#it's another to be salivating like a dog and targeting them

[sunnywalnut]

Yk I never understood the whole trend of "I'm no better than a man" "don't ask me what color her shirt is" etc etc because like... You do realize what you're doing is bad right?

Like sure. It's funny. If you know each other.

Calling your friends hot is literally what friends are for. Especially if they're feeling down about themselves.

But if you go out of your way to actively thirst over any kind of person(especially women) in a way that objectifies them, even if you think it's positive, that's not right!!!

It's one thing if the person is specifically asking to be talked to in that manner. It's another thing if you see them just existing, even if in a manner you deem sexual, and start hopping on their ass about how sexy they are

And also!!! Just because somebody is okay with you talking like that about them at a specific time does NOT mean that it's okay to do it all the time!!!

Just because you're not a cishet dude doesn't mean that your actions aren't predatory!!!

Stop it!!!

"the demonization of queer desires and queer sexualities is so widespread that it is necessary to defend them and amplify them" and "barging in on a post by a trans woman you don't know to comment on how you are sexually attracted to her is not ok, especially if she's specifically discussing transmisogyny" are not in fact contradictory statements.

[iceshard1011]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders Characters: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Additional Tags: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Separation Anxiety, Misunderstandings, Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), Non-Graphic Violence, Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Conflict, Protective Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Hurt Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Hurt Morality | Patton Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Imagery, animalistic tendancies, Abandonment Issues, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, all from Remus Summary:

This wasn’t what Janus had wanted. To be fair, it was nothing like he had expected, either.

3k word fic below :)

Remus was not a dog, thank you very much. At the least, he was a snarling werewolf with a snout of a crocodile, bulging eyes, an appetite for carrion and a constant erection, because how much cooler did that sound?

So, no. No matter how he acted, or what the others teased him for, or what the internet labelled him as, he was not a dog.

(“Remus, I swear to god, if this stain on the carpet is from you—”)

Most of the time.

(“What are you chewing? No, stop that. Come back. Remus! Spit it out! Don’t eat it faster—”)

Kind of.

(“Remus, please, it’s three in the morning. Stop screaming and go to sleep.”)

Alright, listen. Remus had…  some animalistic traits. Besides being par for the course as his position as a side hidden from Thomas, for the most part, he loved it. It was fun tearing through rooms, deformed jaws salivating, hackles raised, and hearing responding screams (accompanied by Dee’s tired sighs, because not much Remus did ever ruffled his scales).

For the parts that he could control, Remus loved how much of an animal he was. Sharp teeth made Patton shudder, and the tentacles that could shoot from his back were great for latching on and making sure his target couldn’t free themselves.

It was the stupid, grating feeling that came with comparing him to mutts. He didn’t care for the excitement or over-energy or desire to chew interesting looking things on the ground. It was the— the restlessness and the pining and the fear—

He. Hated. It.

Remus could do with drooling but drooling from the sheer overwhelming anxiety pissed off. The way the silver streak in his hair grew, eating up the brown in a minor and selected performance of stress-aging could go fuck itself. The pacing, and the urge to destroy anything in sight, and the instinct to make unnecessary noise weren’t uncommon behaviours for Remus. The depression and anxiety and the damned abandonment issues could leave him alone forever, thanks, just like everyone else he didn’t care about.

That was that problem. He did care. He cared so much he felt like his goddamn chest was being carved out and cracked open and exposed for burning ice and frigid coals to be shovelled in. Ironically, in theory, it sounded a lot more enjoyable than it really was.

It had been a long day. A long, slow, painful day. Initially, Remus had passed time through tearing up the couch — the entire couch — and eating the stuffing. Then he’d replaced the couch he’d just demolished with an albeit far soggier, more stained version that Janus would definitely have replaced when he returned — if he returned — no, shut up, shut up, he is coming back, he always comes back—

Next, Remus had rummaged through his room, then Janus’. After stealing one of Janus’ favourite, fluffiest blankets (knowing full well he’d get a mouthful for it later, if— when Janus found out) he had curled up on the kitchen floor, because it always smelt like Janus and food in there and it calmed Remus’ dramatic heart whining like a newborn lion cub calling for its mother right before a rival male bit into its neck.

That had not helped.

Staying still had allowed for his mind to race too much, bring up too many scenarios, convince himself that it had already been days when in reality it couldn’t have been more than an hour at most.

He hadn’t felt like eating anything, even after a few experimental minutes gnawing at a leg of the table.

Eventually, he had settled for pacing continuously around the hallways and rooms. He had half hoped that he would grow too tired to stay awake, or his legs would become an aching distraction.

When Remus checked the time, he realised with a horrified jolt that the clock on the wall was reading six o’clock. Dee would be back by now. Dee would be back by three. Dee should be home making dinner and throwing the leftovers to Remus and telling him not to eat the dirty bowls.

He was three hours late. He wasn't coming back.

Remus lost the energy that had been bustling in his bones all day. He sunk to the ground against the couch and chewed subconsciously on the end of the stolen blanket. It tasted better than Dee’s boring cooking, but it somehow didn’t help comfort him in the least.

He buried his face into the blanket, wishing the soft bristles were harsh and spiked enough to scratch and gouge his eyes to the point of blindness.

A curse that hadn’t been spoken by Remus made his head shoot upwards. Janus was standing in the middle of the room, rubbing tired-looking eyes. “Those morons don’t stop talking.”

He was caught off-guard when Remus leapt from his spot at the base of the couch across the room in one clean jump to latch onto his shoulders and swing his legs around his waist. Janus staggered, because he wasn’t short, but certainly slightly below average, and Remus was Thomas’ tallest side, and between how much he ate and fought monsters, he weighed a ton.

Janus cleared his throat pointedly. Remus didn’t so much as look at him.

“Remus,” he said. “I need to make dinner. That will be so incredibly easy with you behaving like this.”

Remus shook his head, his face rubbing back and forth against Janus’ chest. “Not hungry.”

Janus frowned. That was both a lie and completely true. Odd.

Nevertheless, he allowed Remus to act the way he wished and awkwardly went about fixing himself something to eat.

 Janus didn’t expect repetitions of scenarios like being clung to by Remus. He figured it was a one-off — he had returned late, and Remus had been panicking. Janus seldom strayed from his plans. Coming back at six rather than three o’clock had not been his intention, and if not for the light sides and the way they seemed to be far too eager to discuss seemingly random matters with him, he would have been back much sooner.

In fact, that was what continued to happen. He didn’t allow himself to get distracted and left the mindscape strictly when he was supposed to in order to return on time.

For some reason, this didn’t seem to be helping.

At first, it wasn’t much. Remus being a bit more affectionate, a bit clingier. Janus had never minded much of Remus’ shenanigans, partially because Remus actually listened to him when he told him to do things. He didn’t ask much of Remus, and he dealt with his chaotic nature far better than anyone else ever had, so perhaps Remus felt like that was worthy of being listened to.

It didn’t mean he always listened. It certainly didn’t mean he always did as Janus asked.

“Remus, let go of me. I need to work” and “Remus, don’t chew on my cape, that’s my good one” and “Don’t you even think about tearing up my pillow while I’m gone” all came to mind.

Janus suppressed a sigh. He knew Remus sensed his frustration, because he tensed, but he didn’t stop trying to eat Janus’ shoe. He was getting slobber all over the carpet, and it was soaking into the bottom of Janus’ pant leg. It had been easy to ignore at first, but Remus hadn’t stopped, and it was beginning to grate on Janus’ nerves.

Now, it had reached the point where Janus couldn’t concentrate on the book he was reading, and it was thinning his strong patience. He pulled his legs in from where they were stretched out and interlocked at the ankles — or at least he tried to.

He didn’t count on Remus to grip his ankle tighter and  growl  possessively. As if it was his leg.

“Stop it,” Janus snapped, yanking his foot away. Remus bared his teeth, growling quietly to himself. Janus tucked his ankles in close and continued to try and read, though his mood was soured, and he still couldn’t concentrate.

It wasn’t the only time Remus’ behaviour had both caught Janus off guard and made him bitterly uncomfortable.

Once, he had scurried back from the Imagination, a goddamn hydra-chimera on his tail. It had gotten as far as pouncing on an unsuspecting Janus exiting the kitchen before Remus had torn it to shreds with his own teeth.

Usually, Janus paid no mind to Remus’ aggressively gory tendencies.

This time, lying vulnerable below a dying creature, being splattered with its blood and guts, was enough to unsettle him. Just a tad.

Another time, Remus had walked into the kitchen where Janus was  trying  to get a cup of coffee, had looked him dead in the eye, and sprayed him with a foul-smelling grey goop that had both stained Janus’ comfy clothes and stuck in his hair for days after.

Janus let it slide, though he wasn’t impressed. That turned out to be a mistake.

The next time Remus threw an unknown substance on him, it burned. It stung like acid, and at first Janus figured merely cleaning it off would clear it away but it didn’t, and it was slicing through his arm and a part of his cheek and his scales were screaming and melting off his face and at this point he had started to scream because goddamn it hurt, why was it hurting so much? And Remus wasn’t much help and even he didn’t know what to do or how to fix any of it and the pair of them were stuck with each other panicking.

In the end, Janus had locked himself in the bathroom and soaked in the bathtub, ignoring Remus’ plaintive pleas to be let in. Janus had figured if he were desperate enough, he'd simply break the door down, but he hadn’t.

The pain had faded, over time, leaving Janus exhausted, pale and shaking, saturated with bathwater and sweat and tears. When he’d emerged from the bathroom, Remus had been curled on the ground by the door. He’d tried to speak, but Janus had practically fled before he could. He had avoided Remus for days after that.

Janus, for as much as he shared the one brain cell with Logan, should have realised after that that something was going on. Something far more serious.

He didn’t.

 Initially, Janus hadn’t seen a problem with bringing Remus into the conversation. Thomas knew his other creativity existed, and the other sides had already been subjected to Janus’ presence several times over. Really, he hadn’t thought that bringing Remus with him into the mindscape would be so bad.

He was rarely wrong.

This time he was so, so terribly wrong.

He had expected Remus to rise and take a swipe at an unsuspecting Roman.

He hadn’t counted on Roman noticing Patton and Virgil’s tensed reactions and ducking to avoid the morning star swinging over his head.

Janus had been too busy being amused. Being amused over Remus’ pouting, and mildly disgusted at Patton’s excited gushing over Roman’s evasive manoeuvre. He’d been too busy catching Virgil and Logan’s shared eyerolls.

But then Patton had clung to Roman’s arm, and Remus’ grip on his morning star had tightened. Logan and Virgil shared an exasperatedly fond eyeroll and Remus’ lip started to curl. And maybe Janus was smiling too much because that was the last thing he remembered happening before everything went horribly, horribly wrong.

Janus did not often consider himself to be particularly clueless or unresourceful. He could adapt and flex to situations, and bend scenarios to his advantage. It was part of the way he presented himself. There was truly little that could ever take him off guard. He had lived with Hissing Teenage Angst and Chaos Incarnate.

Remus suddenly lunging forward, a snarl on his face and bloodlust in his eyes shouldn’t have been one of them.

Remus connecting his weapon with Patton’s chest certainly was.

In reality, Janus wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He remembered his feet being frozen to the ground. There was shouting, and blurs of colour.

The only moment Janus remembered in full before he caught up with everything was when Virgil, face pale and practically drowning in eyeshadow, looked up at him with wide, petrified eyes and screamed something. Janus hadn’t heard what he’d said, but it shook him enough to jolt into action.

Remus threw Roman into the television and launched for Logan.

The sound of Janus’ snapping fingers cut through the ruckus.

Remus froze, and when Janus waved his hand, he disappeared soundlessly, tucked into the quietest corner of the Subconsciousness. Janus hadn’t been quick enough, though, and the room was still but in no way silent.

Patton’s breaths were loud and harsh, and he was trembling in Virgil’s hold even as the anxious side murmured reassurances and tried to get his panicking friend to calm down. Logan, on the other hand, looked furious. If Janus weren’t so stuck in place, he was certain he’d be shrinking under the cold-eyed glare. He opened and closed his mouth.

“I didn’t—” Janus started.

“You’re leaving,” Logan said, and Janus’ voice left him.

“It wasn’t Janus though,” Patton protested with a small cough, and was then quietened by Virgil. “And— and I want Remus back.”

“You cannot be serious,” Roman hissed, only a little nastily. Janus could see the frantic fear in his gaze; he wasn’t being harsh on purpose. He never was.

“He’s obviously hurting,” Patton said, and Janus got a sudden surge of anger flooding the apathy; what could have possibly possessed Remus to attack the moral side? Patton winced and shifted, pulling away from where Virgil was experimentally poking at his side. “Blocking him out isn’t going to help.”

“That is a stupid idea.” Janus jerked and looked over at Logan, startled. The logical side had turned his furious gaze to the light sides curled on the ground. “You want the crazy maniac back in here? What, so he can attack Virgil next?”

The anxious side flinched, looking wildly uncomfortable. Patton frowned disapprovingly which Janus found hysterically amusing.

“We wouldn’t leave you alone,” Patton pointed out to Logan.

“I wouldn’t be so barbaric,” Logan snapped back.

“He’s rambunctious but not cruel,” interjected Janus, stepping forward. He met the logical side’s furious gaze steadily and coldly. “He is not your concern.”

“He just attacked Patton,” Logan said, close to seething. “That is concerning enough for me.”

“I will take care of it,” Janus assured. He nodded Logan to his friends. “You worry about your own family. Patton's ribs could be broken.”

Logan’s clenched fists shook, and he shoved unnecessarily roughly past Janus, but he did drop the conversation, instead now focusing on what he could fix. Janus just had to do the same thing.

With a deep breath like he was preparing to plunge into frigid ocean depths, he sunk to the Subconscious. Remus wasn’t in the living room. In fact, even more worryingly, there was no sign he had been there in the first place. That was… slightly disconcerting.

There was evidence of Remus’ presence, however, the nearer Janus got to his bedroom. Dents in the walls, pools of questionable substances that Janus dutifully avoided, an abandoned summoned fish flopping uselessly on the carpet. Janus gave that a wide berth, too, not entirely trusting it not to snap and grow an unhinged jaw in an attempt to swallow him whole.

He didn’t bother to call through Remus’ bedroom door. Chances where he would be refused entry or attacked once revealing his presence.

Though, he figured when he walked in and found the creative side, neither outcomes would have been incredibly likely.

Remus was curled into the smallest ball he could make himself, so much so that a few of his limbs looked bent and snapped awkwardly to fit himself as tight as possible. He looked paler than usual. Janus couldn’t see any familiar glints of Remus in his gaze. He swallowed the sick feeling rising in his throat.

“That was exciting,” he remarked, moving to shut the door and sit on the unmade bed. Remus didn’t respond. “Patton is alright, by the way. The others will probably fuss over him far too much.”

Remus made an odd keening noise, sounding like a mix between a beached whale and a dying dog. When Janus sidled a sidelong look in his direction, he could see the creative side blinking over at him, something unreadable and alien in his eyes. He didn’t look like he was contemplating more murder.

He looked petrified.

Janus regarded his gloved fingers. “So.” He leaned his elbows to his knees and looked darkly at Remus. His voice was just as dangerous. “What was that?”

Remus opened his mouth, looking to respond, and only make another peculiar whining noise. Janus narrowed his eyes and Remus snarled at himself.

“I don’t— It wasn't—” Remus growled and shook his whole body without moving from his ball. His hip  clicked  and  popped,  and Janus arched an eyebrow. “I don’t remember… doing anything. Until— until I was… Until you silenced me.”

Janus bit back the guilt that met that statement. It was necessary, he wanted to defend. You deserved it, he wanted to lie. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he admitted.

Remus scoffed, but he was nodding like that made perfect sense. “I wouldn’t either,” he confessed brokenly, and Janus had to blink a few times to see clearly.

“Anything on your mind?”

Remus grated his teeth together so hard one creaked under the pressure. “You leave,” he started, slowly, after a long pause. “You leave all the time. And… you come back, but not every time, and you always look like you like them more, and…”

“You were jealous,” Janus said, with a hint of disgust in his words. Remus hissed through his teeth, glaring at the ground. He looked frustrated, but at himself. He shook his head, but Janus didn’t think he was disagreeing.

“You can’t leave,” Remus said, looking up. One eye was bloodshot to the point that the tears on the right side of his face were red-tinged. “You said you wouldn’t leave.”

“That was years ago,” Janus said, and Remus made a noise like he was trying to gnaw on a chainsaw. He buried his face into his arms. The vertebrae running up his neck strained at the pressure and popped out of place. Janus stood and moved to crouch beside the creative side. He prompted Remus’ head to tilt up and fixed him with a softer but no less serious look. “And I will continue to stand by it, for however long it’s relevant.” Remus whined at him. Janus opened his arms. “Come here.”

When Remus fell into Janus’ arms, the embrace was accompanied by a wet-sounding squelch, and Janus’ left sleeve grew dark and heavy. He chose not to look at it. Remus’ body shifted in his arms, fixing and mending itself. Remus didn’t make any noise throughout the horrifically painful sounding process. Janus supposed he was used to it, and then felt further disgusted at that idea.

When Remus stilled, his breath warm against the scales of Janus’ neck, the deceitful side rubbed his back and leaned away in order to meet his gaze.

“Patton is okay,” he reaffirmed, and Remus seemed to be decently comforted now. “But really, let’s try and  not  make this a habit, hmm?” Remus nodded, pushing his face back into Janus’ shoulder.

The pair would sit there for a little while longer, quiet and peaceful, as odd as that would be for the embodiment of chaos. Then Janus would leave Remus to clean up his room and himself and return to the light sides. They would already be mostly recovered, even if Logan were still slightly pissy. Patton would ask for Remus, and the next day, Janus would lead the dark creative side back into the mindscape, even if he would sulk behind Janus’ back like a stray puppy.

Patton, limping only slightly, would brighten immediately and slide them warm mugs of coffee. Remus would gnaw on the mug handle, and Janus would coax Roman into casual banter. Logan would separate himself from the conversation with a newspaper, and Virgil would be quieter than usual… but it was better than what Janus would have expected.

Remus would be more softly spoken for a few more days after that, but then the pair would be invited to a few more movie nights, a few more dinners. Patton wouldn’t be uncomfortable around Remus, and Roman would begin asking for help in storytelling. Remus would ask Logan to infodump, and he and Virgil would share music tastes.

Then, a few months down the track, when Janus finds a green door appearing next to the red one upstairs, Janus wouldn’t call himself proud, because that was too dramatic, but… he was always a liar, anyway.

[snowpeawritings]

Hi! Can you write Yakuza 0 Kiryu and Yakuza 0 Majima become possessive of their S/O and sort of stalking them around Kamurocho (while busy doing sidequest) and saw them getting troubles with some thugs and proceed to beat the shit out of said thugs and expecting some kind of reward from their S/O. (Prolly sfw or nsfw tho). I'm sorry if this request was long but there is no possessive Kiryu or Majima hc out there. 😣😣😣 I'll be grateful if you write them. 🙏

Tweaking this request a bit

Reader is gender neutral

CW (CONTENT WARNING): Blood tw, swearing, sexual content

- You were just another civilian that just so happened to be in a relationship with a man with a target on his back. It wasn't anyone's fault, really. You were their light in this dogshit world they brought themselves in and like hell would they ever let anything happen to you.

| Kazuma Kiryu |

- You don't mind how he lives a dangerous life even though he's a real estate agent. He makes sure to never drag you into his mess as he goes with his personal mission.

- However, this man still has numerous side quests to do, so he asks you to stay on guard as he goes about him trying to find cat food. Of course buying cat food would lead to a street brawl but he wasn't expecting you to be the target.

- You just wanted to surprise Kiryu from how hardworking he was and that he needed time to unwind. That's why you booked a room at a nearby love hotel and waited for Kiryu outside Don Quijote. You just didn't some random thugs to come up and start harassing you.

- Before they could place their hands on you, Kiryu quite literally swooped in with a dropkick and started beating them left and right. While he bloodied his fists, you stood back, watching the honestly hottest fight you've seen in your life. You were trapped in a trance, salivating over Kiryu's form until he snapped you back with hands on your shoulders and a reprimand ready on his lips.

- Before he could, you grabbed the lapels of his jacket and hauled him off to the love hotel in question, saying to him that he needs to "Pummel me until I can't walk just like how you did with those bastards."

- Kiryu really wasn't expecting any rewards from you but with how eager you were to ride on his cock, he wasn't complaining.

| Majima Goro |

- Now he. He can be possessive.

- He doesn't want to be possessive but with you being the single innocent thing he has in his shitty life, he can't help but want to protect you from all of the bullshit in the world. He's already got a huge target on his back and like hell is he going to have a target be on yours too.

- It was bad enough that he's stressed about his current issues, it's worse when you were caught in some trouble. The thugs that were threatening you about the whereabouts of Majima were quickly silenced by his blade and kicks to their guts. You haven't seen him like this, seen the true Mad Dog of Shimano act like this especially towards you.

- When his bloodied figure turned to meet yours, you had to stifle a gasp from just how sinister he looked. It's even worse that it fits him for some crazy reason.

- He didn't care if his hand was still caked in blood, he carded it through your hair, pulling your head back as you met the manic gleam of his single eye. He only said an address, an address you were all too familiar with when planning special nights with him, then walked off.

- Inside the love hotel, your pleasured screams and harsh thrusts of Majima were the most prominent in the establishment.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Private Chat Log - Oct 23

After Katsu approached Alastor to attempt to make a deal, Alastor immediately ran off to tell Alastor—who’d only just recently been temporarily bound by Katsu’s mother. And this Alastor doesn’t trust Katsu’s sudden offer at all.

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 You'll never guess whose son just came to me, asking to make a very peculiar deal!

radio-daemon Oh?? Is this a game to be played because my chin is resting delicately in my palms!! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Just a warm-up round, so do forgive me for giving away that the answer is your friend Meredith Crowley.

🎶 Now here's the real question: why in the world would her son suddenly want to bargain with me?

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 His offer: one of his soul fragments that's been trained to do magic tricks. His request: that I do something to improve Hell, provided that I explain the bargain and my own proposed action to either Vaggie or Charlie and receive their approval. It's an absurd bargain—particularly considering that he has no dog in the fight! He stands to gain nothing! He has no material reason to make the bargain!

🎶 Which leads me to suspect he somehow stands to gain from the act of making the bargain itself! But what do you think, me?

radio-daemon Hmm hmm hmm.. 🎙

radio-daemon To offer a fragment of a soul is it not his own, to improve an afterlife that he won't see and has no ties to him whatsoever seems suspicious and enticing! Nothing to gain and nothing to lose, nothing that happens affects him in the slightest. 🎙

You get to determine what "improving Hell" means in this context? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Mostly but not entirely! It has to meet one or the other lady's approval, with their knowledge of the bargain behind it. Of course, even if he has no ulterior motive, that alone makes the bargain worthless! Neither one of them would agree to the sale of even a partial soul unless the gain far outstrips their own guilt at approving the trafficking of a fragment of a human—which means the only deal they'd approve is a bad one for me! No thank you!

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 I have no interest in taking the bargain—the mere effort it would take to find something one of them would approve of is far more of a chore than a partial soul is worth, never mind whatever task I'd have to do after that! No, my interest in this bargain is not in taking it, but in figuring out why it was proposed at all.

radio-daemon And the righteous nativity of making Hell a better place strikes a bone in me with glee I had long forgotten possible. 🎙

A noble ideal misplaced and if I were a betting dæmon, I'd be led to believe young Katsu here thinks Alastor a fool that just salivates at the idea of a bargain like we're unable to resist ourselves. 🎙

The fragment of a soul is worth a fragment of a deal. 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Too true! I'd plant a tree for a fragment of a soul, and I'd outsource the labor at that.

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 But is it mere idealism—coming from the son of the one who just recently tried to bind you? The fact that he has fragments of souls to offer means he has a means to break fragments off of souls. Is the bargain, perhaps, an innocent-looking ruse to get an alternate of his mother's foe close enough for him to work his magic on?

radio-daemon And to offer a piece of a soul to take a venturing jaunt into making Hell a better place somehow seems quite the counterintuitive measure! Particularly insulting in the gall that it offers but pleasantly curious in the game that it plays. 🎙

radio-daemon And the little human with the fragments seems to stack all the cards in his favor openly, knowing Hell that of irredeemable finality. Either a fool sent on a task unable to be completely completed, or a charlatan, assuming you aren't as clever as you are. 🎙

You said it had to be approved by Charlie and Vaggie, am I understanding that right? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Charlie or Vaggie, he said. One or the other. I don't see either of them offering leniency in what they would approve, though! One's too idealistic and the other's too suspicious!

radio-daemon Yes indeedy! Even a fragment too cumbersome and to present would be to our yourself. Have you told the young ladies about Katsu's offer at all? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 No—I see no reason to get them involved in a deal I have no interest in taking! It would only encourage them to go get his side of the story.

radio-daemon Very true indeed! Then it seems young Katsu hasn't quite grasped the proper etiquette of bargaining. Guess he inherented  it from his mother! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Oh? Did she make a poor bargain recently? I had wondered why she decided to target you, me. A dissatisfied customer?

radio-daemon Indeed!! Broke the rules of a game being played and tried to bargain up in fact. When her hand was pushed she got belligerent! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Very poor conduct! Hence her retaliation against you, I take it.

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Is this game concluded, or ongoing? If the former, perhaps she'll be satisfied with her petty revenge! If the latter... well, I worry whether she might make a second effort to forcibly break off the game early.

radio-daemon Can't imagine she'd try again and practice to another, at that point seems ignorant to try and cross every version of the same dæmon, tricks eventually stop working. 🎙

And for Katsu to try? No no no, he went to you knowing that going to me would elicit a reaction from mother dearest. But involving her son and two of us? 🎙

Has young Katsu made this attempt public by chance? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Our two planes of reality seem far more closely entangled than most—it’s so much easier to walk from one to the other than it is for most dimensions. Perhaps she thinks taking out one of us necessitates taking out both of us? Or perhaps they mean me no harm, but he hopes to get some estimate of my powers through an up close analysis and pass that info on to his mother to use against you? You can learn a lot about a man from his handshake!

🎶 Not that’s been brought to my attention, but I confess he’s not one of the people whose broadcasts I’ve been keeping a close ear on. But I doubt he’s had a chance—I came to you immediately after speaking to him.

radio-daemon Perhaps glean information from one you have no qualm with to best handle the one you do? Oh oh, the trickiness comes in which moment seems likely! But without an accepted deal, there isn't much to gain bargain. What good what come from that deal? That I'm curious of.. 🎙

A handshake indeed! Indeed you do, but you have to reach with the right hand first!! 🎙

Perhaps then.. I'll go listen in on his frequency myself. Find out what plan he plays!! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 A wise idea! And if I hear any more from him, I'll let you know. Perhaps I won't, as long as I don't contact him again about his proposed deal... but perhaps he'll be calling into my show again to find out why he hasn't heard back from me. We'll find out with time.

[devilsvenom]

"Like you, you mean? You couldn't find me by yourself. You had to send your sire to do it, and even then it was a little shit of a human wishing he was more that took me, not a vampire whose had centuries to prepare for her every move." Annalise spat, the venom clear and dripping from her words. If he thought he had some kind of one up over her because he'd sent Nisha like his little fucking lap dog to get her from Nolan's grasp, he was sorely mistaken. She would much rather he had just left her there, if this was going to be how he'd rub it in. Nolan wouldn't have killed her, wouldn't have harmed her beyond draining her blood and keeping her drugged. Whether that was because of whatever their bond was, or because he didn't have it in him in his current form was another question.

"Hate to break it to you, but you haven't been the golden boy since the minute you were turned. You should have shoved a stake in her hollowed out chest the moment you woke up. A real Halstead would have done that, their golden boy would have done that. Then again, their golden boy would've stepped into the sun too. I guess being turned showed you they're not always right, and you don't always have to listen to others." Except he did, it seemed. Out of his parents grasp and straight under Nisha's thumb. He had never been his own person, never had to work to prove something to himself; just to others. She was in control of herself, made her own decisions and had no one telling her what she could and couldn't do. Lis had worked hard to leave that behind, and even now her standing in The Brotherhood swayed, she was sure. When was the last time she'd shown her face, joined for a hunt? She needed the hunters mark, she should join at least now and then, she knew that. They excused her though; poor little Halstead, gone through so much in such a short space of time. Underestimated and overlooked, always. Was that because she was the youngest, or simply because she didn't have a cock swinging between her legs?

BANG!

The blonde collapsed to the floor with a gasp, unsure now which was the dead wolfs blood and her own. Was this it? Was she dying? Had her brother snapped that much? Annalise worked mentally, taking stock of each body part before coming to the conclusion that it was her thigh that was hit. Grunting, she sat up slightly, pulling her belt from around her waist to torniquet just above the gunshot wound, biting back a yelp. Unclipping her thigh holster to do so, once she was done, fingers wrapped around one of her knives.

It flew through the air quickly, towards Reid, hoping the it would hit his hand or his arm, something that would make him hiss and drop the gun. Her aim hadn't been great today, but just one graze from the verbena infused blade would be enough to weaken him even a little bit. "Big brother, I assure you, you don't want me dead yet. You haven't even had a glimpse of what I plan to do next. Trust me, you'll want me to stick around for that." She growled, dragging herself to the nearest tree in the hopes of using it to help her stand. "Can you smell my blood? Are you salivating, wondering what it would taste like? Come on, have a little drink." He wouldn't be stupid enough to drink from the poisoned well, she knew that, but gods it would be entertaining if he did.

She was up, precariously leaned against a tree, all of her weight on her left leg but up none the less. "I am curious though. . . why target your adoring sisters, the same ones that once worshipped the ground you walked on, and not the parents who left you for dead? Even under all that bravado, you're still terrified of seeing them again, aren't you?" They would kill him the first chance they got, she was sure of that. In her opinion, they were worse than they had been when Reid knew them. She was sure Rose didn't see it, Reid hadn't had the opportunity to; Lis had been stuck there for years after her brother died. Saw them for who they were and good parents was something they never even came close to. Their children were expandable, not to be loved or looked at if they weren't human. . . They may still have beating hearts in their chest, and they may not wolf out every full moon, yet Lis wouldn't use the word human to describe her parents either. Not anymore.

"If you're going to kill me, just fucking get it over with, Reid."

What happened to you, golden boy? Reid imagines the bitterness in the words. An envy that isn't so ruthlessly tangled into her jibe. It's laid on so thick when she spits it at him in all her proud glory. Lis enjoys believing she might know more than he does. What happened to him? Reid might say it feels like it has always been this way, and she's just been too naive to see it.

When she mentions Nisha, he has to resist allowing his eyes to roll into his skull. Does it upset her, even in its lie, to think he would take a side that wasn't his own?

Instead of dwelling on sentiment, a smile fixes itself on his lips, unhinged in its beguilement where it strains upwards in each corner. Lis' tension steadies itself as the gun rests beneath her chin; her confidence is Halstead given, and her snark is also her brother's. Annalise's problem is that she talks and talks. And Reid's hand tightens on the pistol hooked under her jaw. He pushes it upwards, and he can feel the tension coil in the skin beneath her gums and teeth. He has to let go soon, because his finger knows how easy it is to pull the trigger.

Nisha. Impulsive. You're not going to kill me. I bet it was torture. Shame about —

"You done, little sister?"

He doesn't know what she's referring to. Doesn't care to ask, or know. There's no edge of a cliff or descent down a landslide. Reid is everything he needs to be. There is no pain or suffering in his soul that she can shake with her angry, souring words. If anything, she's declining just as Belle had and it's pathetic.

Reid pulls the gun away from where he's left a red mark, lowering it back to his side. There's a bark of a laugh, like this might all be fucking hilarious; she thinks she is everything.

She thinks she beat that wolf of five minutes ago, like it had been nothing. But Reid saw how close she'd been to losing her head, her life and maybe, her humanity entirely. Like she needs to be anymore reckless. In another world, Lis would know all the things that would have plagued him before. But she's a child, with nothing more than a dream of being what he had been, what their parents were.

"You'd know, wouldn't you?" the answers to it all, "If you'd have been better."

If she'd had been anything like him, at his peak. He'd have found Lis. He'd have found a way; he worked with Nisha to bring her home when she was taken captive. Reid hadn't been there to save her, but he'd worked with his enemy to make it happen; to bring her home. What did she do when he were gone? What did it even change, to wonder?

"You've got a lot of theories, not a whole lot of sense, Lis. You think you know your big brother?"

And then, he lifts the gun, smiles.

BANG.

[drdiabolical]

I Never Sharpened My Teeth - Chapter Two

I Can See the Mountains, It's Almost Like I Can Touch Them

Chapter Specific Content Warnings: Non-con medical/scientific examination

// Fandom: Naruto // Rating: Explicit // Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence // SFW // No Smut // No Ship // dldr //

Summary:

Kakashi learns more about the purposes of his captivity and makes a break for it.

Read on Ao3

Excerpt:

Kekkei genkai were simultaneously feared and coveted in the Land of Water. Kakashi had known this in a disconnected peripheral sense which came into focus briefly during his encounter with Zabuza and then fell out of focus again. It was a point of culture that was converse to Konoha where kekkei genkai were infused within the very foundations of the village. Clans were proud, sure, but that reverence didn’t tend to extend too far outside of clan borders.

Strapped down to a gurney while a pair of researchers poked and prodded and took samples of him for analysis, it couldn’t have been clearer that their respective villages held kekkei genkai in very different regards.

Kakashi didn’t have a kekkei genkai presently. He had a natural affinity for lightning and a backlog of copied jutsu catalogued by an eye he no longer possessed. What he did have were biological quirks, but in no way did they give him access to any special chakra capabilities or nature affinities other than his ability to tell what a person had for breakfast by their breath from a metre away, hear the whisperings of gossip while seemingly engrossed in a book, and leave his hypothetical one night stands looking as though they were mauled by dogs rather than ridden with love bites.

Uncomfortable didn’t begin to describe his current situation. Examining every inch of him, producing scan after scan with unrecognisable medical jutsu, taking his blood, skin, hair, and his body in general, in small doses, these researchers were almost rabid in their pursuit of a fictionalised kekkei genkai. Behind their medical masks, he could imagine them salivating at the prospect of confirming their biases. Or perhaps they were tearing up in desperation behind their goggles, their superiors demanding that they discover the Hatake secrets and despairing at the thought of having to report that the six-year-old they apprehended just had weird teeth and that was about all there was to it.

Weird teeth which almost crushed the fingers of the first hand to investigate his mouth, only the chemicals slogging through his system prevented him from snapping onto his target in time. They’d sent for something to ‘deal with that’ since, Kakashi hadn’t caught the finer details, but they hadn’t returned yet-

The door opened and a shinobi swiftly deposited something onto the medical trolley on Kakashi’s right and left within the span of a few seconds. Curse the world, curse the Gods, curse Yaguya, Madara and a whole litany of rotten names, what can go wrong will go wrong and everything always went wrong for Kakashi. It was bad enough that they’d taken his mask, he didn’t need whatever the fuck that thing was.

Rubber props were set into his mouth by one pair of gloved hands while another forced his jaw into submission as he did his damned best to snap and growl. Echos of a righteous ache yet to come pulled at his mouth as the props stretched his lips apart and ensured that he wouldn’t be severing any limbs in the immediate future.

Dentist appointments were already on the list of things he never showed up to, never made in the first place, and whatever wicked form of the practice this was was far worse than the distant memories of his dad dragging him to the dentistry office for his six-month check-ups.

It would have been nice if the researchers deigned to subdue him with more than mild anaesthesia, would have been lovely if they just knocked him out. Whatever ideas of torture and specialised schemes the T&I department were cooking up couldn’t compare to what they had already put him through, something which he had no doubt they were unaware of.

Six-year-old Kakashi had yet to establish the hospital-self-defenestration facet of his reputation.

Six-year-old Kakashi hadn’t established much of a reputation at all outside of his quick ascension to the rank of chuunin and preference for his own company.

Except, no, that wasn’t true for this version of Kakashi. This version of Kakashi had murdered a cell of foreign nin and potentially incited the beginning of the third shinobi war. There were many things Kakashi would have traded for the horrible names that had haunted his childhood the first time around, but very few could compare to this.

“Increase the dosage.”

Wait, no, he changed his mind - better the enemy you know, his only asset right now was his intelligence… gathering, he couldn’t… he couldn’t… he...

Damn it.

Read the rest on Ao3

[feathers-scales-and-tails]

Paralysis Ticks

So it’s summer in Australia and that means ticks! Many of us born in Australia are aware of these nasty buggers, however I was reminded today that people who move here often are not aware of the hazards of our ticks considering many ticks outside Australia are nothing more than blood sucking pests. Like most things in Australia though, we have a tick who is... special. 

This is the Paralysis Tick (Ixodes holocyclus) and is an incredibly common sight in Brisbane where I live. Here’s a map of their distribution (along with our other common, nicer ticks) below. 

Their favourite environment to live in is bushland and long grass, although they travel near and far into city and household through trusty transportation; bats, wallabies, and birds, along with others. They live  for one year with a 4 stage life cycle; egg, larvae, nymph, and adult. They can range in size from a pinhead to the nail on your thumb, the bigger the tick the longer it’s been attached and feeding. An adult tick can lay up to 3000 eggs and they take roughly 60 days to hatch! Hence why they spread like wildfire. Only the females attach and feed off hosts, while the male ticks will feed off the female, mate her, then die. 

If you haven’t guessed already from their name, these ticks cause paralysis! As they feed they inject neurotoxins into their host through saliva, causing a plethora of issues. Paralysis is rare within adults, however young children can suffer. Despite adults not suffering the paralysis, they still make us incredibly sick. Symptoms are similar to the Influenza Virus (the Flu) and there are a lot of symptoms you can suffer. These can include; rashes, diarrhea, vomiting, headache, fever, body aches and pains, lethargy, balance issues, intolerance to bright light, weak limbs, and finally issues with motor control particularly in the facial muscles and hands. They are incredibly nasty ticks. 

I’m not talking about human health today however, I’m making this post to talk about how they affect animals. Specifically our pets. 

Tick ‘season’ begins in September and progressively gets worse as our weather heats up; December and January which are in the peak of heat are the worst months. Ticks don’t stick to season though, it’s entirely possible to find them in winter! However it’s not nearly as common. During Tick season Vets are overrun with patients. Roughly 10,000 dogs are affected each year with a 5% fatality rate (500 animals). These ticks aren’t picky, they’ll commonly target; dogs, cats, birds, chickens, cattle, sheep, goats, rodents, snakes, lizards, and wildlife. Paralysis Ticks can and will kill all of the above animals if treatment is not provided. 

Animals usually start showing clinical symptoms 3-5 days after the tick has attached, it takes a while for the toxins to get into their system. This isn’t good though, as once the toxins are in and start causing noticeable issues you have a very short time frame to seek medical help. The most common symptoms within cats and dogs are; heavy and laboured breathing, excessive panting, coughing, vomiting, constant salivation and frothing at the mouth, wobbly and unsteady back legs, refusal to stand up and walk, full hind leg paralysis, and finally full body paralysis and loss of consciousness. It can take as little as 24 hours after you notice clinical symptoms for your pet to succumb to respiratory or heart failure. 

They sound like a nightmare, and trust me they are. If you discover your animal has a tick you need to book a Vet appointment immediately as without treatment they’ll likely die. Even if you remove the tick, the toxins can remain within the body for weeks. 

If you find a tick, it’s best to remove it straight away so no further toxins are injected. However refrain from squeezing the ticks body with tweezers or fingers!!! Squeezing the abdomen can cause the tick to regurgitate straight into your pet, releasing more toxins. There are special tools you can buy which twist the tick off, if not try and grab the tick by it’s head if it isn’t burrowed into your animal. Here is an example of the removal tool, and another of how to use it. 

If you don’t have this on hand, obviously have a go with tweezers. Just try your best to grab them as far down on their body as you can. 

Vet treatment wise, an antiserum to neutralise the toxin will be administered and the animal may require Intravenous fluids, oxygen and assistance breathing, and assisted urination and defecation if full paralysis has occurred. Never give your animal food or water if it’s paralysed by a tick, as your pet could inhale this into their lungs. Ticks cause respiratory failure, so without full control over their throat and chest muscles they may fail to block off their airway or swallow this food/water properly. It can take up to 9 days for a pet to recover, so your animal will either stay in vet care or will be cleared to go home with antibiotics and/or anti-nausea medication. 

The best way to avoid this heartache for your pets is obviously prevention. Below are some examples of ticks attached, keep in mind that these ticks are engorged so relatively easy to feel or spot. Newly attached ticks will be a pinhead bump, not the huge things you see here. First image is a tick attached to a dog, second is a blue tongue skink, third is a bird (I’m unsure of species). First image is an engorged Paralysis tick, second image are some non-full paralysis ticks, third image is not a paralysis tick (from my viewpoint anyway).

The most straightforward method of prevention is to check your animals regularly, particularly within Summer for ticks. You do this by feeling along your animal and pulling back their fur/feathers/wool to check any small bump or raise you might feel. Common areas of attachment is on the chest and neck, however ticks also like eyes, ears, belly, and around the anus. Check every inch of your pet, sometimes the pricks even go between toes. Here are common areas to check for different animals. Dogs and cats: under the collar, ears, eyes, mouth, belly, chest.  Birds: eyes, beaks and ears. Generally ticks like to attach in places a bird can’t reach so they can’t be pulled off. Armpits (under wings) and along the bottom are also favoured spots.  Reptiles: cloaca, armpits, ears, mouth, eyes.  Rodents: face, stomach, back, ears Sheep: udders, belly, armpits, ears, eyes, jaw/chin.  Cattle: everywhere. Just trust me. Everywhere

Obviously check over your entire animal, but those are the most common spots for each respective species if you’re short for time. Other methods of prevention include sprays and topline treatment. Cattle and sheep get sprayed down for ticks, while dogs and cats should receive regular preventative treatment often in the form of a spray on the back of their neck just like flea treatment. It’s also important to keep grass short on your property as ticks love living in this. Furthermore, don’t walk your dog through any long grass or bushland during summer if you can help it. 

I think that pretty much covers everything! It’s a lot of information but I figured the more the better use it would be to somebody wanting knowledge/help. To everybody living in Australia, or potentially visiting, stay safe and watch out for these ticks. I’ve had several myself and they are not fun! 

Here’s a chonky little Brushtail Possum for you! Fun Fact; Australian Possums and Bandicoots (along with some other species I’m forgetting now?) have built up a natural immunity to Paralysis ticks considering how frequently they’re exposed! They can still be affected, but are very unlikely to suffer paralysis from them. Brushies are my favourite so I had to share one. Chonky tree cats. 

[outoftheirdifferences]

The look she gave him said eloquently that she was still sceptical... but no sensible street dog would turn down the chance of food. Besides, Charlie was well hidden back here, and it honestly seemed unlikely to her that a dog catcher who'd as good as left him for dead would still be prowling around anyway. She frowned a little more; but ultimately Angel simply shrugged, then turned tail and scampered in the direction he'd pointed her.

She had a good head for the streets... and, in fact, she'd known the place he meant as soon as Charlie had described it. What she hadn't known was that it could be a good place for handouts...

Which she had no shame in accepting, even if Buster would have had words to the contrary.

Sure enough, a few minutes later found her at the restaurant's back entrance. Cautious, the small girl padded into the light cast from the open doorway. She might not have shame in accepting food this way, but she'd also been chased away from such places far too many times to just waltz in brazenly. In fact, in spite of Charlie's reassurances, she was still anticipating a swift kick being the only thing she was likely to receive from a place like this.

Still, it did smell heavenly... she could feel herself starting to salivate as the scents of fresh-cooked burgers washed over her. Licking her lips, she ventured another step forward, then another, until she was almost in the doorway. Then...

She'd been spotted: Angel tensed as the nearest human turned her way, prepared to bolt in an instant... but the gaze that fell on her was young, filled with compassion... it had to be the girl Charlie had mentioned, and Angel's heart leapt. She gave a little whimper, turning wide grey-blue eyes to the girl.

"Oh, you poor girl, you look starved. Here..."

Moments later, Angel was trotting away, tail wagging furiously, with not one but two fresh burgers clutched in her mouth. She could barely grip them both at once, and was aware that this made her a great target for any other dog who might be out here... but the smell of good food was filling her nostrils, her eyes were alight, and in that moment she felt like nothing could bring her mood down.

Ordinarily, she'd scarf down any food as soon as she laid eyes on it, rather than risk it getting stolen from her in turn; and she wouldn't deny that the temptation was to do just that and then lie to Charlie that she hadn't been given anything to bring back for him. But even though she knew she wasn't a good dog by any means, Angel still had at least a shred of decency at heart: Charlie had looked out for her, and it was only fair to return the favour. So she picked up speed as she hastened back to the bigger dog.

As long as nothing had happened to him in her absence, everything would be fine, she promised herself. She could outwit any dog on these streets, anyway, if need be.

The wounded canine was all too aware of the extra danger he’d be putting himself in if he let Angel go, but the situation as a whole definitely could’ve been worse.

There were worse things to happen to someone, he was sure.

“Yeah, I know I’m not,” Charlie answered, nodding a little, “but, uh… if I can help you, you can help both of us, y’know? An’ it’s not a big deal. I can take care a’ myself. Go ‘head an’ get some grub, kid. I’ll be here.”

As if to encourage her onward, he nodded towards the joint he’d mentioned.

Secretly, though he wasn’t going to admit it, Charlie was really hoping he was right and that he’d be fine. Not because of his current condition so much, but because he didn’t want the dog catcher to find him.

If that happened, he would have no chance of getting away, and he knew it.

But as long as Angel didn’t take too long, everything was fine.

[brilliantobservations]

Hindi Schmidts the Bed

You’re a mean one, Rupert Grint. Mallory has a surprise Harry Potter sighting — or does she? — while shopping for back to school supplies at her local Target. 

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  Episode 259 Hindi Schmidts the Bed Brilliant Observations Comedy Conversation Podcast with Melissa Brilliant and Amy Fugazi

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[shards-of-the-stars]

Chapter 10

Lightpaw followed Bristlepaw down the side of the Thunderpath. She tried to go as quickly as possible so they could get away from it. She didn’t understand how Bristlepaw looked so calm. She had been the one to freeze in fear at the sight of a monster. The two leg houses all looked the same to her.

“It's down this way!” Bristlepaw mewed in excitement, taking a sharp turn towards another house“I can smell clan scent everywhere.”

Lightpaw sniffed at the air. She recognized the fishy smell of Riverclan, the faint scent of Windclan, and the unpleasant reek of Skyclan that reminded her of border patrols at the sky clan border. She had never been in a battle with Skyclan but there was always the threat of it. Leafstar seemed constantly torn between being amused at Tigerstar or ripping out his throat at gatherings. Though Riverclan had become too weak to become any threat, Skyclan was still strong despite the winter.

Lightpaw looked down Lightpaw felt more and more trapped as she ventured in, but she kept on putting one paw in front of the other. Her fur was pressed flat as she slunk through the two legs house.

Brislepaw’s ears where pricked like she was hearing something, but Lightkit could hear anything.

“I hear a dog.” Bristlepaw mewed thoughtfully, increasing her pace to a brisk trot. Lightpaw tried to block out all the other noises of the twolegplace and started as she picked up a faint barking.

“Its this way!” Bristlepaw mewed, breaking out into a run. Lightpaw sprinted after her heals, trusting in the other she-cats sharp ears. Brislepaw took some sharp turns as she raced towards the twoleg dwelling. The barking was getting loader and loader and Lightpaw even picked up on some cries that sounded like they came from cats.

Lightpaw followed Bristlepaw around one last corner and a growl started rising in the throat at what she saw.

A huge brown dog was crouched and ready to spring, drool dripping out of its ugly jaw. Its eyes were wild as it barked at the cats gathered in front of it.

The cat crouched in front of the group looked like she wanted to rip the dog apart. She was skinny, mottled brown she-cat who was hissing like the pines in a windstorm. Crouched on the other side of her was a brown and white she-cat with a huge tail held up behind her in a signal of alarm. There was a third cat crouched behind them, his eyes as wide as saucers and his claws out. The group looked ready for a fight.

Still, they didn’t look as ready for a fight as the dog did. It was salivating at the three cats like they were a juicy frog on the fresh kill pile.

“Hey dog” Lightpaw yowled at the top of her lungs. “Come over here, you piece of absolute crowfoot.”

Bristlepaw turned her head to look at her like she was an idiot. Lightpaw didn’t care. She was ready to teach this cat not to mess with clan cats. The dog took a step towards Bristlepaw and Lightpaw, eyes darting between the two groups of cats.

“Your a fox-hearted mouse brain” Lightpaw screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Yes, dog! You have…dog breath!” Bristlepaw joined in, her voice rising in confidence as the two of them stared down the canine.

“Who in Starclans name are you!” The skinny brown she-cat mewed, but her voice was drowned out by the bark of the dog as it ran at the Shadowclan and Thunderclan cat.

I truly am an idiot.” Ligthpaw thought to herself as she steeled her heart and leaped at the dog.

Lightpaw crowed a battle cry as her claws swept across the dogs face. The dog whispered in pain before it opened its mouth to bight at Lightpaw. She leaped backward, feeling the dogs hot breath on her face. One bite from this thing and she could die. Lightpaw had never seen a dog so huge.

Lightpaw clawed again at the dog's face, trying to keep light on her feet. Her mentor had always told her to use her size to her advantage but this dog was so much bigger than her. It was so fast as well. Lightpaw leaped backward one more time. The dog was a storm of gnashing teeth that Lightpaw could barely keep away from.

The skinny mottled she-cat leaped in beside Lightpaw, dragging her claws across the dog's neck as she raced by. Lightpaw gave her a friendly smile but the she-cats eyes were fixed ahead of her. Bristlepaw joined in the fight, yowling as she threw herself at the dog's side.

The dogs head wiped around to face Bristlepaw, and Lightpaw saw her shot. She ducked under the dogs head and latched onto its throat. Her teeth sank into its fur and she could taste the tang of blood.

The dog yelped in pain, shaking its head back and forth. Lightpaw sunk her teeth in deeper, screwing her eyes shut.

Lightpaw hooked her claws into the dog's shoulder, pulling herself higher up on the dog. She felt it teeth graze her tail but she kept on going until she was on its back.

She dug in her claws, crouching down so she had a low center of gravity. She looked down at the other cats. They were forming a semicircle around the dog, darting in and out so it couldn’t get its jaws around them. They were almost as good as a whole patrol of Shadowclan warriors.

A white tom crouched to the ground as he took a flying leap onto the dogs back. His green eyes met Lightpaw’s for a moment before he started biting at the dog.

Lightpaw saw the skinny she-cat miss a swipe and stumble to the side. The dog ignored the other opponents and narrowed in on her as if he was sensing weakness.

Lightpaw walked on the dogs back, making sure to dig her claws in every time she moved so she wouldn’t be shaken off.

She dug one paw in deep and covered the dog's eyes with the other. The dog missed his target in his confusion, and Lightpaw prepared to give it another swipe across its face. The dog was bleeding in many places and looked severely wounded. Then again, so were the cats. Lightpaw’s could feel her blood being thrown in the air every time she lashed her tail and could see that some of the other cats had been bitten as well.

A loud booming voice rang out through the backyard. The dog's ears pricked up and it looked backwards just like all the cats.

There was a shadowy figure standing near the house. It yelled out again, the sound similar to the one before.

The dog let out a whine and spun around. Lightpaw yowled as the dog started running with her still on top of it. The white tom leaped off gracefully, but Lightpaw only dug her claws in deeper in her shock as the dog ran towards the shadow.

Lightpaw narrowed her eyes as she recognized the shadow as a two-leg. The creature's eyes fixed on her and Lightpaw felt the hair on the back of neck rise. Something about the way it was looking at her unnerved her.

Lightpaw finally returned to the present and leaped off the dog, stumbling as she hit the ground.

The new cats crowded around her as the dog and the two-leg left. Lightpaw looked up at them. She opened her mouth but she had no idea what to say as the cats from rival clans looked at her.

[honorhunt]

cast in the deep scarlet hatred of the planet’s tyrant sun slipped between the clouds. too horrified to watch the violence unfolding beneath, yet unwilling to look away. beads of adrenaline carved slow, transparent scars through the shadow beneath the t-shaped visor. curving obsidian, a perfect canvas for a wrathful pulse that burned hotter than the surface of a star.

      punctuated breathing collected in the contours of boba’s helmet. muscles moved in tandem with his demeanor; purposeful, slow, calm, poised to strike with the quickness of an akivan viper and the ferality of beast thrice as big. all with remaining inexplicably calm. mortal fear potent enough to intoxicate the heartbeats of even the galaxy’s most honorable hardly scratched the bounty hunter’s beskar exterior.

      predator and prey — equally voracious in the ability to rip life from limb — orbited each other like collapsing stars, anticipating the oncoming well of gravitational violence. amused, boba continued to feed his opponent anodyne bolts that springboarded off plasma-coloured parries. taunting, testing, goading his foe to betray snippets of his capabilities like chumming kaminos dark sea to lure out the flash of humanoid-sized teeth. it wasn’t everyday the bounty hunter met a target so eager for butcher. but what did creatures wielding lightsaber hunger for, no matter the damn colour?

                                          especially the red ones.

      perhaps the least offensive of the colors, boba still had experiences with the branding. vader was just as bestial as this barve but the dark lord restrained his wrath with a leash as thick as thread of naboo silk. tyranus on the other hand was elegant, but absorbed by his own highfalutin grandeur. unlike the molten stigma that radiated off vader and this fool, the count had always felt ice cold whenever he ruffled a much younger boba’s hair.

      ❝ not a waste if i’m paid. ❞ triple. an offer worth consideration were his client not the emperor himself. palpatine requested this merchandise breathing and in reasonable condition. anything short of jango fett’s resurrection wasn’t worth stomping on the tyrannical carcass’ bad side.

      twin flames carried the hunter several meters to the left as he fired off another round of bolts. there was no chance of landing one, neither was it the point. but the strikes were not meant to. more boba testing waters, goading his opponent to reveal every angle of his hand. the blaster felt hot, ravenous but poised as it burned invisible holes through the air and scorched the atoms of the tension between them.

      they were clear opposites. this dark jedi with his salivating demeanor. more an akk dog than a man, smoldering in his desire for flame against unyielding steel.

      ❝ here’s my counter offer, sleemo. palpatine said alive, not undamaged. make this easier on yourself. put your little sword away and come quietly. it’d be a shame to hand over dented merchandise. ❞

@honorhunt liked for a sneaky sith!verse starter

This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed, he’s heard before from lesser men than the both of them, It doesn’t need to end with one of us rendered a blaster-bolt-ridden or saber-slashed pile of sentient meat. But it does have to end. It always does because the both of them are relentless in their own pursuits of honor, in that way the living things claw and scream and bleed to survive at all cost. 

Saber, red-like-blistering-suns, twists in his hand, deflecting another bolt, growling beneath the mask that cages his maw, a ravenous thing. He’s wounded, too– Khan revels in the way his own blood soaks into his clothing, the stench of singed flesh creeping into the air vents of his mask. A growl in his throat permeates, an invitation to continue to circle Fett like rabid akk-dog, drooling and blood-stupid.  

     “A waste of your talents,” he practically spits the words, voice modulator hardly enunciating the disdain that throbs in the syllables. There’s a breath in the battle, and he allows himself to think with a part of his brain that doesn’t only know the hymns of violence. “Whatever you are being paid, I will triple it.”

No sympathy nor love for the galactic war that rages between the Empire and the Rebellion. His own bounty arrives with the blame of knowing too much– Khan ought to have been quieter in his own pursuits, yet the Force lets him scream and scream and scream. Under the darkness that threads his bones, his sinews, is the sole desire to protect his and his alone. “We are both wasting our time with this.”

[islandpcosjourney]

Day 1 - May ‘22 challenge

9th May 2022

I can’t believe I’m doing another one of these so soon after my last cleanse BUT I have been naughty recently, I am unfit, I still have a long way to go with my end-goal target weight, Kevin left for sea again today so why not? I won’t do a full-on, pics every day, in-depth writing kind of blog for 28-days as that’s quite intense and requires some stimulation for subject inspiration so I’ll keep it simple.

Last night I handed him the last of the crispy M&Ms and he offered me a few. I said no, I genuinely didn’t want them. “It’s a choice” I said, and it is. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – it’s mindset, not willpower. Every challenge shows me something different about my mindset. Every challenge has its ups and downs. Every challenge ends in me craving Morrison’s own pitta bread! Maybe one day that’ll change? Maybe not, who knows. I would love to never crave carbs again, but I know why I do – because my body needs it. We need complex carbs to live. We need protein to live. We need essential fats to live. We need fruit & veg to live. We need water to live.

This morning was a challenge, simply because while making the most amazing roast dinner yesterday – oh my goodness, it seriously was the tastiest I’d had in a while! Venison injected with bacon fat & a sensational homemade rub by Kev & smoked on the BBQ, yorkies, dauphinoise potatoes, honey-glazed carrots using the last of the local raw honey our friend produces & fine beans, sugar snap peas & baby corn cooked in garlic butter with smoked sea salt. I’m salivating just thinking about it again. However, while making the dauphinoise, I sliced my finger on the mandolin and I’ve been in pain ever since. Using a knife is difficult and makes me think about how grateful I am that I have 5 fingers as it’s tough to balance and get a grip. I know people adapt but it certainly wasn’t easy cutting pineapple or apples, as quickly as I normally do.

Today’s green machine juice (it’ll do part of tomorrow too) 10 apples 8 celery sticks 6 asparagus spears Whole bag spinach (250g) Half bag Kale (c.90g) 1 Pineapple 1 Lime 1 Courgette ¾ cucumber Blended with 1 avocado

I had a massage booked (rescheduled from last week) in town @ 10 so I had to get up early to get Kevin his final cup of delicious tea made by me (I’m the tea queen, despite not being a tea-drinker myself), juice my day’s food, get ready and out the door by 9.15am. I managed it and was actually early for a change. I suppose I wasn’t really “getting ready” as I wasn’t putting on a full face of make up or doing my hair because I’d be having a shower when I came back as I usually ended up with oils in my hair and of course on my back, which I wouldn’t want to get all over my nice popsy dresses – I just wear clothes I don’t like anymore.

It was bliss, especially after being at the peats on Saturday. I had a sore back and shoulders after the throwing (yes I’m unfit!) and she found tons of knots in my muscles today, so it was such a great release when she got them out. However, I was driving Kevin’s classic Audi (Daisy) as mine was having its service and the heater is disconnected just now so it was torturous driving in the cold wind & rain in Daisy. By the time I got home, I decided against a shower as I needed a long hot soak in a bath instead! I’d wear my hair up today, no biggie!

So now, Kevin is nearly in Aberdeen to join his ship, I’ve finished work for the day, the dogs in a huff because “I made Dadaidh leave again” 🤦🏻‍♀️ and the house is just quiet and empty because the love of my life has left me for 5wks again – juicy time!!! 😂 I can’t juice properly when he’s here. I have all the best intentions and I did have quite a lot of juice leftover in the freezer, so I drank all of that during his last leave, but he just kept leaving stuff all over the kitchen table and that’s where I need space to do my juicing, that’s where all the equipment sits. Och, I’m making excuses and he’ll call me out on blaming him, but it basically comes down to mindset again. He’s eating food, I’m seeing food around and it makes me want food! Simples! Most of it would be fine, he cooks good healthy food, but I get tempted by the Irn Bru pastilles and Tunnocks Caramel wafers and it gives me bad ideas. I’m influenced, I know I am. I’m not perfect by any stretch of the imagination and I am just human. We want what we shouldn’t have. It’s been happening since the Garden of Eden. It’s no excuse but it’s proof that we can be tempted and fail. But we get back up again. We try again. We keep going. I am so focused when he’s not here as I have no temptations surrounding me. Only fruit & veg is left in the fridge, he cleaned out the last of the food today and Holly got a big plate of treats too – spoilt doggy!

I have felt a little tired today and I do feel a bit hungry, but I know I’m just adjusting to toxins leaving my system. I’ve passed loads of water today and that’s one of the reasons why I didn’t end up finishing my juice, because I was on the road many times today and teaching in people’s homes and the last thing I wanted was to be running to the loo every 20mins, which I can do at home easily or even teaching in town. I’m very aware that I haven’t had any separate water although there’s water in the veg of course and I don’t think I had any tea this morning. I’ll have to have a spearmint tea tonight and also some plain water. I will need to juice in the morning, even though I have left over from today, so the best idea is to get up at a similar time and juice straight away. That way I wake up with my ginger shot and the productivity begins. I’m not technically working until the afternoon but I do have quite a sizeable to-do list relating to work so I should just get on with it.

Time for bed! Day 1 over.

[ulfwolf]

Killing the Ego -- Musing 202

Threaten the ego   with extinction and it will   think and think   and think

I don’t know where I read or heard it, but it is apparently not uncommon for the male body, just before it expires, to ejaculate in a desperate effort to extend the physical person. It stands to reason, methinks (no pun intended).

The mental person (to wit, the ego), not quite as prone to death, at least not as killable, is even more anxious to survive. It is, to put it plainly, what it lives for.

That said, many a wise man proposes (even maintains) that we would do much better without that think, think, thinking appendage we lovingly refer to as our ego—assassinate it.

Well, if you plan to kill your ego, here are few tips.

First of all, be very quiet about it. Never for a second divulge your plans. If he (or she, or it) gets the tiniest whiff of around-the-corner death, aimed specifically at him (or her, or it), you’ll soon discover what resourceful really means: the ego has survived similar storms in the past and knows exactly what to do, what defenses to shore up, how to foil your plans. You do not want to give it time to organize, to man the barricades, as it were.

For if you thought that your day-to-day head was full of useless, noisy thoughts, you (as they say) ain’t seen nothing yet. You’ll be lucky if two Ambien will shut it up or even turn down the volume.

This, too, stands to reason: the ego is thinking for its life.

Second of all, plan your kill in detail (all the while keeping the target ego in the dark—not an easy task, flirting as it does with paradox) and execute flawlessly. This naturally begs the question: what will in fact kill the ego?

The common answer is as common as (as a rule) unworkable: “Simply let go,” they say. Simply let go of what? Of the ego, of course. Yes, but how? Just let go. How do you just let go? By just letting go.

This can go on forever.

The crux of the matter is that if you don’t know that you’re holding on, there is no way of letting go. Yes, on paper you read and say that yes, I must be holding on to the ego, obviously, or it would not stick around as doggedly as it does. But the difference between “I must be” and “I know I am” is astronomical. So, for the average Joe, “just let go” is about as help- and use-ful as I don’t know what, something that’s neither help- nor use-ful, I guess (as toothpicks for oars, perhaps).

Now, if you know that you’re nursing and holding on to the ego, then, of course, just let got and dead it is—extinguished. But if you don’t, take it for a nice walk—along a beach, or through a forest, lots of space, lots of sounds, and pay attention. Sky, clouds, dogs barking, smell of flowers, moving feet (yours); pay close attention to your senses and realize that you experience all this in this very moment. Stop and look around if that would help. Look up and wonder. If looking is all you do, the mind will ego-lessly pass on sensory information from eye or ear or feet to you (the witness); no ego involvement to speak of if any at all.

Then, knowingly and willingly (intendingly, as it were) call a past, grim, righteously justifiable grievance to mind good and proper and notice how your “personality” suddenly springs awake and salivates at the thought of getting even with the bastard: that’s the ego, stirred awake.

Pay close attention and get a good feel of its rising and sense how you knowingly stirred it awake. That’s the feel of the ego, the thing you’re now holding on to.

Look back out through your eyes, at some tree or something, or a cloud, and let the revenge-seeking ego go, just loosen your grip on the feeling and it’ll fade. That’s what the ego will do when not bolstered and sustained by life (e.g., you). That’s the feel of letting go of the ego, of the ego fading.

Now, don’t do that again, not right away anyway, or the ever-alert one will grow suspicious and know something’s up—you’re planning something.

Back to second of all: When I say plan your kill in detail I mean (a) work out precisely how, including how deeply, to dispose of the corpse, and (b) decide precisely where to hide from it—for no matter how well you kill it, and how deeply you bury it, it will resurrect and then come looking for you, not amused.

Third of all, if the ego has begun thinking excessively of late, realize that it has overheard your planning its demise, and has already begun shoring up both defenses and counter attack. This is your cue to plan more quietly the next time.

As for defenses, noise is as good a defense as any. Rattle and confuse you well enough to disable any workable planning, that’s the ticket. And as for attack: depression. It’ll drag up losses and coming-up-shorts endlessly; parade them in your face to prove how inept, really, you are. You, kill me? What a laugh. You and what army? It is very, very good at this and has brought more than one well-intended (well, not toward the ego, of course) hero to his or her knees, metaphorically speaking, for even attempting to plan to rid his- or her-self of it. It brooks no such stupidity.

And that, of course, is why you must kill it.

So, back to planning, more quietly this time. How do you plan an ego-assassination without alerting that with which you plan, and which you plan to kill? In detail, no less. Yes, another paradox.

The word is still quietly. And when I say quietly, I am referring to that stillness we sometimes think of as the intellect, that silent sky transcending the think, think, thinkness of the ego. One way is meditation. Once in that ego-less space you’ll notice that intentions as clear as any ego-thought cross this sky at your being those intentions—yes it takes being the intent to form it. Skill yourself at this. And thus skilled, carefully navigate the mental minefield you need to traverse to finally put the ego out of its misery. Quietly now, very quietly. One misstep and you’ll be all over the map with a furious ego looking down at you, what the hell?

Fourth of all, of course, the act of killing and the act of letting go—or even more precisely, the act of ceasing—are one and the same; it’s just so much easier said than done. Ease you grip, and also ease your need to grip—your need to have this validating skein of thought around, often as in-validating as validating to be frank. Indifference might be the word; do not give a rat’s what anyone thinks or doesn’t think about you (necessitating a solid ego in self-defense or self-justification), this will loosen the ego-strings very nicely, thank you.

Fifth of all, know that the deadest ego of all is for you to realize that the ego is, has always been, and will ever be just so much fluff of imagination (yours to be honest). You probably dreamed it up for your amusement, perhaps even to see how hard it would be to get rid of—well now, five billion years later, you know.

Yes, letting go is the way. Start practicing.

Done well, it might even stay dead and gone.

Happy hunting.

::

P.S. If you like what you’ve read here and would like to contribute to the creative motion, as it were, you can do so via PayPal: here.

[megacircuit9universe]

Cage Match

FRI SEP 18 2020

I really did want to keep my posting to just once a week or less. Every time I do one, I risk oversleeping and being late for work the next day.

And today, when I woke up and checked my phone, to see that Trump had announced he was going ahead with the TikTok ban, ordering it to be out of the app stores by Sunday... I figured that could wait until next week to talk about.

Users who already have the app installed on their devices will still be able to use it, and a full crackdown (the execution of which is legally murky) isn’t slated to begin until mid November, after the election... and thus might not happen at all, or... might only be a few months long, should Biden win.

But then, just around sunset, I received a notification on my phone that Ruth Bader Ginsberg had died.

We all knew she was 87, and had been in and out of the hospital battling cancer over the past few years... so this shouldn’t have been too big a shock, but... we all prayed to Jesus, Mary, and God that she would make it to 2021 at least.

Trump has already gotten two conservative justices into the Supreme Court... the first thanks to McConnell refusing to hold any hearings for Obama’s last nominee, Garland, in March of 2016, because a general election was happening in just eight short months... and the second, after Justice Kennedy retired unexpectedly, under shady circumstances.*

Even if it’s not true that Kennedy was pressured to retire by Trump, who had dirt on his son... you cannot say that blocking Garland was fair, unless you agree that it’s also fair now, to hold off on any hearings to replace RBG until after the current general election, which is only six weeks away.

But that didn’t stop Mitch McConnell from coming out only ONE HOUR after the death of RBG today, and saying the Senate will definitely hold confirmation hearings for her replacement as soon as possible.

In the second hour after her death, her body still warm, not yet stiff, Republican trolls went out on Twitter and all other social media, like hounds, released to justify the immediate confirmaton of whoever Trump nominates to replace her, calling to bypass hearings altogether... because look what a circus the Democrats made of the Brett Kavanaugh hearings, right?

Democrats had to immediately strike back, rolling clip after clip of McConnell, and Graham, from 2016... still in their PRESENT TERMS expounding upon the public’s sacred right to have a say in any Supreme Court nomination, so close to a Presidential election.  My oh me... how could anybody disagree?

These are not clips of young Graham and young McConnell from 1996, arguing for impeachment... against their gray haired selves from 2019 saying impeachment is wrong... this was four years ago Graham and McConnell arguing against themselves from earlier in the self-same six-year term they were last elected to... for which both are up today, for reelection.

But the hypocrisy of the impeachment example only serves to magnify the hypocrisy of the moment for both of them. And in the present political climate... with Trump just having been exposed on Tape admitting to a caronavirus cover up, at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives... voters are keenly taking note.

Both of these guys, two of Trumps top sycophants in the Senate, have enjoyed decades of easy congressional races in safely red states against weak, token opponents who stood no chance of beating them.

But in 2020, that’s not been exactly the case. Both these assholes have had to spend some real money, and sweat a little, as, for the first time in their careers, polls have been showing their opponents within striking distance of unseating them.  And that was before today.

I hinted in the last entry that Trumps exposure by Woodward justified his impeachment.  Why?  He was impeached for holding back despirately needed weapons to an ally, unless he got some falsely manufactured dirt for his reelection in exchange, and he did not care how many Ukranian lives were lost as a result.

But, GOP senators failed to remove him and, when Caronavirus came along a few months later, Trump witheld PPE and ventilators from American governors, and left all American citizens hanging out to dry, even on the basic informational level about the threat... again, for the sake of reelection.

They should have removed him, but they couldn’t, because they’d already removed their testacles and handed them up to him in a slavish offering of cult loyalty... and now, here they are... trying to fuck us over again, in the eleveth hour, to replace a Supreme Court Justice who... even as I write... is days away from having a proper wake... much less a burial.

But this is not just because of slave-ball oaths to an authoritarian spank daddy... the GOP has been salivating about overturning Roe V Wade since long before Trump joined their ranks, and now... like Golem, from LOTR, hissing and salivating over the One Ring... they see it within their grasp!

PRECIOUS!!!

This is why, an hour after her eyes went cold, the 2020 election turned into a no-holds-barred political cage match to the death, tonight.

Dust clouds are billowing... people are breaking kitchen sinks over one anothers heads... spitting out teeth after getting punched... then jumping up to go at it some more.

The big questions here are:

1) What happens to the nation if they do replace Ginsberg immediately?

2) How will this affect the voter turnout on November 3rd?

3) How will the shift in the balance of the Supreme Court affect the outcome of the election, should Trump sue to challenge the results when he loses?

4) How are we all not going to die?

The big answer is... it all depends on how big a win Biden gets on election night.  If biden loses... or it’s too close to call... or  only wins by a slim margin in one state... or only wins by a slim margin in two states... we are all royally fucked up the ass.

If that’s the case, then, even if Ginsberg’s replacement wasn’t already rammed through, he will be, and then the election results will go straight to the new Supreme Court, who will rule in favor of Trump, and then he’ll effectively be King.

Because... with the Supreme Court behind him, and with his second term a go, he’ll invalidate the House and Senate election results in the months before the new House and Senate can come in... and once he’s stacked congress in his favor, he’ll be invincible.

On the other hand...

If Biden wins a decisive victory on November 3rd... over 270 in the Electoral College, with all the states that gave him those electoral votes, having done so by large margins that can’t rationally be contested...

Then even if Trump has replaced Ginsberg, the Supreme Court will refuse to hear any challenges to the election results, and the Military will recognize Biden as President Elect.  The House will continue to resist, having potentially grown stronger, and the lame duck Senate... possibly housing a lot of lame duck Republican Senators, will stand down... taking solace that they packed one extra conservative Justice into the court before their ride was over.

And then, when the new Congress comes in, with Democratic majorities in both houses (because this would be the case if enough Democratic voters turned out to give Biden a decisive victory on election night) they’d expand the number of Supreme Court Justices from 9 to 11... or 13... to mitigate the nighmare scenario where Roe V Wade gets overturned, etc.

So...

Which outcome is more likely?  A solid win for Biden on election night?  Or a contestable win / outright loss for Biden?

Presuming that voter suppression, and foreign tampering are turned up to 11, in favor of Trump... can Democrats so overwhelm the polls that Biden still gets that decisive victory?

Well... in some other year, probably not.

But in 2020, probably yes.

Why?

Well, for starters, all the anti-abortion voters already always vote in every election.  You can’t scare up any more of them to get to the polls, because they’re already, always at 100% attendance... primaries, generals, federal, state, gubenertorial, mayoral, dog-catchorial. 

So, the long awaited (from their perspective) death of evil RGB, will not change that base line.

On the other hand, the long dreaded death of RGB, will bring out legions more young women, between 18 and 35, who do not want Roe V Wade overturned.

The banning of TikTok... which Trump also committed to today... will bring out legions of voters, 18 to 35, who are feeling very keenly the threat to their free speech and expression that this move represents.

And this is on top of all the voters, young and old, who normally don’t vote, who were already champing at the bit to defeat Trump and his junta for a thousand other contemporary reasons, from Covid19, to protest crackdowns, to calling all fallen soldiers suckers and losers, and on.

Very few extra right wing votes will be cast on election night, in comparisson, by crackdown supporters, or people who want to see more denigration of war heros.

In short, the cage match atmosphere that the death of Ruth Bader Ginsberg has now created for this election... Doesn’t do much to help an anti-abortion turnout that’s already maxed out.  But it does motivate pro-choice turnout like crazy, especially among young women who are facing a life of oppression if they don’t get out there.

And that same dynamic goes for all younger voters, and all armchair liberals of older generations... for related reasons.

And these people are overwhelmingly white, and middle to upper class... meaning that voter suppression techniques, and foreign tampering won’t affect them.  They are a sleeping army, immune to such tactics.

Voter suppression targets minority people of color and the poor.  Foreign social engineering techniques target the poorly educated, and mentally ill.

That worked in 2016, when the electorate was snoozing... didn’t want any part of the drama... when Millenials were apathetic, and Gen Z was too young. 

The world has changed in four years.  A lot!

So, it’s time for bed again, but I do see a clear pathway for dramatic change on November 3rd... and the TikTok ban, and the death of RBG only intensify the potential for a sound smack down of Trumpism, and hyper-conservatism.

*Justice Kennedy’s son Justin, who became the head of real estate capital markets at Deutsche Bank, worked closely with Trump in the years before his presidency, swinging him billion dollar loans at a time when no other bank would loan to Trump.  

Such dealings were almost certainly criminal to some degree, and so it is speculated that Justice Kennedy resigned to avoid a scandal.

Calls were made for the Judiciary Committee to investigate, before the Senate held any hearings to nominate Kavanaugh as his replacement, but they were steamrolled.

[crowkingwrites]

Bang Bang! (Ch.11)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader

Summary:  The Red Wedding happened a week ago. Your boss, Petyr, insists on celebrating the men who “won” this victory, the Red Kings, an assassination group run by the sour-looking Roose Bolton. You, one of Petyr’s favorites, is tasked to find out more about these Red Kings. Who are they? Who are their clients? Who is next?You’re very good at what you do until you meet him. What do you do? Girls like you can’t fall in love. Does the Pretty Bird fly away with him? Or does she ruin the Bloody Bastard and everything he has?

Words: 3458

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108982/chapters/26650236

“No, it’s not enough,” Ramsay said, looking you over. “You need to show more skin. It needs to be sluttier. What else do you have?”

“I have this,” you showed Ramsay a short, white dress with small sleeves.

“Put it on,” he ordered. You took your current dress off in front of him. He was watching you. His eyes followed every curve of your body. It had been weeks now. He still hasn’t fucked you. You’ve kissed him. He’s seen you almost naked. You would have thought that he would’ve forced you to have sex by now.

You saw his eyes. You knew he was a hungry dog. His mouth was salivating.

“That’s it,” he said. “That’s the dress. He’ll want you in that.”

“I’m sure Theon’s friend will enjoy it,” you giggled, hinting your almost desire to Ramsay. “You never do.”

“I’m sure they will, but they’re not your main target. Theon is,” Ramsay sat back down at his laptop.

“I’m confused.”

“You’re seducing Theon, not his friends. You are to find him. Seduce him. Let him bring you back to wherever he wants, and my friends and I will take it from there,” Ramsay explained. “I want you to play a bigger role. I know you’re ready.”

“But, how will I know where you are?” you asked, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Ramsay showed you a small earpiece.

“We’ll be able to hear you, and you’ll be able to hear us,” he carefully placed the earpiece inside your ear. His breathing was steady which sent your heart a hundred miles per hour. No matter how many times you’ve seen it. Ramsay’s job still made you nervous. “Which means I’ll hear everything. If you’re in trouble, I will know right away. I won’t be far.” Ramsay kissed your cheek and gave you a half-smile. He started to pack a bag.

You watched various daggers and knives being carefully placed in their spots. Ramsay slid his laptop in a padded area. He zipped up a dark gray hoodie over his white t-shirt. He offered you his hand, and both of you left the apartment into an unmarked police car.

“This is a cop car,” you mentioned.

“Is it?” Ramsay questioned. “Oh no. Ben, do you hear that? We must return this stolen car to the authorities.” The driver laughed. His dark hair touched his shoulders. His eyes seemed kind to you, but you bet if you pushed him too far you’d regret it. He wore the same as Ramsay except his gray hoodie had bastard’s boy sewn onto the back. You rolled your eyes. Of course Ramsay would have his friends wear matching sweaters that honored him.

The nightlife in Chicago was alive. It beat to a secret heartbeat that could only be heard by the rumble of the trains and click of heels on the concrete. You looked at the other cars around you. They slowed down and changed lanes to avoid you.

“How did you get this car?” you asked him. Ramsay chuckled and sighed.

“You don’t want to know,” he simply said. His eyes wandered over to you. His hand ran up your thigh. “Ben, have you met Y/N?”

“I haven’t. Good evening, Mrs. Grace,” Ben winked at you.

“Am I still using my pseudonym?” you asked, knitting your eyebrows together.

“You can if you want,” Ramsay smiled. “Since you seem so attached to it.” Your face grew red. You hated him for it. He could tease you like this, but if you teased him, you would be punished.

“We’re almost there,” Ben looked at you. “Once we get there, I’ll go in with you. I’m your back-up, Mrs. Grace.”

“You’re coming in with me?” you asked.

“I am,” Ben reassured you. He looked in the rear window and smiled at you. You smiled back. Ben’s eyes widened and went back to the traffic in front of him. You noticed Ramsay’s glare staring at the rear view mirror.

Ben parked the stolen police car in the street, and led you to the club entrance. He didn’t touch you, but he stayed close behind you. You watched Ramsay drive away in the car, another car followed him.

“Can you hear me, Y/N?” you heard Ramsay’s voice in your ear.

“Yes,” you responded.

“Good girl,” Ramsay said. You could hear his smile over the radio. “Now, I want you to go into that club alone. It’s very important that you’re alone. He’ll notice you faster. Ben is posted behind you. Should anything go south, he’s your first defense.”

You arrived at the entrance of the club. A bouncer looked you over. He had a clipboard with a list of names on hand.

“Don’t tell him your name. Just say ‘valar morghulis’.”

“Valar morghulis,” you repeated to the bouncer. Without any trouble, he lifted the red rope and let you in. You walked in the entrance.

“Magpie is in the building,” you heard Ben’s voice.

“Good girl,” Ramsay’s voice came over the radio again. “Tell me what you see pretty magpie.” You looked around the club. It had two levels. The ground level had a main bar that was lit by neon lights. Attractive men and women manned it. They poured and collected their money quickly, so they could serve the next customer. Couples and singles danced on the raised dancefloor. A female DJ jumped to the hardcore beat.

On the second floor was private booths and tables. They were catered to by waitresses dressed in tight clothing. You heard glass breaking and turned your head to see a large group of drunk men, arguing and laughing about. One of them had a tattoo with tentacles wrapping their arm. It hung over the barrister spilling a bit of the whiskey that was inside.

“I’ve found them,” you said aloud.

“Where are they?”Ramsay asked.

“I have eyes on them too. Second floor. Private booth on the south side of the building,” Ben answered. “There’s at least five of them. Not including Theon. No eyes on him yet.”

“Y/N, stay down there. Ben, give them a reason to leave the table,” Ramsay ordered. “My pretty little magpie, make yourself comfortable. This should be a good show.” You watched Ben silently make his way across the club and up the stairs. He had nothing in his hands.

Ben grabbed a cane from a table of old men. He took it in his hands like a spear. As he approached the table of Greyjoy’s men, one of them stood up to meet him. Ben stabbed the cane in his face hard. The pointed end made a hole in the Greyjoy’s face. The table stood up and began to go after him. Ben ran out of the club. He looked like a blur.

They followed him in hot pursuit. It caused ruckus. Most people stopped and watched the altercation. Their heads turned and waited with bated breath to see what would happen. You thought it was only natural as you were doing the same thing.

“I’m headed down the block and around Elm Street,” Ben sounded rushed. “Corner them there.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Ben will be fine. Go get Theon,” Ramsay told you.

You turned your head back to the table. Theon Greyjoy sat by himself. His drink quickly went down his throat and he set the glass back on the table with a satisfied thud. You’d imagine that some women found him attractive. You’d also imagine that some women found him disgusting.

He was dressed in a designer patterned suit. It had gold leaves with a gray background. His hair was slightly messy, but his beard was well taken care of. Attractive indeed. You could only think of the young Stark boys. Their disappearance because of him. You heard Ramsay over the radio.

“Go on, pretty Maggie, do what you do best. You’re in the clear. His boys won’t be coming back to him.”

You made your way up the stairs of the club. The old men stared at you as walked by. You were used to their faces. Their tongues licking their lips, one of them whistled at you. It didn’t matter. You had a target. You had a reason. You felt your confidence seeping through the dress and heels.

“Hello,” you greeted, approaching the table. Theon tilted his slightly-drunken head to you. You watched his mouth open. His eyes dilate. You took the seat next to him. “Why is someone like you alone at a big table like this?”

“My friends and I were disturbed,” Theon told you. “They went off. I stayed back.”

“Oh? And will your friends come back soon?”

“Oh, god I hope not,” Theon looked you up and down. “Care for a drink?” You hummed. You felt his eyes all over you. You knew he didn’t want to drink with you.

“Why should I care for a drink when we both know where we’ll end up tonight?” You leaned forward, exposing more of your cleavage. You sucked on one of your fingers. “Why can’t we just cut to the chase?”

“Yes, I like that. Let’s go.”

You took his hand. You felt the bass beating from the speakers, and you’ve never felt so powerful. He wanted you so bad and so easily. It took no work on your part. The colored lights reflected on your faces, changing them to different colors every second. Theon kept looking at you like you were made of the sea: deep, dark, and very dangerous.

“Good girl.” You heard Ramsay over the radio. Then you heard him clapping. He was very happy with you. “Very good girl. You work fast. Get your phone out. Start recording, so I can see where you’re going. We’ll follow you.”

You did as he told you. You hopped in the back of a cab. Theon’s hands ran up and down your thighs. You let him touch you. Why not indulge the victim for a while? After all, you could be the last woman he touched. You flipped out your phone and started recording.

“What are you doing?” Theon asked. His hand never left your body. His body heat transferred to you.

“This is streaming to my live feed. I want everyone to know I’m with The Theon Greyjoy, sexiest entrepreneur of the year,” you giggled and then winked.

“Oh well then, by all means,” Theon smiled. It was a bit crooked, but it was genuine.

“My clever little magpie,” Ramsay told you. “I got eyes on you now. You’re headed south.” You laughed with Theon. His laugh sounded like the chuckling you would hear from a spoiled brat who got what he wanted. Ramsay’s laugh was darker. It was sexier. You found yourself wanting to hear more directions from him. You heard nothing.

You arrived at a small motel where the neon sign flickered on and off. The walls were dirty. There was other girls dressed like you standing near the property. You secretly smiled to yourself. This place was too perfect.

“I hope you forgive me,” Theon spoke. “I can’t bring a girl like you back to my own place.”

“Afraid of people finding out about me? Am I such a troublesome girl for you?” You lifted your phone up near his face, but then you focused on the motel sign and the street sign on the corner as Theon kept talking.

“It’s not that, sweetheart. It’s just some of my older associates would not approve of this. Then again, you should be calling me trouble,” Theon grabbed your waist. “Do you know that I am currently being investigated?”

You wanted to slap him. “Oh really? What kind of deeds has this bad boy been up to?”

Theon leaned you against a wall. His face was close to yours. You stared at him back. You didn’t want your eyes to leave his. You wanted him to admit it. He chuckled, but it wasn’t like Ramsay’s. You weren’t scared of him.

“If I told you, you may think me an awful person.” You smirked.

“I happen to like awful people,” you hoped Ramsay heard you. You watched Theon go inside to get a room for the both of you. Your eyes went back to the girls on the corner. They wore high heel boots, laced up their legs. Short dresses with cigarettes in their hands. You thought of how far you have come. From a stripper to a pimp’s girl to a high end escort and now you were assisting a kidnapping.

Girls in low places could climb very high in the underbelly of the wheel.

Theon walked out of the office and grabbed your hand. His hold on you was tight, but not enough to hurt. His feet flew up the stairs to the second floor. Keys fumbled in his hand.

“Almost,” Theon muttered to himself. The keys jumped out of his hand and into the lock. He couldn’t open the door fast enough, and when he did you felt him grabbing at you and closing the door quick behind him. You swore you saw another unmarked police car pull into the parking lot. The girls on the corner scattered.

Theon closed the cheap curtains and turned on the lights. You turned on the A/C, it started to blow out heat, but then it suddenly turned ice cold. Theon had taken off his suit jacket and shirt. You could see his skinny form. He wasn’t muscular, but he had the shadows of abs there. You placed your phone on the dresser.

“Well, where shall we start?” he asked you. With a smirk, you turned your back towards him.

“Maybe you could help me with my clothes?” you teased. Theon’s hands were warm. His right hand unzipped the dress while the left followed the curves of your body. His fingers trailed along your skin. No goosebumps rose, but at least he felt warm. Theon’s lips met with yours. You kissed him back.

“He’s touching her. He’s kissing her.” You heard. Theon’s hands went through your hair. His fingers tangled in it.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled to you. He laid you down on the cheap motel bed. It creaked under your weight. Theon went to unbuckle his pants. You could hear the jingling of the belt buckle. You giggled at it, encouraging him to go on.

“They’re really going to do it,” You heard. “He’s going to fuck her.”

Theon’s kiss went deeper and harder. The rest of his pants fell to the floor. His head nuzzled your neck, giving you small kisses. It tickled and excited you. You couldn’t stop giggling.

“Do you like that?” Theon breathed, almost laughing himself.

“No, she doesn’t. Stop that.”

“Do you want more? I think my friend would like to meet you,” Theon’s hips met yours and you could feel his heavy member near your womanhood. You were impressed. You didn’t think someone with such a small frame could carry such heavy family jewels. “Do you want me?”

“No. Tell him, no. I know you can hear me. Tell him no now. Right now, Y/N. Say it!” You were caught between your act and doing as you were told. Theon grinded against you, and you half-closed your eyes. You felt him right where you needed it the most. Ramsay never touched you there. Theon smiled.

“I knew it,” he smiled.

Suddenly, the door was kicked down, and four men entered the room. All of them had the Red King symbol on their hands. Two of them took Theon by the arms and peeled him off of you. Theon tried to shout, but his mouth was quickly covered, Heavy boots thudded the floor when he walked in. His eyes were wide. His breathing was slow. His fingers were itching.

“Greyjoy,” he growled, walking closer to him. The two men kept a good grip on him. Theon narrowed his eyes and glared back at the infamous Red King. Theon bit one of the Red Kings. His hand went back. Theon spoke.

“Who the fuck are you?” Theon spat. Ramsay’s dark chuckle echoed in the room.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ramsay mocked. “Get him in the car. Gag him. You two, guard the door.” The four Red Kings did as Ramsay said like clockwork. Like cogs in a machine Ramsay had perfected. No one questioned him. They gagged Theon’s mouth with a towel and dragged him outside. The other two left the room and shut the door, leaving you and Ramsay alone.

“Ramsay—

“He touched you. He kissed you. He took your dress off.” You stood up. Ramsay saw you in your underwear. His breath hitched.

“Ramsay, are you mad at me? Or—

“He kept kissing you. He called you beautiful, and he meant it.” Ramsay started to pace around the room. His hands opened and closed. “Did you want him?” You froze.

“I-uhm

“It’s a simple question,” Ramsay pushed you back onto the bed. “Did you want him? Did you get wet from the thought of him fucking you? I saw it. I saw everything. It was on your phone.” Your phone. You never stopped recording.

“It’s an act, you know that don’t you? You put me up to this. You wanted me to do what I do best,” you defended yourself. Ramsay’s eyes went wide. His nostrils flared.

“Don’t push it,” he spat out.

“I didn’t want him.”

“He touched you and you responded. You are not his to touch,” Ramsay’s eyes went dark. He grabbed your ankle and pulled your legs towards him. He tugged your panties off and flung them behind him.

“Ram—

“You are mine to touch, do you understand?” Ramsay towered over you. He undid his pants. He pulled you to edge of the bed. With one hand, he put his member just inside you. A soft moan betrayed you. You’ve been waiting for this. You’ve been waiting for this for a long time.

“You didn’t answer me,” Ramsay rubbed his member up and down your vagina, teasing you. “You are mine, do you understand?” You moaned. “Say yes, sir I understand.”

You were a good girl, and you did as you were told.

“Yes sir, I understand,” your eyes met his. He did not smile at or laugh at you. He only stared. His fingers dug into your legs. You could feel his nails breaking your skin. Ramsay thrusted his member hard inside you. It hurt and took you by surprise. You gasped. He almost pulled all the way out and thrusted inside you again, harder.

“Ramsay, that hurt,” you groaned. Ramsay pressed one hand over your mouth, and his other hand steadied you. You watched that infamous cheeky smile creep up on his face.

“Good,” Ramsay started to thrust faster inside of you. You moaned louder, but no one could hear you. He got into a groove of sharp movements against you. Every time he thrusted, you felt him go deeper and deeper inside you. He let go of your mouth and settled his hands on your hips. He grabbed them, his thumbs right on top of the hip bones. He pushed himself more on top of you.

He kept going. And going. And going. He had been waiting for this for a long time too. Ramsay’s mouth bit down on your shoulder to let out his pent up steam. You winced. You felt him breathing harder and harder. You could smell the cologne on him from yesterday. You took his entire scent in, and you felt like an animal. Pain never felt this good.

“Harder,” you told him. Ramsay responded by pounding himself into you.

“Harder,” you told him again. You wanted all of him. Your hands pulled at his hair. He pounded as hard as he could into you. You felt yourself grow tighter.

“Har— Ramsay grabbed your neck and squeezed.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” He shouted at you. “Shut your fucking mouth. Fucking whore.” He muttered over and over again. You felt him pound you as hard as he could. Inside, you wanted to giggle and laugh because no one had been this rough, and it felt so damn good. Ramsay’s breathing became ragged and short. He was nearing his end.

Ramsay’s grip grew tighter. He bit into your shoulder again hard. You cried out in pain, and you felt him release inside of you. He pulled himself out leaving a trail of his mess inside of you and on the bed. Both of you tried to catch your breathing. Once you slowed your breathing you looked at him, he looked exhausted, but satisfied.

“Do you believe me now?” you asked him.

“Yes,” he said out of breath. “I believe you.”

[romancevsreality-blog]

vanderpump rules, season six, episode five: oh, silk handerchief dresses, you died before you could really live.

This episode begins with syllabic noises being uttered over a musical beat, and we’re at Katie and Tom’s apartment, where Sandoval is briefing Jax on the shenanigans of the evening thus far. He’s drinking a Miller Lite, and Schwartz comes in, looking as disheveled as ever. Like, his boyish charm is wearing off quickly, and having a shirt unbuttoned one too many. As soon as Katie comes in, she dismisses the fuck out of Jax, who leaves on his motorized cooler.

I repeat: a motorized. Cooler.

THIS MAN IS 457 YEARS OLD, I’m shocked it took him this long to get on a motorized anything. Like, honestly, I’m not even going to make comment on it being a beer cooler on wheels because that’s far too obvious, but Jax could have spent this on his retirement money. Priorities, Jax. Priorities. Katie tells Tom he needs to cut the incessant drinking to the point of blacking out right then and there, and he’s like, “No, you can’t tell me shit.” She actually asked him to do something that would keep him from cheating on her and he said no. He acknowledged that his drinking caused him to do behaviors he never would sober, but he can’t bring himself to stop it, even if his relationship had to suffer because of it. Katie’s right to point out how fucked up that is and storms out of the room and I’m REALLY MAD because you all know how much I hate being on Katie’s side in anything, ever.

Oh, I guess we get the rest of that musical cue because it goes like I WON’T BACK DOWN, I’LL RISE TO THE TOP, RISE, RISE TO THE TOP. Good to get some kind of closure on that, I guess.

We’re at Sexy Unique Restaurant, where Brittany and Jax have arrived together, and Lala’s there for her first day back. Lisa enters the restuarant and immediately is like, “Lala, it’s your last chance,” because Lisa loves to make everything in this show about her.

Brittany goes to ask Jax for a Strawberrini, which sounds as awful as the hangover it likely induces, and Jax asks her if she still wants to have a housewarming party even though their relationship is on thin ice. Brittany doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, but Jax mostly just wants to make sure he can control Brittany’s environments and who she spends time with in order to make sure she sticks around. He’s such a dick, I hate him so much. They’re going to try to have a fun time with their friends. Nothing else.

And that’s when I notice:

ARE THE SILK HANDKERCHIEF UNIFORM DRESSES GONE??????????????????????????

Has the torture finally ended? Katie and Brittany are both wearing black v-neck shirts with gold Sexy Unique Restaurant logos. I think it’s finally occurred. I’m hyperventilating. Katie takes the opportunity to remind us of how awful she is and goes to Lala to ask why she’s talking shit about Katie’s relationship with Tom. And Lala’s like, “Well, Scheana said you were talking shit about my relationship, so I got defensive.” And Classic Katie who loves to blame women for everything doesn’t hold herself accountable for what she said, but instead she gets mad at Scheana for repeat what she said to Lala… and then she apologizes to Lala for saying what she said. Lala tells Katie the entire story of what happened with Tom and her friend and Katie’s upset.

Lala’s the best. Honestly. She could have held this over Katie’s head but as soon as Katie apologized, Lala immediately wanted to tell Katie what she knew and see how Katie was feeling about it all. Some people have issue with Lala’s feminism, but at the end of the day, she really just cares a lot about people in general.

Lisa orders half a glass of rose from Jax at the bar, and Jax pours her an entire glass, because in his 240 years of existence, Jax never once learned what half is, or even how to pour a glass of wine, apparently. Katie sits down with Lisa to talk about what’s going on with Schwartz, and they’re both having second-thoughts. Lisa’s not going to put up with Schwartz’s immature behavior in her business, and she doesn’t think Katie should in her marriage.

The next day, Lisa is wearing her Business Glasses with her pink pussy bow top and Harrison under her arm. She got a ticket and couldn’t charm her way out of it1 and she’s there to compliment Stassi for her job on Guillermo’s party - but that doesn’t mean Stassi’s hit the big time enough to plan a party for Harrison, Lisa’s pomeranian. We wouldn’t want Stassi to get a big head or anything. Stassi tells Lisa about Jax and Brittany’s housewarming for some reason, and they’re both like, “... So are they back together, because they shouldn’t be.” I especially loved when Stassi was like, “I’m anxious and I don’t want to go,” and Lisa was like, “You don’t have to,” and Stassi was like, “Yes I do, I want to watch!” because I am always that girl.

If the likelihood drama is going to go down at your party is high, so is the likelihood I’ll attend. My presence is a present.

Schwartz, Sandoval, and Jax are going to a Paint-and-Sip painting class, and I think it’s funny because Jax used to drink with all the classic painters - Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Da Vinci2 - so this is just something he’s used to. The plan was to have a Hunter S. Thompson-esque day of male debauchery, but that’s turned into a paint and sip class on a Wednesday afternoon where they might do shots. Tom “isn’t drinking” because he doesn’t want to go back to Katie wasted, but that doesn’t stop him from doing a shot of absinthe with the rest of the group.

Okay, admittedly - every Friday for about a year I went to the bar around the corner from my apartment and drank either a beer or a glass of wine along with a shot of tequila. It was my go-to order, and it brought me peace of mind. I’m not completely against the entire concept of shots. But also, it is clearly light enough outside to know it’s the middle of the day and no resepectable adult is taking shots of absinthe at 3:30 in the afternoon, even if it is at a paiting class. Then again, these grown men are painting penises on their painting aprons, so my advice would go in one ear and out the other.

On top of it all, Kristen, Brittany, and Katie are out getting drinks, and they’rea also starting with shots in the middle of the afternoon. Hell, they’re doing what looks like whiskey or Fireball shots. Brittany’s still hopeful that Jax can change on his own despite what her brain is telling her. They go back and forth between Jax and the Toms and Brittany and the Ks’s talking about their respective issues. Jax thinks all Brittany needs is a good dicking down and he’s out of the dog house, Katie wants Tom to stop being Peter Pan, and Tom really thinks this all about what he did, and not the actions that led him to that point. Schwartz won’t admit to doing anytihng, but he can vehemently deny the idea of admitting to doing something because it would be a lie. It makes no sense.

Kristen is so drunk already and she really wants to make sure Katie is okay with Lala being at Brittany’s housewarming party - wait, doesn’t Jax fucking hate Lala? Katie’s okay with Lala being there because Lala isn’t her target anymore - she moved it onto Scheana. Because Katie’s mad that Scheana told Lala about the shit Katie was talking about Lala’s relationship and blurts out that she and Scheana might have more in common than Scheana thinks. Everyone apparently knows that Rob, Scheana’s boyfriend, is making out with other girls. One of the Sexy Unique Restaurant Servers saw Rob making out with another girl at another restaurant and also flat out denying that he even had a girlfriend in the first place.

Oh my god, Scheana’s butt is so flat. Like, I’ve never seen a butt that was both big and flat like hers, it’s so bizarre. Scheana’s in love, though, and she’s preparing for a dinner party with Rob, her dream man2~ Rob has an enormous house in Beverly Hills and Scheana’s having a private chef cook for the two of them and Tom and Ariana3. Tom, Ariana, and Scheana are all looking at Rob like #goals because he’s got this amazing house and a real job that doesn’t have them cleaning up someone’s blood at least 1x a week. Let’s just put it this way - it’s really obvious why Scheana’s interested in Rob. Rob gives a toast that’s going to be put on some fake distressed wood and sold to fifteen year old girls at HomeGoods.

All three of them are salivating over Rob, and Scheana’s letting her I Have A Rich Boyfriend Flag fly. Her thirst is palatable. She makes a dig at Shay and the life they used to have whenever possible and talks about how she and Rob can’t get married for a least a while because she’s still married to someone. She literally has a countdown to her official divorce date.

Considering these two broke up not even five minutes after this episode aired, nothing is surprising.

Back at Katie and Tom’s apartment, he’s brought his painting of Tom Sandoval and lies about drinking within two minutes. Katie tells him that Lisa is pissed at him and he can’t stop joking. He’s not taking any of it seriously, and he’s being a dick. My favorite part of all of is this clearly Tom is doing his self-deprecating under-the-breath thing, and Katie’s just... refusing to engage. She’s holding him accountable for the shit he did when he was drunk and not flying into a rage and thus he looks like an asshole. Which he is, but he’s used to having Bad Gal Katie4 to play off of and be the sympathetic one.

Ariana and Lala are at Sorella, and Ariana’s doing my favorite friend thing wherein which you pull out something tacky and your friend is like “I have that!” It’s happened to me plenty of times. I still laugh at it. Ariana wears a Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century outfit, and I really don’t even udnerstand the kind of aesthetic a person who shops at Sorella is. They talk about the constant cycle of Jax and Brittany - how Jax fucks up, Brittany gets mad, Jax puts on a puppy dog face and winds up rewarded for his bad behavior.

What follows is a great scene between Ariana and Lala, the only two girls I would ever want to mildly associate with on this show. Ariana’s talking about how she’s not interested in any type of sex whatsoever with Tom or anyone else, and a lot of that stems from insecurities from an ex-boyfriend who bodyshamed her5. Men are gross. Lala apparently looks herself in the mirror every single day and thanks each and every part of her body, flaws and all, because you should be thankful and appreciative of what you have. I mean, she’s thankful to her “kitty cat for taking the D like a champ.”

Lala might be this show’s saving grace. She’s so sweet to Ariana in a way that seems genuine.

Katie and Tom bring their dogs, Butter and Gordo6 to Vanderpump Dogs, where Lisa is pretending she works and just so happens to be there. As soon as Tom walks in, she has this face that says I Mean Business and Tom knows he’s in trouble. Basically it’s a chance for Lisa to get some screentime and tell Tom she thinks he’s irresponsible - if he’s getting blackout drunk and cheating on his wife, how is she supposed to trust him with a bar? It’s a reach, but she’s gotta show up one way or another. Tom goes downstairs and expects Katie to feel bad for him but if Lisa’s disappointed, Katie’s definitely disappointed. Tom apologies for upsetting Katie (wrong) and kisses her cheek.

GROW UP TOM. Stop eating Lean Cuisines.

Brittany, Scheana, and Kristen are preparing all kinds of drunken treats for the housewarming party - Jell-O shots, drunken gummy bears, the works. Kristen’s already drunk and sitting on top of the picnic table Brittany and Jax inexplicably decided was a good idea to have in their dining area. Immediately she’s telling Scheana about Rob making out with someone else. Scheana’s immediately skeptical based on the fact that it’s convenient all of this is coming out after two other guys had been accused of doing similar things. She doesn’t buy it because Rob doesn’t even kiss HER.

Oh, Scheana.

Scheana, Scheana, Scheana.

Your boyfriend’s not “not a kisser”, honey. He’s not into you. You’re not going to marry this dude as much as you want to.

The party begins, and James comes with the pair of fake eyelashes on a fuzzy sweater he calls a girlfriend, as well as a cake made up of toilet paper rolls. Lala, meanwhile has brought Patron and wants to celebrate Being Women, something I celebrate evert day. WOMEN ARE GREAT. Again, Lala’s the best.

I love the fact that Katie and Tom, who literally live down the hall, are the last to arrive. I went to a wedding where my date and I were the only people who lived in Brooklyn, where the wedding was, and we were the latest ones. Tom looks discheveled as ever despite pretending he’s an Adult Now, he’s wearing a Mikey Way from My Chemical Romance sweater7. Tom claims he’s done with shots for the time being, which is a lie. Tom’s about to do 100000 shots.

This party would be a disaster with anyone, but with the amount these people drink, they should not be playing Waterfall with shots. Schwartz struggles with not drinking to excess. Oh, hi Peter? We haven’t seen enough Peter this season. Scheana’s literally standing with her phone in front of her face texting Rob about him allegedly making out with another girl and Jax is annoyed by it.

Anyway, everyone is hammered. James and Tom are beatboxing. Jax admits to Carter that he cheated because he wanted the attention, and Jax is like, “I’m finally being HONEST and telling the TRUTH,” and Brittany’s like “why can’t you talk to me?” Lala and Kristen are eavesdropping and Lala wants to rip Jax’s larynx out. Lala is so disturbed by the fact that Jax is yelling at Brittany, and Lala knows that there’s a recording on James’s phone of Jax. Jax saying he’s not going to marry Brittany - ever - and just being a general skeeze.

Because Jax doesn’t deserve any woman, let alone Jax. I love the amount of millenial pink going on in this scene between Lala and Ariana.

Ariana’s wasted and tells Brittany how much she loves her in that really drunken way, but Lala needs Brittany to know what Jax said. Ariana’s so drunk she’s basically crying.

We don’t get to hear the recording, but what’s on it is enough to make Brittany cry... and then seethe. She calls Jax he deserves to rot in hell and it’s literally incredible. Jax thought he was safe.

Next Time: James is back at PUMP! Lisa wants Brittany fired. Tom is pissed at Ariana for taking sides and Ariana’s ready to break up because of it.

Random Assessments from the Desk of Amanda:

I love the horror movie lighting in Jax/Brittany/Katie/Tom’s apartment building. I thought hallways that creepy only existed on Search Party.

I’m so glad Lala got rid of the trashy nails.

I love that Rob Valletta is actually related to Amber Valletta.

There’s really not enough talk about how emotionally abusive Jax is to Brittany.

I don’t know if I’m buying Brand Spanking New Self Aware Katie.

I’m glad that we’re breaking through some of the Cool Girl Ariana facade and realizing she’s just as messy as all of us.

You know I love Lala when I can forgive her having a rat tail.

She did a running stop, something I also once got a ticket for. Lisa Vanderpump and I are the same. ↩︎

Remember when Scheana had sex with Brandi Glanville’s husband and then tried to both claim it was one time but also she and Brandi were in the same boat because they’d both been cheated on? ↩︎ ↩︎

Bless Tom’s heart for bringing over a bottle of champagne. Had he known what Rob’s lifestyle was, I doubt he would have brought over a gift that people are notoriously snobby about. ↩︎

Forgive me for this, Rihanna. ↩︎

I... do not understand the logic of a man who would be like “you have an ugly vagina”. Why do you care? It’s never going to be your problem. Like, do you really think dicks are the most attractive thing on earth? ↩︎

They don’t deserve dogs that cute. ↩︎

Mikey ain’t shit. ↩︎