are really into clothes and stuff, aren't they? You deserve to have nice things, it's sad that you don't get to. He keeps it in mind, says he promises he'll get you something. You say he doesn’t have to. You’re so sweet and considerate. That just makes him want to help you even more.

So when his next project is complete and he gets the payout for it, sure, he only needs about half of it to pay you for one or two nights each week for the next month, and he could get you something cheap and still have a little left over for rent, but… you deserve nice stuff. And the nice stuff would make you so much happier, too, it would earn him favor from you… besides, he has another project he'll finish soon, he can just pay late rent using that.

So he can get the nice stuff. Besides, even shopping exclusively for higher-end stuff, it's still a bit cheaper to buy the super revealing clothes, since they use less fabric. Not that he's a pervert or anything, it's just that you need clothes like that for your job, don't you? It's part of how you lure guys in. The fact that you'll look really nice in it to him is just a side bonus, it's really for your sake.

…Which, actually, does make him feel a bit sick to his stomach. He's getting you clothes that you'll use to hook other guys who aren't him. But, no, he's a mature person, he can't… let himself get upset about something like that… it’s not your fault… he'll just choose to not think about it.

He can distract himself with how happy you are. Your eyes light up and you smile so big and you stand on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his face all over. You're happy. You're really, really happy, because of him, he made you happy, his heart is beating so fast, and when you put them on it shows off even more than he thought it would, you can almost see everything, it just barely covers the bare minimum and you seem to really like that, you pull him close and reach a leg up behind him and pull his hips forward and the rest of the night is a hazy blur of lust and euphoria, you're so happy, and he's happy too.

It feels so good. He's been missing out on this all these years. It's the best feeling of anything in the world. He's so, so happy.

He's so happy that people in his life start to comment on it. They ask if something good happened, they say they're glad he seems less stressed. He just shrugs it off, says he's just been feeling better recently, or makes something up about a different change in habits.

And sure, he has to tell Alhaitham that he won't have rent just this one time, it's just that something came up, although he won't specify what it is, but he makes it sound important — not dishonestly, because it is important, it's just that he knows that the first assumption one would make would he something a bit… more important, but if that assumption is made, that's not his fault.

Nonetheless, he's soon out of money again. Gets hit with the same wave of panic. He's got a routine now, a habit, he's dependent on you for his stress. He needs it. If he doesn't get what he needs, how is he supposed to go on? How is he supposed to function? He can't just use his hand anymore, it's not enough, it doesn't have the same effect. And he can't just beg you to sleep with him anyway, he knows you need money, he would never put you in that situation, it would be unfair to you, he's a better man than that. He has to pay you somehow.

He has some things he doesn't need. Tools he hasn't used in ages. Some stuff he hasn't worn or needed in a long time. He can sell a few things.

And, you know what, this client has been really mean to him anyway, so if he cuts a few corners to get paid a bit earlier, it's no big deal, the guy doesn't deserve his best work anyway. It’s a mentality he normally would never take, but… this is different. This is a unique situation that calls for such measures.

And he's taken out loans before from the bank, usually for projects, and he usually pays it back, so they undoubtedly assume it's just another case of that, so he'll take out a decently sized loan… of course, he may need more money for more upcoming projects, and then they won't give him a new loan until he pays back the old one, but… well, he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

And normally, he would never, ever, ever do something bad, he's a person who prides himself on his moral values, but it's not like he's doing something bad in this case, its just pure coincidence that he happens to find some guy’s wallet dropped on the ground. It just so happens to have a lot of money in it. And he returns the wallet itself into the nearest law enforcement, he gives the object itself and all the IDs and such back. He's sure the rightful owner would pay him for the good deed anyway. And when you think about it, the fact that this would happen to him just when he needed it, it's probably some kind of divine grace that this happened, and who is he to deny what the higher powers gift him with?

He can keep making it work. And he can keep buying out larger and larger blocks of your time, to ensure no one else gets to you — after that one time he arrived to find out you were already occupied for the time being, it practically made his blood boil, made him feel so sick he walked home and couldn't get the images out of his mind of you with someone else, he can't let that happen again, it would kill him inside.

Likewise, he has to get a bit more earnings, take on some more jobs, sacrifice some more sleep because you keep hinting at certain things you want, and if he doesn't buy them for you, who will? It's all stuff you need anyway — well, stuff you need for your job, all the fancy jewelry and perfumes and clothes and stuff. And he gets benefits, too — your love and favor, you take initiative more, you ride him and kiss him more and let him do all sorts of filthy things you don't let anyone else do (he knows because you told him so), you even let him stop wearing protection when he sleeps with you, and it's so much better, it's completely different, he can't go back to the old way, having to be deprived of that warm, wet heat would be utterly miserable. You even give him a night or two for free, because you like him so much, tell him it should be a secret just between you two, okay? Of course, you can't do it all for free, so he has to come back again soon, but you know, this way, he'll stay incentivized, which is good — because you want him to come back because you like him, not for money, no, never that.

You tell him he's your favorite. You say that he makes you happy. You say you would be heartbroken if he ever stopped coming. You say that you need him.

You say that you love him.

He feels like he's going to die of happiness right there on the spot.

You mention that if someone just paid off your price to the owner (said buying price is whatever the owner decides), plus the debt you accumulate from staying here (it's well known that those fees are how they trap these poor girls into endless servitude), then you would be free — that if someone just pays for you, you could be free to do what you want, that you could sleep with him every day, you could even get married.

So he has to do it. He feels bad about the concept of buying a human being, but, his situation is different, because he's a good guy and loves you. Besides, the sooner he does, then the sooner you'll never have sex with anyone but him ever again. He's saving you, really.

And if he doesn't, what if someone else does? What if someone else took you away from him? He can't even imagine it. The very notion makes him feel nauseous, panicked, distraught. He can't let that happen.

It's not unfeasible. If he really budgets well, saves just a little at a time, he can get you out in no time. Just a year or so. He'll start saving.

And sure, he hasn't paid rent in a while now, and he gets these questions of where his money is going, why he's leaving late at night when he never did that before, all these pesky questions he shouldn't have to answer, because it's none of your business, as he mutters in response. He's just got too much going on right now, and strapped for cash, he'll pay it back eventually, that's what matters.

…Which also makes him realize that, even if he does buy you, you'll have to just come live here with him, and how is he supposed to explain that to Alhaitham… he can just say he got a girlfriend, right? Still, people might recognize you, he'd find out eventually, and then he'd probably realize all the missed rent payments were actually going to him getting laid, and that's… not good… he just wouldn't understand, he's totally lacking in any understanding of romanticism or love… such unfeeling pragmatists are so annoying to deal with… he'll just have to deal with that when it happens…

Except it does end up happening sooner than later. Someone or another (some jerk who can't keep their mouth shut, he'll find out eventually), must have seen him around at night, going to you, and that same person must have reported on him (like a grade school tattletale crying to a teacher, hmph!) and that's how he eventually gets confronted, point blank (absolutely no sense of tact or appropriateness!), one night as he’s trying to leave to go see you, but finds the other blocking the door.

Are you blowing your money on a whore?

Of course, before addressing the matter directly, it's important to point out that it is rude to call women terms like that, they are prostitutes and they deserve to be respected as much as anyone else—

So you are.

Which starts off a much bigger, longer, more heated argument, in which he tries to explain that no he’s not dodging the question and that it is not prostitution, you two are in a relationship, you just so happen to also be a prostitute, but he's trying to help you change that— hey, what's with the sighing like that and rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's exasperated? It's true! You even said you love him!

Okay, yes, maybe it's true that they all say that, but in this case, you mean it, you're different, he wouldn't get it.

And sure, the whole thing is probably surprising from him of all people— what do you mean it's not that surprising? What's that supposed to mean? What— who are you calling an “ideal target”?! That's so mean! You—

And despite his best efforts, there is no point in trying to use reason with someone so cold and devoid of capacity to understand love. It's futile. How pessimistic, so annoying. Besides, he's implying you're a bad person, and he can't stand for that. No, you're not using him, how could he say that?

Eventually it becomes very clear that the conversation is going nowhere, it's very much like talking to a brick wall, someone who just refuses to even try and understand what you two have. No matter. Fine, fine, he'll focus on paying back rent first, but then he's going to buy you, and then he'll see firsthand how loving you are (and surely will not charge him extra for another person living in the house, as he was just threatened with)… he'll see. Eventually.

[https-kittyx3]

Hey can I request a platonic friendship Headcannon of Dark cacao cookie meeting the reincarnate of one of the dragons he had defeated in his past but instead of coming back for vengeance they came back to thank them for ending the many day long battle with their sibling and/or enemy and offered to become a protector of the kingdom.

loyalty to my savior

i absolutely love this idea omg!! congrats on being the first request i'm so excited to write this :3 also i'm gonna do this in the headcanon format if that's okay! i'm not sure if that's what you wanted or not, though D: also x2, when writing for CRK i like to keep it ambiguous so it's not clear if they're cookies or in a human form for those who prefer one or the other.

platonic dark cacao headcanons!! || lowercase intended

the first time dark cacao came across you was right outside of his kingdom - he heard rumors of a stranger lingering nearby, setting an uneasiness among his subjects.

you didn't mean to scare anyone, though... you were just waiting for the best time to appear. approaching the one who both saved your life and ended your suffering was a big deal, after all.

your memories of battling with your sibling is still fresh in your mind, regardless of the new form you possess. you've been reborn, given another chance, and the first thing you wish to do is thank dark cacao while the memories linger.

when he finally appears in front of you, you waste no time in revealing yourself.

in hindsight, a slower approach would've been better...

the second you pop out, dark cacao draws his sword and points it directly at you.

for some reason, this doesn't stop you - in fact, it prompts you to move in closer and take a knee before him. dark cacao raises a brow in confusion, not expecting such a display after causing so much unrest.

"lord dark cacao!" you speak breathlessly, head bowed in respect, "i am one half of the dragons you sealed away. please, let me use this second chance to serve you in return for your act of kindness."

".. what?"

he, uh... didn't believe you. not at first, at least. it also took him quite a bit of convincing for him to agree to your proposition.

it was hard to believe that something he defeated would want to help protect his kingdom, let alone thank him for it.

but... at the end of the day, he did save you and your other half from eternally fighting. perhaps he could understand a little bit.

it really wasn't long until you became his right hand. not only did you fight well, but you proved time and time again how loyal you are to him and his kingdom.

no matter how many times he says that he's capable of protecting himself, you're there to do it anyway. it's your duty, your self-proclaimed purpose - to protect dark cacao at all cost.

it even got to the point where you're "protecting him" outside of battles. any small indication of someone saying a bad thing about him around you is immediately shut down.

it amuses dark cacao, regardless of every time he tells you not to bother doing that.

"it's a waste of time to worry about what others think of me."

"but... lord dark cacao, they said your cape is wrinkled!"

dark cacao simply chuckles, brushing off your worries and turning to walk away.

you follow behind him with a pout, before it clicks what you heard.

did... dark cacao just laugh?!

[batboyblog]

2016 is often considered the point when leftism managed to get itself into the mainstream and became more popular, but I honestly can't help but wonder, given the sheer descent into conspiracy theory and selfish cruelty of the current state, whether in hindsight it was actually leftism's step into decline.

I've been thinking about this a lot, sadly I'm getting the start of a Migraine, so the edges of my thoughts are all fuzzy so idk if I'll be able to do what I think justice, but lets try.

The human mind doesn't really like complexity, it'd a pattern recognition machine built to find food and stuff that thinks you're food in the African brush. So we like to find patterns and lump stuff together, its hardwired in.

so "Leftism" I do understand what you mean, but I think it covers a really wide area.

and I think in politics we like to assign ideological and policy logic to things to political movements, it has to be about a coherent and rational ideology and world view we think. But... I think, often times it's emotional as much as anything. Did people vote for JFK or Reagan so much for policy as they, personally in their person, seemed to be the antidote to what was wrong in the moment? JFK seemed young and energetic when compared to an elderly and ill President Eisenhower, Reagan had the claiming aging leading man energy to make everyone feel like it'd be okay, a movie cowboy to lead us against bad guys we didn't understand while nice guy Jimmy Carter seemed stuck.

So back to 2016, I think there was so real ideology to start. The Left of the Democratic Party felt empowered after 2006, the left of the party had been against the Iraq War from the jump and that turned into the organizing issue that pushed Republicans out of power in 2006. A San Fran liberal, founding member of the House Progressive Cause was the first woman Speaker (and in favor of gay marriage too). In 2008 the Left of the party for largely emotional reasons sided with Obama over Clinton, even though they largely overlapped on policy and where there were (minor) differences she was to his left.

so riding high from two back to back wins, having gotten a lot of progressives elected to the House and Senate (like Bernie Sanders) progressive Dems were pretty let down by the real results, the ACA got bogged down and their dearest wish list item, the public option, which Pelosi fought for so hard, failed to make it into the final bill, and then 2010, a blood bath. And understandably there's been some frustration with Obama for not living up to the hype and also failing to really focus on state level races, Democrats got tarred hard

BUT! there's also an emotional side, Occupy Wall Street. I remember at the time being interested in it, I was young and more radical, but soon I got really frustrated because they had no demands, I watched every night MSNBC which was very sympathetic, but no one could articulate what it is they wanted, past a vague idea of "punish" the guilty.

I think there's a lot of restless frustration, some of it grounded and based in reality some of it not, in this country and its only grown over time as well as a contempt for and a break down of any kind of respect for experts and norms any anything established.

SO! I think that emotion latched onto Bernie and the left of the Democratic Party. As someone who worked that election I can tell you, at first knocking doors in New Hampshire, I got the taste of the very start of the campaign. And people would say "oh I'm voting for Bernie now, but I'll vote for Hillary in the general" but soon it went from friendly, from "we're pushing her to the left" to something bitter and angry. I had Bernie supporters tell me 1990s Fox News conspiracy theories around the Clintons, I had a Bernie supporter (in the general election) follow two college girl volunteers for blocks back to our office to SCREAM at us all.

Bernie won the New Hampshire Primary pretty commandingly that year, and partly because he had a strong volunteer network. But in the general despite many efforts we could barely get any of his regular volunteers to come work with us against Trump. I remember one lady who showed up just once and looked RIP SHIT! to be there, I think she said that all the positive stuff we said about Clinton, at a canvass launch for Clinton, made her "sick" and "don't expect me to say anything nice about her!" and she was one of only a tiny number of Bernie people who showed up in the general so she was better than some.

I remember the only Bernie Volunteer we got to become a regular. He'd knocked doors for months in New Hampshire for Bernie, organized his own phone bank into Nevada for their primary, drove down to South Carolina and spent the week before their primary knocking. Clearly a true believer, and when he decided to volunteer with us they kicked him out of the Facebook group he started and stopped speaking to him. I'll always remember what he said, that around the Bernie office they used to say that "a Trump voter was just a Bernie voter who hasn't been educated yet"

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, there were real motivations of the progressives and the left of the party, real policy based frustrations, particularly around how health care worked out, and I think Bernie Sanders himself was running because of that and to express that. But it tapped into something else, something not really political and much more emotional, rage and bitterness and a need to punish, the same energizes Trump taps into. It made a permission to be nasty to people you don't like, particularly women, I won't repeat the things people said on the phones, horrible.

now in 2024, almost 10 years later, there's a lot more depression mixed in, Trump talks about America as a 3rd world country all the time, there's just a vibe of having given up, hopelessness. There's a genocide and everything is horrible and hopeless and give up and die.

I don't believe in giving up, I don't believe in bitterness, I'm not a sunny person in real life, but I believe the point of politics, the politics I'm a part of, is lifting people up. It might be corny and uncool, but I believe in America, not that we're prefect, no, we're not, but together we've done great things, we fought a world war and went to the moon, and we can do great things together still always if we believe in each other, build each other up, stop being so afraid and weak and sad. I want to be beat fascism again, I want to go to the moon again, I want to beat climate change, and finally finally make the promise that all men are created equal REAL, and I don't believe in hiding behind walls, and crying that we can't do it any more, fuck that shit.

[partycatty]

Hiee! I love the way you write bi han. When i read new tricks i IMMEDIATELY ascended. The depression i got when i finished reading them was tragic…

Me thirsting: I really wanna make out wit that man, like… imagine a situation where all you do is stare at him and hope he telepathically gets what you wanna do, but he just ignores you cause he dunno know how to initiate that shit 💀 he just needs a little push per say! Maybe one day you decide enough is enough and you sit your happy ass right down on his lap and bat your lashes at him like a menace 💕

ps: i hope u don’t mind me yapping… ik cage is your man, i apologize 😔🙏🏾

bi-han > see me now

notes: i've noticed i've kinda diverted my attention to other mk boys lately... namely raiden, kuai liang, bi-han and liu kang... so this works perfectly for me...

[ masterlist ]

• bi-han was a common victim to your teasing, particularly because it would render him entirely speechless and still. for a man that tends to rant about glory and strength, you shut him up like nothing else.

• it was really hard to ignore the fact that you were super into each other, the air thick and tension high when you two were in each other's presence. his brothers would roll their eyes as their grandmaster stands dead-still, as if you had the ability to sense fear when you'd bat your eyelashes his way.

• he can't go to anyone for advice. what, he's gonna talk about his feelings? like a loser? no. real ninjas let emotions fester.

• which brings us to where we are now

• bi-han sat at his desk, physically straining himself to focus on the scroll in front of him when he sees your presence in the doorway. shit, he recognized your footsteps down the hall the moment you were in earshot.

• trying to act as if you weren't shitting your own pants at the thought of your plan, you plant your ass on his desk, sitting and dangling your feet from the wooden furniture with a singsong look about you.

• the silence is so thick is almost halts your breathing. his stone-cold face makes you wonder if this was a bad idea in hindsight, at least, until his lips part to speak.

• "what are you doing?" a simple question, really, but the answer was completely lost on you. thinking back, you didn't actually have a plan. what did you expect to happen? this is bi-han we're talking about.

• "sitting," you reply with your nose high, looking down at him like his question was idiotic.

• "on my desk?" another long silence hurts your ears as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "what do you want." his question sounded less like a question and more like an annoyed statement. then again, everything he says sounds annoyed.

• "what's your deal?" you ask your questions in such a light tone, bi-han feels more obligated to feel threatened. "do you like me or not?"

• clearly this isn't getting far. "what?"

• you huff and decide it was now or never. sliding from his desk, you saunter your way around and swing one leg over his thighs, then the other. his hands shoot out to support you, right on the plush skin of the outside of your thighs. bi-han's eyes are wide.

• "you see me now?" you try to sound triumphant past your nerves, looking up at the ninja through your lashes. "always so afraid to look at me. you're not subtle, grandmaster."

• forced to face you, his gruff words feel choked as they come out. "i don't—"

• "yes you do," you smile, albeit a little wickedly as you shift on his lap, making a cold breath slip past his lips.

• "what are you getting at?" he seems eager to end this, to cool his heated temperature.

• you hum in thought before wrapping your arms around his neck. "i want you to kiss me."

• "now?"

• you roll your eyes at his chipping resolve, tugging him in by the back of his head. both of your eyes wander across each other's expressions before bi-han hesitantly meets his lips with yours. as expected, they have a bit of a chill as he makes contact, but even still you feel him melt into the touch, gripping harder on your thighs to ground himself.

• you only get a moment to pull away and breathe, relishing in taking what you wanted from the hard ass grandmaster. the triumph is short lived when he thrusts his head back in, connecting his lips with yours with more fervor after successfully testing the waters.

• he's hungry, craving more of what he sampled after successfully tearing down this stupid barrier he put up. god, your taste drives him wild as his hands guide your hips along his, grinding with hard pressure.

• it becomes open-mouthed and messy rather quickly, bi-han's hands wandering up from your thighs to your waist, the touch making you shiver and gasp as he uses the opportunity to lick his tongue into your mouth, completely absorbing every whimper you give.

• your hands snake into his hair, deepening the kiss when you snag a fistful of his dark locks, and he groans into your mouth just as the tie falls loose. strands litter his face and swirl about, you hadn't even noticed they were wavy from how often he keeps his hair up.

• the want for more is overpowered by your critical thinking skills. "weren't you busy?"

• bi-han shakes his head slightly, jumping up from his chair and bringing you with him. instinctively, your thighs clasp around his middle, holding his shoulders as he shamelessly uses your ass to hold you up. you're slid onto the desk as various items clatter and fall to the floor, his hard body fitting perfectly between your legs as he reaches forward to kiss you again, chasing your lips when you pull away.

• "it can wait."

[honkthehenry]

unnamed slime game - part 1

Masterlist

The way you suddenly snapped into awareness without realizing you drifted off at all was something akin to having a bucket of ice-cold water thrown into your face.

You... dozed off in class again. In hindsight, it was inevitable – the last time you got hours of sleep instead of something in-between nothing at all and a 2-hour-nap was last Saturday. You've been running on nothing but bitter, cheap coffee and sheer spite for almost a week now, it was high time you finally crashed.

Still, you should have woken up at Uni. You should have woken up to your professor huffing and puffing and glowering in your face about your terrible conduct, about how your generation had no respect for his generation, about how such a complicated and beautiful science like Robotics was not a place for slackers like you (which, fair, you had no idea what you were doing in Robotics either), not... alone and certaintly not in the middle of a forest.

You ran through a bunch of scenarios quickly, but none stuck.

Kidnapping? Far-fetched at best. You lived alone, only barely making ends meet by running yourself into the ground as you tried to marry working retail with being a full-time student, so ransom was out of the question and being kidnapped for the sake of doing bad things to you... Why bother? You didn't know anyone nearly well enough to be kidnapped due to personal feelings and you were neither good-looking enough (perpetually tired goblin that you were) nor famous-, connected- or skilled enough to be kidnapped randomly.

Besides, you were at the University, on the 5th floor, in the middle of the city that had no forests for miles! You were surrounded by 20-odd other people, there was no way someone would be able to kidnap you with so many witnesses around.

So, not kidnapping.

Dream then?

Also unlikely. Your dreams were few and far-between and when they did happen, it was either you being surrounded by characters from the show you happened to be fixated on at the time or it was you getting repeatedly chased and swallowed whole by a dinosaur on a loop, until the dream finally ended (probably Jurasic Park childhood trauma, now that you thought about it).

Still.

This was so weird, because you knew for a fact you were much too aware of everything to be dreaming and yet the things you saw didn't makes sense at all!

You didn't have any arms for one!

And your body was purple!

You could feel electricity zapping at your body and it didn't hurt, it was more like being swallowed in a blanket burrito and nursing a comforting mug of hot chocolate, while watching your favourite show with no worry for deadlines or money!

You weren't supposed to feel like that, you were supposed to be tired and grumpy and irritable and not nice and not toasty and certaintly not so comfortable!

Drugs? Hallucinations? You never partaked, you didn't drink alcohol either, so that was a no—

—A purple crystal you were under zapped at you again and you positively melted on the spot, basking in the feeling and letting the troublesome train of thought go like the wind, before it inevitably derailed and caused you undue anxiety as it always did.

...it was very nice actually.

Maybe losing opposable thumbs wasn't so bad if you got this in exchange.

You could live like this.

×•×•×•× Honk!!! Corner ווו×

You know that one post lurking on Tumblr where OP is turned into a frog by a witch as revenge? And just vibes? Basks in the sun without worrying about life? This is MC now.

I don't care how long or how short chapters are, they're just gonna vibe as they are because I am a goblin with a short attention span and no actual ability to write.

Something to get you thinking - MC is an electro slime for a reason and that reason is electro immunity.

I wonder why?

*smiling like a particularly smug cat*

Did I mention I can't draw lightning/electricity? Because I can't, so I didn't.

Also fvck me, my tags didn't saveeeeee 😭

[gamerbearmira]

My Take On Wish

I liked it. Now, it’s not the best. But it’s still pretty good in hindsight. They had a good idea, but they executed it poorly.

I think a big reason is the movie had such high expectations. It was the movie for the 100th anniversary, which is huge. But they had no time and no money. The movie feels rushed, there's so much that happens too fast in such a short amount of time. That brings me to my next point.

Time. This movie should have been longer. Of the most recent movies, like Turning Red, Encanto, Luca and Elemental, they run for about 1 hr and 35-49 minutes. But they don't feel rushed. Everything us spaced out and works, at least for the most part. Every movie has it flaws in run time. Wish runs for the same amount of time as Encanto; but it feels so much more rush. The movie should have been longer, and I feel like people wouldn't have been too made at an extra 20 to 30 minutes. It would've given a lot more to world and established things, and answer questions that were left unanswered.

Characters. They weren't bad! They had some good characters, and the designs were...good. I like them, and I can see what they were doing. Like Magnifico and Amaya, I really like their designs! Same with the teens (save for a few things, mostly color, but I digress). Valentino is cute, but I don't like how they gave him a deep voice. Asha and Star? They're ok, at best. Looking at the concept art in the book, there was SO much potential that they didn't use.

Asha looks a lot like Isabela. It's a running joke. But the closer I look, she looks too much like her. Literally, if you look in the book, you can see that she actually had a floral dress that seemed a little too similar to Isabela's. The thing is, she had a lot of other really good designs, which I used in the redesign below, among other things. Star, he's cute but...it's sad. He was so obviously going to be a love interest. AND YES DISNEY. IT'S OK TO HAVE A HEROINE FALL IN LOVE. I took one of his designs that nearly stuck and tweaked it a little. He still has a star form, for other purposes.

The songs. They were ok, but I'm sort of understanding the joke if "They were written by ChatGPT". They sound so empty? But when you listen to the demos they sound better. That brings me to "At All Costs". I heard it in the movie. It's sung by Magnifico and Asha, when it was so obviously meant to be sung by Asha and her love interest, which would have been Starboy. And the demo is actually really good.

For my redesigns? I changed quite a but on Asha. Her friends are supposed to be like the seven dwarves. So why in the world didn't they utilize Snow White for Asha? I'm not saying she had to be a carbon copy, but jeez, it would've been nice. In my design, I gave her a mix of other dresses she had in the book, changing it a bit to look like snow white's but still being original. I changed the colors, toning them to be more similar to Wish's colors.

Valentino stayed entirely the same. I saw that he was originally he was going to be much larger, pretty much grown. So, I took that and gave him a sister. They aren't really "siblings, Valentina was born way before Valentino, but he's always following behind her, so Asha deemed them "honorary siblings". And I mostly wanted Asha to have more animals around her, like Snow White.

Star is still Star, but he also has a human form. In my opinion, it wouldn't be very present until later in the story. The more tine he spends around Asha, the more he feels more comfortable using it to help Asha. And also, he wants to be like Asha. He loves humans, and watches them from the sky all the time. He may or may not be the North Star. I'm still debating.

Maybe I'll do more with other characters.

Story. I want to try a rewrite. Not now, cause I still have a bunch of Encanto that I'd want to finish, but definitely in the future. I may do more Wish posts on my designs and what I'd worldbuild with some ideas were:

Asha is already Magnifico's apprentice.

Magnifico used the book before he founded Rosa, and built Rosa to take people's wishes for his power under the guise of what he does in the movie currently. He keeps some wishes alive to grant them. No one knows, not even Amaya. Asha finds out. This means he's evil from the start and stays evil. No redemption. No return.

Wishes affect a person not just emotionally, but slightly mentally and sometimes physically. When ita given away, the person feel not just an emptiness, but also heaviness in their body physically.

Amaya is a bit more morally gray, being in Magnifico's side, and even helping him, but slowly shifting to Asha after seeing what he's doing.

Star plays a bigger role much earlier on. The Teens do as well. I feel like they had no character in the movie. Not even Dahila, who I do I love.

It's closer to Asha's birthday. So when she finds out about Magnifico, she's scared of losing her wish, and being unable to restore everyone else's that was already lost, like her Saba's.

Asha may or may not have a staff like Magnifico's. But like?? A training staff??

Magnifico may or may nit being trying to corrupt Asha with the book. She is subject to hus magic still, and sometimes it seeps into her mind, but Star is there to counter it.

Star is much stronger in terms of magic, enough to be on par, or almost on par with Magnifico.

TL;DR: I like Wish. But it has flaws. I wanna try my hand at a rewrite one if these days.

[cheezeybread]

A yandere Azul that doesn't really like when You! Starts a small business that is based on home cooking and being nice and sweet. One shot

Or hear me out..just yandere Tsums! Like they fight against themselves to be your cuddly friend! Headcanons

Both are very good ideas, oh my gosh XD

Tsums fighting to the death would be absolutely hilarious probably not for poor Yuu tho- , but I'm gonna go with the yandere Azul for this one, heheh

Azul isn't dating the reader quite yet in this oneshot, but they are "friends" (Even if Azul would insist otherwise-)

I think I just made him a lovesick fool rather than a yandere, in hindsight, LMAO, my bad~

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

"Cafe Cozy is open for business!

Located at Ramshackle dorm, the magicless prefect has managed to find their place on campus, cooking meals from their own homeworld that many consider to be 'comfort foods'. While the prices are low, rest guaranteed that the memories and good vibes you will get from going here are anything but! Don't believe me? Head over there for yourself, open from-"

Azul's fingers tightened around the edges of the school newspaper, causing a small rip to appear in the middle of it. The sound of ripping annoyed him even further, which only made the octomer shred the rest of the paper in half. He stared at the newpaper for a moment before he gave in to his urges, rip-rip-ripping the paper until nothing more than strips of unreadable words remained.

Running a hand through his hair and taking a slow breath to calm himself, Azul glared at the pile of shredded paper, pondering on what he should do next.

The Mostro Lounge's sales had been a bit low this week. And now he knew why. The Prefect had opened up their own business- if such a lowly little establishment ran in a run-down building could be called as such- and was selling food at low prices to the students. Although his business-savy brain knew that this little endeavor wouldn't last very long if Y/N kept their prices so low, the part of his brain that knew the prefect knew that they could be quite...persuasive towards the other students. Charming, even. Azul didn't doubt that what Y/N had lost in buying products and selling meals for cheap, they had made up for it in tips.

Because no one could resist their charm. Not even Azul, though he was loathe to admit it.

Azul took off his glasses for a moment, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. What to do, what to do? If this kept up, Mostro Lounge's sales would drop exponentially, and so to would Azul's level of power and "respect" in the school.

So what to do?

After putting his glasses back on, his eyes landed on one of the bits of paper, one that used to be a photo of the Prefect and the Student reporter for the newspaper, standing in front of this so-called "Cafe Cozy". The Prefect's perfect smile seemed to follow him everywhere...

Azul grabbed the paper and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket, standing up quickly.

"And where do you think you're going, dear Azul?" Jade hummed as Azul walked out of the office, stepping briskly through the hall of the Lounge.

"Cafe," was all Azul could grunt, the heels of his shoes making dull thudding sounds on the carpet as he went for the exit of the building, to the mirror that led to campus. Jade just smiled after Azul with a curious look in his eyes, a knowing but concerned expression.

Floyd hopped over, seeing his brother pause in his cleaning duties "Slackin' off, Jade?"

"Nothing of the sort, Floyd," Jade replied cooly, resuming his tasks once more "Just watching Azul walk out...did you see the newspaper today, by chance?"

"You think I read that trash? It's bo-ooooring!"

"Hmm. The Prefect of Ramshackle opened up a Cafe. I assume that Azul read the story, and that he's not...quite enthralled about it." Jade tilted his head, glancing back towards the door that Azul had walked out of "That Prefect makes him act rather odd, don't you think?"

"It's 'cause he's in looooove," Floyd hummed in a sing-song voice, grabbing a broom propped up on the wall, dancing with it in a mocking attempt at romance "I like it- if I mention them around Azul, he'll completely forget he was chewin' me out and he'll leave me alone!"

"Of course you would Floyd," Jade chuckled.

----

In the time it took to walk to Ramshackle, Azul prissed up his appearance, making sure his hair wasn't sticking out from under his hat at odd angles, straightening his hat itself, brushing off any lint from his clothes, and straightening out his glasses. If anyone else were to see him, they would assume that Azul was on his way to an important event. Which he was, if only to him.

Stepping through the doors of the rusted gate (which was now almost constantly ajar to allow students to pass through, Azul knew, since the gate was difficult for the Prefect to open by themselves), Azul made his way up the cracked walkway, up to the front door of Ramshackle House.

Unsurprisingly, on the door hung a wooden sign that read "Cafe Cozy! Step inside and enjoy yourself!" Azul took a spare moment to examine the sign itself. The words appeared to be burned into the wood by an expert at their craft, curlicued to the point of looking fancy, yet simple. Two opposites meeting in the middle.

He cursed himself for not having thought of that idea himself, and put a gloved hand on the door, pushing it open once he turned the doorknob.

The inside of Ramshackle looked...pretty normal. Except for the slight increase in furniture. There were extra chairs and tables, another couch....all were mismatched, which only added to the dorm's charm. A few students from Savanaclaw sat on one of the couches, sipping from mugs and laughing as they shared a plate of something that looked like an omlette, with more bits and pieces in it.

Azul frowned at the scene and made his way to the kitchen of the dorm, intent on finding the Prefect themselves. "Hey, you can't be back here!" A voice chirped as soon as the octomer stepped into the messy kitchen. Azul looked down to see Grim with a little apron on, looking mildly annoyed "Get out of here, Octopus! No customers allowed in the kitchen! Go sit down and I'll take your order!"

"I'm looking for Y/N." Azul said, not offering an explanation as to why. He narrowed his eyes as he stared down at the direbeast, folding his arms across his chest.

"They're not-" Grim started, only to be interrupted by Y/N themselves coming up to Azul's side.

"Oh, Azul! What are you doing here? You want to try some waffles?" The Prefect offered, with that perfect smile they always seemed to have.

Azul hated the effect they had on him. He hated the way he would freeze up at the start of every conversation, how he would be tied up in what they said and how they said it. He hated how much he enjoyed listening to their voice, how much his mind focused on the way the Prefect's clothes always seemed to fit them just right, despite being hand-me-down's from other students or thrift store finds. Sevens, he hated them. But only in a way a love-struck fool could hate the target of their affections.

"Prefect!" Azul said once he pushed all of the thoughts out of his mind and focused on the reason he was here. He held his hands up in a friendly gesture, ignoring Grim's complaints as the cat stormed off back into the living room "As much as I'd love to enjoy some of your food, I'm afraid I'm here for different reasons!"

"Oh!" Y/N said, glancing side to side before jerking their head to the island in the middle of the kitchen, sitting down on one of the stools with their plate of waffles "Alright, then. Why don't you come sit down? What did you need to talk about?"

Azul grimaced slightly as he grabbed a paper towel and wiped off some crumbs from the stool before he sat down, forcing his mind to think of anything but the way the Prefect's lips parted ever-so-slightly as they waited for him to speak.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Prefect," He began, taking a small breath "I'm not quite sure how long you want to keep this business of yours afloat, but I doubt it'll be for too much longer. How much do you spend on ingredients versus how much you receive from your customers?"

"Oh, we actually make a lot on tips-" Y/N started, making Azul wince inwardly. Of course he was right about the tips.

"But how much longer can you rely on the kindness of others, dear Y/N, hmm?" He questioned "How much longer until the new-ness of this...cozy....little place wears off and they simply see it as another cafeteria. Do you think the students here tip the cafeteria workers that serve their slop day in and day out?"

The Prefect licked their lips (fortunately, they didn't notice Azul looking the other way and hiding the blush on his cheeks with a hand) and took a bite of their food, taking their time before they responded "Mm, I guess you're right. But we're based on being nice to our customers and giving them a good time. When all is said and done and the tips stop being so great, we can always offer meals in exchange for work to be done on Ramshackle. After all, it costs less to make this food than it does for repairs- and some of the students here can fix things more easy and problem-free than me and Grim could." But there was still a shadow of a doubt on their face- exactly what Azul had been counting on "What do you care, anyway?"

"Because we're friends, of course!" He said with a grand smile, his chest hurting at the mention of being just friends. Maybe one day he'd be able to call them whatever he wanted...but not today "And I came to offer you a solution."

"Oh-ho," They chuckled "I hope you didn't bring your pen and a contract with you. I've already learned my lesson on that front."

Slipping his pen back into his jacket's pocket before they could notice, Azul bit down his witty retort "Oh, me...? I would...never. I just want to ask if you'd like to officially put your cafe as an extension of my Lounge- and I know what you're thinking," Azul pitched his voice to mimic Y/N "Oh, if I allow Azul to have this cafe as part of Mostro Lounge, then it won't be mine anymore!"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm thinking," Y/N rolled their eyes with a small smile.

"Well, then, good news- you'd still retain ownership of this place. I would provide you with more furniture and ingredients- as well as an extra chef, if you need it...surely it gets difficult for you to cook all these meals yourself, right? I would only ask in return for 45 percent of your profits." Azul tilted his head side to side "Plus, you would even benefit from my deal with Crowley- altogether, you'd be paying 50 percent of your profits to us, to cover our buying you supplies as well as the Headmage's approval. I doubt he's too happy about you running a business without him receiving anything, hmm? Plus, with my assistance, you'd be getting even more money with your profits!"

Y/N thought about it "So....I'd be letting you take control of it?"

"No, no, of course not! I would still let you retain the creative aspect of this place and all! You would just think of me as...your business partner." Azul grinned, holding out a hand "Is it a deal, then, partner?"

But the Prefect, having been through Azul's shtick before, raised a brow "Let me think about it, alright...partner?" putting emphasis on the last word, almost popping the p sound.

Azul, biting the inside of his cheek so harshly that he began to taste his own blood, giggled in response like a giddy schoolgirl. While his response was undignified, and he thoroughly chastised himself, he couldn't deny the giddy feeling that rushed through his veins at hearing the Prefect call him their partner, even if the word was taken out of context.

"M'kay," he managed through gritted teeth, still grinning like a fool.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

[worriedvision]

"It's over..." - Neuvillette

Gender neutral reader, angst here. This is basically an idea I had where the reader and him have an argument (reader is the one at fault for the argument, and they are going along to apologise), and they misinterpret the situation.

--

Neuvillette had been in a bad mood recently.

During an argument he had with you once he got to your home, you asking him why he never came along, it escalated. You shouted at him when he didn't understand it made you feel like he didn't think of this as a committed relationship, especially since he never told you were he would go after work. Neuvilette genuinely had no idea why this argument was happening, and he explained to you calmly that he simply was not one that could be around humans for long. After you ask him why humans are so horrible to him, he sheepishly divulges a small yet vital detail.

"The Melusines...In the past, they have been treated horrendously by humans." Neuvillette states, walking towards the door.

"Humans like me? You think I would harm a Melusine because of the fact I do not look like one?" You huff, Neuvillette closing the door as you finish your outburst before the regret settles in. Falling to the ground, you think through what could possibly cause your boyfriend to be distant from humans.

It's then you realise that actually, he was within his right to feel a distaste of sorts for humans, perhaps until relatively recently. The way you heard your grandparents talk down to those 'Disgusting leaches' - something you always actively scolded them for, even in public - lined up with how Melusines were treated in the past.

But...

Why would Neuvillette humour a relationship with you? Was he simply wanting to stop those advances from other people? Maybe it was because you treated the Melusines especially kindly, and he felt like you were a parent of sorts to them.

Enough about the reason you were together, however. You recognise that Neuvillette was keeping his guard up the moment you started shouting at him (a human reaction to an argument starting, you suppose). He didn't feel safe with you in that moment, and the fact you went past logic to snap back at him with emotion?

You felt awful.

--

The next few days, you tried to get a meeting with your boyfriend to discuss more calmly why he never wanted to be in your home, and the fact he happened to be late (in hindsight, that was very obviously for work obligations). No luck there, you had to keep an eye out for when you'd next see him.

When the rain stopped a week after the argument was conveniently when you were right behind a wall, hearing two familiar voices.

Neuvillette and Wriothesley.

It was rare to see Wriothesley, however you weren't complaining. He was always lovely with you - when people started talking poorly, you would find he would be sending letters to both yourself and Neuvillette telling the both of you that Neuvillettes personal life was none of their business.

Hiding behind the wall, you hope to let the duo finish the conversation before talking to your boyfriend.

"It's over." You hear your boyfriend sigh out, seemingly relieved.

Your face drops, your hand shaking as you hold it up to your chest. Neuvillette must have been talking about your relationship with Wriothesley, and this must have been him making sure this was the correct move forward.

Letting out a choked sob, you run home.

--

"What's over?" Wriothesley asks, hand on his hip as he hears your sob.

"The weather, it's no longer raining." Neuvillette explains, placing his hand back by his side.

"...Are you sure that's all that's over?" Wriothesley tuts.

"Yes. Why, has something happened?" Neuvillette asks, Wriothesley shaking his head.

"I think your significant other has just heard you saying 'it's over' with no other context." Wriothesley States, Neuvillette tilting his head. "I have heard them run away crying after you said that."

"I don't intend on ending the relationship. I told you, did I not?" Neuvillette starts, stopping when he realises you have misunderstood.

"Yuup." Wriothesley sighs, the sky already getting cloudy. "Go, talk to them and clear it up. I'll come with you, and I'll help if I can."

--

Upon returning home, you realise that Neuvillette has moved on - something you have not. Locking the door, you decide to sort through the gifts Neuvilette gave you, boxing them up before you could get too sentimental about them. Placing them to the side, you make a mental note to address this to his office under your name so he knows it's the gifts he gave you over the months of you dating.

Halfway through the process, you hear the door knocking.

"Dear, are you in?" Neuvillette calls out, you wincing at the understanding this would be him calling it quits.

"One moment!" You call out, rushing to get the other gifts into another box before placing them onto your kitchen table. At least if you could hand these returned gifts to him, this would stop you from asking 'was the package delivered'.

"Come i- Oh, hi Wriothesley." You smile halfheartedly, Wriothesley bumping Neuvillette to get a move on.

"I-I've packaged the gifts you gifted me over the months of us dating. I know it isn't much to you, but these months have been my happiest." You whimper out, embarrassed at your sudden child-like words. "Don't worry about returning the gifts I gave you - you can do what you want with them."

"Sweetheart, please take a seat." Neuvillette starts, you reluctantly doing so to get this over with.

"I don't want to end what we have." Neuvillette bursts out, silence hitting the room hard.

"..."

"..."

"Oh! I forgot you only agreed to this so others would stop approaching you... I suppose I can-"

"Stop it." Neuvillette grasps your hands. "I would not consider a relationship for my own sake, not if it wasn't something I would like for myself." He kisses the back of your hands before continuing. "I was commenting on the rain, that's what you walked in on. I was not thinking about breaking up with you, and if I was - I would approach you, not a friend of mine."

You tear up, embarrassed at the idea that you confused his comment on the weather for a possible break up.

"Don't worry, the idiot was talking about the weather." Wriothesley chuckles, Neuvillette glaring at him before pulling you closer. Wriothesley leaves, letting the both of you talk alone.

--

"Please, lay down with me." Neuvillette pleads, holding you comfortingly as he eases the both of you down. "I was upset by the argument, but the reason was not specifically from you.

"...But I was the one that caused it. I was the one shouting at you, I was the one not being reasonable, and you were right to walk away in that moment." You retort, Stopping your boyfriend from possibly blaming himself for your actions.

"That may be true, but I have not been honest about my age with you." Neuvillette admits, feeling you look up at him. "400 years ago, a dear Melusine was framed by humans who didn't think highly of her. I lost two dear individuals I trusted for that incident, and I have been distancing myself from humans since. As small as your actions were, you treating the Melusines that you saw without being rude, nor expecting payment, was a significant part of my interest in you."

"I had my suspicions.." You start out. "Can I ask you a question? In this relationship, have you learned more about me?" You ask, leaning into his chest as you embrace him.

"I know you've been dropping off lunch boxes with my name on them. I believe the Melusines receive a fair amount, however yours is always the one I expect and enjoy." Neuvillette chuckles.

"But what ab- oh." You let out, realising other people have worked towards cooking for your boyfriend. "...the Melusines trust me?" You ask, happiness leaking through when you ask him with teary eyes.

"Of course. They trust you, and I can trust you." Neuvillette explains.

"I love the Melusines as a parent - despite not being related to them - however I fear this is the only reason you date me." You hesitate, your boyfriend letting out a chuckle before he kisses the top of your head.

"There are not enough words to describe my love for you." Neuvillette starts, placing you below him before placing a hand beside your head. "...How about I show you myself?"

[sugar-grigri]

Man, wonder how Asa and Yoru are going to get out of this. If she's in the building I'm halfway expecting this to turn into a top-down edition of the Raid.

I think the very worst can happen. As we have seen, no one in the church has all the information (apart from those who unofficially control the church, such as Fake!CSM, Fami or perhaps Barem).

People joined the church to pray to Chainsaw Man, whom most of them see as a completely idealized hero, so obviously the church wasn't going to publicly claim responsibility for the attack it was about to carry out, just as it didn't want to be transparent with its followers.

What the public hunters did was simply to shed light on something that should have remained unofficial.

Asa Mitaka is considered naive by Barem, who must surely look down on her because the protagonist has no idea what is going on in the church she has set out to represent.

Chapter 143 deals with the manipulation of information and fake news, and ends with an order to gather followers. Obviously, the church will invent false arguments to justify its followers or its representatives, such as Asa, to attack the police and public officials.

What's more, most of the church is made up of very young people, whether high school or university students. How can the police or the military hurt what is most precious to the population? It's a battle for the approval of public opinion.

On top of that, both sides aim to bring CSM to their cause, either by preventing him from acting or by urging him to act. Which side will have the "bad guy" image is decisive for this reason too.

Either Asa will have the hindsight to question these orders (not so sure since she's gloating at the idea of becoming popular), or she'll fall head over heels for them and kill innocent people.

In short, it's more likely that Asa is killing (or intending to kill) innocent people than church members at the moment.

In my eyes, either Haruka or CSM will put an end to this charade !

Why Chainsaw Man? Because Denji has been manipulated by both sides in the final chapters, and has seen the flaws and contradictions in both camps, to which he neither submits nor belongs: being completely neutral.

Why Haruka? Because Haruka is a character who is despised for his very good intentions and his obsession with CSM, but the fact remains that he shows intelligence and seems to be very observant.

He and Asa have clear intentions of helping CSM, so if the latter realizes that this is not the case, he will surely act to at least re-establish the truth for Asa.

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/146841181

Chapter 24

"Told ya this was a bad idea!" Arthur yelled, "Look where it got us!"

"I'm god damn tired of you telling me the obvious in hindsight," Dutch countered, incensed. 

"Well someone has to," was the low growl as Arthur stalked closer. "Cause it ain’t damn obvious to you!"

"Please," Hosea interjected, "everyone calm down."

"Calm down?!" Arthur boomed, his voice carrying outside the tent, "Tell that to Sean!"

There was a miserable silence. 

"We went too far," Hosea said begrudgingly. "That much is clear. Nobody is happy with what happened, Arthur."

The younger man just turned his back and huffed over his shoulder, looking out to the camp. In the back of Hosea’s mind: how combative Arthur was with Dutch now. The reverence, the respect, the devotion all in tatters, unrecognizable. His tone, his mannerisms when he argued with Dutch were those of a stranger and an equal, not Dutch’s right hand. It was glaringly obvious and it drove Dutch wild more than the argument itself.

When he had encouraged Arthur’s affair with Savigne, Hosea had known it would cause some cracks in their relationship, since Dutch didn’t approve of her. Cracks, yes, but not these canyons! He had assumed Arthur would get a bit more independent and pursue something outside the gang eventually. Nothing wrong with that. But Dutch’s stubborn decision to back Micah despite Arthur’s pleas, even after Arthur was almost killed in a mission that Micah had orchestrated, had destroyed all trust between them. Hosea wasn’t sure of Dutch’s motivations in doing this, but it wouldn’t surprise him if Dutch clung to Micah both to spite Arthur and because Arthur had left a gaping void with his withdrawal. Either way, the flames just simply wouldn’t go out between these two in and it was hard to watch at times.

Hosea glanced at Dutch. 

"You think I wanted it to go this way?" was the defensive response.

"Playing the families. Playing sheriff," Arthur grumbled. "We got cocky, ain't no talkin' around that. Now there ain't any gold and ain't no Sean."

Hosea sighed and coughed gently. What a mess, he thought. Things just finally seemed to be on the upturn and then another collapse. At least he knew he was getting too old for these fancy games, by the looks of it Dutch was still in denial. 

"We have to move," Dutch said finally, trying to find common ground. He ignored Arthur's tongue click. "It's getting too hot here, we have to find somewhere else to take the gang."

"Got too hot weeks ago," Arthur mumbled and Dutch ignored that, too. Hosea could tell that Dutch’s patience was running thin but he didn't want the gang to see the infighting and he calculated that it was easier to win Arthur back once he had calmed down. 

Arthur harrumphed and walked off towards his tent. 

"All he does is complain," Dutch hissed when he was gone. "Must look mighty easy to run a gang from where he's standing."

"Nothing easy about it," the other man said to placate him. "But you have to admit, we did get cocky."

"When has there ever been reward without risk?" Dutch snapped, leaning on the tent pole, watching Arthur's furious stride towards his tent.

"Never. But we're on thin ice. People are upset. Blackwater, Pinkertons...this..."

"We just need one good score and then we're done."

Hosea sighed didn't say anything. 

"Is it true?" Savigne jumped up to come around the table. 

He nodded and looked away, his mouth thin, his shoulders tense. 

She walked up to him to embrace him, shaken. "I'm sorry," she whispered, cheek on his beating heart. His arm came around to press on her lower back. He didn't say anything, was probably too angry to speak. Moments passed and she stepped back to look up. He nodded again to say he was fine before she could ask and she nodded to say she understood even though she didn’t. It could have easily been Arthur who got shot today and she shuddered at the idea, throwing her arms around his back again with more fervor.

"'M fine,” he mumbled, sensing her thoughts and embracing her with more vigor as if to make his point.

This was the beginning of a a very turbulent time. Her sleep became spotty again and she was tense and distracted over the next days, watching him wrestle his grief and anger, torn between drawing closer to alleviate it and giving him the privacy to deal with it himself. He was distant and more quiet than usual, spending more and more time with the gang, often coming over to eat dinner and then leaving again. She couldn’t deny that she felt hurt about this, but told herself that whatever they were hatching over there was more important than her hurt and that once it was settled, things would level off again.

She never asked him what was going on and he seemed more disinclined than ever to share it. Sometimes it felt like he was doing it to protect her from the mental load, other times because he found commonality with the gang that he didn’t find with her. It was hard to pinpoint the reason, but she trusted him and convinced herself that it was the former.

Abigail and Mary Beth said that there was a lot of yelling and tension during the day when she was away and silent simmering at night. Arthur was away a lot, there were rumors that they would move again soon and they were looking for alternatives. When she asked, he explained that she didn't need to worry her head about all that gang business and that it was separate from them. This was a rule she had stood by in the past so she couldn't argue against it and morosely nodded in acceptance. But in truth half the time she was upset that he wouldn’t turn to her for solace and relief, and the other half upset at herself for expecting it, for not letting him work through his own problems in his own way.

A few days later, just as heads were cooling and guitars started to timidly get strummed in camp again, Jack disappeared and all hell broke loose. Again. Savigne rode in to a flurry of action and it scared her - she thought O'Driscolls had come through again and a familiar bile rose in her throat. 

Then Lenny explained what happened and she ran over to Abigail to hear it from her. Abigail was in a state and Savigne wasn't surprised - she was almost in a state herself. She liked Jack and even if she hadn't, she didn't have to be a mother to understand what it felt like to get your child taken from you. 

She sat around with the other women in an effort to console Abigail but frankly, she wasn't very good at it. She had rarely forged close enough relationships with people to find herself in these circumstances and consoling someone whose son had been kidnapped seemed way over her league. What did you even tell someone like that? The usual platitudes about how everything will be alright sounded hollow. She sat for a while and listened to Abigail wailing and felt supremely uncomfortable. She couldn't do anything and she didn't have the personal skills to make it better. She said she's going to make some soup for everyone because at the end of the day, that was at least something she could do. 

As she was getting ready to do just that, Arthur stomped towards the tent, dark and tense. "Have to go," he said, somewhat short. 

"Okay?” she said. Then: "Do you know where he is?" 

He huffed with impatience. "We know who took'im." 

“Took him?” she asked, dumbfounded and watched his eyes, cold as ice, as he prepared his guns. A familiar flip of worry landed in her gut, her palms started to sweat and she tried to ignore it. She didn't want to be the nagging woman, but she also didn't want him to come back like he had that time, injured and dying. Or not come back at all. It felt unfair that just when things were returning to normal, he was ripped from her vicinity again, tossed further out than he had ever been. What if this was the new normal? What if they would never find their way back to each other again?

She noticed that he was watching her and, not knowing what else to say, managed another "Okay.”

"I'll be fine." he said, a bit gentler. 

"I'm sure," she mumbled with a confidence she didn't have. 

He stepped closer but didn't touch her. Despite knowing that she wasn't the target of it, his anger intimidated her.

"I will come back,” he attempted to convince her. 

“I know,” she said and tried to smile. "I will save you some soup.” He nodded, looking relieved. 

Just at that moment Abigail called for him and ran over. She looked beside herself; irate and panicked and worried all rolled into one. Arthur stepped away from Savigne when the other woman arrived, all flushed and breathless. 

“Arthur! You have to find him! Please, you have to!” 

He nodded, grim. “We will. Gonna be alright, Abigail. They won’ harm a child.” 

“You don’t know that!” she hissed, grabbing the lapels of his shirt. Savigne shifted uncomfortably, wondering if Abigail was about to have a meltdown.

“I said…” he started, still calm. 

“Please! Do it for me! For us!” 

Even though the words were perfectly innocent, the awkward silence that followed triggered Savigne’s gut instinct. She looked up and knew by Arthur’s face that there was more said than the mere words implied. And yet, she hung in the limbo of disbelief for a heartbeat or two. But then he peeled her hands off his shirt and gave Abigail an intense look before Abigail’s head turned to Savigne as if she hadn’t been standing there all along and a blush crept on her face which was what really sealed the truth. 

“I…I’m sorry,” Abigail stammered, “I meant…I’m sorry, but…” her head swiveled back to him, Savigne already forgotten and her voice rose again, “John is useless, you have to find him. For me!” 

He took her elbow and marched her off as Savigne sat down on the chair, feeling a rush as if she had sleepwalked and opened her eyes to find herself standing at the edge of an abyss. She just sat there, unable to gather her wits that scattered in all directions at once. At some point she noticed that he was looming above her and she looked up, stupefied. 

“Ain’t what you think,” he said quietly, his eyes crawling over her face.

“What did she mean?” she managed.

“Nothing,” he said, voice harder. “I will return and we’ll talk.” 

She didn’t know what to say to that so she mutely nodded before she reached out for the tools she had prepared on the table just to keep her hands busy.

He sighed in frustration and ran a palm through his beard, aware of her efforts to conceal her displeasure. 

“Don’ go runnin’ off,” he said tersely. He was always terse now. Angry and worried and hard. She nodded again and listened to Abigail berating John in the distance. “Ya hear?” She gave him a look and a final sullen nod.

He searched her face for another moment, then turned around to stomp off. 

She went over to Pearson and took a bag of onions and some venison from his stall and then walked back to her own fire to prepare French onion soup, famously a soup that is hearty and rich, but more importantly, a soup that takes a long time to make - in other words, the perfect excuse to disappear to her own corner for hours and lick her wounds. She chopped the meat and added it to the cast iron pot full of water to make the broth. She chopped and added some vegetables, salted it, put it on the fire to boil. The broth was going to take a while so she started to thinly slice the onions. The camp had emptied out and all she could hear now was the wails of Abigail and the hushed tones of the women.

Well, well, well…what do we have here? Another buried little secret.

She continued to slice onions, sniffing as the sharp sting settled in her eyes.

Curious how it never came up.

She tried to focus on the task at hand.

One of them sleeps next to you every night and the other pretends to be your friend. Comes around for gossip. Listens to your confessions. Hundreds of hours of talking...and neither said a thing.

She huffed with disdain. He had said it was nothing, hadn’t he?

People don’t make a concerted effort to hide ‘nothing’.

She put a cast iron skillet on the fire, added some butter and watched it sizzle.

How awkward for you, Savigne. How sad that nobody entrusted you with this information.

She put the onions in the skillet and stirred occasionally to caramelize them.

Really makes you wonder what people think of you around here. The village idiot would be a fair assumption.

She added salt and pepper.

Doesn't it feel rewarding - to be patient and understanding through tough times, only to be slapped in the face at the end? 

The soup took a long time to cook. She saved some for Arthur and asked Pearson to help her carry the cast iron pot back to camp to hang it over the fire. As stressed as they were, people trickled in for a bowl one by one. She was going to take some to Abigail but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Instead, she trudged back to her tent, took a lantern and her shawl and got in the boat and rowed out far enough so she wouldn’t hear the camp mayhem. She lied down in the boat and looked up at the stars while it swayed gently in the water. The Moon was bright, the sky a Prussian blue and the air clear. Her mind went still for the first time in hours and she relaxed, thinking about her predicament. 

Here she was, facing the truth she had managed to evade all these months: she was more than eager to finally leave the gang, and the inevitable price was that this also meant leaving Arthur.

In hindsight it was all very obvious. This was always the juncture she was going to end up at. The moment she had dived into this maelstrom, it was always going to spit her out right here. Her emotions, her want had clouded her vision, but looking at it now from a great height, the curvature of the path and the crossroads it led to were clear and unmistakable. It made no difference if she hobbled on for another day, a week or a month - she was predestined to stand in the very same spot regardless, facing the very same choice. So if she was smart about it, she would do it sooner rather than later. Pack her things and leave. Today. Tonight. Everyone had left, it was easier now than it would be tomorrow morning. Nobody would even notice with the way things were right now. One could easily argue that it was self-preservation, given the state of things.

But...

She would be devastated if it was done to her, how could she even entertain the idea of doing it to him? After everything they had shared, running off in the cover of dark? Running without an explanation. Inexcusable. Cowardly. Unfair. 

The siren call of just another day rung in her ears. Another night spent in the familiarity and comfort of the bed she had come to think of as her own, in the tent that had become her home, waking up next to the man she loved. So ridiculously strong, that call. But she feared that if she fell into its stupor, she would stay tomorrow. And the day after. And then the week. Then it would be Sunday and time for Valentine and then it would be Monday and she would start to think that the end of the month made more sense, and so on and so forth.

She distantly wondered where her pride had disappeared to, because now all she found was weakness. Fragility. Emotional hubris. All things considered, she was no Mary, was she? Because that required strength of character, determination, resolve. No, she was Molly; hanging around a man, hoping things will magically resolve themselves in the end and she can have him to herself. Or Abigail: someone who stuck around an intolerable life because she loved a man who loved the gang more than he loved her. 

Ah yes…Abigail.

She thought of all her conversations with Abigail and felt like a prime fool, sitting there and confiding in her, not knowing she and Arthur had had a relationship. It was never said, never mentioned, never insinuated. She thought back into her memories to see if the power of hindsight would reveal any secret glances and exchanged smiles and knowing looks between them. Then she thought of him bucking into her as she arched with mewling gasps and her face flushed. All sorts of scenes played out in her head, each more lewd than the next. Abigail probably knew what she was doing, she must have wrung out impressive groans and whimpers from him, the likes she would never hear. And afterwards, in her mind’s eye, they lied, drenched and tangled, making fun of gang members, grinning in the afterglow. Her head spun as she remembered how Abigail had insisted how perfect Savigne was for Arthur, how happy she made him. All the while probably playing out their own coupling in her head. 

She wanted to stay sympathetic to her in light of her current plight, but found it very, very hard. 

She lied in that boat for a long time time, feeling small and miserable and unrecognizable. In one scale was everything detestable about this place and its people. And in the other - Arthur Morgan. The choice was simple and yet, maddeningly, the scales were at perfect balance, refusing her an easy choice. Because the heart wanted what it wanted and apparently that weighed a lot more than it should. 

By the time she heard the thunder of hooves, she was all cried out. Usually this was where her rage would come in. In its place now: a strange deflated hollowness. She watched the yelling and shouting and blaming from the distance and knew that they hadn’t managed to find Jack. But of course. Because when it rains, it pours. 

She recognized Arthur’s dark silhouette stalk towards the tent and eventually to the edge of the lake. He called out to her and she sighed and took the oars. For a split second she looked behind her and contemplated rowing away from all of it. To new horizons, as they said. It was a moment when anything seemed possible. But then it passed, she turned the boat around and rowed back towards the pier. 

He was waiting to tie the boat, then offered his hand to pull her out. Neither of them said anything as he led her back to their tent. There was a heavy smell of fire, smoke and gunpowder wafting off of him. 

When they arrived, she untangled her hand to walk over to reheat his soup while he went to wash his face and arms and change his shirt. Eventually she pulled the soup out and prepared the table for him. He seemed surprised that she had and reluctant to eat, but eventually he sat down and spooned the soup in his usual no nonsense manner, eyes flicking up to her every now and then, watching her drink her wine. 

He explained what happened at Braithwaite Manor and where Jack was without being prompted. It was a rare thing for him to explain gang business but she sensed that he was attempting to ease into talking about more difficult things. When he said the name Bronte, an expression flew over her face and he asked if she knew him. She told him that everyone in Saint Denis knew who he was and told him as much as she knew, swirling her wine glass. ‘Cosa Nostra’, she said, and ‘dangerous man’ and ‘owns a lot of important people in high places’. This development darkened her mood even further because things seemed to be escalating very quickly now. Bronte was a big fish and it was hubris for the gang to try to tango with someone like him. 

When he was done he pushed the bowl away, ran a hand through his hair, and placed his elbows on the table. She didn’t say anything and didn’t look at him, listening to the hushed tension coming from the camp. All she felt was an odd pointlessness. As if nothing was worth the effort of doing it anymore. 

He cleared his throat and moved his chair closer. “She’s a mother and had a crazy day…” he started. “She don’ know what she…” 

Savigne grimaced and looked away and he swallowed the rest of his words. A long moment passed as he let a breath out of his nose, palming his beard again. 

“Was a long time ago,” he mumbled at long last. “Meant nothing.” 

She swallowed and nodded, knowing it wasn’t her business but feeling betrayed anyway. Betrayed because it had been hidden from her and wounded because when it finally was revealed, it was explained as a non issue. Like she was a fool for being upset about, like she didn’t have the right to be hurt by it.

“Look at me,” he said softly. When she refused, his fingers gently gripped her chin and turned her head. “It. Meant. Nothing.” An explanation so banal, the lack of effort was downright offensive.

“Meant something to her,” she said, surprised that her voice not only held, but sounded firm. “Since she brought it up.” 

He released her chin and swiped his fingers over his lips, annoyed. “No. She just half crazy right now, is all.” 

She took a sip from her wine and pressed her lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Cause it meant nothing!” he said, irritated. A long moment passed. His irritation just added to her offense. “Savigne, I can’t think of this right now. There’s a lot goin’ on.”

She knew it was true and still balked at the idea of being yet again overshadowed by gang business.

Why so surprised? You were always secondary.

“Then don’t,” she shrugged.

“Don’ wanna but…you’re…hung up.” He watched her face. “When we have Jack back, we can talk proper.”

“Why bother?” She rose from her seat, unwilling to listen to his bullshit anymore and walked into the tent. He followed a moment later and found her undressing. He pulled the flap shut and stepped closer, hesitant to say anything. She undressed down to her chemise and bloomers and sank down in front of the mirror to take out the pins in her hair. 

“What ya doin'?” was his quiet question. 

“Going to bed. Have to work tomorrow.” 

He shifted on his feet. “Gonna talk to Dutch. See when we will take care of all this. I’ll let ya know.”

How chivalrous of him to update you when he will have time for you. You should clear your calendar.

She got under the covers and he came to sit on the bed, giving her a long look. “I understand yer upset. But I promise ya…” 

She turned her back to him, shoulders stiff. “You have more important things to worry about than my feelings.” 

He huffed in frustration. “Woman, don’ do this now. I ‘ave a lot on my mind.” 

“You always do,” she sighed. “And you always will.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“Nothing. Let me sleep.” 

After a while she felt the mattress shift, the lantern go dark and heard him leave the tent to go back to the gang and she felt glad for it. She pushed everything out of her head and closed her eyes. To her own amazement she fell asleep soon after, her inner voice suspiciously quiet. 

She woke up the next morning feeling rather empty. Disassociated. Checked out. It was both odd but also liberating to have this strange barrier between herself and the world now. She should be more worried about Jack but it felt distant, like something she read in a novel. She should be more worried about Abigail’s pain but as embarrassing as it sounded, she wasn’t. She should definitely be more upset about the tension between herself and Arthur, but the most she could muster was cold detachment.

Why worry about these things when they were temporary? None of these people would be part of her life for much longer.

She got up and started to get dressed and heard him shift to sit up on the edge of the bed as she sank down in front of the mirror to adjust her hair. 

“Ya okay?” he asked. He looked tired and disheveled.

“Sure.”

“You know where this guy lives?”

Everyone in Saint Denis knew, so she told him.

He nodded. “We gonna go to see Bronte today. Fix it.” His eyes found hers through the mirror. “We can talk after.” 

“I don’t want to talk,” she said quietly, setting the pins. 

He blinked. “Why?” 

Because the time to talk was months ago, she thought but didn’t say it. “You already said your piece.” 

“But ya haven’t,” he said quietly, eyeing her. He seemed spooked and thrown off guard by her calmness, trying to decipher it and failing. Frankly, she was surprised by her own reaction too, but she welcomed it over anger and despair.   

“I have nothing to say,” she offered finally.

He exhaled in frustration and ran his hands over his face.

"Course you have. You should. You're my..."

"Don't say it!" she cut him off sharply and he froze. You haven’t been acting like it so don’t say it, she thought. "Also, I know Jack is more important. You don't have to remind me every five minutes." She sat on the chair and laced up her boots. 

"I will fix that today," he repeated patiently. "And then..."

"Then there will be other problems," she finished. 

He blinked at her, wary. The lack of his attention on her for this past week and more was made obvious to Savigne when it rushed in now, filling the vacuum all heavy and intense. He sat there, silent and stiff, eyes crawling over her like searchlights.

“I hope you find him,” she said. He swallowed and looked at her with that custom concentration, probably dwelling on the fact that there were no “be careful”s and “good luck”s and hushed awkward assurances. She simply grabbed her satchel and left. 

The day flew by in a rush, she barely remembered what she did. Suddenly it was afternoon and her shift was over. On a normal day she would head back to camp, but today she went to the harbor and sat watching people unload the ships. She read their names and wondered where they came from and where they were heading. A silly temptation to board one to leave for a new life, new job, new…love. But she was too much of a coward to try so she just sat on, a spectator. After that she went to one of her favorite restaurants and had dinner. Food that would normally strum her strings of pleasure was bland and lacking, riddled with weird nuances. Then she still didn’t feel like returning to the gloomy atmosphere of the camp and went to a saloon to have a glass of wine. Then another.

A part of her was amazed how calm she was. Jack could be dead. Hell, even Arthur could be dead right now. She shuddered at the idea and bit back a sob. The thing that unnerved her more than anything was that she had no control over either of these things. And if it didn’t happen today it could happen tomorrow. It was like playing Russian roulette every day - so terrifying and draining that at some point it became impossible to process.

She drank wine until someone sent her a drink, then she got up without acknowledging it and left the saloon. The dark outside the door surprised her. Usually she avoided traveling after dark but tonight she didn’t care if she ran into O’Driscolls. She mounted Cricket, swayed a bit on the saddle and trotted out. It was very late when she arrived in camp. She heard the celebratory ruckus before she saw it and her heart felt lighter with the meaning of it. She stood by Cricket, feeding him an apple and relishing the fact that today, too, the chamber had held no bullet.

“Yer late,” she heard Arthur behind her and jumped a little. “Where ya been?” His voice had that annoying scolding timbre and she chose not to answer. Guess I'm not invisible anymore, she thought with rancor.

She unsaddled Cricket and he stepped up, taking it from her. She stalked into camp and walked towards the gang, singing and dancing around the fire. Jack spotted her and ran over. 

“Hey,” she smiled, placing her hands on her knees. “How have you been, my clever friend?” He immediately started to prattle about his time with Bronte and she said all the right things, grinning happily and listening to his excited babbling, ruffling his hair. How resilient children were! She had been too when she was one. You would think life made you stronger, but in a way, it made you more brittle.

“Do you know how to make worms?” was Jack’s sudden question.

“Worms?” she came out of her stupor.

“Yeah. Papa Bronte gave me some, they were delicious!” 

Her face brightened with understanding. “Sure, I can make you some.” 

He jumped up and down with delight and she ruffled his hair again. Skirts appeared in the corner of her eye and she straightened to find Abigail beside her.

“Hi Savigne,” she said, wringing her hands. Savigne smiled a fake smile at her fake friend. Abigail’s blue eyes scanned her face and didn’t find the sympathy she was hoping for. She felt Arthur’s presence behind her. 

“I’m sorry,” the other woman said. “Think I made a mess. Hope you don’ think less of me.” 

“I’m very happy for you,” was the cool response. 

Abigail eyed her with unease and nodded, hugging Jack against her legs. “Thank you! Was going a little crazy.” There was a forced chuckle. Her eyes flitted over Savigne’s shoulder and then back. “I want to apologize...” she started. The way they communicated silently in her presence turned her stomach sour. “Wasn’t my intention to…” 

Savigne was too tired to listen to her mop up efforts. Abigail was all happy again, had gotten what she wanted and now she wanted to mend fences. Well, Savigne was fine with those fences, thank you very much, so she dismissively waved the attempt away and started to walk to her tent. The other woman pressed her lips, gave Arthur another furtive glance and remained where she was. 

She entered the tent, still buzzing from the wine and went around to align things to their perfect positions. Arthur cleared his throat behind her and closed the flap. Savigne sank in front of the mirror and released her hair from the bun, gliding her fingers through her locks and sighing in contentment while he sat at the table watching her. 

“You wanna sit with me?” he said carefully. 

“I’m going to go to bed. It’s late.”

“Sit with me.” When she didn’t react: “You always say I should talk more and now you don’ wanna listen. I wanna talk, sit with me.”

Of course, she thought, now he wants to talk. Because now it's my turn to be 'fixed'. She sighed to herself and shot him a glare through the mirror. Then she got up and sat across from him, tenting her fingers in front of her. He gave her a long look and she held it while he fished for a cigarette. 

“Congratulations on getting Jack back home,” she said flatly. He nodded and shifted in his seat. Her missing reaction of waiting in camp, worrying about him and embracing him when he returned and asking him if he was okay hung between them. 

She rose to get the whiskey and two shot glasses and sat back down as he watched her through the smoke. She filled them and handed him one. “To the health of the gang,” she quipped. 

A muscle flexed on his jaw but he clinked his glass against hers and drank the shot. She surprised him by doing the same, shuddering and smacking her lips with disgust. She filled the glasses again but he didn’t reach for his. She threw her right arm on the back of the chair and leaned back. Her head jabbed towards the jubilation in the distance. “You’re missing the celebration.” 

“This here more important,” he said, eyes flicking up to her. 

She took a sip from her whiskey. “Doubt that.” 

“M sorry,” he said at long last, his eyes trying to drive his sincerity home. He was a lot more relaxed than he had been yesterday. Well good for him, hallelujah, Savigne thought bitterly. “Was years ago. It was just…relief. Nothin’ more.” He scratched his beard when she didn’t respond. “I was in a bad place and Abigail offered…company. Was a job to her.” 

She sipped her whiskey as he eyed her with unease.

“Ya gonna say somethin’?” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“I know yer mad at me.” 

She shrugged as if to say ‘so what?’. 

“Savigne,” he said gravely, “Please say yer piece.” 

“Why do you care?”

“Course I care,” he blinked at her.

It turned her stomach, to be the center of his attention only when all other business was done. Like she had become a fixture in his life that he only noticed when he reached for her and she wasn’t there anymore.

“Could have fooled me,” she mumbled to herself.

“I know I been rough,” he sighed. So he wasn’t completely oblivious, at least there was that. “Was a lot going on. Could have handled it better. But was trying to keep us separate…clean from all that.”

Touching. His excuse was that he was enforcing her own rule and probably also feeling very noble about it. 

“Had a lot to think about,” he pressed on. “A lot to…come to grips with. Just needed some time.”

She looked away.

“Didn' wanna cloud yer mind with that nonsense, all that got nothin' to do with us.” He waited for a response that never came. “But this here does. Wanna clear it up. Talk to me.”

“Told you over and over again: I don’t want to talk,” she sighed.

“Why?” was the impatient question.

“It’s all meaningless. Just leads to more lies.” 

He gave her a long, intense look. “Ain’t all lies,” he said finally, leaning on the table. “I speak true. Was years ago. Didn’ mean a thing. I haven’t thought of her like that so long, didn’ think it mattered. You talk to Abigail, she’ll tell ya the same.” She snorted as if to say ‘of course she would’ but he ignored it: “I wanna fix this.” 

“You can’t fix how someone feels,” she drawled, inspecting her nails. “And you really shouldn’t abuse a person’s trust repeatedly. It doesn’t grow back quite the same.” She looked at him from under her eyebrows. “First time, with Mary, I was disappointed, surprised. Now I guess I’m just used to it.” 

He reeled back as if she had slapped him, running a hand over his beard. “Don’ know what yer spinning in that head o’yours but it was plain fucking. No different than going to a…saloon.” 

“If I told you that I fucked Charles before you and I were a thing, how would you feel?” 

His head jerked up at that, eyes brimming with shock. “Scuse me?” he said slowly. 

She watched his reaction. “If I told you ‘it was just fucking’…would that make it better?” 

His jaw clenched so hard she could hear the click of his teeth and it gave her immense satisfaction.

“I…did you?” he chocked out. 

She sipped her whiskey to cruelly prolong the tension. 

“No. But you’re missing the point.”

He blinked and ran his hand through his hair with a huff. A long while later he nodded imperceptibly. 

“Okay then, that’s exactly how I feel,” she said simply. 

“Should ‘ave told you,” he clenched his jaw. “Reason I didn’t, cause she ashamed of that part of her life. And I ain’t proud either. I was in a bad place, drunk for a year, barely ‘member it. Didn’t wanna go dig up old bones.” She didn’t answer, just played with her shot glass. “I need ya to understand, this was before she was with John. It was what she did for money. I ain’t judging or nothing, but was no affair, was no feelings. Just a…” 

“Transaction?” she suggested. 

“Yes. I had a rough patch. I just….needed it,” he finished lamely. “Like I said, was no different than going to a…” he cleared his throat and didn’t continue. 

“Then how come she thinks it’s more?” He looked at her, confused. “She brought it up, didn’t she? She bartered it for your aid. If it’s a simple transaction…” her lips bowed down, “…there was no debt. You got to fuck and she got her money.” She relished how the intentionally harsh and crude choice of words rolled off her tongue. 

“Ain’t nothin’ more. I helped a bit with Jack when John disappeared. Might be she got confused,” he shrugged uncomfortably. “She loves John, that’s for damn sure. He ran off for a year, leavin’ her with a baby...” He sighed and looked away. “She leaned on me and I let her. For Jack. That’s all.” 

“So you played family with her and you wonder why she thinks the way she thinks.” 

“Was I supposed to abandon her, too?” He rolled his shoulders. “Felt bad for the kid. You been doing the same, ain’t ya?” 

“Well yeah, but I didn’t fuck his dad.” 

This irritated him but he visibly pushed his irritation down. “I never touched her again,” he said, looking her in the eye. “And don’ wanna.” There was a bout of silence. “Ya believe me?” She didn’t answer. He clenched his jaw. 

She sniffed and pushed her shot glass around. “How do you think I feel, stumbling on these women by coincidence and then listening to you lecturing me on how I’m blowing things out of proportion?” 

He took a deep breath and snuffed out his cigarette in the tray. “Reckon it ain’t great.” 

“That’s one way to put it,” she said. 

“Won’t happen again,” he said firmly, eyes flicking up at her. 

She exhaled a long breath and looked away. 

“Look at me.” When she did: “Won’t. Happen. Again.” he repeated, pressing on each word. Then he sighed at the disbelief in her face. “Gonna tell Abigail she needs to go to John here on out. Think it’s better. For everyone.” 

Savigne shrugged, feeling petty. “Why? She’s perfect.” He looked up at her, confused. She drank her glass dry: 

“Let’s see…She’s part of the gang, so you’re more aligned,” she started counting on her fingers. “Good in bed - judging by your actions, I mean. Likes you. More importantly, needs you; comes to you for everything instead of the ‘man she loves’. Has a son you can be father to...” She gave him a cool look. “Ridiculously well matched if you ask me. I say you have a decent shot.” He just stared, speechless. “I can’t give you all that,” she grimaced. “If John doesn’t want to play dad…I say here’s your chance.” 

“Woman, ya hear yerself speak?” he managed finally, a spark of anger flaring up in his eyes. 

“If you put up my tent,” she continued, her tone heating up, “You can have this one for your family. Lots of room for three. I bet she would love that. Maybe-” 

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” he boomed suddenly. She flinched and shrunk from his fury, sobering a little. 

He downed his second glass of whiskey and wiped his beard to come down from his ire. 

“I know it ain’t fair you found out as you did,” he growled a while later. “Makes it look like we was hiding it. Like there was more to it. Truth is, I haven’t thought of her like that so long, didn’ think it mattered.”

Again, that insinuation that she was making a mountain out of a molehill. That she was being unreasonable and naggy and spoiling everyone’s good mood.

“Are we done?”

“No.” was the sharp answer. His desperation at her lack of interest to engage was ironically amusing. The less she wanted to talk, the more anxious he seemed to get. He certainly didn't accuse her of chirping too much now, did he?

“What do you want from me?” she asked, exasperated. 

“Want you to tell me you believe me.” 

She casually said “I believe you.” 

He gave her a dry look. “Want you to mean it.” 

“So this is all about you feeling better about yourself! I need to get over myself because you’re sad. I need to act like it’s nothing so you can sleep better.” 

“Woman, it is nothing. I done explained it to ya.”

It left her speechless for a moment, his lack of empathy.

“Doesn’t it matter that I’m hurt?” was her incredulous question.

“Course it matters. Why I’m here, explaining.”

“No it fucking doesn’t,” she hissed. “You don’t care about my feelings, you think they’re trivial. Silly.”

“That ain’t true,” he growled. “Said 'm sorry. Said it won' happen again. Said it was just a…”

“Yes, I know, just a transaction…” she said icily, rolling her empty glass back and forth under her palm. “Just fucking. Same as us.”

He froze at that, taken aback. “Might be,” he said carefully, “that first time. But it ain’t what we doin’ since.” 

“You sure about that?” was her heated retort.

“Course I’m sure! What ya even tryin’ to say?” his voice rose again. 

“Well if we’re taking your word for it, that things can change. That it doesn’t always stay transactional.” 

“That ain’t happened between me and Abigail,” he said sharply. 

“Would you even tell me if it did?” she snorted. “Maybe that’s going to be next month’s discovery.”

He grew impatient. “I get that you think my word ain’t worth shit, but this here ain’t gonna work without trust.” 

She leaned back, playing with the empty glass in her left hand. All manner of sharp things flitted through her head. Things to say to end it all triumphantly, a last smack to his face, revenge for him lecturing her about trust. The nerve! When she had done nothing to make him doubt her and this was the second woman that was revealed to her by pure coincidence! The anger that had been missing all this time settled on her shoulders at last like a flock of dark crows, cawing in her ear. Fire erupted in her chest. 

She looked up at him with blazing eyes, chest heaving. She drew a big breath and opened her mouth when he sensed her intent. 

“Don’t,” he interjected, palms up to calm her. “Savigne…don’t.”

“Don’t…fucking…tell me…what to DO!” she screamed and smashed her glass on the table and it exploded in her grasp, biting into her left hand. A momentary shock, then he was on his feet, coming around. She looked stupidly at the blood welling from her palm, frozen. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it to himself, inspecting it before he started to pick shards and dropping them on the table. She gaped at the amount of blood pooling, her head fuzzy with alcohol. 

“Keep it like that,” he barked and strode to the crates, flipping the covers and rummaging through them in haste. “The hell is the…” 

“The single crate in the back,” she muttered, hypnotized by the shade of red. 

“Gimme yer hand.” 

“No. I can do it mys-” 

He snatched her wrist and refused to let go. They had a short tug of war over it but, unsurprisingly, he won. He uncorked the whiskey and gave her a look. “This is gonna sting. Don’ close yer fist.” 

She gave him a hostile look. The ‘sting’ was more like liquid fire and she yelped, trying to retrieve her hand but he was expecting it and held it firm. “It’s done. Don’ close,” he soothed. 

He picked a few more shards, then took a cloth, drenched it in whiskey and gently pressed it against her palm. “Just another moment,” he said quietly when she hissed. He pressed down, her palm small between his hands and held it for a long moment. Then he checked the napkin and dropped it on the table, grabbing the bandages to gently wrap them around her hand. The blood flow was much diminished but red flowers still bloomed on the first layers of bandage. He ripped the end with his teeth and knotted the bandage, his eyes flicking up to her face. 

“Ya okay?” She nodded. “Cut yer tongue, too?” 

“I’m okay,” she whispered, squirming at the throbbing pain that started to drum in her palm.

He sighed, half relieved, half irritated. “No more whiskey for you,” he grumbled. 

She cradled her hand, feeling like crying for no reason, but managed not to. Her nerves sizzled with alcohol, pain, shock and anger.

“It’s fine, ain’t too deep,” he said, aiming for a softer tone. When he placed a palm on her lower back she shot up to walk to the bed. "Think we're both tired," he eyed her warily as she sat down to unlace her boots single handed. When she didn’t answer: "Want me to get water?"

"No."

He sighed and and came to help but she slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch me or I’m leaving.”

He pulled back, surprised by her sharp tone and watched her crawl to lie as close to the other side of the bed as she physically could and fall asleep with her clothes on.

[k7l4d4]

K Reviews and Rants: Miraculous Ladybug Season 5! Episode 14

Hello all, today, I review the episode I dislike the most out of Season 5. It isn't the one that upsets me the most, but it is the one I personally dislike the most, both on a moral principle, and a writing principle. I hope I do it justice in outlining how bad it is.

Now, there are a LOT of things I could say about this episode in hindsight, but the long and short of it is that this entire episode doesn't make even the slightest bit of sense in terms of continuity. Trauma is not something you just "get over" by having a revelation about what caused it, not even slightly. More over, the show acting as if Marinette having trauma absolves her of the ethical lines she's crossed in her obsession with Adrien... even ignoring how it tries to retcon Chloe's missing mom being this known thing now doesn't work because the show acting as if people IRL think "Chloe's mom not being around" is why she's the way she is and mocking them for it... does not work.

It just does not WORK, especially not when they have Mylene, one of the characters they had profess the idea that they believed Chloe could grow to become better, as the one to shoot that idea down, all while ignoring how Mylene's situation is NOTHING like Chloe's and I don't mean financially. Mylene is the last character that should be used to criticize Chloe; it's not ABOUT that Chloe's mom wasn't around when she grew up, it's that not only does Mylene have a father who loves her so much he uses a photo of her as a good luck charm he keeps in his hat, she doesn't have to live with the knowledge that her mom is a famous celebrity that she can hear about every time she turns on the news or tries to hear about what is going on in the fashion industry, living with the knowledge that her mother could literally come over whenever she wants... and is CHOOSING not to do so.

Combined with it making a mockery of trauma and PTSD by saying NOW of all times that Marinette was secretly traumatized by a bad prank Chloe and Sabrina pulled on her last school year (not even a full year before the series starts, less then three months), and it's the reason she has such a bad time talking with Adrien, it doesn't work when we know that she has NEVER had those problems when she was with Luka. I don't even like Lukanette (Chloenette fan forever, here), and even I can tell you point blank that they were a couple, had decent chemistry, and had NONE of the baggage she does with Adrien. It's not good writing at all.

With that wordy rant done, onto the review! Please, forgive me for any profanity on my part.

Episode 14: Derision 

And... here's Derision. Sigh... 

Okay, we start off with Marinette answering a call from Adrien, nothing going wrong... and then she starts trembling and her vision goes wonky. ALREADY HATING THIS!! 

Just... THERE IS NO FUCKING REASON FOR THIS TO BE HAPPENING!!! If this is because she's dating someone, WHY DIDN'T THIS HAPPEN WITH LUKA!? The literal episode immediately preceding this one called attention to the fact that they dated, yet THIS was never a part of it!! 

Oh, and THOSE KINDS OF SYMPTOMS DO NOT JUST FUCKING PASS WHEN SOMEONE ASKS YOU WHAT IS WRONG!! You can certainly FAKE IT, but it's like telling someone you're fine when you're obviously NOT fine; it's an act, not really being okay. 

And the tremors start up the second they bring up she has a date... (Hits head against a wall) Fuck this. Fuck this nonsense. 

...Okay, she's getting those symptoms over a picture of Kim. At the pool. Kim, who she shares classes with. Kim, who she sees BASICALLY EVERY FUCKING DAY. I'm hating this more and more with each passing moment. 

And now the hallucination-esque flashbacks are getting worse... ugh. Just... just so much of this is wrong to me. It makes me feel nauseous watching this. I may not have flashbacks like this, but I DO get trauma impacting one's actions and behavior, and I have HAD minor panic attacks due to people throwing me off balance or pressuring me on something I am not qualified to answer. Seeing THIS is honestly really upsetting, because ALL OF THIS CAME OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE!! EVERYTHING THEY ARE TRYING TO TREAT AS SOME TRAUMATIC EPISODE IS STUFF THEY PULLED OUT OF THEIR ASSES!!! 

...Her needing to be alone. THAT is the one thing I can get behind in this nonsense.

I am currently breathing very, VERY hard to remind myself that Kim is not normally this much of a fucking idiot. I am trying very, VERY hard not to get mad. Kim, from the very beginning of Origins, is a weirdo that has issues with being insensitive, who is overcompetitive and tends to bite off more than he can chew by dragging people into dumb dares that he usually loses anyway. Him treating what amounts TO A FUCKING PANIC ATTACK as "reacting to a prank" is so stupid, so idiotic, I WANT TO FUCKING SCREAM RIGHT NOW!!! Even during Origins, when he honestly CAUSED the problem, he was largely just trying to help in his own dumb way. THIS!? THIS IS HIM BEING AN ASSHOLE!!! 

They just... they had Marinette get Akumatized over a Panic Attack. Well, nearly get Akumatized, BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW IT ISN'T GONNA HAPPEN FOR REAL!! I am just... so much hate right now. SO MUCH HATE. Oh, and this calls a little bit of continuity into suspect because Marinette KNOWS she's Ladybug, so why the hell isn't Hawkmoth starting to pick up on the fact that she knows this and has the Miraculous!? After all, THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED WITH LUKA YOU FUCKING HACK WRITERS!!! 

Also, apparently Ondine has known Kim since the time the "prank" took place, so him saying she wouldn't know makes jack all sense. 

My eyebrow is twitching. My brow is literally twitching at my sheer ANGER over this bullshit right now. 

And here comes the character butchering!! Let's see how much this pisses me off, SHALL WE!?

First off: Sabine spots right away that Marinette is trying to avoid going to school, and the dialogue makes it PRETTY DAMN OBVIOUS WHO THE FUCK THEY MEAN in the form of Chloe. They haven't said it yet, but when you phrase it as 'only two weeks left of school with her' IT DOES NOT TAKE A GENIUS TO FIGURE IT OUT!!!! What makes this absolutely fucking STUPID is that Sabine IS A BETTER FUCKING PARENT THAN THIS!!! If she knows that Chloe is bad enough that Marinette would rather avoid going to school than be around her, THEN SHE WOULD EITHER BRING IT UP WITH FACULTY, PULL HER OUT OF SCHOOL, OR JUST DO SOMETHING OTHER THEN TELL HER TO KEEP HER FUCKING CHIN UP!! IT'S NONSENSE LIKE THIS THAT MADE PEOPLE ANGRY AT CALINE IN ZOMBIZOU!!!!

Oh, and let's get into the next part of why this is nonsense to me. First off, what the absolute FUCK happened that made Marinette go from "ugh, it's Chloe, best to ignore her, she's not worth it" to "literally running and hiding and cowering behind doors over Chloe"? THAT IS NOT A NATURAL CHANGE IN BEHAVIOR!! It's Summer Break, not an entire year, there is no realistic reason for their dynamic to change like that!!! 

Okay, Marinette somehow had a bunch of bugs hiding under her books. HOW? If there were any bugs in her locker, they would've been ON THE BOOKS, because textbooks are way too heavy for a significant number of books to be capable of moving around beneath them. If you tried to put her books on top of them, they would just squash them. 

Moving on from the inconsistency I was fixating on to distract myself from RAGE, we get Damocles appearing at just the right time to cause trouble and yelling at Marinette for not being in class apparently for the eighth time in a week. And "good thing an anonymous student warns me when your about to break the rules" WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING HELL IS THIS SHIT!? Seriously, an "anonymous tip" every fucking time!? Does this idiot not seem to understand the concept of a fucking SET UP?!? 

...The "anonymous tip" is literally using Chloe's name. This isn't just contrived, THIS IS FUCKING MORONIC!!! 

HOW MUCH OF AN IDIOT IS THIS GUY SUPPOSED TO BE!? 

...And they made Mendeleiev an idiot, dismiss Marinette's distress as "clowning around" I AM GOING TO BURN THIS VIDEO TO THE GROUND!!! I CANNOT STAND THIS SHIT!! 

And they've got Chloe making fun of Juleka's stutter, which she never had in any of the first three seasons. Ugh. 

...Uuuhhh... they had Rose saying Chloe's mother left her... WHEN NONE OF THEIR CLASS EVEN KNEW ABOUT THAT UNTIL SEASON TWO!!! Rose also got threatened by Chloe to, so this is just idiotic.

If this is meant to be an attack on the idea of people using Chloe's missing mom to excuse her behavior, THIS NEVER ONCE OCCURRED ANYWHERE IN THE SERIES PRIOR TO THIS MOMENT UNLESS IT WAS LILA!! Heck, the only person who has EVER unironically attempted to justify something Chloe had done (or rather, hadn't done) was Sabrina on Chloe's behalf by claiming Chloe forgot birthdays a lot because her mom forgot hers all the time... and Chloe got PISSED at her over this because she doesn't like her mom being brought the fuck UP!! And what makes this nonsense so utterly stupid is that EVERYONE seems to know that Chloe is the culprit, and could easily expose her, and they aren't doing so!! I AM PISSED OFF!! I AM ANNOYED!!! I WANT TO WRITE A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER!!! 

Honestly, Kim offering swimming trunks to replace someone's ruined pants is the closest to being in character he’s in this entire episode. 

I am not even going to comment on this show acting as if just one school year ago Chloe ruled the school with an iron fist and could dictate who Marinette could and could not talk to, BECAUSE IT IS UTTER FUCKING NONSENSE!! Chloe did NOT flagrantly break the rules and get away with it due to teachers dismissing her actions as being "wild accusations" she genuinely TRIED to avoid getting caught when she acted out, and she didn't target Marinette in specific more than anyone else!! NONE OF THIS MAKES ANY SENSE!!! THIS IS LITERALLY JUST CHARACTER ASSASSINATION!! 

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH THIS NONSENSE ABOUT THERE BEING "NO REST" FOR MARINETTE!! I DO NOT WANT TO HERE THIS BULLSHIT BEING SPOKEN BECAUSE THIS IS SO WILDLY AND SEVERELY OUT OF CHARACTER FOR CHLOE!! SHE DOES NOT GO OUT OF HER WAY TO TORMENT PEOPLE FOR HER AMUSEMENT!! SHE RARELY TORMENTS PEOPLE AT ALL, SHE IS JUST AN OBNOXIOUS BRAT!!! I WANT THIS STUPIDITY TO FUCKING END!!! 

IF IT ISN'T CLEAR!! I AM BEYOND PISSED OFF AT THE MOMENT!!! WHY THE ABSOLUTE FUCK WOULD ANY OF THE TEACHERS BE AFRAID OF A TEENAGE GIRL!?! THEY LITERALLY HAVE ALL THE POWER IN THE DYNAMIC!! WHY ARE THEY TRYING TO MAKE SOCQUELINE INTO THIS BRAVE PROTECTOR FOR MARINETTE WHEN THIS COMPLETELY FUCKING UNDERMINES THE FACT THAT ALYA WAS APPARENTLY THE FIRST ONE TO CONVINCE HER TO STAND UP FOR HERSELF!?? YOU CANNOT FUCKING SAY IT IS BECAUSE IT DIDN'T SINK IN UNTIL NOW OR SOME BULLSHIT LIKE THAT BECAUSE SOCQUELINE APPARENTLY WENT SO FAR AS TO PHYSICALLY THREATEN CHLOE, WHEN ALL ALYA DID WAS PULL MARINETTE AWAY FROM CHLOE AND BARELY DID ANYTHING DIRECTLY AT ALL!! GET THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT OUT OF MY FACE!!!

I am not eveN GOING TO FUCKING PRETEND TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE BARE MINIMUM REASON THEY ARE GIVING FOR MARINETTE TO PURSUE KIM BECAUSE IT BRINGS BACK ALL OF THE BULLSHIT FROM KURO NEKO IN THAT IT ACCIDENTALLY FRAMES MARINETTE'S CRUSHES IN THE MOST SHALLOW AS FUCK WAY IMAGINABLE!!! 

ALSO, WHY IN THE FUCK ARE KIM AND MAX GOOD ENOUGH FRIENDS IN THE PRESENT WHEN WE ARE LITERALLY GIVEN A SCENE OF KIM BEING SUCH AN INSENSITIVE JACKASS TO TAUNT MAX OVER NEEDING CLASSES!? 

THEY EXPLICITLY HAD HIM SCREAM AT KIM IN ANGER FOR HIM TO STOP AND HIM TO JUST SHRUG IT OFF BY ASKING MAX TO LAUGH A LITTLE!!! HOW DID THESE TWO SOMEHOW BECOME CLOSE ENOUGH FRIENDS FOR MAX TO AGREE TO WORK WITH KIM ON CONFESSING TO CHLOE IN DARK CUPID!? SINCE WHEN WAS HAVING A LAUGH THIS FUCKING IMPORTANT TO KIM AT ALL!?!?! 

I am literally too fucking angry to even go for all caps. This is nonsense taken to the NTH degree. Making Chloe cartoonishly evil does not make her more unlikable, it is bad writing. Making Kim so fucking stupid he doesn't get what "confessing feelings to him" means and being convinced to go along with a prank because he's too fucking stupid to understand what's going on is bad writing. THIS ENTIRE EPISODE is bad writing. I just... I am not even gonna pretend to tolerate this. 

Trying to be FUCKING self aware about Marinette's future obsession about confessing DOES NOT FUCKING WORK WHEN SHE LITERALLY NEVER HAS HAD THAT FUCKING PROBLEM WITH LUKA!!!

See, what makes all this bullshit utter nonsense is that, by all rights, if ANY OF THIS, the backstory in general, took place... then MARINETTE SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO COME WITHIN A HUNDRED FEET OF EITHER KIM OR CHLOE!! WHY IN THE WORLD IS SHE WILLING TO EVEN BE IN THE SAME ROOM AS THE TWO OF THEM IF THEY HURT HER LIKE THIS!? WHY IS SHE ABLE TO BE CIVIL WITH KIM WHEN HE HAS NOT APOLOGIZED OR EVEN REALIZED WHAT THE FUCK HE DID WAS WRONG IN NEARLY A FUCKING YEAR!? WHY WAS MARINETTE ABLE TO WORK WITH SOMEONE WHO FUCKING TRAUMATIZED HER DURING ANIMAESTRO, OR ANY OF THE TIMES SHE CALLED ON QUEEN BEE!? WHY WOULD SHE SAY SHE THINKS CHLOE IS ABLE TO CHANGE IN SEASON TWO IF THEY HAD A PAST LIKE THIS!? FUCK THIS NOISE!! FUCK IT WITH A RUSTY CHAINSAW!!! 

IF ANYONE TRIED TO TELL ME THAT THE WRITERS PLANNED THIS OUT AHEAD OF TIME, I WOULD BELIEVE THEM BECAUSE THE WRITERS ARE SUCH FUCKING HACKS THAT I WOULDN'T TRUST THEM NOT TO CHOP DOWN A TREE BY LEANING ON IT!!! 

THESE IDIOTS WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND CONTINUITY IF IT HIT THEM OVER THE HEAD WITH A HISTORY TEXTBOOK!! 

HERE’S ANOTHER BIG ISSUE WITH THIS FUCKING FIASCO OF AN EPISODE, APPARENTLY CHLOE VIDEO TAPED THE ENTIRE INCIDENT AND POSTED IT ON SOCIAL MEDIA!! HOW IS ANYONE UNAWARE OF THIS NONSENSE!? 

Okay, never mind, they had Mary Socqueline kick the phone out of midair. WHY!? 

DO NOT EVEN TRY AND PRETEND THAT MAKING MARINETTE INTO A FUCKING STALKER WAS ALL MEANT TO BE PART OF SOME TRAUMATIC BACKSTORY, THAT THIS IS SOMETHING SHE WOULD DO WITH ANY GUY SHE LIKES, NOT WHEN LITERALLY NONE OF THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT EVER APPLIED DURING HER RELATIONSHIP WITH LUKA!!! GET THIS NONSENSICAL BULLSHIT OUT OF MY SIGHT!!! 

DO NOT EVEN TRY AND DO A TONAL WHIPLASH BY SWITCHING FROM MARINETTE BAWLING HER EYES OUT IN THE BATHROOM WITH CHLOE COMPLAINING TO THE PRINCIPAL ABOUT SOCQUELINE!!! DO NOT EVEN BEGIN TO FUCKING GO THERE!!!

GET THIS NONSENSICAL SHIT OUT OF MY SIGHT WITH SOCQUELINE GETTING SUSPENDED!! I DON'T EVEN LIKE HER AND I KNOW THIS EVENT IS CHARACTER ASSASSINATING BULLSHIT!! EVEN WHEN CHLOE LEANED ON ALYA TO BE PUNISHED IN LADY WIFI, SHE ACTUALLY HAD A FUCKING LEG TO STAND ON, AND ONLY GOT THE SEVERITY OF HER PUNISHMENT INCREASED!! THE MAYOR DOES NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO REPLACE THE PRINCIPAL!! IT WAS EXPLICITLY A FUCKING PLOT POINT DURING THE BATTLE OF THE QUEENS TRILOGY THAT HE HAS EXTREMELY LIMITED POWER OVER THE SCHOOL SYSTEM, AND THE MOST HE COULD DO WAS GET THE SCHOOL CLOSED FOR A FUCKING DAY!! HE IS NOT EVEN ON THE FUCKING SCHOOL BOARD!!! 

THEY FUCKING MADE SOCQUELINE RIP OFF ALYA'S MAJESTIA SPEECH FUCK THIS NOISE!!! 

OH GREAT ANOTHER FUCKING CASE OF A CHARACTER RESISTING A FUCKING AKUMATIZATION, LIKE THAT'S SOMETHING SPECIAL THESE DAYS!! 

WHY IS THIS IDIOT SAYING THAT CHLOE IS THE PRETTIEST GIRL TO HIS GIRLFRIEND!? WHERE DID THIS MORON'S BRAIN DISAPPEAR TOO!? 

MARINETTE, DO NOT EVEN GO THERE WITH FUCKING SAYING IT'S ALL CHLOE'S FAULT, NO ONE FORCED YOU TO DECIDE TO PROMISE TO FUCKING STALK PEOPLE, OR TEAM UP WITH THE PERSON WHO ALLEGEDLY TRAUMATIZED YOU, ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN YOUR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP WITH LUKA MADE IT VERY CLEAR THAT YOUR VOW IS TOTAL BS!!! 

THIS ALSO IS NOT HOW TRAUMA WORKS!! IT DOES NOT FUCKING MATTER IF YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT CAUSES TRAUMA, OR WHERE IT CAME FROM, THE TRAUMA WILL STILL FUCKING EXIST!! YOU HAVE TO PUT IN THE FUCKING WORK TO OVERCOME IT AND LEARN TO ADAPT IN YOUR DAY TO DAY LIFE!! THERE IS NO HAVING A MAGICAL EPIPHANY THAT'LL MAKE IT ALL GO THE FUCK AWAY!!!

AFTER ALL, IF ANY OF THAT SHIT WERE TRUE, I WOULDN'T BE HALF AS FUCKED UP AS I AM BY ALL THE BULLSHIT MY GRANDFATHER HAS PUT ME THROUGH!! DO YOU EVEN COMPREHEND HOW UTTERLY TONE DEAF, OFFENSIVE, AND SELF-RIGHTEOUSLY HYPOCRITICAL THIS ENTIRE FIASCO OF AN EPISODE IS SUPPOSED TO BE!? ANY POSSIBLE UPSIDE OF MARINETTE ACKNOWLEDGING THAT SHE'S A FUCKING STALKER WAS TAKEN AWAY BY MAKING IT "ALL CHLOE'S FAULT" AND I AM NEVER GOING TO LET THIS FUCKING GO!!! 

DO NOT EVEN GO THERE WITH THE "HE DESERVES TO GET HURT!!" THIS IS NOT WHAT ADRIEN AGRESTE IS LIKE, I DO NOT GIVE A DAMN IF MARINETTE IS HIS GIRLFRIEND, HE IS NOT THAT KIND OF PERSON!!! AND NO, THE BIG MOMENT HASN'T HAPPENED YET, BUT I CAN TELL IT'S GONNA BE SOON!!! 

And it happened GET THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT OUT OF MY SIGHT!! WHAT THE HELL EVER HAPPENED TO "THERE'S AN ACTUAL LIVING PERSON UNDER THERE" SPEECH WHEN HE ACTUALLY CATACLYSMED MONARCH!? STOP FUCKING TREATING ONE OF THE MOST DANGEROUS AND HORRIFIC THINGS IN THE SERIES AS SOMETHING ADRIEN JUMPS TO WHEN HE IS PISSED THE FUCK OFF, BECAUSE IT IS PISSING ME THE FUCK OFF!!! WHY IS HE GIVING MORE CONSIDERATION TO A GUY WHO HAS ACTIVELY TRIED TO GET HIM AND HIS GIRLFRIEND KILLED MORE THAN FUCKING ONCE THEN A FELLOW TEENAGER WHOSE WORST CRIME IS BEING A FUCKING MORON!?!? I'M DONE!! I AM DONE WITH THIS BULLSHIT!! NOTHING CAN MAKE THE WRITING COME BACK FROM THIS, NOTHING!!! 

FUCK OFF WITH THIS "YOU'RE GOING TO GO APOLOGIZE TO HER" BULLSHIT!! YOU HAVE BEEN FUCKING ENABLING HER FOR MONTHS, YOU HAD ONE SHOT TO MAKE HER CHANGE FOR THE BETTER AND YOU FUCKING BLEW IT!!! FUCK IT ALL!! FUCK THIS!! FUCK YOU!! FUCK THE WRITERS!!! I'm done. I'm just... I'm done. I'm gonna keep doing my reviews, but this dug up some nasty wounds.

[bunnytalksf1]

Multi 81 (21) in Hungary?

just for the buzzy title

I recently made a post about McLaren needing to clean up their strategy in order to truly compete for world championships, both the drivers' and constructors' side.

McLaren has had, by far and away, the fastest car this weekend, even over Verstappen, who has been massively struggling, and dropped off the back of the two McLarens after the scuffle at the start was sorted. I've been critical in the past (probably) about Piastri's tyre management, and actually think Norris' tyre management and race pace is, on average, better.

My main criticism of McLaren's strategy was that they left too much up to the drivers, not just in Silverstone 24, but in Sochi 21 and in other races. They converse with their drivers over the radio a little too much and delay decisions because of it, and suffer often as a result. Sometimes its clearer than other times.

Today-- an example of that. Norris again mucked up the start a little and lost positions as a result, and his pace was not significantly faster as to catch Piastri throughout the first or second stints. he paid for his bad start. In lap 33, Oscar made a mistake that sent him offtrack briefly, reducing the gap in front from about four seconds to under two. This put him into the undercut window.

Lando was then pitted first. I think ultimately that I understand what they were trying to do in terms of covering off the undercut from Hamilton, but in hindsight the decision was unnecessary as Hamilton was eleven seconds behind, which makes what followed that much more frustrating.

McLaren left Piastri out in the lead for two laps after on his second stint whilst Norris started his third. By the time they bought Piastri in, the gap between the two cars (Norris P1, Piastri P2). Hamilton behind was never a threat, and neither was Leclerc or Verstappen.

At the beginning of the third stint, McLaren gave the order to let Piastri back through when he caught up. Norris then began widening the gap to Piastri behind - something which he has always been strong at is finishing well, which Piastri at present is a little weaker on, esp i.e tyre management. No problem, right? It actually sort of works out well in the title fight, since Verstappen is way back and Norris is in P2 right now. If Norris has better race pace at this point, he can bring the win home for a McLaren 1-2, right?

Here's where, for me, it begins to get baffling/interesting. McLaren, as Norris continues to widen the gap, begin to threaten Lando to swap the position. Mostly saying he's using too much of his tyre in turns 4 and 11, and then some truly bizarre radio messages including Lando's engineer saying "I'm doing this to protect you", pleading with Norris to let Piastri by.

Norris clearly wanted to make a point. The original team order was pretty mixed up: something along the lines of let him by when he reaches you as to not sacrifice race pace to the cars behind. So, if Oscar can't catch him, why should Lando let him by?

Well. Piastri led both of the first two stints, convincingly. taking the win from him, through a team decision, would be vastly unpopular, and one that the team would not like to face the heat for, from both Oscar and his management, causing the relationship between their drivers to break down, and from the media at large. Which sort of links back to the idea of McLaren not really wanting to be responsible for their own strategy at times. There should only have been one thing up to the drivers today, which was racing.

Putting Norris in a position where he is clearly faster on race pace (even if he has the advantage of clean air) and being asked to give a position back that directly affects his title fight is something the team shouldn't have done. They were overly cautious with Hamilton on the undercut, which they didn't need to be, and gave up a position for Piastri for no reason, after he'd led the race convincingly for the whole race, with a brilliant move at turn one lap one to take that lead and hold it from Verstappen and Norris. Piastri needed to box first, and should have been given that priority. If the undercut was enough of a threat that they needed to undercut Piastri, that decision needed to be clear and owned by the team in a way where half the responsibility wasn't placed on Norris to give up a race win that he arguably deserved and needs. Asking a driver in an emotional position to give up something difficult is. Yeah. It caused a public fallout on the radio.

I'm not going to go into Lando's attitude throughout. Do I think it shows maturity, particularly? No. That being said he wanted to make his point about who was faster regardless, and he made it, letting Piastri by in the most showy way possible. But I also don't blame him. The whole thing was painful.

It's taken the shine off Oscar's first win a little, and off the 1-2, because the team orders were so botched. Both drivers now have to answer to the media about something that was not their fault, with Lando saying he didn't deserve the win, which I don't think is true: if he showed that race pace in the final stint having been pitted behind Piastri, he still could have caught him, and won on track.

And lastly, more of my opinion and a little bit of a reach:

It's sort of indicitave of McLaren's overall refusal to publicly prioritise one driver. I think a lot of teams have this issue and its unique to being at the top of the field, hence the teething issues as McLaren haven't been there in a few years (at least consistently). But at this level strategy sort of relies on prioritising a driver pretty clearly, whether that's consistent across race weekends (RBR) or prioritising whoever leads after turn one, or who is showing race pace. Ultimately, there need to be clearer boundaries and expectations or the confusion will lead to somewhat of a breakdown in relationships between the two sides of the garage. This is the same issue as Silverstone, just dressed up a different way. McLaren need to get better at making the right calls under pressure, and taking responsibility for them instead of having to work to correct them in post. They either pull the trigger too early or too late, and ultimately it hurts them.

[freshie44]

Disventure Camp Episode 10 Spoilers

Well Shit, hindsight 20 20 and that made a lot of sense so let's break it down and I'll try not to be a hater. Feel free to call me out if I go to aggro.

This time we'll start at the bottom and work up.

Tom - With how he has played this game, he doesn't deserving being in discussion of who could win. This boy shouldn't even be in the finals! The only way, THE ONLY WAY! This boy makes it is because Jake in the final and they want DRAMA tm.

Riya - No, just no. She is here to be annoying but she got a semi of karma rushing toward her.

Yul - HAH, nah this boy going to get Season 4 Scott treatment. This boy could die on screen and the crowd will cheer, lets be honest.

Jake - Don't be a hater, don't be a hater, don't be hater! Ok! I'm good, I'm good. I'm not a fan of sacrificing a lot of characters and their own stories to progress "the chosen one". Look I'm fine with a few, James to start a feud with Aiden to cause intrigue. Tom a given as is Miriam. But like do we got sacrifice Ashley? Like are we going to sac Aiden next? Like Jake definitely not a bad person but like with how he has played this game. NAH! This boy does not deserve to win no matter how much progress he makes. This boy done everything he can to lose this and deserve to reap the end he earned. But if he the "chosen one" oh well, going to be miffed.

Ally - She just doesn't feel like winning material. Like the Tess & Hunter thing didn't really progress, right? So like is that going to just be done in the revival episode? Shrugs. I just don't see her in the finals.

Gabby - again she great, but she has no plan beyond revenge and nah you need strategy to earn in my eyes a place in the finals. Especially with the early episode be nothing.

Grett - The Yul feud is doing a lot for her here. She going to have some momentum after she pants this clown so don't be surprised if she takes it.

Aiden - this is just bias honestly, the trans person wants to see the trans person win. But like I'm committing to the idea that he'll get revenge on Riya. So like yeah I think he can go further.

Alec - Please don't Ashley him, Please don't Ashley him, Please don't Ashley him!!! He has earn his spot in the finals. He the only one that has any strategy!!!

Elimination - makes sense when you think about it from the survivor angle that merger leads to crowd favorite and the leader of the opposite faction going first.

sorry if I spoiled. Forgot to drag the photo down on first post, but fixed it seconds after.

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