#as i always say we need to bring back the guillotine

[gardenstateofmind]

i've always believed that voting does not matter on a national level like this shit is rigged, the only way for things to change is to just kill all of these people

[thrashkink-coven]

Okay here’s the hard part.

I think a lot about that guy, so called Jesus, and his philosophy of radical forgiveness and empathy. For a long time I thought that was just a line abusers use to force their victims to forgive them (AND IT IS)

But! I also think about Lucifer and the things he taught me regarding the concept of hell. If I was the ruler of hell and I had to manage all these terrible people, what would I do? Torture them? Give them endless suffering so they feel guilty? Do to them what they did to others so they can understand how bad it feels?

Latinos who voted for Trump, oh you disappoint me, but no, I don’t want you to be deported. Women who voted for Trump, *sigh*, no, I don’t want to see you get an ectopic pregnancy or carry your dead baby. No I do not want all those conservative gays to lose their right to marriage. And no, I don’t even want all of those fucked up fascist nazi racists to die.

It would be SO satisfying to see them get what they deserve, right?

God, I’m so sick of being apart of a species that loves to conquer. We bleed, they win, they bleed, we win. I’m sick of patching wounds. All I see is hellfire.

My friend Taylor Mcnallie is facing fraudulent charges because of an altercation that happened while she was protesting in Calgary. The bitch of a cop who assaulted her not only received no punishment, she got a fucking promotion. I remember during one of Taylor’s speeches someone said something like “I hope she gets arrested and goes to jail,” and Taylor said, “I don’t hope she goes to jail. Jail shouldn’t exist. I just want her to get fired and apologize. That’s all I want.”

Pacifism, true pacifism, like the kind that guy preached about, doesn’t mean laying down and accepting every terrible thing assholes do to you with a smile. It means taking away their ability to harm without harming them yourself. Eliminating the evil without becoming evil. Punching nazis does not make you a nazi, but praying for the death and destruction of people, human beings, because you hate them as much as they hate you? *sigh*

The hardest part about this whole radical empathy thing, is the fact that I cannot even wish harm upon those who want me dead. Isn’t that funny? That literal neo nazi, yeah, I hope he has shelter. Fuck I hope that rapist still eats tonight. I hope he feels shame until the day he dies, but I don’t hope he gets raped in prison. I don’t even want him in prison to be honest, I want him to be cared for, and I want his ability to do harm stripped away.

“Even if he hurts a child?”

God damn it, yes. I can’t add more suffering into the world, even if it is inflicted upon the people I’d love to hate most. I want to take away his power to do evil, I want everyone to know what kind of person he is and the terrible things he does so they can keep themselves safe… and then I want him to be safe.

I want all those terfs to have clean drinking water. I know they hate my guts, ugh, it is what it is. But praying that they experience the pain they’ve caused me, hoping that they die or suffer only makes me more like them.

WHICH SUCKS. This way of thinking is NOT satisfying AT ALL!!! Being vindictive and petty is FUN and it FEELS GOOD!!! That’s why it’s so fucking easy, and that’s why we keep eating each other over and over again.

Having said all of this, we should definitely bring back the guillotine lmao. I’m not saying that we should be super nice to people who are trying to kill us, do fight back. If the people need to kill their oppressors to be free then, hey, I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong for that. This isn’t a “we should all hug and sing kumbaya together! Kindness is always the way!!!” take. If the only way to bring death to the empire is to bring death to its owners, then so be it. Do so in the way that produces the least amount of degradation to your soul.

But wishing natural disasters on Texas, hoping that that racist woman’s parents get deported, out of spite and hatred… what are they doing to you? What are you doing to yourself?

Humanity is disgusting, truly truly abhorrent. I want to be able to look at us and embrace us with acceptance of that. Every single fucking terrible person on this earth deserves liberty, life, and freedom. Even when you spit in my face and hurt the people I love, damn it, I won’t hurt you. I see you as a rabid animal that needs to be sedated and slowly acclimated to compassion. And I will keep trying, even if you never learn. I can’t give up on humanity.

This is the most important and the hardest part. I’m not telling you to forgive, forgiveness is for you. If it doesn’t serve you, don’t forgive. But don’t let people without humanity kill the humanity that exists within you. Don’t let hatred fester in your soul. You’re allowed to be mad, hell, you should be furious. Let that fury keep you warm, but do not become a monster too.

To all you stupid fucking fascist pieces of shit, I hope you get exactly what you deserve. And what you deserve is not death, pain or suffering. It’s self reflection and growth, guilt and humility. As much as I would enjoy seeing you hurt, I refuse to become like you. And damn it I love you, I love every human being on this planet. I love you so much that I cannot become you. I love you so fucking much that I will continue to fight for your rights even when you’re trying to take mine away. and I hate that I love you like this, but I can’t stop.

So I will stop you.

- James Baldwin

[aeliuss]

Warnings!: Smut, MDNI!! Swearing, fluff, sex in the studio with Chan (you know we all think about it.)

Thinking about Chris working in the studio, getting increasingly frustrated as the time ticks on. Nothing seems to be going right, there aren’t any sounds in the library that satisfies him, and swear words are dripping from his mouth, under his breath, like venom. The veins in his arms are popping from how often he has been clenching and unclenching his fists, curly hair all fuzzed up from running his hair through it.

You're there too, lounging on the couch, glancing up from your phone every time he mutters something to himself. He's so caught up in his own agitation that he doesn't notice you walking up to him until your hands are sliding up his shoulder.

He jumps slightly, muscles tense under your touch.

He cranes his neck back to look at you, dark eyes darting to meet yours. "Hey," you murmur softly, your fingers gently massaging the tense muscles in his shoulders. "Need a break?" Your voice is calm, soothing, cutting through the chaos of his mind.

"Can't." He murmurs, his voice strained. "Got deadlines looming over me like a fucking guillotine." He tries to focus back on the screen, but your touch lingers, offering a momentary respite from the storm brewing within him.

You hum in understanding. You knew how it went with Chan. He holed himself up in the studio during comeback season, didn't sleep, and barely ate. He worked himself up so much that by the time dance rehearsals rolled around, his muscles were so tense they felt they might snap.

But you also knew how to navigate those stormy waters, offering support and comfort in the moments when he needed it most.

So you hum, fingers working on the tense muscles between his shoulder blades. "Mmm. Tell me about it."

Chris leans back into your touch, the tension in his shoulders gradually easing as your fingers work their magic. His breath steadies, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, relishing in the comfort you offer amidst the chaos of his mind."It's just... frustrating," he begins, his voice softer now, the edges of his agitation blunted by your presence. He is always soft with you. "I had this vision in my head, you know? But every sound I try, every beat I lay down, it's just... not right. It's like I can't translate what's up here," he taps his temple lightly, then taps his equipment "to here."

As he speaks, you're moving lower, planting soft kisses down the back of his neck and his voice wavers slightly.

"And I can't..." He lets out a small sigh, a shiver running up and down his spine. "Can't figure it out-- baby, what are you doing?"

" 'M loving on you," You say, somewhat cheekily, hands moving up his shoulders and down his chest in a hug. "Are you feeling loved?"

Your question brings a faint smile to Chris's lips, a brief moment of respite from the frustration clouding his mind. "Always, with you," he murmurs, turning his head to steal a gentle kiss from your lips. "But right now, I'm feeling a bit more... frazzled than loved."

He eyes you, focusing on something suddenly. His eyebrow arches, eyes squinting in the adorable way it does when he's perplexed. He tugs on one of your arms on him. " C'mere."

You let him pull you out from behind him, pushing back the computer chair he is sitting on, making space for you, spreading his legs so you can stand between them.

"You're wearing the shirt." He says, looking up to you, large hands settling on your hips.

You glance down at yourself, at the shirt you're wearing. The one you pulled on this morning on purpose, knowing you were coming to see him.

"I'm surprised you just noticed," you say coyly, reaching down to run your fingers along the hem. "I've been here for hours."

He groans, pressing his face into your stomach and inhaling deeply. "You know what that shirt does to me."

His voice is muffled against your stomach, but you can still feel the warmth of his breath through the fabric of your shirt. You run your fingers through his hair gently, a soft smile playing on your lips as you revel in the affectionate gesture.

"It's not my fault you're insatiable," you tease lightly, your touch soothing. There's a mischievous glint in your eyes. "But if it's distracting you from your work, maybe I should take it off."

You feel him chuckle against your stomach, the vibrations sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Chris lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours with a mix of desire and amusement. "As much as I'd love that distraction," he says, his voice low and husky, "I really need to finish this track."

But even as he says it, his hands are sliding up your sides, pulling you closer by your waist so that you're on his lap, straddling his hips.

The tension in the room seems to shift, the frustration giving way to a different kind of intensity as you settle onto his lap. Chris's hands rest firmly on your waist, fingers tracing gentle patterns over the fabric of your shirt.

You lean in closer, your lips hovering just inches from his, teasingly close yet not quite touching. "Just a quick break," you whisper, your breath mingling with his, sending a shiver down his spine. "I promise. Mmm?"

His grip tightened, running a tongue across his bottom lip, eyes darkening. "A quick break," he agrees, pulling you flush against him and finally meeting your lips with his.

His lips are already parted, and they waste no time parting yours, hot tongue slipping inside your mouth, one his hands pressing against the small of your back to steady you, the other already fiddling with the button on your shirt.

You can't help the small gasp that leaves your lips when they give way and he mouths down your throat, messy, hot, openmouthed kisses in the space between your breasts.

"So pretty," he murmurs against your skin. "So fucking beautiful, you know that?"

You shift your hips against his crotch experimentally and his breath instantly hitches. You can feel him, rock hard under his sweats, already twitching. So you cups his face, wrenching him away from your chest and up to your face.

"I know," you say breathlessly. "I just want you right now."

His pupils are blown so wide with desire you can hardly see the brown in them. He keeps looking into your eyes as his hand slips into your skirt, pushing aside your panties to run a finger across your slick folds.

He sucks in a breath. "This wet already?" He says teasingly, nudging his nose against yours. "All f'me, yeah?"

"It's been a long day," You admit tugging at his waistband. He chuckles, but lifts his hips just enough for you pull it down just enough for his cock to spring free, the head flushed an angry pink.

You can't resist the urge to wrap your fingers around him, feeling the heat of his arousal in your hand. His breath hitches at your touch, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, muffling the little whine he can't help but let out.

You stroke him slowly, feeling him throb in your hand, smearing his precum down his length. He's so needy, so responsive to you, which isn't usually like him. He must've been more pent up than you thought.

"Please," he breathes against your skin, his voice a needy whisper. "Need you."

You feel a surge of desire coil in your belly at his plea, his vulnerability stirring something primal within you. With practiced ease, you guide him until his tip is pressed flush against your entrance. You sink down slowly, wincing slightly at the stretch. Usually, Chan preps you before taking him, but today, you are both impatient.

As you take him in, Chris lets out a low, guttural groan, his head falling back as he revels in the feeling of being enveloped by your warmth. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, filling you up completely, and it sends shivers down your spine.

With each slow descent, you take more of him inside you, your bodies joining in a perfect rhythm. Chris's hands find purchase on your hips, guiding your movements, his touch both firm and gentle as he helps you find your pace.

"So good, baby." He whimpers against the crook of your neck. "Always so good for me."

The room is filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths and the soft, wet sounds of your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your core.

Chris's grip on your hips tightens, his movements becoming more urgent, more sloppy, as he chases his own release. His breath comes in hot, desperate pants against your skin. You feel him hesitate slightly, a question unsaid.

" 'S okay," you say, gasping with each thrust. "You can come inside."

But he's shaking his head, chest heaving. "Gotta get you there first. Have...have'ta get you there baby"

His words alone have you squirming but when his hand finds your clit, you're gone. You're moaning rivals his, hips losing all sense of rhythm, thighs burning. But he's got you, hands on your hips, guiding you.

With each stroke of his thumb against your clit, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. Chris's touch is both tender and insistent, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

You cling to him desperately, your nails digging into his shoulders as you chase that elusive peak. His name spills from your lips like a prayer, a mantra of need and desire.

"Chris--"

"Me too," he gasps, hips stuttering, a strangled moan slipping past his lips. "I got you, baby. I got you." His movements become erratic, desperate, as he pushes you both towards the edge. With one final, powerful thrust, you both tumble over that precipice together, a wave of ecstasy washing over you, and you're clenching around him, milking him for everything he gives you.

His arms wrap around you, holding you close as he presses soft kisses against your neck and collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own.

After a few moments of basking in the afterglow, Chris gently pulls back, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that melts your heart. "Okay?" he whispers hoarsely.

"Mmhm," You kiss the spot in between his eyes. "Got a present for you."

His eyebrows raise, lips quirking. "Another one?"

Your lips graze his earlobe as you tell him. Tell him that he'd find your present for him on his laptop. In his library of recorded sounds. The most recent file.

The wheels in his mind are already turning with ideas.

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 21

chapter 36:

1. “It's been so long. Oh, there you are, here you are, hi,” *deep breath* AHHHHHHHHH

2. 😭😭😭 “Remus keeps a firm grip on him and turns around to promptly leave, which is probably a little rude, considering that the others are here and may wish to greet him, but he honestly can't bring himself to care about that right now” i would expect nothing less

3. WOLFSTAR REUNION!!!! I AM IN SHAMBLES!

4. “On the way, James glances back with a grin, internally wishing Sirius all the good things, because no one deserves them more.”

oh. wow. that’s such a soft line. it’s literally making me melt

5. “Remus could not be more in love if he tried.” shit shit shit shit sobbing. wolfstar deserves the world

6. “He does love Sirius, though. Loves him dearly, with every defiant bone in his body. This man, who doesn't even realize the importance of what he's just done by giving Remus an unopened envelope. Remus, who owns nothing. Remus, who has nothing. Remus, who is not granted privacy or freedom for anything like this, for anything at all.”

i am on PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION and i am BAWLING my eyes out as silently as i possibly can. y’all don’t understand the restraint i have right now to not loudly sob

7. the LETTER has me CRYING

8. THE SECRET MESSAGE

9. oh, okay. remus killed an auror/greyback. it’s honestly not as bad as i thought it would be. also, i love the lily and remus duo. they’re so iconic

10. i LOVE LOVE LOVE that zar made a point for sirius to have the discussion that his demisexuality is NOT because of trauma and he’s always been that way. it’s beautiful <3

11. “”You can ask Regulus and James; I walked around for a solid month making everyone call me Mr. Sirius Macdonald."” STOP PLSS THATS SO FUNNY

12. SIRIUS JUST TOLD REMUS HE LOVED HIM!!! this is literally so sweet

13. andjskjdksksjsms the authors note:

“sirius, internally: a guillotine could not sever the head im about to give this man. good for them 😌”

chapter 37:

1. i’m starting a gofundme to get regulus a balcony

2. "”Sirius doesn't let me drink," James replies flatly.

"Well, don't say it like that, James. You make it sound like I'm a strict parent, or a controlling spouse," Sirius grumbles. "And I do let you drink, in moderation, when you're in a safe environment and in a good mental state. Don't forget to mention that you only let me drink within those same rules."”

i bet james is upset with the rules he made for sirius so long ago. came back to bite him in the ass

3. describing sirius as “ruffled like an offended bird” has done wonders for my mental health

4. james, remus, and sirius are all hanging out and i am beyond angry that peter doesn’t get to share this moment

5. pandora is such an angel and doesn’t deserve this pain

6. pandora and reg friendship >>>>>>>>>

7. their outfits for the night!! every last one of them is slaying so hard

8. “There's a tense moment where a group of murderers all stare around at each other, not opposed to adding a few more names to their lists. Oh, and Pandora is there, too, startlingly calm despite this.”

yaxley needs to shut his fucking mouth and stop implying that sirius will fuck his way through issues

9. “"You know what they'll assume we're doing."

"Running away," Regulus mutters.

James sighs in exasperation and fond amusement. "No, Reg. Fucking. They'll assume we've snuck off to find a corner to go fuck in."”

😭😭😭😭😭 i love reg. he’s so ready to leave

10. jegulus is getting their shit together and improving. i’m so glad

11. “James swallows. "They're—they destroy things now, when they never did before. They're rough sometimes. Bloody."

"Warm," Regulus counters, pressing another kiss to James' shaking fingers. "Steady. Strong. These hands hold the people you love. These hands care for them. They're gentle. Tender."”

this is love. what they have is love. it’s messy and broken and so difficult, but they’re trying and it’s love

12. and once again we have wolfstar my true loves ☺️☺️

i feel like nows a good time to add to respect bizzarestars’ wishes to not have the fic reposted or reuploaded a different site. i can’t remember his wishes about bookbinding, but respect those as well.

thank you, lovely people

[call-sign-shark]

⚡ BY THE EYE OF THE STORM || INTRO⚡(repost)

Serie info HERE please read

Pairing:  Hangman x Pilot!reader,  Dagger Squad x Pilot!Reader (platonic)

Words: 2.2k

Summary: You are called back to Top Gun one year after your graduation for a deadly mission. Why? Because you were the top score of the school ever recorded for a long time. Nevertheless, that first day does not go very well. On top of understanding the danger of the mission and how risky it is, you already start a rivalry with one member of the Dagger Squad… Ltd Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Warning: Military inaccuracies, conflictual relationship, mention of biological weapons, tensions between characters, reader meeting some members of the Dagger Squad for the first time <3 (that’s cute tho)

Tag list: @dempy @potato-girl99981 @callme-fox @djs8891

Notes:

Shark is reader’s best friend and OP’s OC.

Please don’t hesitate to reblog or like if you enjoyed it 🦈 (it brings me so much joy lmao)

Ask if you want to be added to the taglist

The Serie will be interactive: choose at the end of each chapter.

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Biological weapons facilities.

Maverick’s sharp words fell upon them like a guillotine blade on a condemned man’s neck.  You detailed the discomfited faces of your nearer colleagues with a discreet glance. Bob and Phoenix looked at each other, a glimmer of concern flickering in their eyes.  Hangman, faithful to himself, rocked back and forth on his chair. His thin lips had stretched in a smirk no one managed to decipher. You could not tell if he had welcomed such information as a challenge or if it was his way of coping with the gravity of the situation. As for Rooster, he had leaned over his desk, his elbow pressing against the wooden surface. He started stroking his mustache with a thoughtful look gracing his tanned face. 

“Fuck, that’s a big deal.”  A feminine and always-playful voice croaked next to you and popped your thoughts bubble. Shark seemed excited.

“Yeah, I know.” That was all you managed to answer. All the other things you could have uttered remained trapped in your throat, tightened by anxiety. A small sigh escaped from your rosy lips. When Beau “Cyclone” Simpson called you and Shark back to Top Gun one year after your graduation, you knew it was not a good sign. As soon as you recognized the phone number on your smartphone’s screen,  a chilling thrill went down your spine. It had been as if your deepest instinct whispered in your ear to ignore the call.  However, you ended up shooing away that unpleasant feeling and here you were, sitting in the briefing room with your fellow pilots who had been chosen for such a suicidal mission. You exhaled slowly through your nose, attempting to keep the straightest face possible. Maverick had paused for one solid minute to let the Dagger Squad have the time they needed to assimilate the news. Then, he resumed his explanations.

“Our first role will be to locate the facilities.” His quiet voice captivated everyone’s attention in the room without even trying. You, and all the other pilots, were drinking his words, obliterating the external world despite the constant cacophony of engines roaring and soldiers screaming outside.

“That is to say, we will make as many air patrols as needed until we know exactly where are all the facilities and their warehouses.” Maverick wrote down the words AIR PATROLS in capital letters on the whiteboard he was standing next to. The black pen squeaked on the surface. “ I know, you probably think that those patrols are no big deals. That’s where you’re wrong. Reports said this rogue nation has air strike forces… Which means they have pilots ready to blow up your jets.” He wrote down the words ENNEMY JETS below his first scribble.

You blinked several times as you understand that you will all risk your life each time you will fly above suspicious zones. Not once, not twice, but as many times as it takes to locate the facilities. Usually, the first part of the plan was the easiest. If that was the most doable part, you were not eager to know the rest of it.

“And what happens next?” Payback’s voice echoed from the back of the room. He was sitting right behind Hangman, eyes staring at Maverick and fingers fidgeting his pen since the beginning of the briefing. “We bomb them?” 

Maverick tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow raised and remained silent. He was waiting for Payback to understand by himself how absurd his question was. Yet, the revelation never seemed to come. You exhaled once again, a bit noisier this time, before raising your hand to talk.

“Blowing up facilities filled with biological weapons might not be the most… Efficient way to get rid of the problem.” You said calmly. Captain Mitchell nodded at your words and went on with the plan. 

“As Storm just said, blowing up tanks of dangerous biological shit is everything except a good idea. We don’t want viruses or I don’t know what else to spread in nature and infect the population.” 

You heard Shark snort, amused by your remark. You were about to smile at her when you caught another voice commenting on what you just said. “No shit Sherlock.”  You turned your head, looking dagger at Jake, who stared back at you with a cocky grin. The hell was his problem, you thought. However, you ignored such a childish reaction to focus back on Maverick’s frame. 

“Once we know their locations, we will help the Marines’ intervention. They will dismantle the facilities on the ground, while we will destroy their air force and keep them from escaping and using their biological weapons. Not one single of their aircraft must leave the perimeter.”  

Silence fell a second time in the room.

“And do we know what kind of infectious agent they use?” This time that was Bob’s shy and slightly shaky voice that broke the silence.

“Cyclone’s highest bet is smallpox or anthrax. Mine’s mycotoxins, but the real answer to that question is that we don’t know for sure yet.” 

While you kept your cool the whole briefing, you could not help but pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes for a few seconds. You felt a headache, which had been threatening you since this morning, start to hammer your skull. What happened next was kind of blurry for you. What you remembered was that Maverick explained what jets he thought would suit the best for the mission, and how your training will mainly focus on dogfights and on sharpening your maneuvers. That was only when you heard the sound of the Captain clapping his hands and telling you to leave the meeting room that your mind snapped back to reality. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine before you got up from your chair and left the room.

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“Hey, Raingirl! Wait a minute!” You glanced behind you at the familiar voice. You could recognize that slightly raspy and psychotic tone among thousands of others. You stopped, waiting for Shark to catch up.

“Are ya’ in a hurry or what?”  She cheered, wrapping one of her arms around your shoulders in a friendly embrace, before leaving the building with you.

“You seem rather excited for someone who has a high risk of dying during her next mission.” You answered, teasing.

“Aw ya know, I’m just trying to put the laughter in slaughter.”  

As soon as you felt the warm sunrays caressing your skin, you shut your eyelids for a few seconds and paused the conversation. A faint smile adorned your rosy lips. After hours and hours of being locked up in a dull and far too climatized room, the feeling of the sun kissing your face was a real treat. You slowly opened your Y/EC eyes and looked at your best friend. Shark was a petite woman with icy blue eyes and light blonde hair that she would usually style in long dutch braids during her service. Outside, she would wear pigtails or let her wild mane down. The first time you heard about her was during your first week in Top Gun’s program. You wondered how the hell someone’s callsign could be “shark”. Yet, you understood as soon as your eyes fell on her: when she was smiling, her mouth would stretch and her lips would reveal two rows of perfectly aligned but sharp teeth. Due to a natural birth defect, all of her teeth, except her incisors, were shaped like fangs. On top of that, the woman had odd scars on each side of her neck, similar to gills slits. Despite that slightly creepy smile of hers, you both soon became inseparable to the point she became your wingman.

“You truly have zero self-preservation.” You concluded your sentence with a wink. “And you ain’t even funny, Fish head.” 

Shark was about to say something but someone else’s voice resonated

“Don’t leave yet, I couldn’t wait to talk to both of you after Mav’s presentation.” A dark-haired woman with her hair combed in a neat ballet bun and brown cunning eyes walked towards you, followed by her RIO Bob. They stopped in front of you: “The name’s Phoenix and he, he’s Bob. I’m more than happy two see two other girls here. Welcome to the Dagger Squad.” She said, with a little but adorable smile on her face “I really look forwards to flying with you.  I heard you were the best.” 

“Nah, Storm’s the best. I’m second.” Shark answered, looking at you with pride.

You shook your head, chuckling. You never liked boasting about your results and your flying skills. All you did was work your ass off and always try to do your best. Yet, the truth was that you truly were a gifted pilot. You slipped one of the messy bangs of your Y/HC hair behind your ear.

“I appreciate your compliments about my abilities, I really do. But y’all are talented as fuck too. Pretty sure we’ll make a good team.” You offered your most charming smile you could to Phoenix and Bob. 

Funnily enough, the man with big glasses remained silent for the whole conversation. Sometimes he would crack a tiny hesitant smirk before staring back at his feet. Even though this one did not belong to the talkative kind, he seemed genuinely nice.

“Didn’t know they would hire baby pilots for such an important mission.”  The good mood you had managed to bring back shattered in million of pieces at those venomous words spat by Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin. The tall blonde pilot was leaning against the building, arms crossed on his muscular chest. His eyes, small green jewels shimmering with a mocking glow, looked hard at you. All of your body tensed as you sensed his arrogant attitude. You straightened up to your full height and stared back at him with a freezing gaze. Obviously, you knew who was that cocky soldier. Jake “Hangman” Seresin’s reputation was following him: he was one of the few pilots who had confirmed kills. Noticing the challenging look you had on your face, Jake closed his jaws in one quick gesture, biting the toothpick he had between his lips. Then, the man graciously moved his frame toward you until you were both facing each other. 

“With all due respect, you are far too novice for this mission. I don’t know why Mav’ agreed to let you join us, but you don’t belong here.” He said, with a calm yet bossy tone. 

“With all due respect, you can go fuck yourself.” You snapped, causing him to laugh.

“Yeah suck it. Who do you think you are uh?” Shark added.

“Playing the tough girls?” 

“Seriously what the fuck Hangman, if they are here it’s for a good reason.” Phoenix interrupted. She was not bearing this kind of behavior. You simply made a slight head movement to the dark-haired woman to thank her.  Then, you shift back your attention to Hangman, staring at him with intensity as if you were etching the slightest detail of his good-looking face in your mind.

“I am perfectly where I should be. If you think I don’t belong here, well that’s not my problem.  If my presence bothers you,  guess what? That’s not my problem. And if you want to sing the blues to Capt. Mitchell, that’s also not my problem. In the meantime, I’ll just take your aggressive attitude and your arrogance as a way of coping with your lack of confidence.”

Hangman clenched his jaw, vaguely discountenanced by your sharp tongue. Nevertheless, you did not manage to wipe his presumptuous smile off his face.

“Alright, baby bird, let’s see how long you last until I cut your wings… And before I cut your friend’s fins.”  He hissed through his teeth.

“Storm. “

“Sorry?” He raised a brow.

“Call me baby bird one last time and I’ll punch your face. The name’s Storm.”  You turned your back to him and grabbed Shark by the wrists before leaving.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You walked on the beach, trying to cool down your nerves by taking big inhales of the sea air that was floating around the base.  The salty scent was soothing and soon, you found yourself at peace again. You took a quick glance at Shark, who was looking at the dancing waves of the ocean with a contemplative look.

“Don’t worry Fish head. You know we belong here.” You said, with the more reassuring tone your could have. The bubbly blonde girl grinned at your words. You smiled back at her grin, rendered slightly disturbing because of her fangs - but you were used to it.

“I don’t. I trust Capt Mitchell. Quite the contrary, I am wondering how Hangman will react tomorrow.” Her fingers were playing with the tips of one of her braids.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when he’ll see that you are far better than him.” 

You snorted, amused. 

“For sure, I’ll show him.” 

You said, feeling the storm brewing.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

READER CHOICE:

[go talk to HANGMAN] or [go to the Hard Deck]

[yourimagines]

Your life on camera p.4

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Triggers: Swearing, and fluff

Nate pov

She went back home earlier as the rest. Her excuse was she needed to do some editing for the documentary. “I miss her.” Kay says as we were watching the game. “Yeah me too, she’s so friendly.” Keri says as the shared a popcorn bucket together. “She will be around me soon again, I have that fight coming up and she’s coming with me.” I said as my eyes never left the game. “Really?” They said as I slowly nodded my head. “Yeah really.” I mumbled back. I heard them giggling and I rolled my eyes. ‘Women.’

—— two months later, fight night——

I was getting ready, my team was prepping me and y/n was recording me as my trainer wrapped my hands. “How do you feel?” She softly asks. I looked over at her and flashed her a small smile. “Good, I feel good.” She nods and starts to film my hands a bit closer. “Stay close to the rest, I don’t want you to get hurt.” She looks up and shyly smiles. “I will, don’t worry.” ‘I always worry…that’s the problem.’ My trainer tapped on my hands as he was done, I immediately stood up, stretching my back. “Okay 5 mins and then it’s time.” Someone yells a s the team got ready. Y/n stayed close to Jake as I walked away for my walkout. ‘Let’s win this fight.’

I was bleeding heavily and tried to wiped the blood out of my eyes. “Nate, don’t stop!” Jake yells as I tried to bring the guy down. “Move your feet!” I hear from my corner. I moved around and thrown him on the ground, trying to get that submission win. “Watch out for that guillotine!” I moved my arms around his neck and locked it in, I squeezed my bicep and it was over for him as I felt two light taps on my arm. I immediately jumped up and the crowd went crazy. “Let’s go!” Jake’s runs up to me and pats my back. “Where y/n?” “She’s outside the cage, she’s okay.” I searched for her and saw her, smiling at me. Pride filled my body and smiled back. “Nate, that’s was a great win….” Joe rogan held a microphone in front of me and started his little post fight interview as my mind was somewhere else than the fight….it was with her.

Y/n POV

I was walking back to his locker room as Gilbert told me to go before Nate gets out of the octagon. “Nate Diaz army!” A guy yells at me as I passes by. “Y/n hurry up with that shit!” Another one yells. I laughed and walked further, I was getting popular by his fans as they found out I was making that documentary for him. “Y/n I love you!” I giggled and quickly went backstage where fans were not hanging around. I went to his locker and packed my bag slowly as I heard loud noises approaching the door. The door opens and they walked in, Nate was smiling like an idiot. “There he is.” I said as I walked over to him, he smiles and lets me hug him. “Hey there. Did you enjoyed yourself?” He softly asks me, I moved a bit back to look at his beaten up face and nodded. “Yes I did.” His face looked rough and painful. I carefully touched his face and took a look at it. “It looks very painful.” I whispered as he shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah but it’s fine.” I nodded and stepped back, feeling a bit too close to him. “Let’s go to my place and celebrate.” He says as the rest agreed. ‘Ouch, that means going home early for me.’ I tried to cover up my disappointment and packed my stuff. Gilbert saw it and gave me a reassuring smile. ‘Dammit Gilbert.’

I was sitting next to Jake in the car and looked outside through the window, looking at the busy streets. “I order some food, it will be delivered.” Nate says as Jake wrapped an arm around me, coming closer to me. “You see that.” He points at a large building with lights on. “Yes?” “That’s the casino.” He was leaning against my back, pointing other things out to me. I looked briefly at Nate who looked angry and looked away as we locked our eyes. “Cool.” I said as Jake moved away from me. “Yeah, if you want I can show you the rest another time.” He flashed me a kind smile and I nodded. “That would be lovely, I like seeing new places.” “I know.” I giggled and shook my head, trying to not feel a bit embarrassed by him. I grabbed my small camera and pointed it at Jake. “Favourite post fight food.” He laughs and starts to think. “I think just any kind of fast food.” I nodded and moved my camera to Gilbert and Nate. “Favourite post fight food.” Gilbert laughs. “Slice of pizza.” I nodded and looked at Nate. “And would about you mr Diaz.” I saw something changing in his eyes, he moved his cap backwards and shrugged. “Anything is good after a fight.” I nodded and pointed the camera at myself. “Fries and burgers are the best.” Jake moves closer and winks at the camera. “She knows.” I giggled and turned the camera off.

The car stopped in front of. Beautiful house, Nate’s house. Jake and Gilbert jumped out of the car as I stayed behind. Nate looked weirdly at me as he didn’t move. “We’re here.” I nodded. “I know.” He tilted his head slightly. “Then why are you not stepping out of the car?” I was confused as he grabbed my bag. “This is your house?” He nods, not getting what I was trying to say. “Is there something wrong?” His eyes moved over my whole body, trying to find what was wrong with me, if I was hurt. “Im sorry im very confused right now. I’m I invited to your house?” His face relaxed as he knew what I meant. “Yes, do you want to come?” He asks a bit quieter. I shyly nodded and he smiles. “Cool, come let’s go then.” I unbuckled myself and followed him to his house. “Welcome to my house.” He says and lets me go in first. The house was already filled with people, friends and family and the rest of his team. “Y/n!” Kay yells and runs up to me. “Hi Kay.” I hugged her as she jumped into my arm. “I’m so happy to see you.” “Me too.”

Nate POV

Y/n was shy around my house, she sat down on the sofa with Kay, talking about some things. “You finally invited her.” Nick my brother says as he joins me. “Yeah…she’s part of the team now isn’t she.” He nods and looks at them. “They like each other.” “Yeah they do.” I l said with a laugh. “Women make you crazy.” I nodded and took a sip from my drink, my eyes never leaving her figure. “I heard Jake likes her.” I snapped my head back to him, as I felt anger rising in my chest. “Really?” He nods with a smirk on his face. “Don’t fuck around with me.” He chuckles softly. “I’m not, I’m telling you, he likes her and since you don’t like her, he’s going for it.” ‘Oh hell fucking no.’ “No.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “No?” “No, it’s not professional to screw around with my videographer, I do not allow it.” He nods and I looked back at her. ‘No one can.’ “Good luck then, you know Jake.” With that he left me alone as I saw her laughing with Kay and a jealousy feeling was spreading through my chest as I thought about her being with some else.

Y/n was sitting next to me, watching others as she was sipping on her drink. “You like it?” I asked her as I tapped my fingers on my half full glass. She turns her head and looks at me with a small smile on her face. “Yes, thank you for inviting me over.” I shrugged my shoulders and looked away. “No problem, if you want you can film a bit now…” my voice trailed down and I felt her moving around next to me. “Here is our winner mr Diaz.” Her voice sounded softer and much more sweeter. I slowly turned my head to her and she was filming me. I moved my hand up and showed the camera the west side hand gesture. “How do you feel after that fight?” She moves closer and flipped the camera, filming us both as she leaned against my shoulder. “Good, solid fight.” I looked briefly down at her as she nods at my response. “But the real question is, how was the after fight food? Was it good?” She giggles as she asks. “Oh it was, especially the fries and burgers.” I teased her, she immediately laughs. ‘I can hear her laughing all day.’ I smiled at her and she moves away as Kay walks by. “Kay, how was the food.” She gave her a thumbs up. “Delicious.” She gets up and walks over to a few others but not leaving this room. Kay sits down next to me and smiles. “You like her don’t you?” I stayed quiet as I kept looking at her, as she was laughing with others and kay slowly nods. “It’s okay Nate , I understand.”

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 16 BRAN II (pages 221-237)

Bran continues his journey to come to grips with his physical limitations, gives people food for thought about the inheritance rights of bastards, and sits about listening to old men trying to keep the north running and preparing for winter.

-

"We were having a jape with Hodor," confessed Big Walder. "I am sorry if we offended Prince Bran. We only meant to be amusing." He at least had the grace to look abashed. Little Walder only looked peevish. "And me," he said. "I was only being amusing."

Not sure I care very much for the Walders. You notice neither actually apologised to Hodor, (even if he didn't understand what was going on) or actually to Bran, they were sorry for offending authority and even then only once they got in trouble for it, so they weren't really sorry for being a pair of asses, they were sorry they got caught.

"Can't you take a joke?" I can, but you haven't told one yet.

"A good lord comforts and protects the weak and helpless," he told the Freys. "I will not have you making Hodor the butt of cruel jests, do you hear me? He's a good-hearted lad, dutiful and obedient, which is more than I can say for either of you."

MVP Luwin back at it, this time bringing us a subtle but quality roast.

"Lord Bolton has never acknowledged the boy, so far as I am aware," Ser Rodrick said. "I confess, I do not know him." "Few do," she replied. "He lived with his mother until two years past, when young Domeric died and left Bolton without an heir. That was when he brought his bastard to the Dreadfort. -"

RIP Domeric, I hear you weren't complete trash, now excuse me... *rummages around in the storage trying to find the guillotine* I need to be ready for when that trash arrives.

Bran wanted to give the lady a hundred men to defend her rights, but Ser Rodrik only said, "He may look, but should he do more I promise you there will be dire retribution. You will be safe enough, my lady... though perhaps in time, when your grief has passed, you may find it prudent to wed again."

Hey, umm, Lady Hornwood is... she's the one who... brb, rethinking my stance on 'no human being deserves to be burnt alive'

Urgh, I'd suggest sending that trash and his smelly friend to a hell dimension, but there's a chance they'd still be the worst things there.

Finally all of the principal vassals of House Stark had been heard from save for Howland Reed the crannogman, who had not set foot outside his swamps for many a year, and the Cerwyns whose castle lay half a day's ride from Winterfell. Lord Cerwyn was a captive of the Lannisters, but his son, a lad of fourteen, arrived one bright, blustery morning at the head of two dozen lances. Bran was riding Dancer around the yard when they came through the gate. He trotted over to greet them. Cley Cerwyn had always been a friend to Bran and his brothers. "Good morrow, Bran," Cley called out cheerfully. "Or must I call you Prince Bran now?" "Only if you want." Cley laughed. "Why not? Everyone else is a king or a prince these days! -"

He seems nice. (genuine)

ngl, "should I call you Prince Bran" now just set off my brain: "What's your name?" "Darien." "Not for long! Soon you'll be Prince Darien. It's a big difference, you see."

[lowerqualityrp]

five songs that remind you of your muse.

tagged: @strongfuck (thanks king *insert jack fingerguns*) tagging: @digicloner @envyei @auroradicit (Sabi?) @therelignedstars and you!

Angel- Theory of A Deadman

I'm in love with an angel who's afraid of the light Her halo is broken but there's fight in her eyes Walls are built to keep us safe Until they're crashing down Worlds apart we were the same Until you hit the ground Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm weak Maybe I'm blinded by what I see You wanted a soldier but it wasn't me 'Cause I could never set you free So fly on your own It's time I let you go

Honestly, the whole song is very Jack, but this part especially resonates as him. Jack without a doubt loves Angel, but he also just as obviously hates the siren that she is. He kept her in a bubble to both use her siren abilities to fulfill his goal of eradicating all bandits while also "protecting" her from herself. Jack becomes so wrapped up in his mission that he ends up not only hurting Angel to the point she asks the hunters to do what she does during the story of BL2 (if you know the scene you'll know what I'm talking about), but destroying any possibility of a relationship they might have been able to salvage at one point. Angel was the pinnacle of Jack's life as John, and was still such even as Handsome Jack, but the way he demonstrated was cruel. As much as it may have seemed he didn't love her, his immediate reaction to aforementioned scene (the murder immediately after) as well as how he handles talking about Angel with Rhys in TFBL are significant indicators that he did and does love her, his hate for sirens, bandits, etc. just "blinded [him] by what [he] sees".

Rest In Peace- Dorothy

Blood on my hands, what's done is done Left you by the road with the crows in the dust Heart so hollow deep as a cave One day I'll be dancing on your grave Taking it back the life you stole Every little piece you took of my soul Now I lay you down to sleep And pray with the devil You rest in peace

Truthfully, this bit especially feels like Jack's whole view on his mission. He does genuinely see himself as the hero and will do whatever it takes to achieve it. He'll kill, use, manipulate, destroy anyone and everyone he needs to in order to bring "peace" to Pandora. Jack killed everything that made him John in order to do this, too.

Fabulous- HSM2

I want fabulous, That is my simple request, All things fabulous, Bigger and better and best, I need something inspiring to help me get along, I need a little fabulous is that so wrong?

One of the first things Jack ever talks about is his Diamond Horse, Butt Stallion. This man literally wants fabulous. Tell me I'm wrong.

Victorious- Panic! At The Disco

Double bubble disco queen Headed to the guillotine Skin as cool as Steve McQueen Let me be your killer king It hurts until it stops We will love until it's not I'm a killing spree in white Eyes like broken Christmas lights My touch is black and poisonous And nothing like my punch drunk kiss

Firstly, Jack's always considered himself the winner. There is no doubt in his mind that he'll reign victorious with the vault and his warrior. Everything he does, he does with the certainty of winning. Secondly, parts of the lyrics like "we will love until it's not" are very true to his relationships. When Jack loves, he loves hard. Even when it ends, the only people safe from his wrath are those he'd ever loved to begin with.

Blood in the Cut- K. Flay

Guess I'm contagious, it'd be safest if you ran Fuck, that's what they all just end up doing in the end Take my car and paint it black Take my arm, break it in half Say something, do it soon It's too quiet in this room

This also hits on Jack's love life. We see throughout his canon that the only successful relationship he had was with his first wife. His second wife ran when she found out about Angel. His relationships with Nisha and Moxxi failed, too, and quite seemingly incredibly badly. Jack's life before and after the incident with Angel and the turret was filled with betrayal, abandonment, and loss to the point where he keeps people at bay so they can't hurt him.

Bonus Track: Hate Me-Blue October

Hate me today Hate me tomorrow Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you Hate me in ways Yeah, ways hard to swallow Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

This one is more of a "John" track. He's failed Angel and his late, first wife, he knows this. That's part of what drives him to such an unhinged, mass-murdering, megalomaniac. He's done many unforgiveable things, but, to him, nothing is as unforgiveable as failing the two people who meant the world to him. Because John failed at protecting his loved ones, his psyche began to corrode and Handsome Jack was born.

[kvhaani]

MICHAEL

MUSE: MICHAEL D. V. SANTOS

Date written: mid 2020!!

Short summary of plot: This roleplay was based on the movie ‘6 underground.’ One powerful man assembles an elite team of people with specialised skills that take down terrorists and other dangerous individuals. They refer to each other in codenames from one to ten. Michael’s number is #4. 

Michael isn’t a huge fan of rich assholes in expensive suits, but as luck would have it, he finds himself mingling with a bunch of them tonight. The cocktail party reeks of evil affluent motherfuckers blowing all their blood money on booze, women, and gambling. Everyone at this party has a net worth in the millions, if not billions, and they’re all tied to shady organisations in some way, shape or form— everyone’s got a connection to a weapons manufacturer or a terror group, or a drug cartel. 

They parade around in public cutting checks to charities, and secretly use those charities as tax write-offs. Point is, as much as these fuckers pretend to be angels for the cameras, Michael knows different— not a single person here has a single atom’s worth of morality left in them. 

Jesus would weep at the sight. 

Number Four is already tense when he enters the party, though you would never guess it judging by his looks and the confident way he carries himself. A master at masking his emotions, Michael flows through the exquisite party like a natural, working the room and the people by making conversation, cracking jokes, and flirting where appropriate. Women with seductive flashy dresses, men with imported cigars blowing their toxins into the air, waiters dressed in suits more expensive than most people’s yearly incomes— it’s truly a rich person’s playground and it makes him sick to his stomach. So far, none of the lowlifes at this party have offered any sort of valuable information that’ll help them get their target.

Their coy smiles and arrogant words ignite venomous fires in Michael’s veins, who wants nothing more than the opportunity to sock each of these power-hungry pigs in the throat and watch them choke on their ambitions. Their conversations consist of stock prices, corporate gossip, and the occasional mention of their visits to their favourite country clubs. 

“Ted and I just bought our third property. The Hamptons estate is lovely but I wanted my private island and Ted doesn’t say no to me.”

“That dress is gorgeous, Martha. Who’s your designer, I need to fly them in to design one for me.”

“My son just graduated. We celebrated by buying him his second Lamborghini— but you know Rudy, he’s a businessman, just like his old man. He negotiated with us until we agreed to buy him a yacht too. He’s gonna take Wall Street by the balls when he’s old enough.”

Social climbing, materialistic, capitalistic fucks.

Watching the light leave their eyes wouldn’t make Michael lose any sleep at night, that much he’s sure about— if anything, he knows the world would be a better place without them in it. It’s a wonder how he manages to maintain his own dazzling smile and charming facade when all his thoughts are running around the idea of somehow bringing back guillotines. 

He’d always been partial to violence; growing up a rowdy kid with no father figure and an abusive mother with substance abuse issues rubbed off on him as a child. It was easy to be angry towards everyone. Michael seemed to resent the world for everything. Fifteen years later and that dissent hasn’t changed one bit, in fact his resentment has only grown— however, his hate’s focus is now directed towards the world’s most corrupt. What Michael wouldn’t do to teach these modern-day Lex Luthor’s a lesson. 

That’s exactly what he’s doing here. Tonight, it starts with Nathaniel Warren.

‘The mission is to isolate Mr. Warren. Ladies… I assume you can handle that pretty damn well. If we can isolate him. . .”

“We can teach him a lesson he won’t fuckin’ forget,” Michael mutters under his breath, finishing One’s sentence as he takes a sip from his vodka martini. The drink burns his throat but he welcomes the stinging rush, it keeps him alert. 

If One needs him to isolate the rich asshole, that’s exactly what he’ll do. Michael has never been a fan of authority; if a person’s in power, it’s usually through fucked up means and therefore they don’t deserve to be respected. His mistrust for authority stretches back to years upon years cycling through the foster care system, being juggled from institution to institution. Teachers had always hated him, social workers thought he was a headache, and the young man always found himself landing on the wrong side of the law. So it’s truly a wonder that One’s influence is the only exception to the anti-authoritarian code of conduct Michael governs himself with. 

The most frustrating part is he doesn’t even know /why/. Why is One’s approval so important to him? Why is Michael’s primary objective staying in One’s good graces? Why does he feel the need to respect the billionaire that seemingly doesn’t give a shit about any member of this fuckin’ team? It drives him crazy that he can’t— no, that he /won’t/—  bring himself to go against the man’s demands, no matter how outrageous they may be. 

Deep in the far corners of his mind, buried under layers and layers of denial, in the crevices of his cracked soul, Michael knows the answer. He’s too afraid to even /think/ about it out of fear that he might somehow screw it up with nothing but his wishful thinking. 

Dean’s the closest thing he has to a family.

Number Eleven’s annoying voice cuts through his morbid thoughts like a knife, and for once, Michael is glad to hear it. This ‘team’ —a loose term for a bunch of professionals with specialised skillsets united under an umbrella of serving justice to the elite— has a bunch of people he can’t stand on a good day, however, out of all of them, Number Eleven takes the cake. Out of all the unlikeable shitstains in this ragtag group, Number Eleven is the one he would easily punt off the side of the building, if given the chance— not that that would ever happen.

Michael can only hope.

One of the last members to join, Michael hated her from the start. For one thing, she seemingly came out of nowhere with a skillset extremely similar to his own, and for another thing, she just has the kind of voice that makes Michael want to strangle her. The rational part of him knows she’s just another person trying to do some sort of good for this world that doesn’t deserve it, and that she’s probably got a decent moral compass— hell, she might even be a better person than he is— it still doesn’t change the jealous part of him that despises her with the entirety of his being, down to the molecular level. Maybe it all comes down to their expertise being too identical.

And maybe he feels like Dean doesn’t believe in his abilities enough, and that he’s expecting Michael to fail so Eleven can take over his role. 

“Great. What’s the move? Because I swear if I hear another story about a singer compliment a greasy dude’s wealth and hair we will have one target more.”

“Here’s an idea,” Michael hisses into his earpiece, “get out there and do your fuckin’ job. You heard One: isolate the target. Didn’t think he needed to spell that shit out for you, Eleven.”

Is Four the unofficial asshole of the group? Yeah. It’s no secret that he dislikes everyone on the team, or at least he acts like it enough to give the impression that he can’t stand any one of them. While his hatred for Eleven is as honest as it gets, that doesn’t necessarily mean that his negative attitude towards the others is as sincere as he tries to make it out to be. 

Someone with more than a shred of emotional intelligence could probably dissect the fact that he only pretends to detest everyone to keep them at arm’s length. The last person Michael had allowed past the iron walls he’d created in his mind had been Dean, and now he can’t stand how vulnerable he feels around the man. No one should have that kind of control over him, especially not the people that could die in missions with him— the last thing Michael wants is to feel the pain of losing anyone he cares about. He’s experienced enough of that shitty feeling to last him a lifetime.

So the more he pretends to hate these people, the more he can convince himself that he doesn’t care about them, and the less it’ll hurt when one of them inevitably dies. Because if he’s being honest with himself, there’s no way all of them are going to get out of these life or death situations One has planned for them.

Nathaniel Warren isn’t the only cocksucker they’re taking down. 

Michael has never been good at math, but even he knows the statistical probability of one of them dying is fuckin’ high. Personally, he hopes it's Number Eleven— he’d have no issues with her losing a few limbs, or her life— either works for him.

Number Three’s voice pipes up next, sultry and smooth like the velvety wine many of the partygoers are drinking tonight. Michael hopes they all choke on it, take their pretentious bullshit with them all the way to hell.

"Well, I’m off to keep my cover up, y’all don’t start the party without me, okay?”

“Typical,” Four rolls his eyes. “There are other ways to keep your cover up, you know—  ones that don’t involve bein’ a whore.” Even as he says that, Michael allows a tiny amused smirk to play at his lips. There’s significantly less malice in his voice when he addresses Three, as opposed to when he’d addressed Eleven, but a tiny bit of annoyance still creeps into his tone. 

“Leavin’ the rest of us to pick up your slack, as usual,” he chides into his earpiece. “Some of us are better at our fuckin’ jobs than others, I guess.” Three probably won’t take his reprimands seriously, and he doesn’t /have/ to, either. 

Four has personally seen what the guy can do with a good gun.

Maybe it’s a good thing Three doesn’t have Michael’s violent tendencies, and that he carries himself with humour instead of fury. 

Michael continues to mingle with the guests a little while longer, taking his time to subtly map out all the places with security cameras and guards, in case they need to make a clean exit. He spends what feels like centuries engaging in meaningless mundane conversation with these insufferable loaded morons, trying to get any sort of intel, until he finds himself within earshot of the conversation one of the drunk partygoers is having with Ten. 

“Oooh you smell so nice, Spencer.”

Of all the names to choose, why would you go with Spencer? Dumb fuckin’ name if you ask me. 

Michael makes eye contact with Ten, raising a brow as if to say, “Seriously?” He’s personally seen Ten take down three guys at once, but his weakness is a drunk woman throwing herself at him? The situation is a little funny, he has to admit. Four has half a mind to leave ‘Spencer’ to the mercy of this intoxicated woman but he rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his martini, dropping the empty glass in a nearby waiter’s tray before strolling over to the chaotic pair. 

God, the woman’s perfume is almost potent enough to be the cause of her intoxication.

Two pumps did the job just fine— jeez, lady, did you break open the bottle and shower with it?

“Spencer, /there/ you are,” Michael says, putting on his best grin. His cheeks hurt from smiling all night, facial muscles screaming out in agony from this prolonged shitshow. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” 

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure yet.” He shifts his sharp gaze towards her, projecting hostility and disdain her way. “Domenico Fernandez at your service.” The name isn’t at all creative; his middle name and mother’s maiden name is what he’s chosen as his alias tonight but Michael doubts anyone is smart enough to piece that together. No one here knows his real name, besides Dean— it’s better that way, less attachments. 

He takes Ten’s hand in his own, making a big show of it in front of Perfume Lady. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything here. If you’ll excuse me, my fiance and I are going to get ourselves a drink— I would ask you to join us but you look like you could use some water, mi querida.” 

Michael Castaldi is a Brooklyn-born Italian to his core, but tonight he is Domenico Fernandez, a gay socialite with a Spanish accent, who’s engaged to a man named Spencer, apparently. What a tragedy. 

“You should get in your fancy limo and go home,” he dismisses her with a wave, walking off in the direction of the balcony and pulling Ten along with him. Once they’re out of earshot, he drops the other’s hand and shoots him an annoyed look, folding his arms. 

“Well, did you learn anythin’ important yet, /Spencer?/” Michael asks, his own Brooklyn accent more discernable now that he isn’t pretending to be someone he’s not. “There’s three guards near the south exit, two security cameras mounted on the east wall closest to the bar, and someone suspicious hangin’ round the dance floor.” He takes a moment to breathe and take in the warm summer air around them.

“God it’s nice to get away from them,” he mutters. “Took everythin’ in me not to kick ‘em in the balls every time they mentioned golf.”

[merv606]

BUSTS DOWN THE DOOR LIKE THE KOOL-AID MAN.

I have been saying this!!!!!!

And I love your response - 1000% agree.

More people need to spread this gospel 🙏

Pulls up a chair, takes out my Silverusso Thesis, straightens papers.

I’ve answered some asks and done some posts on the topic so, I basically gathered them to put here with your lovely answer as a lot of it agrees with your points (so there will be some overlap).

This is long and apologies if it’s rambling and repetitive - it’s late but I have too many Silverusso feels, and I hope this doesn’t come across as me trying to hijack your post, which is awesome and very well articulated (unlike what I have in store under the readmore).

The fact that anyone would think Kreese is Terry’s TRUE weakness is crazy to me - look at how dispensable he was to Terry.

Plus it’s been shown that Kreese is a sense of obligation - a debt he owes and if there’s one thing Terry hates is owing people (probably a feeling he’s not used to now - people owe him) and look at how happy he is once he gets rid of Kreese - the albatross around his neck - not his weakness.

War creates a bond that no one can understand unless they’re lived it - as does the bond created when someone saves your life.

BUT

To have a debt like that on your head - that you owe someone your life. Knowing you will never be able pay that debt back - to be free of it. That you will always feel indebted to that person for everything you have - your very life …. I cannot imagine what that feels like nor do I want to know.

Must feel like your neck is always in the guillotine esp when the relationship with that person whom you owe that debt to isn’t the greatest.

AND

You can tell Kreese won’t let him forget and holds it over him.

And you can tell how sick of it Terry is - “ahhh there it is”

He expects and knows Kreese will bring it up - he also knows Kreese is a “user.”

When they first meet again - it’s quite biting - “you want me to cut you a cheque?!”

Kreese is also clearly stuck in the past, unable to live in the moment.

Trying to pull rank for example - like Terry is still under him, which is clearly not the case. He has no control of Terry - just thought he did, and I think Terry is fed up with Kreese’s bullshit and holding onto that part of their past and the weight it carries.

It’s why he rejects his offer the first time - he doesn’t live in the past like Kreese does. He at least tried to get help to move on and live his life - he wants no part of it.

So I think the weakness in terms of their relationship is the fact that he feels he owes Kreese his life and all the entails.

I do not think Kreese himself, the actual person, is his weakness, not for a second.

I equate cutting Kreese out of his life to cutting out a cancer and how it makes you feel - disease free.

Look at his reaction:

Not only does Terry have no issue at all with doing it, but look how happy he is after he does it - he’s free.

Kreese is the one who’s shocked - all because he thought he was in control and he does not know Terry as well as he thought.

Also, do you think Terry wouldn’t have found Kreese if he really wanted to. He let Kreese leave his life without giving a damn or a second thought for three decades!!!

And it’s not Kreese that draws him in (he’s not even happy to see him).

Why do you think Kreese mentions Daniel?! - to hook him back in because he wasn’t biting on what Kreese was selling.

“Danny boy?!” That reaction!

The only reason he even started down the path of batshit insanity was Daniel and his rejected apology.

“What’s next?”

“We wipe the floor with the arrogant prick.”

Kreese smiles - he knew that would be the outcome. At least he knows that much about Terry.

Also, end note - to be clear - Daniel is not responsible for Terry’s actions - as you are under no obligation to accept an apology - sincere or not - nor are you responsible for another grown man’s actions.

And yes - such fondness for his Danny Boy - the way his voice is - “it’s good to see you.”

The fact that Terry WARNS his boy - you’re playing with fire.

Kind of like - don’t make me hurt you.

Kreese never got the warning - just framed for attempted murder 😂

No one gets warning or gets to treat Terry the way Daniel does - the grace Terry gives him AND the good humour he had for his interactions with Daniel.

They may have had Terry saying Kreese was his weakness but:

Actions speak louder than words.

We only see Kreese and Terry when Kreese needs something from him - hence his whole “you want a cheque John.” This is what Kreese is - he uses people for his own gain - tries to manipulate them.

And we are always reminded that Terry feels obligated to Kreese due to him saving his life.

Their whole foundation is built on a sense of duty (Terry) and a person who knows they can exploit that sense of duty (Kreese).

EXCEPT

This time it didn’t work like that - we see that right from the beginning.

Kreese basically saying - hey I need your help.

And Terry’s reaction speaks volumes.

Flat out - plainly says no, aka too damn bad.

Doesn’t even care at that point about his supposed debt to Kreese - not even enough to say yes to a simple enough request or even take more than a few seconds to think it over or hear him out.

And it continues to not work like that - no matter how many times Kreese brings up the past.

Also, it should be pointed out that this is not the first time the debt Terry feels he owes Kreese does not win out. Terry takes up the family business - leaving Kreese alone with cobra Kai. His sense of duty is stronger than that which he feels toward as Kreese there as well.

Let’s compare too - Terry’s reintroduction to the two men.

Doesn’t see or hear from Kreese for 3 plus decades - and doesn’t even answer his call, and instant change in mood - he is not even a bit happy to hear from Kreese - at all.

But his reaction to Daniel’s name - his whole face changes - he smiles and how he says with genuine emotion in his voice - “Danny- Boy?”

Not Danny, not Daniel, not Larusso - no - the nickname that only he called him and it springs right to mind. RIGHT TO MIND. AND this would be the nickname he gave while coked up so the impression Daniel left a mark despite the drug.

Also he knew Daniel’s commercials - HE KNEW HIS COMMERCIALS).

In the beginning Kreese has to crash his party to even get a second of Terry’s time.

Meanwhile Terry seeks out Daniel.

“It’s good to see you.”

And once again his facial features and voice change when he sees Daniel. They literally soften - for lack of a better word.

There’s a tenderness when he looks and speaks to Daniel.

The fact that he is genuinely upset that Daniel rejects him - and TIG kind of confirms this when he mentions that Terry’s apology was sincere - which quickly turns to anger.

“Arrogant prick” or is Terry just pissed because, well, now he has to admit that Daniel does not look at their time as fondly as Terry does.

We know Terry had fun - this is evident all throughout KK3 and there are times when, it can be argued that he forgets himself and appears to just be having fun teaching him - when he breaks the boards for example and Terry gets caught up in his excitement.

He may say in the beginning that his behaviour was crazy (or whatever it is he says) and when he apologizes he says his behaviour was terrible BUT we know he had fun or liked Daniel.

Look how quickly his tune changes in the mini mart - you were powerful and free and Terry flat out scoffing when Daniel says you tortured me - “you liked it.”

Well maybe Terry is projecting - maybe he needs Daniel to admit he liked it as much as Terry did.

Also the smile and chuckle to himself when Daniel walks past him (also Terry doesn’t move - makes Daniel squeeze past him - delicious).

The delighted look on his face as he looks down - he’s having fun playing with Danny-boy again even after all these years.

But it’s obvious he has a lot more fun being around Daniel than when he is around Kreese. His whole demeanour, tone, and attitude change.

Seems Daniel brings out a side of him no one else gets to see during the season.

And Daniel gets warnings, after warnings - there’s a certain tenderness to Terry here, in doing this - the illusion of granting mercy - so very not cobra like.

Kreese never got that - he got “stabbed in the back”, thrown in jail because Terry framed him all the while Terry is celebrating by dancing and drinking wine - not an ounce of remorse.

But his Danny boy - no, he gets warnings, smiles, chuckles, and soft tones.

Why does Daniel get those things?! Why doesn’t he just get rid of him - he easily could.

You can decide that for yourself.

Also - Side note:

The eye fucking at the AVT!!!!

So much eye fucking

The other key too - to seeing Daniel as Terry’s weakness is the ANGER — they both bring it out in each other - but with Kreese he just seems tired but Danny-boy, oh Danny makes him mad. Danny-boy makes him finally lose his temper - Danny makes the real Terry emerge from under the fake facade Terry had been plastering on.

Let’s look at the infamous apartment scene.

When Terry unleashes that anger.

Thing is, in the context of the scene and a Terry’s reaction - (what Daniel is to Terry) it makes sense.

Terry, is angry at Daniel - truly angry:

Not pissed (like the sauna scene) but truly angry - and he loses his temper in a way we haven’t seen (and different than beating Sting Ray as that was a means to an end to frame Kreese).

And why?!

Because he was meddling? A thorn in Terry’s side?

No. He likes Danny’s attitude after all (CANON).

He was angry because Daniel was willing to give up - walk away - from this thing - this game they were playing - which equates to willing to walk away from Terry.

And that is unacceptable.

Dare I say Terry fears it - Daniel walking Away - losing him again - the fact that Danny is just able to walk away from Terry which means Terry doesn’t mean to Danny what Danny means to Terry.

But the fact that Danny can walk away and is willing to walk away?!

That is what pisses Terry off - even the dialogue - you think you can walk away?! We are way past waving the white flag (aka I won’t give you mercy).

Remember he gave Daniel the option to walk away (although that was on Terry’s terms and he knows Daniel and his stubbornness and knew he wouldn’t so it was a fake gesture really).

He could have killed Daniel but he stops himself - he wants Daniel alive to see the plan to fruition (to continue to play with him - his favourite plaything).

So he walks away. If he stays he may break his toy past repair and he doesn’t want that.

This is why the whole narrative they tried to present in season four (and then never brought up again BTW) of Kreese being his weakness makes no sense.

No, who has time or wants to think of Kreese when he has Daniel to occupy him so completely?!

It is not even Kreese that got him back to CK - he had no problem saying no to Kreese.

It’s Daniel.

Daniel’s name elicits the first sign of life from Terry.

And come on, thirty plus years and the first thing that pops to his mind is the nickname he gave Daniel?

Sidenote - Kreese is a master manipulator - knows what to say and what buttons to press to get the reaction he wants - to get what he wants - so why do you think he even brought up Daniel?!!

It’s Daniel’s rejection that starts the slippery slope into the old Terry - that’s what makes him shed this persona he created - like old skin - and go back to the old Terry and then an even worse version of that Terry.

It’s all traces back to Daniel. Everything.

It’s his marriage he seems intent on breaking - his kid’s he wants wrapped up in CK - it’s Daniel he wants to break - just like before.

Think too about TIG’s comments which kind of reinforces this idea.

The apology was sincere - it’s the rejection / he wants to be loved / he wants to be Daniel’s friend.

It’s Daniel that makes him lose his temper - his control - it is Daniel that causes his downfall - and if that ain’t the definition of a weakness, will I don’t what is.

Going back to the apartment scene:

Terry lost it when Daniel wanted to quit - he lost it because Danny didn’t want to play (with him) anymore.

Remember - TIG said Terry wants to be friends. This was just Daniel rejecting him AGAIN!

But this time it’s worse because before, even though he rejected the apology - he was still meeting Terry in the middle.

He was giving Terry attitude, sass and Terry was loving it (cough cough mini mart and country club scenes cough cough).

By even engaging with Terry, he was still, in a way, bending to Terry’s will because he was playing Terry’s game after all - willingly walking into the wide open traps he was setting - and, most importantly, Terry was having fun.

Daniel throwing in the towel is - him walking away - no longer playing the game - no longer engaging with Terry - no longer bending to his will - no longer being in Terry’s periphery - and Terry hears that threat LOUD AND CLEAR.

Cue the ANGER - the FURY at Daniel. That Daniel could (and would) take that away again. So, he tells Daniel they’re way past that - they’re way past Terry letting Daniel leave him (again).

That’s why it’s unacceptable. Not after Terry had been more alive than he has in years. It was Daniel, after all, that had Terry slipping off the mask - shedding the skin that was this fake Terry he had been presenting to people all those years.

Terry can’t and won’t go back to that.

Might be a hot take, but I’ve always thought that Johnny is Kreese’s weakness, and Daniel is Terry’s. Like, I know some people think Terry’s weakness is Kreese (and to some extent, yes), but Daniel seems to be his absolute obsession, his total undoing. Kreese at least had the best friends/comrades in arms thing, but the Daniel thing is just plain weird from any side. This once 17 year old brat has such a hold on Silver that the man threw away 30+ years of peace at the mere mention of his name. It was never about Cobra Kai. It was always about Daniel.

YES. I completely agree. And as more time has gone by since Season 4 came out, I've noticed even the more casual fans have noticed. Someone took this screenshot from YouTube, but I've seen similar comments on reddit too.

And Kreese, being another master manipulator, knew exactly what he was doing when he brought up Daniel to Terry again in 4x01...

There was literally no reason for Kreese to bring up Daniel LaRusso unless he knew that Terry would care. Why would Terry care. 👀

Kreese knows how to get people to come to him. How to dangle something that they want in front of them that only he can seemingly give.

When no other tactic worked on bringing Terry back into the fold, Kreese brought out the big guns and dropped Daniel's name.

Not to take away at all from the love and friendship that Terry felt towards John. But it became nostalgia and obligation, ultimately ruining their bond.

Little side note-- the fact that we watched Kreese make others do what he says in order to get what they want for three seasons made the prison scene in 5x07 even more satisfying:

AND the first person to play the uno reverse card and use this tactic against Kreese was Daniel. Terry's student. You gotta love it.

There's always been a little Cobra Kai in you...

I mean, we could speak at length about the parallels between Kreese and Terry and their star students Johnny and Daniel. The narrative mirrors and foils. But it's precisely their respective relationships with their students that is more compelling.

Anyway. I'm going to quickly list examples of Daniel's hold on Terry and then focus on the meat of the issue.

Terry falls apart and goes ALL IN on everything Cobra Kai only AFTER Daniel rejects his apology.

Terry gives Daniel multiple warnings to not interfere but never tries to gets rid of him like Johnny or Kreese after no warnings at all.

Terry dated a woman who looked a lot like Daniel with similar values.

Terry treats Kenny near identically to Daniel as a student but in the sincere way he wishes he had with Daniel.

Terry loses his cool when Daniel wants to surrender and walk out of his life.

Terry tells Chozen he considers Daniel his only rival. As in Equal.

I'm sure there's plenty I'm forgetting but you can find posts in the silverusso tag about all these topics and more. x.x

Now, let's get to one of the most important and defining scenes for Terry's arc. And again, it's a direct result of Kreese's manipulation:

Kreese, knowing what makes Terry tick and how to get him further on his side, comments that Daniel really knows how to hold onto a grudge. As if he doesn't. Anyway, it's twisting the knife into Terry again when he's clearly already low.

You don't think Kreese noticed how hurt Terry was at the rejection?

He notices everything. He learned in Vietnam from his Captain how to use love against someone as a perceived weakness. Many thoughts on that.

Anyway

The way in which Kreese says, "So... what now?" Tells me that he told Terry this was going to happen. You also have to remember their conversation leading up to the garden scene:

Terry was damn near close to defending Mr. Miyagi and Daniel over Kreese's own personal grudge. To the point where Terry was rolling his eyes and sighing over his friend being overdramatic about what happened in the past.

He was tired of hearing about it.

I'm sure Daniel told Terry the truth about that Halloween night. And look who Terry seems to side with...

Kreese wanted violent retribution and Terry was the one that talked him down. It was Terry's idea to apologize to Daniel and we'll just allll get along. Easy peasy. Surely, Daniel would forgive him.

But, Daniel proved Kreese right in Terry's eyes. As I'm sure Kreese hoped would happen. Couldn't have worked out better. I bet on the car ride over to Miyagi-Do, Kreese was complaining how this was a waste of time and LaRusso isn't the sweet kid you remember etc.

From that day forward, Terry is determined to prove Daniel wrong. About him, about Cobra Kai, about everything. Terry is going to make Cobra Kai work and help kids and he'll be the best sensei ever and Daniel will be sorry!

You'll be sorry you weren't a part of it!

I firmly believe that Daniel is Terry's true weakness and he didn't even realize it. But Kreese did.

And if Daniel had seen it, then he could've had Terry eating out of the palm of his hand.

The one movie quote they haven't used in the show yet is, "For person with no forgiveness in heart, living even worse punishment than death."

I'm hoping they'll use this with Daniel realizing he can help heal himself, and Terry, by forgiving him. Of course, Terry will have to do something more to redeem himself. I'm just saying.

And then maybe Terry can see that Daniel was his weakness all along, but there's still time to make him a strength.

One could argue that he already felt that way while he was being arrested. The way he was looking at Daniel... That awe. Daniel LaRusso got the best of him, again, all because he couldn't let him go.

Here's to hoping that Season 6 ends our suffering lmao.

I mean, who else has ever given Terry Silver goosebumps?

[radikylie]

there’s nothing like living in a dystopian society where you can watch the news and see thousands of homeless people suffering in extreme cold weather and then catch up on the latest celebrity gossip right after that; celebrity culture is ass and I hope that one day soon we can make the 1% suffer a long, slow, painful existence and death.

[transmascrage]

make it make sense: how does a transmasc person say “trans men are only oppressed because of misogyny!” and then say “trans men benefit from misogyny actually”. i am so frustrated. i wish transmascs could like embrace each other more fully instead of telling each other to just shush be quiet don’t rock the boat when it comes to talking about specific oppression. why do we do this to each other, why do we regurgitate queer theory made by non transmascs without us in mind in order to describe transmascness to ourselves rather than listening to each other. why is everything concerning transmascs worded to please the sensibilities of non transmascs. urgh

Good question. To be honest, I think there's so many factors it's hard to explain in full detail.

On the one hand, the idea that men are the oppressors (which isn't completely wrong) lack nuance and it's never challenged past a "But trans men are better!" which not everyone says.

I've seen people say pretty vile shit towards trans men, because we're men and that makes us the oppressor.

There's also the idea that trans men have it easier than others in the trans community.

I've seen the argument that it's easier to pass for trans men, that we don't need as many surgery or that ours are better... or that "once we pass" (like it's everyone's objective) we gain male privilege and become undistinguishable from cis men.

And the thing is, none of these things are necessarily wrong, it's just that making broad generalisations on the ftm or transmasc community can only make a mess. Our communities are made to include people with any gender identities outside of the cis binary, so generalising will literally never work.

And bringing these arguments up whenever trans men and transmascs are just trying to talk aout their experiences is a dick move.

Also there are the more unhinged people who straight up say trans men can systematically oppress trans women or even cis women, but those are the exceptions.

Also there's the idea that, as long as you're hitting the oppressor you can go ahead and swing. Coupled with the recent increase in the belief that oppression must be fought back with violence, and a lot of people forget they're still punching a real human being.

To be clear, you're more than allowed to hit your oppressor. But I think there's a lot of leftists who still haven't unpacked all their prejudice and who expecially get excited at the idea of punishing people with violence.

But they don't actually have nuance, so, for example "guillotine the rich" becomes attacking anyone who's middle class (or that one minority that's always been accused of being secretly rich and powerful.)

"Beat up pedos" becomes attacking queer people when the right spreads false information on us.

"Protect minors" becomes stopping any display of kink at Pride or any mention of sex in our history.

I don't think the oppressed minorities should stay quiet and subservient, and never resort to violence. I just think before we start clocking people, we have to make sure we see the target and won't go crazy with bloodlust (not even in retaliation).

Those kinds of people scare me, because they'll beat a marginalised person up and then convince everyone they did it for a just cause.

[luxaofhesperides]

stealing clothes

college au ft. domestic joongdok. i am so predictable.

also on ao3.

.

.

.

Kim Dokja is extremely lucky to have Yoo Joonghyuk as his roommate. Not just because Yoo Joonghyuk is the campus heartthrob and Kim Dokja is the one who gets to see him everyday, and not because Yoo Joonghyuk is the perfect house husband, cleaning and cooking because he banned Kim Dokja from doing both. 

While both those things are nice, the best part about having Yoo Joonghyuk as his roommate is stealing his shirts. 

Not to do anything weird! They’re just… comfortable.

He even got permission! For the first few, at least. 

It all starts because Yoo Joonghyuk was going to throw out perfectly good shirts that have been worn and washed enough to become soft, the type of softness that even the most high quality shirts can’t capture. They weren’t dirty, or torn, just old. So Kim Dokja protests this and tries to get Yoo Joonghyuk to keep them, only for him to scowl and throw the shirts at him.

“You keep them then,” he said, then left. And Kim Dokja did. 

He’s well aware that wearing his hot roommate’s shirts might be (is) weird, so he only wears them on long nights when he needs some extra comfort to get him through his last assignments, or when Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t home. He never wears them when Yoo Joonghyuk might see. He’d rather die. 

And because his wonderful roommate is out for the night, no doubt at a party celebrating his latest gaming tournament win, Kim Dokja is settled in for a long night of reading, curled up on the couch in one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s old shirts. It’s long enough to reach down past his thighs, so he doesn’t bother wearing pants, and a blanket over his shoulders helps with the chill his exposed collarbones bring. 

The apartment is quiet, most people out or sleeping, and the latest update of his favorite web novel is a long one. And should he get hungry, there’s dinner in the fridge, courtesy of Yoo Joonghyuk who is very determined to get Kim Dokja eating more regularly. 

It’s been too long since he was able to be so relaxed and comfortable. No urgent deadlines, no projects to stress about, no tests in the near future hanging over his head like a guillotine. 

He’s so comfortable that halfway through the chapter he’s reading, Kim Dokja begins nodding off. The living room is gradually getting darker as the sun begins to set, and he sees no reason why he shouldn’t take a nap; his sleep schedule is fucked anyways, a little rest won’t hurt him at all.

The sound of the door opening rouses him. 

Distantly, Kim Dokja hears a lock click and a heavy sigh, but half-awake, he can’t be sure if it’s real or part of a dream. 

He opens sleep-heavy eyes to a dark living room; he must have been sleeping for a few hours, long enough for the sun to fully set and the moon to shine brightly. His entire body feels heavy and slow. 

Slowly, Kim Dokja sits up, the blanket falling off his shoulders to pool around his hips. He stretches his arms up above his head, arching his spine a bit, drawing out the stretch as he shakes off the last of his nap. 

Behind him, someone chokes. 

Startled, Kim Dokja drops his arms and turns to see Yoo Joonghyuk standing in front of the hallway, staring at him with wide eyes. He’s… shirtless. Kim Dokja quickly looks away. 

“When did you get back?” he asks, trying to break the strange tension that suddenly fills the apartment.

Yoo Joonghyuk is silent for a few moments before Kim Dokja hears him step closer. “Just a few minutes ago. I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. Is it late?”

The light turns on suddenly and Kim Dokja winces, blinking to clear the spots from his vision. 

“It’s only nine.” 

Huh. He wasn’t asleep for too long then. He feels the couch dip and looks up to see Yoo Joonghyuk sitting right next to him instead of anywhere else on their rather large couch. He’s staring at Kim Dokja’s chest, which makes him shift uncomfortably. 

He glances down to see what has Yoo Joonghyuk’s attention. There’s no stains or anything…

Then his heart stops for a solid minute. He’s wearing Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirt. And Yoo Joonghyuk knows it’s his old shirt because it’s way too big for Kim Dokja! 

Please don’t bring it up, Kim Dokja mentally begs, trying to send the plea into Yoo Joonghyuk’s head. 

“Isn’t that one of my old shirts?” he asks. Telepathy has failed. Kim Dokja changes to Plan B which is Fake His Death And Start A New Life. 

“Uh. Yeah. You gave it to me,” Kim Dokja answers, hoping Yoo Joonghyuk won’t think he’s weird and kick him out. He’s not willing to give up the best roommate he’s ever had! He just can’t go back to living with the worst people in existence, who treat him horribly and steal his things. He just can’t. 

“I’ve never seen you wear them,” Yoo Joonghyuk says instead of demanding that Kim Dokja move out. 

“I don’t wear them often.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes dart farther down. “You’re also not wearing pants.”

Kim Dokja pulls the blanket over his legs and tries to pretend Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t just say that. “Well, you’re not wearing a shirt! You’re only wearing…” he trails off, finally letting himself look at Yoo Joonghyuk. Those sweatpants look familiar. They look just like the ones he thought he lost months ago. “...Isn’t that mine?”

“...Our laundry must have gotten mixed up.”

That’s a lie. Yoo Joonghyuk is not one to mix up their laundry. They’ve never accidentally taken each other’s clothes. 

Kim Dokja smiles and Yoo Joonghyuk looks away, his ears turning red. “Joonghyuk-ah,” he says sweetly in a way that Yoo Joonghyuk knows is a threat.

“I don’t see why I can’t have some of your clothes if you have mine.”

“My clothes don’t fit you! And besides, isn’t it strange for us to be sharing clothes?”

“No. You should wear my clothes more often. You look good in them.”

Kim Dokja has no response to that. He freezes, then ducks his head, trying to hide his quickly warming cheeks. 

Yoo Joonghyuk, the bastard that he is, doesn’t let Kim Dokja hide. He wraps an arm around Kim Dokja’s waist and pulls him closer, hard enough to send him falling against his side. “Stop being so shy and wear my shirts while I’m around.”

“Shut up. Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?”

“I got bored and left early. I prefer being here with you.”

“Don’t think sweet talking is going to make me forget about you stealing my sweatpants.”

“Oh?” Yoo Joonghyuk runs a large hand down Kim Dokja’s spine, making him shiver. “What should I do then?”

“Nothing!” Kim Dokja hits his chest, but makes no moves to put any space between them. He is not going to be thinking about why. “Anyways, aren’t you tired? You should go to sleep since you spent hours at that tournament. Congratulations on another win, by the way.”

Smiling, Yoo Joonghyuk leans closer, forcing Kim Dokja to bend back a bit, putting more of his weight on Yoo Joonghyuk’s arm. “You were watching?”

“I always watch when you compete. What’s the point of having a popular gamer for a roommate if I can’t brag about him?”

Without another word, Yoo Joonghyuk collapses on top of him, crushing him against the couch.

“Hey!” Kim Dokja flails, then smacks Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder. “What’s that for!”

“You’re right, I am tired.”

“Then go to bed!” 

Yoo Joonghyuk tightens his grip on Kim Dokja’s waist, then nuzzles into his neck. The feeling of his hair brushing against his neck makes Kim Dokja shiver, not quite tickling him but just enough to have the sensation send sparks down his spine. 

He sighs softly, and feeling it against his skin brings a deep blush to Kim Dokja’s cheeks. “I’d prefer to stay here for the night,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. Kim Dokja grumbles about being squished beneath the heavy weight of his body, but ultimately decides to indulge himself and stay. 

They stay like that, sleeping on the couch, all through the night. They both wake with stiff necks in the morning, but Kim Dokja doesn’t mind at all when it lets him stay in Yoo Joonghyuk’s embrace a little longer.

Things change after that. 

Kim Dokja wouldn’t call them friends, per se. Not before That Night. Roommates, yes. Acquaintances who get along well, yes. Friends? No. 

But now, he’s not too sure what to call their relationship. They live together so they have to spend some time together, but school keeps them both busy and Kim Dokja often spends his time at the library with Han Sooyoung and Yoo Sangah while Yoo Joonghyuk streams and goes to tournaments. 

It’s more accurate to say they exist in the same space, than to say that they spend time together. 

They get along well enough, which is why they’ve renewed their lease together for another year, but somehow, after That Night Yoo Joonghyuk is suddenly… sticky.

He’s constantly making food for them. More so than before. He asks for Kim Dokja’s preferences instead of just silently handing him a plate?

Kim Dokja stares at the box of pasta in his hands. He doesn’t understand why he’s grocery shopping with Yoo Joonghyuk, but he’s gone with it for too long and can’t ask any questions now.

“Did you want pasta?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks, appearing behind him without warning. Kim Dokja jumps a little, then glares at him, annoyed by how amused he looks.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I can just buy instant noodles.”

Scowling, Yoo Joonghyuk grabs the box of pasta from his hands and adds it to the cart. “Absolutely not. I’ll make noodles for you later.”

“You can make noodles from scratch?”

“It’s not hard.”

Kim Dokja would marry Yoo Joonghyuk right that very second if asked. He also doesn’t understand why Yoo Joonghyuk is suddenly spoiling him, but he’s not going to question a good thing. He’s going to get as much as he can out of this, because who knows when it will end?

So he bumps his hip against Yoo Joonghyuk’s with a smile as they walk down the aisle, and asks, “Can we get ice cream?”

Yoo Joonghyuk does not answer for a long minute, then glances at Kim Dokja’s hopeful expression and sighs. “Fine.”

He really is getting spoiled.

Kim Dokja fully intends to use this knowledge for evil.

Another thing that’s changed: clothes. 

Since Kim Dokja didn’t complain enough about his sweatpants being stolen before he fell asleep, Yoo Joonghyuk decided he could just take Kim Dokja’s most comfortable sweatpants and wear them whenever he wants. So what if he looks really good! They’re still Kim Dokja’s and he will hold this grudge for as long as he needs to. 

He intends to steal more of Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirts as revenge, except he doesn’t need to steal anything. Because Yoo Joonghyuk just leaves his shirts in Kim Dokja’s room. So he wears them and tries not to get flustered when Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him each time he walks out of his room wearing something Yoo Joonghyuk left him. 

It’s a losing battle.

On the bright side, he no longer has to hide it. It’s still embarrassing, but he’s getting more and more used to lounging in the living room in Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirts. 

The hungry look Yoo Joonghyuk gives him is also nice to see. 

Kim Dokja may be the king of denial, but even he can’t lie to himself with how obvious Yoo Joonghyuk is being. Nor can he pretend that he isn’t doing this for that exact reason, or spending more time at the apartment to be with him. 

They’re both pushing in little ways, but it’s not enough for him to be willing to push their relationship out of the cloud of ambiguity its currently in. 

Before he knows it, half his closet is Yoo Joonghyuk’s clothes, and he has to go to Yoo Joonghyuk’s room to grab a pair of sweatpants to study in because all of them got stolen. The rude bastard really has no shame. 

“Why don’t we just keep our clothes in the same room?” Yoo Joonghyuk suggests after Kim Dokja complains to him about this. 

“Whose room?”

“Mine. Just take all your things into my room. I’ll make space for you.”

And so Kim Dokja suddenly finds himself sharing a room with Yoo Joonghyuk. And then sharing a bed. And then waking up with him to his absurdly early alarm. 

They’re not dating, and he says as much to Han Sooyoung when talking about this; she just rolls her eyes and calls him and idiot for not realizing what’s going on. 

She has absolutely no room to talk, being in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Yoo Sangah instead of just asking her out on a date like normal people would. 

They’re not dating, but Kim Dokja leans into him when they watch a movie together after rejecting a party invite. They’re not dating, but Yoo Joonghyuk kisses his cheek each morning before he gets up to make breakfast. They’re not dating, but Kim Dokja will settle into Yoo Joonghyuk’s lap while wearing nothing but one of his shirts to finish a reading for one of his classes. 

They’re not dating, but he certainly wants to. 

However, Kim Dokja would sooner pass away then actually talk about his feelings, so he bottles it up, greedily hoards all the affection he gets from Yoo Joonghyuk, and hopes he makes his move soon because Kim Dokja is starting to get impatient.

In the meantime, he’ll steal another shirt and pretend he didn’t do it on purpose just to get Yoo Joonghyuk to look at him. 

[aquietwhyme]

Well. It's quite a bit more complicated than that, but in the broadest strokes I'm forced to agree. Which leaves us with the question: what to do about it?

There's a big divide on the left between those who want to work through the system where we can, and those who advocate the total abandonment of electoralism. I, personally, agree with Marx's view, 19th century as it was, that elections can be a valid path towards achieving some of our goals, but that they cannot be the sole or even the primary focus.

Political parties as a rule are as garbage as they are inevitable, and never more so when power is predicated upon a first-past-the-post system, but people need to understand that there are fundamentally only two paths to political power: consent or violence. Both are necessary for a peaceful prosperous society. Electoralism relies on the first but is backed by the second, which is why so much effort is put forth by the ruling classes and their political parties to manufacture that consent. Violence is expensive, not just financially but in the collateral damage it creates in people, institutions, and our systems.

Which brings me back to my question: what to do? With violence we lose, not because of nambypamby moral reasons but because we have neither the numbers, the power, nor the appetite for causing the suffering necessary to prevail with only violence, and because it's always easier to destroy (the right's specialty) than create. Consent is vital from a practicality standpoint, not just a moral one. And with our material conditions as they are, now, in June 2023, we make gains by treating elections as an important tool to not just improve our lives but win allies and bring people into the left proper.

There are a lot of liberal-minded people who just... don't know about leftism, what it is, actually, how it would improve their lives, etc. And as milquetoast as, say, the DSA is, I think it has the right idea in that we need allies. We need hearts and minds. We need actionable paths to success that don't just rely on blood and imagery of guillotines (though lord knows I do that enough, and recently too!), if only because the reactionaries are better at harnessing that sentiment than we are.

So hearts, minds, direct action, solidarity, constant constructive criticism productively of liberalism (there's a CCCP for all you tankies!), building our capacity for defending our communities, and yes, taking Marx's advice and using the bourgeois tools of republican democracy to wrest control of the levers of power and production away from capital.

Activist judges legislate from the bench again.

[guqin-and-flute]

Episode 73: Koala Chlamydia Is A Problem [My Brothers, My Sister and Me Excerpt]

[MBMSAM AU] [First Installment] [Podfics!] [Ao3 Link]

[COVER ART BY THE FANTASTIC LITTLESMARTART]

Jin Zixuan: Do we want another question?

Qin Su: Sure, yeah, got one right here. 'When I was younger, I was really skinny and weak'--hey! Hey, now, negative body talk, much! That's super judgmental of yourself!

Mo Xuanyu: And of us people who are skinny and weak right now! [teasing] Right, Yao-gege?

Meng Yao: [calmly] I'm not affiliated with you.

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [cackles]

Qin Su: 'When I was a kid, I was really skinny and weak, so I made it my mission to get as jacked as possible so people would take me seriously. I put in a lot of hard work, changed my exercise routine and diet and it worked. But now, as an adult I'm a 6 foot 7 dude--'

Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] 6 foot 7 ?

Qin Su: Just a mountain of a man. '--6 foot 7 dude with serious muscle mass--'

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [sotto voce] Good God .

Qin Su: '-- and a pretty intense resting face. I routinely make children cry just by existing and everyone shoots me nervous looks in the grocery store. It gets to me sometimes. I’m not a bad guy! I just look scary. What are some ways that I can make myself less intimidating?’

Mo Xuanyu: Huh.

Qin Su: I mean, let’s see...puppies are unintimidating. Can you devise a system where you carry a few around with you at all times? Maybe in some saddle bags, everywhere you go?

Mo Xuanyu: The movies, the gym, on dates… .

Jin Zixuan: Sure, until they start pissing down your legs. Then you’re not just unintimidating, you’re the guy no one wants to stand next to at the bus stop.

Meng Yao: I mean, it still does the job, doesn’t it?

Mo Xuanyu: You could get a butterfly tattoo, like, directly on your forehead.

Meng Yao: Okay, please explain to me your thought process on how exactly that would make anyone more approachable.

Qin Su: They still want to be able to navigate human society, A-Yu.

Mo Xuanyu: Ew, why? 

Jin Zixuan: Let’s see...what makes someone approachable….Who is the least intimidating of all of us?

Qin Su: [immediately] You.

Meng Yao: [affirming] Mm.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] What?

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Oh yeah, you’re like...you’re like a poodle. Or a--

Jin Zixuan: [highly offended] Excuse me! I'm the oldest and definitely the tallest one here!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [ill concealed snort]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [pityingly] Oh, da- ge .

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Or a golden retriever.

Qin Su: Please don't tell me you think that being tall translates into you actually being scary. You’re tallest by, like, 3 inches. At most, that’s just part of the equation of being scary.

Meng Yao: And the rest of Zixuan’s equation is just filled with collared polo shirts. Which absolutely tanks the intimidation ratio.

Mo Xuanyu: That doesn't tank yours, though.

Meng Yao: I wear button downs. It’s not the same. [Vaguely disgusted undertone] Collared polos.

Jin Zixuan: Excuse you, polos are weekend wear and there is nothing wrong-- I can be intimidating!

Qin Su: [doubtfully] Ehhhhh…

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [badly stifled snickers]

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: I can! Just because I’ve never had to intimidate you --

Qin Su: Let's just say; citation needed

Mo Xuanyu: Please, jiejie has you beat.

Jin Zixuan: [indignant] Wha--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: He's right, gege; an unopened jar of mayonnaise has you beat. And I'm no unopened jar of mayonnaise. 

Mo Xuanyu: That shit is opened .

Meng Yao: That’s a Tinder profile quote.

Qin Su: What? 'Spicier than mayo?'

Mo Xuanyu: [half singing, half chanting] ‘My mayo brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like-- [normal voice] this is really underwhelming.’

Meng Yao: [musing] ‘Saltier than soy sauce, spicier than mayo….’

Qin Su: Why do we always come back to food? Are our Skype calls haunted by starving Victorian ghost children? Are we possessed?

Mo Xuanyu: [mournful, high pitched, bad British accent] ‘My name is Bartholemew and I’m starving. Please, spare some mayo.’

Meng Yao: It’s your own fault if none of you bother to eat before we record. You all had the schedule.

Mo Xuanyu: [crunches loudly near mic]

Meng Yao: [falsely happy] Hey, thanks! Thank you so much, A-Yu, love the level spike on that one. Editing mouth noises out of our podcast makes my day brighter.

Jin Zixuan: [under his breath] Just...unbelievable….You all….

Qin Su: [smiling] I think we broke him.

Meng Yao: [laughing] Zixuan is limping behind the conversation indignantly, brandishing his cane….

Mo Xuanyu: [sympathetically] Awww.

Jin Zixuan: I--! I am a high powered businessman! I am trained in martial arts and archery and swordsmanship --

Mo Xuanyu: [mouth full] Oh please, gege, you’re a pod caster.

Jin Zixuan: [forcefully] I am a CEO--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [ignoring him] I think Yao-gege is somehow the most and least intimidating out of all of us at the same time, if we're all being completely honest with ourselves and our place in the world.

Mo Xuanyu: Aww, I thought I was at least a contender!

Qin Su: Honey, you're feral. There's a difference.

Mo Xuanyu: What does a kid have to do around here to be intimidating?

Meng Yao: Learn how to chew with your mouth closed, for one.

Jin Zixuan: [indignantly] A-Yao? Are you not going to deny this?

[Brief silence]

Meng Yao: [calmly] I don't think I'm scary.

Qin Su & Mo Xuanyu: [instant uproarious laughter]

Jin Zixuan: Oh, come on! He's like...a little koala bear or something! How is that scary!

Meng Yao: [offended] Excuse me--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [still laughing] I’m gonna pee --

Meng Yao: -- koalas have smooth brains and eat poisonous leaves all day. Are you calling me a poisonous idiot bear?

Qin Su: [wheezes] Only in private.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughter trailing off] Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t all koalas have chlamydia or something?

Qin Su: [renewed laughter]

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [startled laugh] What?

Mo Xuanyu: Chlamydia! I think that I read--!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god, I think I’ve actually heard that. The plague, the bubonic plague, isn’t it? Or that--Some sort of--that disease people used to get where bits of you fall off?

Qin Su: Beheadings?

Meng Yao: [voice strangled from laughter] Yes, A-Su, that ancient disease the French Revolution that all koalas have--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [snickering]

Mo Xuanyu: [loud and close to mic] LEPROSY .

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Ow--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Holy shit--

Mo Xuanyu: It’s leprosy and you’re thinking of armadillos, da-ge. 

Jin Zixuan: [muttering] Aren’t we all….

Qin Su: [solemnly]  Armadillos and guillotines. Every damn minute of every damn day.

Mo Xuanyu: And I googled it, I’m right; koala chlamydia is a problem.

Meng Yao: And we’ve just found the title of this episode.

Qin Su: If most koalas have chlamydia, I feel like they have other problems they have to deal with.

Mo Xuanyu: Those pesky, promiscuous koalas!

Qin Su: Get them some damn sex ed! Use those eucalyptus leaves for protection!

Meng Yao: [pleasantly] That’s just about the worst thing I’ve heard all day.

Mo Xuanyu: Eugh, that menthol, though. Like Vicks for your dicks!

Meng Yao: I hate it.

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: [pained] PSA: don’t do that. Ever.

Qin Su: The voice of experience?

Jin Zixuan: I don’t think you actually want an answer to that, meimei.

Meng Yao: You people make me hate learning and also knowing things.

Mo Xuanyu: Also I've been looking it up and mountain lions are the ones that can have the bubonic plague.

Meng Yao: Choose your fighter; chlamydia ridden koala, leprosy ridden armadillo, or mountain lion with the Black Death.

Qin Su: Well, at least the mountain lion could inflict some damage. Use it like a poison delivery system, like an anthrax letter to secretly infect people.

Meng Yao: [patient teacher tone] ‘A mountain lion is to an anthrax letter, like a koala is to a…?’

Qin Su: [mock frustration] Oh, man, I know this one….

Mo Xuanyu: 'I can't come into school today, I got attacked by a mountain lion.'

Qin Su: [acting concerned] 'Oh my God, are you okay? Are you gonna have scars?'

Mo Xuanyu: 'Worse. The Plague .'

Jin Zixuan:  Okay, glad we got our animal infections all sorted out--back to what we were talking about. So, riddle me this--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [delighted, Riddlemancer voice] Rrrriddle Me Piss, kids--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao & Qin Su: NO!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god --

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] I don't actually have anything today--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: A blessing .

Mo Xuanyu: --but I'll get you next time.

Jin Zixuan: No, I need to know, genuinely, this is not a bit-- why do you think A-Yao scarier than me?

Qin Su: I mean, what's not scary about a smooth brained bear full of toxins and chlamydia?

Meng Yao: [disgruntled] Uh huh.

Mo Xuanyu: Technically, they’re not bears, they're marsupials! And I think Yao-gege is more of an armadillo--hard on the outside--

[slight crosstalk] Qin Su: --And full of leprosy on the inside. 

Meng Yao: [further from mic, keyboard tapping] 'And to Mo Xuanyu...and Qin Su...I leave... absolutely nothing, except...this bag of dog shit and...spiders…..'

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Awww, A-Yu, we're being written out of his will again!

Jin Zixuan: Listeners, am I wrong? Am I crazy? He’s the size of a toddler--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still away from mic, keyboard tapping] ‘And to Jin Zixuan...I leave--’

Jin Zixuan: He looks like a sugar glider baby that got turned into a human man--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘This box...of useless...tetanus filled screws….’

Qin Su: Da-ge--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘--that i...encourage him to use…--’

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [snickering]

Meng Yao: ‘As acupuncture needles.’ There. Sent to the notary. Now, what were we talking about, again?

Qin Su: Da-ge, all those things might be true--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [flatly] Wow.

Qin Su: But here’s a test. What would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Jin Zixuan: [immediate, sounding businesslike and slightly aggressive] I would contact their parents and set up a meeting with the school officials and make it very clear that they are never to do that again.

Qin Su: [grinning] Okay. Yao-gege, what would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Meng Yao: [calmly] Absolutely nothing you could prove in a court of law.

Mo Xuanyu: [bursts out laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: I mean--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Uhhhh--

Qin Su: You see? Also-- [quick sing-song voice] 🎵 This is a joke, for legal reasons, this is a joke 🎵 [normal voice] He’s got that--that--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [lingering laughter] Yeah, it's that menace. Da-ge, you’re like--you’re like if a duckling--okay, you remember when I brought you to Hot Topic? You were like a duckling at a Death Metal concert.

Jin Zixuan: [defensively] The music was so loud--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [pityingly] Oh, Zixuan.

Qin Su: You're like if a golf course got turned into a human. 

Meng Yao You're what would happen if you gave mac and cheese a social security card and keys to a lamborghini.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Okay.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] You're the lightly salted almonds of people. 

Qin Su: You're like a wholesome Hallmark movie fucked the concept of the suburbs.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Sure. Sure.

Meng Yao: You emanate the peril of a box of lethargic kittens.

Jin Zixuan: Wow. My own family. This is coming from the physical manifestation of a My Chemical Romance song--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [smug] You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan: -- and the woman who cries at the Land Before Time every time she watches it. I think this is a case of glass houses, here. Let ye who are intimidating... 

Qin Su: Oh, so we’re not roasting Yao-gege back?

Meng Yao: Not sure how me being compared to a STD riddled marsupial for about 5 minutes straight escaped your notice, A-Su, but alright. 

Jin Zixuan: I feel that you are all being...heinously short sighted, here. Are you seriously trying to tell me that A-Yu is scarier than me, a full grown man?

Meng Yao: I would certainly be more warranted in my concern about him stabbing me than I would about you.

Mo Xuanyu: Oh my God, gege, that was like 5 years ago and I already said I was sorry--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [loudly] What--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Did we actually help this person? I mean--

Mo Xuanyu: We always help, jiejie.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Hold on--

Qin Su: We learned a lot about exactly how disturbing the animal kingdom is, but….

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: No, go back--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: Dress like a middle aged accountant, share minion memes on Facebook, and buy your son a puppy so you have an excuse to talk to the dog and not people. There you go. Done.

Jin Zixuan: No, rewind--Xuanyu, you stabbed our brother? 

[brief silence]

Qin Su: [brightly] Well, that's going to do it for us today, folks--!

Jin Zixuan: A-Yu!

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: It was only a little!

Jin Zixuan: How can you stab someone a little ?! 

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Thank you so much for listening in this week--

Jin Zixuan: With what ? Why?!

Mo Xuanyu: It honestly wasn’t that bad, he made it sound like--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: That's not an answer --

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [begins laughing]

Jin Zixuan: A-Yao--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still laughing]

Qin Su: [brightly]  We hope you enjoyed our enlightening romp, here! We want to thank Sister Sledge for the use of the song We Are Family. A-Yu, how about that last Yahoo?

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [farther from mic, clearly grinning] Ohhh, boy. 

Mo Xuanyu: Okay, okay--anonymous Yahoo Answers user asks….[exaggerated, desperate voice] ‘I can’t afford a freezer. Where do I put my deer meat?’

[Outro music begins quietly]

Qin Su: [laughs] I’m Qin Su.

Jin Zixuan: [sighs, disgruntled] I’m Jin Zixuan.

Meng Yao: [grinning] I’m Meng Yao.

Mo Xuanyu: [sheepish] I’m Mo Xuanyu.

Qin Su: And this has been My Brothers, My Sister, And Me! Thank you to everyone, see you next week and remember; send your trash dad straight to jail!

[mandoalorian]

Hiii!!! Could you please do a oneshot of things din likes about you? What he admires about you?

Summary: Your crew mate, Din Djarin, is away for the first time in a long time. During this period of isolation, he begins to realise just how much he misses you.

AN: This is destined to flop because I’m still flagged and nobody is going to see this in the tags :( I know I always say reblogs mean a lot but this time — they genuinely mean everything to me. I’m still trying to write despite knowing that my work will get barely any reach. The only way people are going to be able to read my work is through reblogs/shares. I’m still trying to get through to Tumblr because honestly, being wrongly flagged sucks. 😭 Anyways enjoy❤️

A Letter From Din

Hi,

Hello,

How do you start letters?

I don’t think I’ve written a single letter in my life. There’s no need. I know I’m bad with words, and I know this was your idea— to write to each other. Maybe it’ll help me better my communication skills. Who knows. I’m staring to feel like I’m a lost cause.

The past few weeks have proven to be more difficult than I could ever even imagine. I’ve been alone my whole life, you know that. And it’s been fine. I’ve been fine. But now, when I’m camping out in-between bounties, and I’m alone, and it’s dark, I find myself yearning for your company.

Asking you to become crew on the Crest might’ve been the best decision I’ve ever made. Don’t let it get to your head. I was reluctant at first, but you know how much help I needed with the kid. And... even though he’s not with us anymore, I still keep you around. I suppose you’re not as bad as I probably make you out to be.

You make me laugh. I hate laughing. But sometimes you crack the dumbest joke, and I wonder to myself: how could anyone possible come up with something as ridiculous as that? But you do. I don’t know how you manage it, but you make me laugh. I live for the way you laugh too, I like it when you laugh too, it’s infectious. Your smile and the way the corners of your eyes crinkle up... I know you can’t see me under this helmet but— when you smile, I smile too.

I’ve never really had any friends. Sure, there’s Cara and Karga, but you know how it is. More than anything else, we’re in each other’s debts. You, on the other hand...

You’re just great to be around. You can read me like an open book, which I know isn’t possible because you can’t exactly see my face. But somehow, I just feel so connected to you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Do you feel it too? This connection?

I’m surprised you’ve stuck around this long. I know it can’t be nice, sleeping on the floor in the hull of the ship, but hey— at least while I’m gone you can take my bed. Do you sleep in my bed? Remember I have some sourberries stored for you in carbon freezing it you ever crave anything sweet.

It’s hard to sleep without your company. I don’t know how I managed it before you were around. The caffeine tablets you packed for me were a great idea though. I know we sleep in different areas of the ship but it’s just nice knowing that you’re there, you know?

I miss the way I’d wake up to the smell of you cooking breakfast too. You make me feel like the luckiest hunter in the rim. Your bowls of Meilooran fruit are the best I’ve ever tasted. You just can’t buy them like that. I must admit, this portion bread is getting pretty dry. I can’t wait to get back to the ship.

Hey, maybe I don’t even miss you that much. Maybe I just miss the way you cook for me.

I think I’m liking this whole writing letters thing. It’s much easier for me to tease you this way, and you can’t retort back.

I’m beginning to feel like I’ve been taking you for granted. When I return to the ship, I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to leave you again. I’d bring you with me but... bounty hunting is dangerous, complicated profession. I know you say you can take care of yourself, and I don’t doubt you for one second. You’re one of the strongest people I know. But, I worry about you. Even right now, I worry about you. What if someone raids the ship while I’m gone and hurts you? I feel the duty to protect you. And I know that you tell me that you’re not my responsibility, but it’s like... this primal feeling. If something happened to you, I could never forgive myself.

Truth is, I don’t take you with me on bounties because your dumb jokes would just annoy me the entire time. What was that one you told me before I left?

You said: The only reason you’d win me in a race is because you have the beskar.

And I was like: What?

And you meant: Beskar— best car.

I didn’t laugh at first, but I remember the way you doubled over and fell to your knees, giggling hysterically at your own, stupid joke.

I love your stupid jokes.

Anyways, I hope this letter finds you safely.

The galaxy feels small without you.

I miss you.

—Mando

———

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