#so what if he's a li'l fucked up is it not enough that's he's pretty and silly :/

[apostase]

big fan of characters who are very confident but self-deprecating in a non-compliment-fishing way and don't take themselves or anything seriously + are impossible to embarrass

[writersdrug]

Someone sent an anonymous ask about Soap being all whiny and jealous, complaining to Simon about how lucky he is to have such a pretty, curvy girl and Tumblr swallowed it 😫 (This is gonna be a 2 parter)

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, sub soap and reader, dom ghost, training, voyeurism

But I can imagine Ghost would be so sick and tired of it. Johnny's constantly yapping like the mutt he truly is: "Yer a lucky man, LT. Findin' a pretty bird like that." "Where'd ye get her? Need to find one for myself." "She as soft as she sounds?"

Ghost wants to snap at him for talking about you like that - he shouldn't be talking about you at all. But he knows the poor man is just lonely, aching to have something soft and supple like you. Your smiling face smushed between Ghost's fingers when you come to drop off the lunch he forgot. The jeans that fit snuggly around your ass and thighs, the shirt that hugs the swell of your breasts, stretched thin as it barely contains them... poor Johnny boy can't help but whine at the sight of something so appetizing, so soft and warm right there - he's jealous of his LT. How did someone so hard around the edges pluck something so sweet?

Simon hates to see him so upset, pouting in the corner like a scolded puppy as you stare at your boyfriend with stars in your eyes. Johnny could have a girl, but he gets overeager: fucking them on the first date, leaving them sore and bitten and tearful. He's too rough, and they're quick to excuse themselves, fleeing the next morning and blocking him from all social media.

Johnny needs to learn to be patient and gentle with his toys. He's nice enough to let the sergeant practice with his own pretty girl, and you're more than happy to assist Soap with his green-eyed monster.

After a nice dinner at his LT's house, served by you - along with some bronze, liquid courage - Johnny sits on the recliner, chatting with Ghost, who's relaxed on the sofa. You enter the living room and stand next to Simon, biting your lip excitedly and staring between the two of them. Simon wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to sit on the arm of the sofa.

"Y' think she's pretty?" He asks Johnny, who blinks.

Gorgeous. Comely. Ravishing. "Course I do." He responds plainly, trying not to get worked up over the way you're perched next to his LT so prettily.

"Yea, you do..." Simon mutters, squeezing the flesh at your thigh. "What's it you said? 'She must look nice, spillin' out my hands’?"

Soap is nothing short of mortified. His eyes are wide, staring back at Simon - he doesn't know what to say. He said those things within the secrecy of his conversation with his lieutenant - he didn't expect him to repeat it outside of that bubble, let alone in front of you, the person in question.

"N' what else was it? 'Need t' have a pretty li'l wife with a rack like that to lay my head-"

"Simon!!"

Soap finally glares at his LT, his fingers digging into his own thighs. His heart is pounding in his chest. Is Ghost trying to get you to hate him?

You giggle and stand upright. "It's ok, Johnny." You coo, slowly walking over to him with your hands behind your back. "I like it. It means you like me."

Soap has little time to do anything but grunt when you swing a leg over his thighs and seat yourself in his lap. Your cleavage is right there, just inches from his face, and he can feel the bare skin of your thighs burning through his trousers.

"Help me take this off?" You tug at the skirt of your dress, looking down at him with those innocent, glossy eyes.

He can't breathe. His clothes are too hot and too tight, his cock nearly choking in the confines of his pants. He looks to his lieutenant for help - Ghost just smiles, like he's watching his favorite porn. He might be, depending on how this plays out.

"Go on, Johnny. Slowly."

Johnny wants to be anything but slow, once he realizes his best friend is showing you off like a collectible toy. He looks back up at you, watching the way your plump lip catches between your teeth. He carefully reaches around, grabbing the back of your neckline and tugging the zipper down - slowly, as he was instructed. He can barely focus on the movement with your breasts right there, imagining what they'd taste like between his warm lips. The shoulders of your dress fall away, revealing the lacy bra you're wearing. He looks up at you, drool pooling under his tongue as you slide your hands over his shoulders, one coming around to play with the base of his mohawk.

"You can take it off." You whisper.

He wastes no time, his hands smoothing up your back and unclasping your bra in one motion. He helps you pull it from your shoulders - your breasts, round and full, now pressing against his chest. He wants to touch. He needs to touch.

He shoots a hungry, pleading look to Ghost - he nods back at Soap, which is all the sergeant needs to absolve his filthy behavior. He closes your breast in his palm, eyes hazy as he takes your nipple into his warm mouth. He hardly has to move his head forward because you lean into his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair and your back arching deliciously. Johnny groans, using one hand to dig his fingers into the thick flesh at your hips, and his other to press his palm against your lower back. He shifts himself down as his tongue swirls around your nipple, groans leaving his throat and reverberating against the bud, quickly hardening from his ministrations. You sound so sweet, high-pitched coos and soft breaths pouring from between your lips as you press your weight against Soap, shoving your breast as far into his mouth as he can take. You kiss the crown of his head, whispering a good boy against his skin.

He practically whines, bucking his hips upwards, relishing in how your body grounds him into the sofa cushions. He releases your breast with a pop and quickly takes the other one into his hand, sealing his lips over it with a hum. He looks up at you through wanting, begging eyes as you toss your head back, squeezing your thighs around his hips. His tongue undulates against your stiffening peak, slobbering around the underside of your breast as he gives you another experimental jerk of his hips. You gasp, rolling your hips back down onto him and staring at him with your lust-blown pupils.

His cock is demanding to be let free. He's going to fuck you hard, he's going to pound you into the chair until you're begging, showing his LT just how much of a good boy he is. He's never felt this blazing forest fire within his veins, setting off nerve after nerve and burning a trail right down to his hard, throbbing member.

He hooks his fingers into the hem of your soaked panties, fully intending to rip them off - but you quickly grab his wrist and yank his hand away. He looks at you, blinking through his trance as a look of confusion settles on his face. "Wha's wrong?"

You giggle his expression - the sound goes straight to his tip with another rush of blood. "These are for Simon." you whisper, slowly pushing yourself off of Soap's lap. He lets his arms fall to his sides with a desperate look, letting you back away, right into Ghost's waiting lap.

"Gonna show ya a thing or two, Johnny." he says, pulling you back to his chest. "Teach ya a few tricks, maybe you'll be able t' keep a woman longer than a day." he pulls a switchblade from his pocket and flicks it open. The blade drags down over your belly - you chew your lip as it electrifies your skin, the tip sliding lower and lower until he's running it over your pussy. The fabric is soaked as he lingers there, the sharp edge barely separated from your cunt by your flimsy, drenched panties.

You stare at Soap, not once breaking eye contact as Ghost slices through the fabric. Soap's mouth is agape in disbelief and lust, enamored by the sight before him. He can't tear his eyes from the view of your sopping, glistening pussy, watching as Simon slides his thick fingers over your folds. He catches his thumb under the hood of your clit and you jolt, shooting a hand down to grab his wrist - but he doesn't stop. You whine and mewl, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he flicks the bud, strumming over it slowly.

He stares Soap in the eyes, watching his reaction. "Alright there, Johnny?"

He's drooling, mouth hung open, hypnotized by the way your muscles clench with each stroke of Simon’s thumb. “… Aye…” he manages to say – his fingers dig into the cushions beneath him as he tries to control the urge to tear across the room and drive his cock into your cunt, fucking you against his lieutenant’s chest the way you deserve: rough and hard. Simon’s been teasing you too long; you need to be ravaged, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, faster than you can think.

“Let me have a go, yea?” he says boldly, looking at Simon with desperation. “That’s what this is, right? Ye want me to fuck ‘er nice? I’ll do it. I’ll do it, sir – I’ll take good care of her-“

“No you won’t.” Simon interjects before the dog can get too riled up. His fingers are now strumming up and through your folds, and you’re panting and staring at Johnny with needy desire. “’S why you can’t keep anyone. You’re too eager.”

The truth shoots through Soap’s chest like an arrow, and he meets Simon’s gaze. He’s obviously rock-hard in his trousers, he won’t even attempt to hide it. Simon’s got a cocky, knowing smirk on his face, and you… poor you is just wishing Simon would spit out what he wants to say, so the three of you could get on with the show.

“Gonna teach you a few secrets, sergeant.” Simon says, and Soap isn’t sure what to think about having his rank used in this situation. “My girl needs to cum.” He pulls his fingers away from you – you whine in frustration, but are quickly silenced when two, thick digits are stuffed into your mouth. You obediently clean off your own slick with your tongue, looking back down at Johnny with a heavy, lidded stare.

“I’ll make her cum.” Soap says quickly. If this is a matter of whether or not he can make someone cum, he’ll pass that test easily.

“You’ll do it right.” Simon growls. “Need to understand the difference between getting’ your cock wet and pleasuring ‘er. ‘S my girl ‘n I won’t have you roughhousing ‘er. Got it?”

Soap’s throat bobs as he swallows. It was another task, another order from his superior. He clears his mind of any preprogrammed, lustful thoughts, sent straight to his brain from his achingly hard member – this wasn’t about him. It was about following instructions. He was a good soldier, he could do that much.

“Yes sir.”

Simon nods. He shifts hips, pulling his fingers from your lipsand grabbing your hips. You grab his forearms for support as he spreads his muscular thigs, forcing your legs farther apart as they rest on either side of his knees. Slick dribbles down from your pussy and onto Simon’s length, which is about to tear a hole through his pants.

“Then get to it. Sick of hearin’ you yap all day about not bein’ able to keep a girl. Put your mouth to good use – we’re about to fix that.”

[presleyslilbaby]

~Sleek Leather~

(60's!Elvis X Reader)

(TW: Mentions of sex, crude language, exhibitionism-if you really want to count it-, clingy Elvis?, short story, potential misspellings-)

Elvis was working on his new movie "Roustabout", And to be frank- You hadn't come to visit him yet. He'd called you several times, whining for his "special little Angel-cake" to come and visit him on-set, but you had just been so busy, you didn't have any time to.

Until now.

After such a long week of work, you were able to get time to yourself. and you instantly decided that you would go and surprise Elvis with a visit. Doing up your hair in soft waves, you then apply generous makeup to your features, making sure that it wasn't too much on the eyes, but bold enough to be noticed. Choosing Elvis's favourite outfit, you throw on a floral maxi-dress, the ruffles at the collar and sleeves giving you a cutesy yet Womanly look. You looked in the mirror, trying to "perfect" yourself for your Boyfriend. Smiling when satisfied with your look, you grabbed your purse and headed out.

Arriving at the filming location, you parked your car and pulled the keys from the ignition, hopping out and making your way over to where you last saw that hunk of a Man.

"Elvis," You called out to him, drawing your lower lip between your teeth to restrain most of your smile. He turned around, his ocean blue eyes meeting yours in an instant. He grins, excusing himself from one of the crew members to rush over to you. "Angel-Baby!" Elvis called out, lifting you up in his arms and spinning you around once. "I've been waitin' for ya', Sweetheart!"

God...He looked so fucking good in leather...

Catching you staring at him, his grin twisted into a knowing smirk, chuckling as he lead you to a less populated area, settling right in-between two trailers. "Mmm. You just arrived and you already can't keep those pretty li'l peepers off'a me?" He cooed huskily, tilting your chin up with his knuckle, his other hand resting on your hip. "And you're wearin' my favourite dress. Good Girl." The way Elvis looked down at you and called you a good Girl sent heat straight down to your core. You pressed your legs together. "I can't help it."

"Can't you?" He cocked his head to the side, his plump and inviting lips parting slightly. "You just...Look hot in leather..." You admitted quietly, subconsciously leaning your body in, pressing gently to his own. "Do I?" He teasingly asked, another smirk making its way back up to his lips. "Hmm. If you're gettin' that bothered over a jacket and some gloves, maybe I could wear it for you tonight while you're bouncin' on my cock." Elvis then pulled you tighter against him, his grip firm yet gentle on your hips, beginning to grind against you.

"E-E-Elvis," You stammered, a soft gasp leaving your lips. "S-Someone could see-" Laughing, he pulled away, cupping your cheeks and playfully squishing them. "I'm teasin', li'l Mama. You're cute when you're stutterin'." He lets your face go, twirling a strand of your hair with his long fingers. Crossing your arms over your chest, you pretended to pout despite the thrill that you'd felt from his bold actions. "That wasn't funny, El." You huffed. "I think I'm going home."

Elvis's Blue eyes widened slightly and a frown settled on his features, grabbing your hands and pulling them to his chest. "No...Honey, I-I'm sorry I teased ya' like that. I promise I won't do it again- Just- Just stay." He said. But you decided to keep the act up, shaking your head as you fought off a smile. "Nope. I'm leaving. I'm going back home." "Baby," He whined, holding you close and giving you the sweetest little pout he could muster. "Don't leave Y/n...I want you to stay...I've been waitin' forever for you to come visit...!" He pleaded with you, even sticking out his lower lip like a petulant child. You couldn't help the smile anymore, and you allowed it to tug at your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'm just teasing." You said. "What? Aw, that's not fair, Honey." He groaned, resting his chin on your shoulder. Laughing, you said, "Now you know how I felt."

[endwersed]

Snippet Sunday ☀

So! I'm currently working on the edits for my divorcee Derek/hot-for-older-men Stiles AU, and, whilst it unfortunately isn't as ready to post today as I had originally hoped, I do have a li'l snippet I can share until it is fully edited (fingers crossed, that'll be next weekend!) 🤗

-

“So, class,” Professor Boyd continues, “I’d like you all to meet – Mr Derek Hale.”

A man walks through the open doorway along with the introduction. Stiles’ jaw drops all the way down to the freaking floor.

What he was saying earlier, about his thing for older men? Well, this guy – this Mr Derek Hale – is every-fucking-thing that has made Stiles’ dick hard since pretty much he was old enough to know what to do with it.

Short, dark, soft-looking hair that is patched with spots of grey, his sharp jaw covered in a beard that is thick and coarse and close to being more salt than pepper. Even from where Stiles is sitting, even from this row way at the back of the room, he can still see the lines of age that show on his face, the faint wrinkles in his forehead, the creases around his pale eyes.

He is wearing a dark green sweater, tight across the strength of his broad shoulders, the fabric an expensive cashmere to Stiles’ inexperienced eye. Underneath it sits a crisp, white shirt, its starchy collar folded neatly along the line of his clavicle and a tie knotted snugly just below the prominence of his Adam’s apple. His legs are draped in the dark material of his slacks, skimming close enough to the muscle to reveal the definition of his thighs, and Stiles cannot fight back the thought that he kind of really wants to bury his face between them.

This guy is well into his forties, easily, and he is also, to put it bluntly, the middle-aged man of Stiles’ wettest fucking dreams.

There is no ring on that left hand, either. Interesting. Very, very interesting.

From her place next to him, Stiles can feel the searing heat of the side-eye that Lydia throws him the moment Derek steps into the room. If he cared even one lick about her judgement, he might be cowed into at least trying to hide the raging heart-eyes he probably has going on right about now.

Unfortunately for her, he lost any shame long, long ago – and that’s if he ever truly even had any in the first place.

She wouldn’t get it, anyway. Her taste in men has always been much more mainstream than Stiles’. Has been, barf, Scott, all the way since high school. She likes a nice boy her age, and she found that boy back when they were still stumbling their way through the awkward years of puberty. He is happy for them, of course, but that does not change the fact that his preferences have always taken him well, well beyond those years.

“Hello, everyone.”

The sound of Derek’s voice snaps every fibre of Stiles’ focus back up to the front of the class. The cadence of it isn’t as deep and as growly as his appearance might suggest, those thick eyebrows and that bushy beard, but it’s – nice. Really nice, actually. Stiles is, perhaps, more than a little bit interested in learning how it might pant and grunt and moan when a mouth is wrapped around his cock.

Pausing after just those two words, Derek slides a hand into the pocket of his pants, knuckles visible through the fabric as he rummages around. Eventually, he retrieves a long, rectangular box, flipping it open and pulling out –

Oh, fuck. Pulling out a pair of dark-framed glasses that he slips onto his face, sitting them low across the strong slope of his nose, peering over the top of them with that light, captivating gaze. Stiles thinks he may actually be fucking drooling. He dazedly ignores Lydia’s knee digging pointedly into the side of his thigh.

“Thank you for having me,” Derek carries on, both hands now tucked into his pockets. “As Professor Boyd said, my name is Derek Hale and I’m new to town. I hope you don’t all find me being here today as boring as I told your professor you definitely would.”

A light ripple of laughter filters around the class. Stiles is too entranced to join in with anything but a faint uptick at one corner of his mouth. Like anyone could find being in the presence of someone this freakishly hot boring. Stiles is growing less and less certain with each passing moment that he will even make it out of this class alive.

Stiles’ eyes are wide, his eyelashes fluttering ticklishly against the height of his cheekbones with his rapid blinks, and he leans forwards, pressing closer for more, more, as much as he can get. He rests the bend of his elbow against the solid plane of the table in front of him, his palm flat and open for him to lay his cheek against. It is the best position for gazing dreamily at the aging hunk gracing the next hour of his life, after all.

“I thought I’d start by talking about my years as an associate,” Derek says, light eyes sweeping slowly across the room. “I started with Pearson and Howe straight out of law school, and I –”

His words cut abruptly off. Quicker than a heartbeat, his entire body freezes, a visible tension in the square of his shoulders, a stunned-slack parting of his mouth as he stops, and stills, and stares out ahead of him, stares out at… something. It takes Stiles a few seconds of blinking confusion to figure out what the hell he is staring at, what the hell has made him react like some deer about to caught up in somebody’s bumper.

A grin spreads wickedly across Stiles’ mouth as soon as the realisation lands.

It’s him; it’s Stiles. He is what Derek is staring at, he is what has made Derek apparently lose control of his ability to speak, he is what has Derek gaping like a fish in front of a whole room of law students. Derek’s gaze is snagged with his and Stiles’ heart is kicking up into overdrive inside of his chest.

Lifting his face from his palm, he makes sure to hold Derek’s eye, sure and steady and still smiling stupidly. The room around him murmurs in confusion, and Professor Boyd has an eyebrow quirked that looks more amused than anything else, and Lydia is scoffing a quiet laugh beside him, but the only thing Stiles has the attention span for right now is Derek’s eyes, locked with his.

Heat pools around the flutter of his stomach. He bites his bottom lip and dares to throw out a wink. The tips of Derek’s ears burn brightly as he closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Sorry,” Derek says, the word coming out low, a little choked, raw until the pointed clearing of his throat. “Sorry, I just, uh… I lost my train of thought there for a second. But anyway, uh – as I was saying.”

-

No pressure tags! @dear-massacre @heavensenthale @like-lazarus @myrrhhymns @renmackree

[invinciblerodent]

a short and very incomplete list of some items that make me, a bisexual, unable to pay attention to whatever the fuck the characters are saying

The Potent Robe (and all the other robes in this style) on Gale. they make his shoulders go V. especially from a shorter PC's angle, where he looks tall and broad in addition to being just. so warm and infinitely kind, I mean come on now. Honorable mention to the jewel sitting right on top of his sternum and the intricate linework leading to it that just draws the eye to itself, so you kinda have to look at his titties.

The silly stupid useless hats that should not look good on anyone, but make Astarion's li'l ears go < >, and it's unreasonably good, especially when he like. looks up from under the brim and under his lashes like that???? no. this man? this man is wearing a be-tassel'd bucket on his head. how is he still charming. this should not work and he has no right to be charming like this.

The otherwise pretty ugly helmets that do nothing special beyond like adding +1 to STR saves and don't work on anyone really, except they Fuck Severely on Wyll, and Wyll only. this one? with his horns? it makes him look like some sort of gladiator, a wrathful Roman god of war and conquest, and what the fuck. i know just how polite and respectful he is, and the cognitive dissonance alone makes this weirdly hot.

This camp outfit. With these piercings. And this snarl. On Karlach, because seriously what the hell. No, really. What is this. She, and I cannot stress this enough, looks like every single woman I've ever fallen briefly in desperate, heart-consuming, life-altering love with at any rock/metal show, only red and on fire, which is. also hot. Look at the way the lines of that top frame the glow of the engine, and the metal accents match her vents and hair disk thingies, I mean come on. This look is that of a woman who could (and should) whisk me away on her motorcycle.

Ketheric's armor on Lae'zel. The shape language. The way the ridges of the teeth and the gold bit in the middle kind of mirror the edges of her ears. And the way the dark neckline meets and bleeds into the lines on her neck, and mirrors the lines on her face. The tarnished gold accents that match her complexion with the green complementing it so nicely. The power. The beauty. What a great look. A+. i'm doing whatever she says I should, which is a problem because she's literally asking me to make a deal with a devil.

honestly just disrespectful, the lot of them

[cyberrat]

Kicking down your door because Cyber holy fuck

What if Valentino didn’t have a cunt in life, it’s part of being a Lust based sinner.

So Val waking up fresh in Hell trying to figure out his body. Finds a window that’s not too broken that he can try to look at himself. The extra arms, weird wiggles on his head are antennae, weight on his back are wings.. and then his shitty eyesight focuses enough to see he has the cutest little hearts around his nipples. He should be more worried about the fact Hell is real and he’s some insect demon but he just gets hot and he wants to play, reborn horny straight out of the gate. Feels so damn good plucking and rolling them with his new claws, better than any nipple play he’d done in life with on cocktail of drugs and fun stimulating creams or oils he’d used with them. He’s gagging in the best way with his tongue too long and he’s drooling thick and sticky, pink running down his chin and making a mess of his chest

And he gushes

Clumsy extra hands go under his cock and find his pussy. Not even 5 minutes into eternal damnation and he’s 3 fingers deep in his pretty new cunt, dripping pink and his first orgasm in Hell is the closest he’s ever come to Heaven.

I AM FUCKING DYING

holy fuck. Ho-ly fuck. your beautiful fucking brain T.T

Valentino standing right on a fucking sidewalk, a new freshly hatched demon, and just fingering himself??? yes???

him bracing himself on a wall with one hand and just ogling his own reflection in the dirty, cracked glass, mindlessly stuffing himself on his own fingers because shit... shit, that new little hole is *hungry* and it needs to be treated to an orgasm *right the fuck now*.

Other demons throwing him weirded out looks but honestly... it's not the worst thing they saw someone do by a long shot. Actually, he's real pretty. So of course some start to propose him.

So like... half an hour into becoming a demon, Valentino starts his first orgy right there on the street; just hungry for dick, and even hungrier to get his pussy ploughed.

He probably has to stop for a good five minutes or something to just stare at it; like curled over, holding his dick out of the way, dumbfounded staring at his own pussy while the horny demons around him get more and more impatient like 'come on babe... I'll treat that li'l slit all nice. no need to be stingy.'

[birchbow]

Gamzee often refers to himself as “pan-rotted” due to his sopor-eating habit as a wriggler (and so does pretty much everyone else at some point). He told Kurloz that he has to really focus in order to remember mission instructions a few chapters back, I think? Gamzee doesn’t have a great self image, but it seems true that he’s often slow to draw inferences unless he’s already paying attention for hints about something specific. Like his default awareness is a little more diffuse, and he has to put in deliberate effort to narrow it down on a particular problem? He attributes this to the sopor, and so does everyone else. What I’m asking is - sopor aside - does being neglected by a lusus affect a troll’s brain development? (Beyond emotional stability and the ability to form secure attachments, ouch.) Since lusii don’t talk I’m not sure about language acquisition but maybe lusii respond positively to grubs babbling? Sidenote: the fact that Gamzee has the scriptures memorized so well almost feels like his chronically understimulated pan grabbed these abundant in-person interactions with authority figures in his early schoolfeeds and ate it up like starving. Sorry this is so rambling 😅

I'm incapable of being brief, especially when I get long asks with lots to chew over, so here's a readmore!

SO There's a moment in canon where Gamzee outright says "[sopor] rots you. Rusts your motherfucking thinkpan." and I think it's up for debate to what extent that's true but also it does seem pretty reasonable that heavy/consistent drug use throughout your adolescence would leave you some cognitive issues!

(Although also, as a person who tests super well in things I intuitively Get and am interested in, but often feels slow and dull, can't fit certain subjects/concepts into my head, and has a hard time remembering all the steps of things I want to do,,,, I put a lot of myself into my characters, is what I'm saying lol.)

RE: not having a lusus, I think that probably would have way more effect than the kid who went through it would assume, yeah. Like, all trolls would know your lusus keeps you safe from predators/intruders, gives you early practice fighting/wrestling, and especially in more rural areas, scavenges and hunts for you especially when you're young. But trolls as a society definitely undervalue the part where they also provide a sense of security and affection, because you're not supposed to want or value those things as a troll!

It's hard to make direct connections since lusii only sort of resemble human parents, but there's certainly studies to show that children of neglectful human parents struggle forming the cognitive pathways they would otherwise establish, and have trouble later in life--even if your caretaker doesn't talk, it seems pretty reasonable to me that having a parental figure who fucks off for long periods of time and leaves you completely alone with no idea when they'll be back would have a pretty similar effect across species! I'm not well-educated enough on that topic to draw the parallels I would want to, but it feels like a solid theory.

Also, quite apart from any of that, there was definitely a chain of cause and effect from "dad doesn't want me and there's no food" to "...but I have sopor slime" to "this makes me less hungry and also I give less of a shit about how hungry and lonely I am" to "if I stop eating this I feel shitty and have a hard time thinking straight and there's like a decade of repressed emotions under there".

RE: scripture, one of the things that I see original-flavor/canon Gamzee do is be all in on his religion, and when that falls out from under him, reorient to the first convincing power he finds, which unfortunately for everybody is the whole mess of Doc Scratch/Li'l Cal/Lord English. It to me feels very much like a guy who has no idea how to make his own ideological support structure, and is desperately looking for someone to give him a belief system and set of rules to follow.

ANYWAY SO hopefully it's fairly clear how that carries forward in a universe where instead, he gets a supportive church that helps him sober up and channels all his deeply-repressed rage into "hey, those aliens over there need conquering, go kill em", and also he's offered these books that are like. The rules. And knowing them gets him approval, and reassures him when he feels like a fuckup, and it turns out he can learn things, if they're things that fit in his brain right, and that's reassuring because he genuinely thinks most of his failings are his own fault for wanting sopor, and Alternian addiction support boils down to "do that again and we'll cull you" so they sure the fuck don't have a compassionate attitude about recovery or good information into after-effects, so everybody else is also just like "yeah, probably you fucked up your brain, idk, git gud".

This is a very lengthy way of agreeing with you lmao. The feedback loop of "oh you're pretty good at this" from authority figures, and it being a topic that he naturally had an interest in, definitely is a big part of why he's so deeply into it.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Catnap II

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: More barista!Mikey and his kittens, because we can all use some fluff (and a nice makeout sesh) from time to time

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: You wake up from your nap with Mikey in an interesting way...

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff. More cats. More swearing. A li'l kissin'.

@deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn

You wake up when something fluffy brushes past your nose. When you open your eyes, you see tufts of white fur. Your head, however, is still on Mike’s shoulder, and he’s holding you pretty close. So how did this cat – it’s Nova – manage to worm its way in between your bodies?

“Mike?” you say softly after moving your head away. He hums, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Is she okay? Are we crushing her?” Apparently, your question is enough for him to very slowly open one eye.

“Oh, she’s fine. She did this.” Mike doesn’t let you go, so he must mean what he says. “I’ll let you in on a little secret... Cats are actually liquid. And what they lack in brains and bones, they make up for in cuteness and chaos.” As if to prove a point, Nova turns around between you and rubs her face against Mike’s cheek, while trying her hardest to push you away from him.

“Hey baby,” he says as he softly kisses her little head before turning to you, looking embarrassed. Then, in a split second, the look disappears from his face, and is replaced by a very serious expression. He also lets go of you, much to your displeasure. “I’m just going to be upfront about this. I’ve had girls think I’m totally weird with my cats, because I love these idiots to bits. Girls, mind you, who were at the time also studying to be vets...”

“You’re a vet?” you interrupt. Of course you had a feeling that the coffee shop was a side job, but you never thought to ask whether he was in college or not...

“Few credits shy,” he answered, slightly taken aback by the sudden intrusion on his story. “That’s why I moved back home. I’m not enrolled for the first semester, so I had to give up my dorm. It’s okay, though, I get to intern with my mom... She runs a vet clinic from here. And picking up a few extra shifts hasn’t been the worst – Sy! Can you at least not be on my head?”

You look up, only to find that the orange giant apparently thought it was a good idea to park his fat butt on the side of Mike’s face. He really is ‘chunky as fuck’, and it doesn’t look comfortable at all. Not that it matters to him, because he stays right where he is. Soon, the four others join you on the bed, apparently for the sole purpose of screaming at Mike.

“What time is it?” Mike says as he reaches for his phone on the windowsill next to his bed. “Oh, my bad, you guys want food...” As soon as the word ‘food’ is out of his mouth, all cats dash for the door – except Nova, who still seems perfectly comfortable squished between you and Mikey. So much so, even, that she meows loudly in protest when he gets up.

“Can you pick her up and take her with you?” Mike asks, and you happily oblige. ‘Please cuddle the snuggly floof’ isn’t exactly a chore, or anything. Nova doesn’t object to being picked up and carried, either. She just contently purrs in your arms as you follow Mike through the house, to the kitchen.

“Oh my god, she is so cute!” you squeal when you sit down and she still won’t move, even though Mike is being harassed by the others as he tries to get them their food.

“She really is,” he says. “Ragdolls have exactly zero braincells. I’m fairly sure that one would die if she didn’t get enough attention.” He looks over his shoulder, and you catch a glimpse of a sweet smile as he briefly looks at you and the cat. It’s a good thing he turns back when he does, though.

“For fuck’s sake, guys! This isn’t going to go any faster if you…” Mike sighs loudly. “Sure, there’s at least thirty beds for you monsters scattered around the house, but by all means, Nyx: sit in your bowl.”

He shakes his head as he walks away to grab something, and the cats just keep following him wherever he goes. “I could do this in two minutes, if only this kitchen had fucking doors,” he mumbles.

“So, where were we?” Mike says as you step back into his room. He pulls you along as he walks to his bed, then turns around and drops down, dragging you with him. You end up on top of him. This time, his kiss isn’t soft. It’s eager, and sloppy, with that little edge of enthusiasm just north of too much. It’s dorky, and it’s exactly what makes him so cute. Even when he slips his hands underneath your t-shirt – something you tend to not let guys do on the first date – he does it with so much carefree eagerness that it’s somehow super sweet.

He has some serious trouble keeping his hands to himself, though, and you have to remind him several times that no, he’s absolutely getting nowhere near your boobs tonight.

“But they’re so pretty,” Mike pouts.

“Suck that bottom lip back in, boy,” you tease him, as he lets out a sad groan while trying to pull your face back to his. He doesn’t listen, so you bend down quickly and bite him in that stuck-out lower lip while you have the chance. It immediately becomes clear to you that that was the best mistake you’re going to make today, because he rolls you both over so that he’s on top now.

“Sweetcheeks, if you’re gonna bite, I’m gonna lose my patience,” he warns you with a goofy smile that melts your insides.

“This is you being patient?” There’s something about him that makes you want to tease him beyond where you’d normally go this quickly. He’s so handsome, and so… harmless. On a whim, you wrap your legs around him and pull him tighter against you. It’s absolutely undeniably obvious he has a boner.

“That’s a fair point, I guess… Larry, fuck off! I’m trying to score here!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen in absolute terror. “Probably shouldn’t have phrased it that way...”

“Probably not,” you laugh. Mike rolls off you, spooking Larry – who had decided this was a good time to take a nap between Mike’s shoulder blades. He lies down next to you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“I wasn’t getting anywhere to begin with, was I?” he asks. Nothing about his tone or face gives you even the slightest idea that he minds if your answer is ‘no’. Not that you would have given him false hope, no matter how cute this guy is…

“I don’t hook up on the first date,” you reply, pretending to feel really bad for him.

“Second date?” he tries, the smile on his lips widening. “Why don’t you find out?”

[noonmutter]

Best Boy

DWC Feb 2024 Day 4: Vengeance/Satisfaction

Pandaria was already meeting spring with wide open arms, and the cheerful, bright sunlight was almost offensive to Shedwyn's eyes. That wasn't really new, though; everything was almost offensive to Shedwyn's eyes right now. Her fucking husband had gone and got himself fucking titled--legitimately titled, through no effort of his own, the fuckhead--and he had no idea how it'd happened. She had even less idea, and his babbling explanation hadn't made it a whole lot clearer.

The fact that they were shouting at each other about it the whole time probably hadn't helped.

But still.

Fucker.

After they'd gone in circles for about half an hour, and she'd slugged him in the chest a little bit harder than she'd actually meant to, she'd decided it was time for a breather.

"I'm going to Leon's. I need sex in my mouth right now and I don't mean you."

"First of all, fuckin' ew--"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT, ASSBAG OF KEEL."

She hadn't realized she'd been growling obscenities, mostly about her husband, out loud until the younger Ambroce whistled at her from his front door.

"Y'gonna keep me in suspense or kin we take this inside?"

"I want to be petulant and snarl some more and maybe blow something up, but I also want pizza, and I know if I do the first thing I won't get the second."

Leon nodded and stepped aside to let her into the house. "Yer becomin' downright self-policin' these days. I'm pretty sure tha's a good thin', but..."

"Shut up and feed me."

"Fine, but this better be good, y' grumpy li'l shit." He adored his sister-in-law, but that also meant he was a lot more willing to be crass with her than most. She was family, ergo she was tough enough to take a little bit of honest ribbing.

"Food then snark. Please. I want to not be the adult right now."

"Fair enough. Does tha' mean I don't get an explanation? Only if tha's th' case, I'm not gonna make yer fav'rite."

"But--"

"Them's th' rules."

Shedwyn sighed. She would kill a man for anchovies, and the man who did the absolute best thing with them was standing right in front of her, and she was a Lady, god dammit, and... She sighed again. She could be polite for a little while.

"All right."

"Attagirl."

"Don't push it, Ambroce."

Laughing, Leon closed the door behind them and fled to the kitchen to get to work. It was a good thing everyone else had left for their own chores for the day, or the complaints would've started within five minutes of the fishy dish going into the oven. For the most part, the house smelled of salt, generic "fish" smell, shrimp, ham, cheese, and tomatoes, but those first two really overpowered the rest. Anchovies were not popular at the restaurant in Stormwind, but the ones who liked them really liked them, as he'd found out, so he kept a small supply at home for emergencies. Emergencies like his little mana-bomb of a sister having a bad day, for example.

They didn't talk about much of anything while he was cooking. Leon was too focused to offer up much of anything without being prompted, and Shedwyn was in no mood to talk like an adult yet. She was in the mood to pout, and scream, and maybe punch Terry again. She'd had to go through so frickin' much to get her own title set down on paper and into the records that mattered; she'd memorized every stupid word of the stupid Doppelganger Decree of 28 and would probably not be able to forget about it for years. And Terry'd gone and fuckin' farted out a dynasty.

Shedwyn Lias-Ambroce was not strictly speaking a jealous woman, but she had limits. It just wasn't fair!

Somewhere amid the interminable brooding, a steaming pizza appeared on the table in front of her, and the clouds parted. Angels didn't sing, because angels sucked and didn't like anchovies, but that was fine. More for her. The first bite was always the best, but the second through sixth bites were pretty damned amazing, too.

Leon was kind enough to wait until she'd torn through two slices before he cleared his throat. When Shedwyn was not immediately forthcoming, he made his point by taking a slice of his own and sitting down. She growled to herself, then picked up a napkin and dabbed at her mouth.

"Your brother got lucky again."

"...Like yer 'avin' another kid, or...?"

This time, the sigh was loud, extremely melodramatic, and seemed almost to propel her backwards to drape over the back of her chair. "Like he didn't end up dead or promoted at the end of the Gilneas campaign, so he fell ass-backwards into a viscountcy instead!"

Leon blinked, then took a bite of his slice. Nope. Still don't like anchovies. "Alright..?"

"All right? Really? That's the first thing you say? Your brother's a goddamn titled, landed Gilnean nobleman out of nowhere! After all the shit I went through to get my shitty little Barony carved out of Duskwood! Not only does he just walk into some office in Stromgarde and walk out with a title, he walks out outranking me! Which I didn't know I would care about until it happened!"

Leon said nothing, simply letting her unload, as was his wont. His neverending patience pissed her off even more, as was her wont.

"I had, and still have, to work my absolute ass off for every single scrap I've ever gotten or ever will get, and then I have to work even more to keep it, and your bullfuckin' Ambroce luck has Terry just survive long enough! What the fuck, Leon?!"

When she stopped to ask him a question, even if it was a rhetorical one, Leon looked up from finishing off his slice. He calmly licked his fingers, then set his elbows on the table. Then, he set his chin on his hands. "Would it 'elp any if I said it wasn't all luck this time?"

"Well of course it wasn't all luck, it takes a shitload of skill to survive the absolute fuckalanche of shit he's been through, but--"

"No, I mean it was me."

That stopped the little mage mid-rant. "What was you?"

"Th' Gilnean Repatriation Initiative sent out letters somethin' like a month ago. I got one, you prolly got one tha' got tossed out, knowin' 'ow you an' Terry feel about anythin' bearin' th' royal seal of anywhere."

Shedwyn gaped.

Leon continued, "I'm just as much a Gilnean as 'e is, but I've my life 'ere, an' I very much like it. An' really, goin' 'ome does not bring 'appy mem'ries t' th' fore. Maybe I coulda got th' ranch back, but... gods, I don't want it. But I know Terry does. An' anybody 'o'd met th' man fer five minutes knew 'e'd go back t' Gilneas th' instant th' call went out. So I sent a reply with a couple suggestions."

Shedwyn's hair was starting to crackle like one of those globe toys that made lightning strike where your fingertips touched them.

Leon, undeterred, picked up the pizza plate and walked it back into the kitchen.

"My brother is a turd, a recoverin' racist, an' more than a bit of a jackass. But 'e's also an extremely patriotic, loyal man when 'e wants t' be. Tha's admirable as 'ell! Downright noble, even. Apparently they agreed, eh?"

The chair clattered to the floor as Shedwyn stood up, both hands up in front of her, grasping at the air in a strangling motions.

"You- you-"

"Feel free t' tell 'im Leroy says congratulations." He turned and stared her straight in the eye, even as they crackled with arcane lightning. "Elroy does, too."

Later on, Shedwyn would say the only reason Leon survived that meeting was because she didn't want to destroy the house, his spouses didn't deserve that.

Mostly it was because everytime she'd try to gather up the energy to cast something, he'd headbutt her, and she was too stubborn to dodge.

( @daily-writing-challenge @shedwyn )

[whitedragoncoranth]

Life on Knowhere 4

I remembered the horrible words the Skrull in the guise of "Old Rocket" - prisoner Rocket - had said to me. "I AIN'T A FUCKIN' ANIMAL! Do you even SEE me as sentient? Or am I just yer fuckin' pet?! Why– WHY do you touch me when you FUCKIN' KNOW I HATE BEIN' TOUCHED, ya useless piece o' shit bald-body? Do ya even see me as a person?!" Erroneously thinking that this was the real Rocket, I'd been about to answer the foul shapeshifter - that yes, he wasn't an animal, that I acknowledged him as a sentient person, that I was deeply sorry for petting him the way I had been, that he wasn't a pet - but then, the Skrull's plans were utterly undone. Rocket Raccoon - the real Rocket Raccoon - strolled into the same alley carrying some packages; he'd been out running a few errands here and there.

He deduced the situation in microseconds. The packages dropped to the ground; the legendary Quad-Blaster came out… and then the Skrull was … everywhere… gore and viscera splattered all over the alleyway, as Rocket snarled and fired again, and again, and again. By the time he was finished, there wasn't even enough left of the Skrull for the foul alien to even revert to its original form; only the gore reverted, the blood and viscera turning purple. Teary eyed, Rocket spat on the ground, holstered his weapon, then tore over to me. I thought to flinch away at first -- but Rocket had told me of Skrulls; and this was the real Rocket, I knew it! He wormed his way into my arms, and I hugged him so tightly as we both wept for a moment, my body shaking from adrenaline. Then, "Are ya okay?! What da fuck happened?! What'd he do to ya?! Are ya hurt?!" he asked

"Nah, li'l man, just…" I took a moment to get my breathing under control - tried, and failed, to still my trembling body - then continued, "just shocked. You… you told me about Skrulls but, I never thought… I never thought I'd see one here; hell, I never thought I'd see one at all! He didn't hurt me at all, but he did say some pretty awful things in regard to how I treat you, like, like he was trying to drive a wedge between us, ruin our relationship, this thing we have. This is my fault--" Rocket grimaced, shook his head, but I continued, "nah, man, it is; I shouldn't have gone out without Cosmo. Fuck…" Rocket still shook his head and hissed - it was still no one's fault. "Let's… let's just get your packages and go home, yeah?" Rocket nodded, his expression dark, muttering curses under his breath. Together, we picked up his dropped items and headed home -- but not to my apartment; we only stopped there to pick up Cosmo, then immediately went to Rocket's apartment, which was far more secure than mine.

Later, as Rocket sat with me on his battered old couch, I told him the horrible things the Skrull imposter had said… and as I talked, his expression grew sadder, and sadder… Suddenly, Rocket abruptly stood, closed the apartment shutters and shucked off his uniform even as Cosmo helped me undress, too. Now clad only in our under-garments, Rocket and I settled into his bed, pulling the duvet over us, the bed quickly warming as Cosmo gently heated the sheets up a little with her powers before curling at our feet. Gently Rocket took my hand, deliberately placed it on his head, then rested his head on my chest with a shuddering sigh - he really, truly wanted to be cuddled and petted - and as the tension left my body, as he trilled softly and began to purr… it was a relief; all was well. "I have always acknowledged you as a person, Rocket," I started gently as I ran my hands through his thick, fluffy fur. "I have never thought of you as a pet, or not sapient--"

Rocket shushed me gently, nuzzling over me as his purrs filled the room. "My name," he started, "is Rocket. Rocket Raccoon, and... I am an animal. An animal that the High Evolutionary turned into a person -- somethin' I never wanted an' didn't ask for! Until I found out that I was a raccoon - an animal first - I always thought the opposite was true, that I was a man first, forced into the adapted body of an animal. You… don't you dare take on board anything that fuckin' asshole who wasn't me said to you! In all the time I've known you, you've always tried to acknowledge both sides 'o me -- that, yeah I'm a person NOW but I'm still a raccoon, and… oftentimes I do… raccoon things." At this, we both giggled, remembering how I'd played with him for hours with a simple laser pointer; how he'd hollowed out a Den under the middle seat of my couch (for which he'd apologized profusely), and how he still ate with his two li'l hands and without closing his mouth! He grew serious again. "Because'a you, I ain't afraid of touch no more. You taught me that touch can feel good, and I like being petted by you; helps me relax and calm down when I'm angry about stuff or when a mission goes all shitty cos Quill's still an idiot!" We laughed again, and even Cosmo joined in.

[duhragonball]

JoJolion Ch.43-46

This is the "Love Love Deluxe" arc. Ignore that star birthmark in this image. it's a mistake, and from what I read they wound up editing it out of later editions of this comic.

Last time, Yasuho and Tsurugi narrowly escaped from another Rock Human. Since then they've taken Yasuho to the doctor to have those cuts on her face looked at, but Chapter 43 opens with Tsurugi putting more band-aids all over her. I think the gag is that Tsurugi has a crush on Yasuho and he's too young to really know what to do about it, so he'll take any excuse he can find to get up close with her.

Anyway, Tsurugi called Josuke at some point, and he finally meets them, although he doesn't recognize Yasuho at first, maybe because of the band-aids on her face, or because he was expecting Tsurugi to be alone. They both get emotional about seeing each other again, because it's been a while. How long? Well, let's see...

They were separated when Josuke moved into the Higashikata mansion. Kyo warned Yasuho to stay away from the place, and when Yasuho saw Josuke next, he couldn't remember her because Daiya had taken that memory from him.

Later, Josuke used her cell phone to call Yasuho and they were going to meet to search for Holly Joestar Kira, but Josuke was intercepted by Born This Way. Yasuho helped him with Paisley Park, but she was unaware of it at the time.

Josuke tried to contact her again using Joshuu's phone, but she was blocking Joshuu's number. He got through with an e-mail and there were going to meet up at the Sesame Honey Cafe, but Yasuho was intercepted by Tsurugi's Paper Moon King. Josuke saw her later during the conflict with Yotsuyu Yagiyama, but she was asleep the entire time. After the battle, Norisuke sent her home while Josuke was out buying snacks, or something.

Josuke enlisted Yasuho's help to study the data logs on Jobin's car, but he never contacted her directly, and sent Tsurugi in his place.

Finally, Yasuho and Tsurugi spied on the baseball stadium to get some more information on Aisho Daienjiyama, but Josuke wasn't in that arc, and they weren't able to contact him. I assume Josuke knew about what they were up to, but maybe not. It's possible Tsurugi talked her into it because he was so desperate to get his li'l hands on a piece of that mysterious, life-saving fruit.

So yeah, a lot of missed connections there. We see so much of them both in this story that it's easy to lose sight of the fact that they've been kept apart. But they know, and that's why they're so emotional here.

Also, this arc suggests that it's been... six months since the earthquake? That can't be right. Well, that'd explain why Josuke was so determined to start school.

Tsurugi knows this will take a while, so he excuses himself and heads home. He wants to search the baseball stadium for Aisho's secret stash of miracle fruit, but he's smart enough to know better than to go alone. Good, get lost, kid. This is what we all came here to see. No more of this fruit parlor origami beetle-fighting nonsense. Higashikata time is over. Now it is time for Large Fries.

I enjoy fried chicken myself, but also fuck you, fried chicken. Large fries, briliant song, A plus, no notes. Yasuho is so overcome by this song that she thinks it's some famous tune, but Josuke is pretty sure he just made it up on the spot. She wants to hear it again. Also they've been holding hands pretty much the entire time and it's great.

I was a little disappointed that we didn't see more of these two getting together in Part 8. I was hoping for something in the final chapter to indicate that they were engaged, or making out, or anything to move their relationship further along. But this is about the strongest evidence we get that the Ship is Real. And really, it's enough. It's understandable to want more, but this is enough to confirm that they're not just "good friends" or whatever else.

Then this lady shows up and signals Josuke from a distance. She promises to meet him later, and addresses him as "Secchan". I'm not sure how she communicated this without Yasuho noticing, but Josuke excuses himself to find out what this is about.

She's more confused than hurt. I mean, if it's really been six months like this, then she's not going to be too flustered waiting twenty minutes for Josuke to check something out. His motives are clear. This woman seemed to know him from before the earthquake, and he doesn't want to tip his hand by admitting that he doesn't remember her. So he has to investigate alone.

At first, she thinks this is her friend, "Secchan", wearing a disguise to lay low. She noticed him at the fruit parlor the other day, and now she's trying to make contact. One of the first things she does is ask Josuke for money so she can find a place to sleep, but later he finds her blowing it all on Pachinko machines or whatever. Before that, she starts to suspect that he's not her friend after all and runs off, but Josuke uses Soft and Wet to read her ID card and finds out she's Karera Sakunami. When he calls her by name, she begins to trust him again, but Josuke can't get a lot of answers out of her.

Mostly, he's just bewildered by her behavior. Karera is impulsive and uses her Stand, Love Love Deluxe, to swindle and steal. She spends her money on things like laptops, which she says she'll need for her future career in fashion design, because she can't draw, so she expects to need CG software to do all the sketches.

Her Stand is kind of the same as the original "Love Deluxe" from Part 4, except Karera can grow hair on other people too. She tries to trick bald men into thinking she can regrow their hair, but the effect wears off after they walk out of her effective range, so it's important to get paid before they get too far away. She cheats a cabbie out of his fare by making it look like the car door closed on her hair. I'm not sure how that'd be the cabbie's fault anyway, unless Japanese cab drivers close the passenger doors for their riders. The point is she's kind of a little shit, and Josuke doesn't approve at all.

But the biggest blow for him is when she says she doesn't care about the past, only the here and now. Josuke realizes they're complete polar opposites. All he cares about is uncovering his past, because the here and now is so bleak for him.

And that's the heart of this story. The first time I read this, I thought it was setting up a love triangle of sorts, and it is, but Josuke's dilemma isn't between Yasuho and Karera. His dilemma is betwen his identity has now, as Josuke Highashikata, and the identity he longs for, the one he believes he had prior to the earthquake.

Eventually, Josuke convinces Karera to show him her phone, and she pulls up a photo she took of the three of them together: Karera, Yoshikage Kira, and... Josefumi Kujo. "Secchan" is a nickname for people who have a "se" syllable in their name, you see. The reveal of Josefumi's name and appearance is powerful for Josuke, but it's still just another piece of the puzzle he's trying to solve. It doesn't bring back a flood of Josufumi's memories or anything. In the end, it's not much different from when he discovered Yoshikagi Kira.

And it's disillusioning as well. Kira was kind of a weirdo, and I think Josuke was clinging to the hope that if he's Kira fused with another person, then that other person would be more likable. He wanted Josefumi to be the sort of person Josuke would want to have been. But if he hung around with people like Kira and Karera, then it really doesn't fit. Josuke wants to see his "past self" in these three, but he can't. That's because there is no "past self" for Josuke. He isn't Kira or Josefumi, and using their friends and enemies to define himself doesn't work. Karera can't tell him who he is, because she never knew him. Hell, she may not have known Josefumi all that well.

Indeed, Karera thinks Josuke's a disguise so he can lay low for a while. It's the same reason she left Morioh for six months. She doesn't know about Kira's death until Josuke explains it to her, so there's a lot of things that were going on back then that she isn't clear on. Apparently the three of them took possession of one of those fruit trees that the Rock Humans have been selling. Karera thinks it's still in Kira's apartment, but Josuke was there not too long ago and never saw it.

And that brings us to the villains of this arc, the Aphex Brothers. They're apparently twin brother Rock Humans and they've been tracking Karera this whole time, presumably because of her role in the fruit tree theft. She thought the heat had died down, which is why she came back to find Josefumi, but she has no idea what's been going on lately.

As for the Aphex Bros. powers, the older brother has a Stand called Schott Key No. 1 that just lets him teleport objects from one hand to the other. His right hand is just a deformed clump of rock with a thumb, though. I think the idea is that stuff that he can control the stuff that comes through the right hand, but we'll take a look in a second.

The younger brother has Schott Key No. 2, which is just a Stand that makes poison gas. This is kind of inconvenient, so he stores it in a bag shaped like a soccer ball. The effective range is only 20 cm, so you have to be right next to the ball for it to do any damage when it's opened.

So the older brother tries to grab Karera and uses his power to siphon gasoline with one hand and soak her with it using the other. Not sure why the gasoline is flesh-colored, but maybe Japan gets their petroleum from some weird refineries.

The boys try to light Karera on fire, but Josuke saves her by removing the flames with his Soft and Wet bubles. So the Aphex Brothers attack him instead. Karera flees, but she's been doing that all along, and they know they can find her later.

See, this is what I mean about Schott Key No. 1. He can grab the cables on this fence with the left hand, and they emerge from the right, just like the gasoline, but Aphex can wrap them around Josuke's face and neck like tentacles. This is supposed to hold him still while the younger Aphex sets up his poison gas, but...

Josuke distracts them with a bunch of soap bubbles full of nuts and bolts. Also, much of this fight is just Josuke whopping these guys' asses with his bare hands. He uses Soft and Wet in places, like when he puts a bubble under the skin of one brother's face and makes it burst open. But mostly he's just styling all over them with cool fighting skills.

The younger Aphex tries to razzle-dazzle him with soccer tricks, but Josuke counters with an "elbow to the face" trick, which is a lot more effective.

So where did Josuke learn to fight so good? I think this must have come from Kira and/or Josefumi. He doesn't remember their personal experiences, but he does retain basic knowledge about the world. He knows who Thomas Edison is, for example. He knows how to read and write.

I mean, the alternative is that he got this good since March, and who would have taught him? Joshuu? Don't make me laugh.

Finally, Aphex 1 gets the ball and prepares to move the poison gas from his left hand to the right, which is aimed at Josuke's face. This seems like an ideal finishing move, where the boys combine their Stands to trap their foe in an inescapable trap, but Josuke warns them that he'll win if they try this.

That's because he snuck his soap bubbles into the ball, and they soaked up all the gas. Aphex 1 can still bring it over through his right hand, but they won't burst until Josuke wants them to. Also, Karera has returned, and she's grown a strand of hair and soaked it in gasoline to light Aphex 1's head on fire.

Aphex 2 tries to rush over to help his brother, the bubbles pop when he gets there, so he just ends up inhaling a lungfull of his own poison gas. So they both die together.

I could goof on these two, but I think it's clear that their main role in the Rock Human's little gang is to hunt down and kill their enemies, who are usually humans without Stands. Their plan to kill Karera seemed pretty quick and effective, but once they lost the element of surprise, their weaknesses became very apparent. Someone could have shot them down from across the road and that would have probably killed them, because the poison gas only works in a 20cm range, and Aphex 1's power only works on things within his own reach.

Then Karera runs off again. She tells Josuke that she came back because she felt bad about getting him into this mess, and she realizes now that Kira and Josefumi must have performed some sort of Equivalent Exchange with the fruit tree they stole. She promises to come back and see him sometime, but she won't say when.

One major clue she does give Josuke is the name of the fruit, "Locacaca." This has been spelled a number of different ways, but I think "Locacaca" has emerged as the "official" spelling so I'll just run with that. The really important thing here is that Josuke is flustered because "I still haven't asked you who I am..." So the lesson hasn't quite sunk in yet. Karera can't tell Josuke who he is. It's not a matter of whether she wants to, or whether she even knows. Ultimately, it's impossible for her to define his existence. Josuke has to achieve that himself through the choices he makes in the present.

Yasuho can't define him either, but Josuke can define himself through his relationship with her, if he chooses to do so. So she's an opportunity to develop himself as a person, if he wants it. And she's still waiting for him to get back, so the window is still open on that.

In contrast, the "promise" of Karera is ultimately hollow. She just wants a roll in the hay with Josefumi, and she can't give him what he truly wants. She isn't even claiming to be able to do that. Josuke could wait for her to return, but he has no idea how long that might take, and it still won't get him where he wants to go.

But it's the idea of a mystery woman who can tell him who he is, that's what fascinates Josuke here. It's the same as Tsurugi's desperation for a taste of that Locacaca fruit. By now, it's become pretty clear that it can't save his life from the Rock Disease. It grew back that old man's entire leg, but his eyes fell out in exchange. The only way equivalent exchange can save you from a terminal illness is by killing someone else instead, and Tsurgui's grandfather already has that planned out. But the idea of bypassing all of that with just a bite of fruit is clouding Tsurugi's judgement, which is why he keeps wanting to rush into danger when he ought to know better.

The true path for Tsurugi's salvation is more complicated than this. The Locacaca fruit is part of it, but it's not the entire thing. The same holds true for Josuke's self-actualization. The answers won't be handed to him by certain people. He has to develop his own relationships and figure things out for himself. Like that song he made up.

[carry-on-my-wayward-gays]

Hiii Shadow do you wanna be sad about Jimmy with me

Imagine Jimmy regressing in the afterlife all alone with no caretaker. Then when he finally isn't alone the person he gets is Joel who, though he wants to help, has no idea how to care for a little.

I've had this in my head since today's video I need to get it out

AND WHAT IF I DISINTEGRATED YOU W MY LASER EYES.

God fucking- LIKE. Jimmy opening his eyes to the void. Or a small in between space, however you like to imagine it. He's a bit freaked out, frantically patting down and checking his own body to make sure this is real. That he is real. He's solid. All in one piece, wings included.

And then Jimmy remembers his death. Oh shit. Ohhh shit his Bad Boys must be so mad. He messed up so so royally.

Jimmy whines and curls into a little ball, tucking his knees against his chest and scooting back to find a wall. But there is no wall.

He hiccups as tears start to bubble in his eyes. Brown with a dying shine of red. They turn glassy while what feels like buckets start to gather on his waterline.

It was an accident... He did his best but still made a mistake. It had to be his mistake right? Isn't it always somehow his fault? He had to have done something wrong to have such a tragic accident happen to him again. Right?

Jimmy blinks, and the dam breaks.

He buries his face into his knees and sobs. He feels himself drop, absolutely plummet mentally. He falls so fast he gets dizzy. And when he stops he feels so much smaller than he's comfortable being.

He wishes someone were here. Someone to hug him and comfort him, make him less lonely in the most lonely place in the universe.

But you don't get friends in the void. When he gets back to Empires he'll find Norman or Flick or, Hell, stumble to the barn and snuggle himself on his horse's back. He's sure the animal would let him fall asleep on its back if he wanted. He just wants someone...

Jimmy hears footsteps and his head shoots up. His wings fluff anxiously and start to tremble like they're ready to lift him off the ground if he wishes. They aren't big enough for that.

"Holy- Jimmy?"

He can't see as far away as the voice sounded, but he knows by how the pitch picks up at the end the voice belongs to Joel. Joel...

Great. Just the person he wants to see while small. Go figure the one other person he'd see after such an embarrassing death that made him regress was his teammate and the one person most likely to mock him for regressing.

Jimmy makes a tiny noise of protest and scoots back further. Still no corner to tuck himself into.

"Jimmy, man," Joel jogs over to him and stops at Jimmy's toes. "Shit, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. Or anyone for that matter."

Jimmy frowns at the swear word, but doesn't point it out.

Joel blinks down at his friend. He seems to have taken notice to the very obvious fact of Jimmy crying, or he had been. "Hey," Joel squats down. "Don't beat yourself up too much. It was stupid, but these games are just for fun. Bet I went out in a stupider way."

Jimmy shakes his head. "Was a as'ident.."

Joel tilts his head and leans forward a bit like it would help him understand Jimmy's little voice better. "A what? An accident?" Jimmy nods.

"Sorry, you've gotta speak up." Joel falls back and sits on his bottom with his legs crossed. "Of course it was an accident. I don't think you'd let a silly TnT minecart take you out on purpose."

Jimmy looks to the ground. Er.. what he presumes to be the ground, see as it's solid and they're sitting on it. "G mad at me?" He mumbles into his sleeve.

Joel chews on his bottom lip at that that one. "I don't think so... He was pretty upset when you died. He's gotta be even more upset now." Joel looks up, finding Jimmy staring at him. Big brown eyes still glassy.

"Are you alright, by the way? You're pretty quiet." Joel asks. It's a moment of vulnerability, of course he'd show this side of him in the void only. And he's sure it'd stay in the void.

Jimmy shakes his head. "Li'l. M' sorwy." He watches Joel for a reaction. All he gets is confusion.

"Little? What do you m- Oh." Oh indeed. He'd forgotten the terminology, since it'd been a while since Joel had to even be around a regressor, but he was familiar. Grian used to go small occasionally in Last Life, but he'd always call on someone else to care for him.

And Etho regressed too, though not in an age sense. For some reason he was content to have Joel tend to his needs and indulge in his fox-like habits inside their boat. Might've been the soulbond, or the fact it only happened twice. Joel didn't know.

"Oh, ok. Um... How little?" Jimmy shrugged, holding up two fingers, pausing and switching to three. Then two again.

"Alright. It's, uh, it's ok to not know. Do you need anything, want anything?" Joel knows he's fumbling. He's just... never had to do this before.

Jimmy's arms immediately shoot out and he makes grabby hands, silently asking for Joel to take him into his arms.

Joel cautiously reaches back and scoops Jimmy up, hugging the blond close. Like he was made of glass. The little almost instantly relaxes. Someone is holding him, finally. And Joel gives pretty good hugs.

"Sorry I can't do much else for you right now. We'll just have to wait until we get home." Joel says. One arm loops protectively around Jimmy's middle, and his other hand rests on his back. Like he's holding an actual baby.

"S' fine. Cuddwes good." Jimmy sighs and nuzzles his face against Joel's shoulder.

"...And I'm sorry this made you regress. I know you'll be ok, but it still stinks." At this point Joel was just talking to himself, the baby in his arms was far too tired to keep listening, and was zoning out.

If it wasn't for the distant "Etho, you jerk!" Jimmy probably would have fallen asleep.

Joel whips his head around and Jimmy looks up too, barely raising his head from Joel's shoulder.

"Skizz?!" Joel shouts back. Jimmy whines at the loud noise and Joel pets his blond hair as an apology.

"Joel?! Are you serious right now?!" Skizz shouts back and, from the sounds of it, starts running towards them. He appears from the darkness and grins. He's... still in his red name costume. Joel instinctively shields Jimmy's eyes from the sight.

"Oh hey! Jimmy's here too." He chirps. "Man, go figure I get stuck with the two people we kinda had beef with."

"Yeah, real funny." Joel grumbles. "You could not have picked a worse outfit to wear this series."

Skizz looks down, finding little issue with his apparel besides maybe a second pair of pants. "I look great to me."

"It's not child friendly, is my point. And I don't know if you could tell, but Jimmy is in a childish headspace." Joel stated matter-of-factly. Jimmy thought of biting him for telling his secret, but just made an annoyed whine and squirmed a bit.

Skizz's whole demeanor changed. "Oh my- Ok yeah that.. This looks a bit bad now." Joel still glared at him over his sunglasses.

Skizz moved Joel's hand from Jimmy's eyes and smiled at the kid. "Hey, sorry you gotta see me in my undies." He jokes. Jimmy snorts and almost giggles. He looks so sleepy...

"I promise I won't tell a soul. I look after a little too, so I get it. This'll stay your secret." Skizz reassures. It calms a steady drip of anxiety in Jimmy's gut, so he just nods.

"Thank you, Skizz." Joel says for the both of them. "Oh hey, got any tips?"

Skizz tosses his head from side to side. "The little guy seems pretty happy right now. If he's still small when you get home, just ask him if he needs anything."

"Thanks. We... should be going soon, yeah?" Joel looks around as if to find a timer or another accursed clock to indicate how long they'd been here.

"Any minute now, probably. I'll see you guys in the next one then." Skizz delivers it like a joke. Like maybe he'd see them before then, though he wouldn't. Their lives were just too different.

"Yeah. Maybe we'll be friends next time."

[sangelune]

@coolrpblog / cont.

   so  soap's  little  plaything  knows  how  to  be  a  little  feisty.  ghost  presses  his  body  heavily  against  franks,  before  giving  a  hard  grind  of  his  hips  against  frank  with  a  low  growl  rumbling  from  deep  in  his  chest.  usually  this  is  saved  for  going  off  base  -  but  god  if  it's  not  about  to  be  dragged  out  and  put  on  full  fucking  display.  it  all  started  with  a  promise  of  a  plaything  to  get  absolutely filthy  with  -  and  ghost  couldn't  deny  how  his  desire  had  sparked  at  the  thought  when  soap  brought  it  up.  he  can't  deny  the  way  his  cock  twinges  now,  just  thinking  of  what  he's  going  to do.  sure  it'll  be  hell  to  hide  someone  for  a  few  days  while  they  recover  from  ghost  -  but  it'll  be  so  fucking  worth  it  to  get  everything  that's  so  hopelessly  pent  up  inside  of  him out. 

   "'m  gonna  fuckin' break  you."  the  gruff  growl  doesn't  let  up  -  a  hint  of  a  possessive  nature  sewn  into  it.  his  other  arm  moves,  his  large  gloved  hand  closing  around  frank's  neck,  tightening,  restricting  the  airflow  without  a  second  thought. i  could  fucking  kill  you  here  and  now.  the  threat  stands  from  action  alone. 

   "gonna  make  you  fuckin'  cry  like  a bitch."  there's  a  sadistic  glee  in  his  tone.  "have  my  cock  split  you  in  fuckin' two."  the  desire  shoots  through  him,  a  corruptive  poison  that  he'll  bend  to.  "you  gonna  be  a  good  fuckin'  li'le  toy?  gonna  take  i'  wi'ou'  complaint?"  the  chuckle  that  comes  next  doesn't  bode  well.  "'ow  'bout  you  star'  me  off  wi'  tha'  mouth  a  yours?  wanna  shove  my  cock  down  your  pretty  fuckin'  throat.  make  you  choke  on  me."  he  releases  his  grip  around  frank's  neck.  "gonna  prove  soap  right?  'e  says  you're  worth  keepin'  'round.  been  needin'  a  fuckin'  slut  t'  take  me  when  i  wan'  i'.  you  good  enough  for  i'?"

[endwersed]

WIP Wednesday

Cashing in on the open tag from the amazing @renmackree 💖

Here's a bit more from my current Sterek FWB AU - you don't see me. Derek continues to be straight (ha, sure) and Stiles continues to enable him. A li'l nsfw.

-

“I feel like I should argue, on account of your heterosexuality, and all,” Stiles says, tongue darting out to wet his lips for a second, “but I’m definitely way too horny to be a gentleman right now, so… get your pants off and get over here, Hale.”

Derek doesn’t quite trip and fall into a heap on the floor in his haste to step out of his shorts and briefs – but it’s a pretty near thing.

The clothes leave a dark cotton puddle behind his hurried footsteps, and it’s barely any time at all before he finds himself kneeing his way onto the bed, the soft mattress dipping beneath him as he chases Stiles towards the centre of it. Stiles has this huge, borderline ridiculous grin on his face as he watches Derek catch up to him, his eyes lidded, the brown almost entirely eaten up by the black of his pupils as he looks his fill.

In the mussed-up sheets, his fingers flex and unflex, pulling the fabric between his knuckles as he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. The inviting smile remains around it.

Without a word needing to pass between them, Stiles leans himself up and rolls himself over, flopping down onto his belly, the round of his perky ass now on full display for Derek’s laser focus. He pulls his legs underneath himself and shoves his shoulders against the bed, presenting himself face down and ass up, his knees shifting apart as he twists his head on the pillow to peer at Derek over his shoulder.

Derek knows he looks more than a little moronic right now; blinking down at Stiles with a gaping mouth, his hand curled tightly around his dick to stroke himself to full hardness – not that it takes much at all. But there’s very little he can do about it when it feels like his brain is threatening to leak out of his ears pretty much any second now.

“Condom?” he just about finds the cells to ask.

Immediately, he kind of really hates himself for even offering in the first place. Truly, he cannot think of something on this godforsaken earth that he wants more than to feel Stiles' tight, hot asshole clinging around his raw cock.

But it's what he should do; it's the right thing to do. So, even as he burns to bite them back, he lets the words spill from his lips just like acid, all the same.

Derek's skin grows hot with a renewed hunger when Stiles gives a quick shake of his head.

“I’m not seeing anyone. Still clean.” He shoves his forearms beneath the pillow he rests his head against, hips hitching just that little bit backwards, still not quite close enough for any skin-to-skin contact. “You?”

Derek feels something settle in the deep recesses of his bones, hearing that from Stiles. A question, unasked but introspectively obsessed upon, all the same, has been nudging at his bristling consciousness ever since Scott and Allison’s engagement party. A question of whether anything had blossomed from Scott practically forcing Stiles to meet that loser Brad.

He knows that they swapped numbers, couldn’t get away from the conversation fast enough to avoid hearing Stiles telling Scott all a-fucking-bout it. But he could never find the right way to ask Stiles whether anything came of that exchange; whether this… thing between them, between Derek and Stiles, had a quickly approaching expiry date, because somebody finally clued up and realised that Stiles is quite possibly the ultimate gay catch.

With a deep-seated sense of tranquility, he knows, now. Stiles isn’t seeing anyone. Stiles is still in this, with him. Stiles is still… his.

Whatever the fuck that means.

“Yeah,” Derek finally answers Stiles’ returned question. “Still clean, too.”

Stiles flashes him a grin, all teeth and promise.

“Then what are you waiting for, big guy?” he goads. “I was ready before you even joined the party.”

-

Low low low pressure tags 🥰 @dear-massacre @eevylynn @hedwig221b @lucky-bishop @violetfairydust

[cass1x1]

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿ all of themmmm

SEND “ ✿ ” FOR 2 HEADCANONS FOR OUR MUSES’ RELATIONSHIP.

is that 2 each? i'm going to assume it's 2 each or i'll be here for 20000 years writing headcanons

adrian/sage

sage's ex-fiance left her the ring (it was cheap and he just wanted to be rid of her) but adrian gets her a ring eventually anyway. he says it's to make this seem more real but we all know the real reason...

sage starts tucking little notes into the books he's reading but since he reads so many she doesn't always know which one/ones he'll see first so she puts a little code on them so she can keep track

astrid/zara

the first time astrid had a vision that they were able to prevent involving zara was actually in person. they just happened to be at the store (definitely not trying to figure out if it would come true or not) and ran into zara at the exact moment where they could pull her away from the falling sign

because zara is a celebrity, once they do start going out, they agree to try to hide astrid's identity for a little while so they can have privacy. they both blow it pretty much immediately though

chan yeol/jae

there's one (1) girl jae thinks is good enough for chan yeol of the ones he is forced to go on dates with, but it turns out she's not interested either and jae finds that Proof in some way

once he's comfortable/secure that he's not gonna get fired, jae starts slipping little meetings or briefings into yeol's schedule with people who could actually improve the world in hopes that yeol accidentally greenlights one of their ideas without knowing he's been set up

charlotte/victoria

after the wedding, victoria lingers back home/near charlotte for an extra week before going back to california because she's not ready to face her real life yet

when they dated the first time around, they used to go to really pretentious museums and stuff like that because they both thought the other one liked it, oops

elizabeth/ryan

their original plan/contract includes a breakup date

elizabeth starts keeping clothes (work outfits mostly) at ryan's place way before the first time they have sex because they go back to his place just to hang out more often than they go to hers

ethan/noah

movies are one of the kinds of "dates" they can go on where they can hide well, but they also do a speakeasy in downtown that none of their friends like

they do eventually make friends with the other person being cheated on (barry's other bf's bf) and have a little circle of "fuck barry tho"

julian/wynter

after their first kiss, wynter pretty much avoids julian until he gives her a sign that she didn't mess things up between them

their moms have absolutely no idea they're together until they tell them. charlotte, on the other hand, knows right away

miles/sonia

when sonia graduates, miles takes her on a li'l vacation to celebrate (idk where he'd take her but it's super cute regardless)

sonia never sabotages any of miles's dates but one of her coworkers (who works in the kitchen) DEFINITELY purposefully makes worse food for the date because she's rooting for sonia/miles from day 1

linette/wren

before wren figures out who linette is/why a hit's been taken out on her, she tries really, really hard to hide who she is from him. not because she knows who/what he is or anything, just like...it's so nice for someone to seem like they're taking an interest in her that's not about her ex

wren audits a few of her lessons (for recon reasons i assume) and linette becomes really determined to figure out what kind of art he likes

[daysofourlivesrecaps]

Monday, 15 May 2023

Beautiful Alex is still fired. He mopes and  commiserates with Stephanie a bit, and asks her to stick around for a few drinks as this delicately transitions into drunken moping and commiserating. Astoundingly, she agrees to this and even more astoundingly they don't fall into bed together. When she excuses herself to visit the ladies' room (she doesn't use the words "massive dump" but they're implied), her phone rings. Alex, seeing that it's Chad, answers and hands the phone to Stephanie as she returns from the can five pounds lighter than when she left.

(This is all a callback to that time Alex and Stephanie fucked. Her phone rang while she was out of the room and Alex, seeing it was Chad, hit the red button and turned off her phone. So they could fuck. This was entirely wrong of him, and she dumped his ass. I think this "answering her phone politely" thing is meant to show how much he's grown since that incident, but maybe just don't touch someone else's phone altogether, buddy?)

Sad Eyes Shawn has sad eyes because he shot his dad and now his dad's in a coma. This seems like an appropriate thing to feel sad and guilty about, but Roman tells him it wasn't his fault. Which is encouraging but also entirely incorrect. It is, in fact, entirely Shawn's fault that he shot his dad.

And out at sea, aboard the... did they even give this boat a name? I'm going to call it the HMS Lobsterfest. Aboard the Lobsterfest, our Brave Li'l Commando Boys manage to apprehend Dimitri (who I was really just starting to like, so I hope he doesn't go anywhere), rescue Kate and, perhaps most importantly of all, rescue Kate's wedding ring. Look, Roman has yet to make any kind of impression on me as a character in over a year, but he seems like a decent enough person. He thought his wife died in November, and then he thought she came back and died a second time when his own brother (also back from the dead) shot her. My point is, he's going to be very happy to see her and probably won't care if she lost her wedding ring in this 6-month adventure in the afterlife, in a science lab and at sea. But everyone does what Kate says because... well, she's Kate and she's magnificent.

She is then reunited with Roman and... well, I said this already. Roman seems like an okay guy, but he has zero screen presence whatsoever and his character is "married way out of his league and makes good clam chowder."  Back in November/December, we thought that we'd lost Kate, Kayla and Marlena. Then we got a whole insane roller coaster ride that followed them literally from the afterlife to a mad science lab and finally back home. Marlena just celebrated her 5000th episode, but the other two can't be too far behind that. These are dynamic legacy characters whose continued presence display a real respect for the show's history and are still very interesting to watch in their 60s and 70s. Watching Marlena and Kayla reunite with their (also legacy) partners was some of the best teary soap melodrama this show has delivered since I started watching. Kate and Roman reuniting had all the emotion of finding your reading glasses behind the couch. "Oh. I thought those were gone, but there they are. Now they're back where they belong and I barely even notice them in the first place. By design!"

And none of this is Kate's fault! She just ended up marrying a real Chakotay®-brand Plank of Wood™

And Dimitri reveals that oh, actually, he just happens to have another hostage and that's a pretty fucking solid place to end things.