#the red face manifesto

[reddragdiva]

"Dimes Square" was a Thiel-funded attempt to make neoreaction hip with the youth. Every word out of it is the worst.

Honor Levy is the latest Dimes Square neoreactionary that The Cut did a puff piece on for unclear reasons. https://archive.is/SqSv5

Here's actual text from her actual fucking book. It's "Ready Player One" for race scientists. https://archive.is/WE3Nb

He was giving knight errant, organ-meat eater, Byronic hero, Haplogroup Rlb. She was giving damsel in distress, pill-popper pixie dream girl, Haplogroup K. He was in his fall of Rome era. She was serving sixth and final mass extinction event realness. His face was a marble statue. Her face was an anime waifu. They scrolled into each other. If they could have, they would have blushed, pink pixels on a screen. Monkey covering eyes emoji. Anime nosebleed GIF. Henlo frend. hiii.

The Cut piece just happens to mention how Levy interviewed Curtis Yarvin on her podcast

Brock Colyar at The Cut should know fucking better but shows no evidence of capacity for such

the NYT review: "There is an interesting sense here of young people brought up amid a war — a cultural one." you can tell this guy's been saving that line for a special occasion

filing Levy high on the list of Thiel's crimes

[handweavers]

"Those who point to the lumpenproletariat as the revolutionary vanguard disregard the objective laws of historical development. In pre-capitalist societies, poverty and oppression were even greater than under capitalism. But oppression in itself, no matter how great, does not create the basis for the struggle to abolish oppression.

Because of the specific nature of exploitation under capitalism, the working class, which collectively operates the mass production process of the privately owned monopolies, is transformed into the gravedigger of the system. That is why Marx and Engels wrote in The Communist Manifesto: “Of all the classes that stand face to face with the bourgeoisie today, the proletariat alone is a really revolutionary class.”

No fundamental change—or even a challenge to the monopolists—can occur without the working class. And today the proportion of Black workers in basic industries such as steel, coal, auto, transport and others is transforming the prospects for the class struggle and Black liberation.

The degree of exploitation of Black workers is clearly much greater than that of white workers. Nevertheless, the collective form of exploitation in the decisive mass production industries is suffered by all��workers. This creates the objective basis for solidarity, for their unity and leadership in the struggle against the monopolist ruling class.

At the same time, history has assigned a doubly significant role to Black workers—as the leaders and backbone of the Black liberation movement, and as a decisive component of the working class leadership of the anti-imperialist struggle as a whole.

It is the monopolists’ fear of Black, white, Brown, Yellow, Red and working class unity, which in turn can form the basis for still broader people’s unity, that is behind racism and anti-Communism, the main ideological weapons of the ruling class.

Leninism, the Marxism of the imperialist epoch, is the ideological weapon of the working class. It is the scientific guide that enables the working class to combine its struggle with national liberation movements against imperialism.

No other theory has served to free a single working class, a single people, from imperialism anywhere in the world. Beginning with the October revolution, only those guided by Marxism-Leninism have been able to free themselves from class and national oppression and take the road of socialist construction."

— "Objective Laws of Development" Henry Winston, The Crisis of the Black Panther Party (1971)

[thedreadvampy]

best will in the world why would the leopards want to be into reforming the electoral system that can only ever end up with leopards getting to eat at least an amount of face?

(a clue to this is that half the "leopards chewing on you" candidates have recently jumped ship from the supposedly electorally doomed "leopards eat your face" party because the "chewing" party platform is increasingly "leopards chewing your face quite hard and maybe they swallow some chunks, and we threw out everyone who suggested maybe we should dial it back to leopards licking your face")

frankly nobody is less likely to be into electoral reform than new labour, unless it's the tories, but given that they're the only 2 parties which have stood to benefit from FPTP in the last 140 years or something, you know, why WOULD they?

quick unscientific poll for my own interest

[a-very-tired-jew]

The very peaceful protests and their very peaceful actions. I previously posted about how the Columbia SJP has an infographic on terrorist groups and uses language justifying and endorsing their actions. Well here is the UCSC SJP's Instagram.

Fig. 1. Depicts a police car that was damaged by an IED on June 1st at the UCSC student Palestine protests.

Listen, I'm as ACAB as the next person. Hell, I'm an independent forensic consultant. I get to see first hand the fuckery that goes down when I get called in, regardless of what side I'm on. But this? This action here on the official UCSC SJP Instagram page? That is employing the same methods that recognized terrorist groups have used around the world. Jews have said for months that these "peaceful" protests were on track to becoming violent. When you shout and endorse the same rhetoric as terrorist groups that have repeatedly stated they want to kill Jews there is the eventuality that you will start using their same violent tactics. We've already seen these student protesters engage in the same behavior as Nazis by preventing Jewish students and faculty from attending their classes and buildings. We've seen them spit on us, threaten us, shout vile insults, attack us, and attempt to burn down / bomb / destroy our places of worship and business, and we have repeatedly said that it will get worse. Well here it is. Once you start trying to blow up vehicles in the street you're too far gone to call yourself peaceful protesters anymore, you’ve become terrorists. Plain and simple. And guess what? The picture on their Instagram has a descript that is equally chilling.

Fig. 2. Is a message that is attached to the photo in Fig. 1. and includes language that emphasizes violence and terrorist actions. This reads like a manifesto that is attempting to garner support from minority populations here in the USA by appealing to the issues they face. However, the language they are using is a giant warning klaxon because it undermines the actual severity of what these groups face by couching it within the ProPal Western Activist lexicon. Many people, myself included as a death expert, have pointed out that the term genocide as applied to the conflict is improper and does not meet the criteria. That doesn't stop these protesters from using it to appeal to emotion and attempt to guilt others into supporting their cause. It's clearly an attempt to gather support and drive others to violence. Nothing in here says that these are peaceful protesters. They are ready to lay down their lives for the Cause™ in a violent manner.

Glorifying martyrdom.

Red flag.

Death to amerikkka.

Red flag.

Knife to the throat of zionism.

Red flag. You already complained about the more benign Finding Out portion of employers flagging certain degrees from specific universities and wanting to know if their possible employee is an antisemite. The Finding Out portion of actually planting IEDs is much, much worse. At a certain point people will have to accept that the SJP/PSC system blatantly endorses and justifies violent terrorism. This is what Globalize the Intifada means. It means engaging in the same violent acts of the Second Intifada. It's a call to engage in violent terrorism. But ya'll don't want to accept that, regardless of how many times it's pointed out.

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: keep it quiet | ktr

summary | after an encounter with your best friend’s brother in the middle of the night, you can’t help but falling in love with him—and, perhaps he can’t help falling in love with you, too.

genre | kim taerae x fem!reader, university!au (but over the summer), best friend’s brother!au, y/n is an international student from the united states (sorry for all non usa people)

warnings | alcohol, i plagiarized business proposal, mentions of sex but not explicit

wc | 3.6k

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAERAE!!!!! i’ve always felt like he was so best friend’s brother (+ hanbin is brother’s best friend in case u were wondering) so here’s my best friend’s brother taerae manifesto (@taerrrrrae asked to be tagged)

ft. kep1 members (dayeon is taerae’s sister), billlie members, lsfm members

i. silencieux

The moment you wake up, your head is spinning and you know you’re not drunk enough to throw up, but you sure feel like you’re going to. Kazuha is asleep with her head on your stomach, and you don’t remember when she ended up there (when you fell asleep, you know she was still playing Monopoly in the living room). To your right, Dayeon is asleep face down on the floor, snoring loudly, and to your left, Sheon and Tsuki had made it up to Dayeon’s bed.

The room is dark, which is disorienting, given you fell asleep when the fluorescent overhead light was still on. As best as you could, you removed Kazuha’s head from your stomach, trying to push yourself up off the floor. A glance at Dayeon’s Hello Kitty-themed, digital clock tells you that it’s 4:34 in the morning, which means you slept for around five-and-a-half hours.

During that time, you’d slept off a lot of the alcohol, but you were still feeling slightly buzzed—the buzz wasn’t enough to keep the hangover away, though. You must’ve drank your weight in vodka, which was not good for you, but Kazuha had insisted on you showing them what an American college kid party was like. And, since you’d been to a single frat party during your senior year of high school, you’d been able to pull it off to an extent (you ordered red solo cups and called it a day).

Deciding you needed to drink some water, you stumbled over Dayeon and emerged out into the hallway, nearly knocking into the wall as you did so. The house was empty as far as you were aware—her parents had gone on vacation, which was why you’d been able to drink all day in the first place. According to Dayeon, though, her older brother was supposedly getting home that night.

You assumed he would probably be asleep by now, so you continued on your conquest to the kitchen, practically falling down the stairs because you didn’t turn the light on. But, once you made it to the bottom, there was nothing in between you and getting your water.

Except for a boy sitting at the island in the kitchen, a mug in one hand and a phone in the other. He’d dimmed the lights in the room, which you didn’t know could happen, and he was blissfully unaware of your presence. At that moment, you registered the quiet sound of bossa nova playing as well, which meant he probably hadn’t heard you stumbling down the stairs.

You froze the moment you saw him, immediately weighing your options—you could either go back upstairs and search for water in Dayeon’s room (or just drink from the tap, which you didn’t want to do but would sacrifice if need be) or you sucked up the anxiety and got a huge cup of ice water.

You didn’t have time to decide, because he turned his head towards you, seemingly confused as to why you’d stopped. “Oh, I thought you were Dayeon,” he said, and you practically swooned.

You didn’t know Dayeon’s brother was point-blank beautiful. His voice was deep too, and you briefly wondered if he’d somehow stepped straight out from a k-drama. He was dressed like he was in a k-drama, too, wearing a black t-shirt and baggy, red sweatpants with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“Um, sorry,” you replied, feeling a bit stupid. Your voice sounded foreign in your ears, and you were praying to the gods above that you didn’t sound drunk still. Taerae shook his head, offering you a reassuring smile. You nearly passed out as a dimple bloomed on his cheek, and you began to wonder how Dayeon had never told you that her brother was perfect.

“No, go ahead and do whatever you need to do. I don’t think you were expecting me to be here.”

You nodded haphazardly, taking a few steps toward the cabinets. Taerae went back to scrolling on his phone, where you quickly realized he was reading a book. You picked up the pace, rushing past him and towards the cups that were on the counter. Grabbing one, you quickly filled it with ice and water, suddenly forgetting who was sitting behind you.

Hurriedly, you chugged the glass, practically rejoicing as the ice-cold water flowed down your throat. With a content sigh, you let one of the ice cubes fall into your mouth, and you began crunching on it.

“Are you the one that’s going to be staying with us this summer?”

You choked on the ice, panic flowing through your entire body. You practically swallowed the rest of the cube whole, spinning on the ball of your foot to face him. In your drunkenness, you’d forgotten that you were going to be living at this guy’s house for the rest of your summer and hadn’t even tried to make a good impression.

“Oh, yeah, right. That would be me, yes. I’m [First].”

“Taerae,” he replied. “If you ever need anything, let me know. I have a car.”

It took everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping. The more you learned about this guy, the more insane you felt—whenever Dayeon talked about him, she spoke like he was the biggest loser on the planet. But, right now, he seemed like the farthest thing from a loser.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’m going to go back to sleep.”

He smiled at you again, nodding. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. If you’re up before me, the hangover medicine is in the mirror cabinet.”

You felt the warmth rush to your cheeks when he said that, and you rushed to put your glass in the sink and disappear from the room. “Thank you,” you mumbled, speed-walking around the island. Then, as if he was a psychic, he put his hand on the edge right as you walked into it, protecting you from the stabbing pain of a rock-hard corner. With much more fervor than the last time, you choked out another “Thank you!” before practically running up the stairs and back into the sweet escape of Dayeon’s bedroom.

ii. silencio

A couple of days into your stay at Dayeon’s house, you and Taerae found out that you both went to bed late and woke up early. As a result, your most active times were around the same time; so, the both of you often found yourselves sitting with one another.

Every night, it would be the same set-up: Taerae reading a book and drinking tea, which you found out was chamomile, while you sat across from him, working on the homework for your summer class. Then, at around 3 in the morning, you would pack up for the night. You’d then wake up before him and much before Dayeon, make your breakfast, and while you were eating, he would emerge in the morning.

You also quickly learned that Taerae had, quite literally, no flaws. Once, he sat next to you at the dining table, and he smelled like fresh laundry. On top of that, his breakfast of choice had been a piece of toast with raspberry jam which, for some reason, made you even more enamored with him.

During the day, Taerae didn’t go out much. If he did, he was going to see friends, and Dayeon seemed to be in love with one of his friends (his name was Gyuvin, and he was younger than her, which she didn’t like). She often told him to bring his friends over, but Taerae would just laugh at her and leave with car keys dangling from his hand.

He also restated his offer to take you anywhere you needed to go several times, though it was often directed to both you and Dayeon. You found that very sweet, especially for an older brother—a lot of things about his relationship with Dayeon were picturesque. If you’d had a sibling relationship like theirs, you figured you’d be a very different person.

All in all, he was very kind, which was fatal to anybody with a conscience (especially paired with his face). If the word “beautiful” was a person, you were half convinced that Taerae would be him.

You’d be, quite frankly, utterly stupid if you didn’t try and grow closer to him. So, that’s exactly what you did—at night, when Dayeon was fast asleep and you two were the only ones left alive in the house, you would emerge from the guest bedroom and sit with him. You never spoke unless he spoke first, and generally left him to his own devices, hoping somehow that just sitting in the same room as him would make him fall madly in love with you.

Soon enough, the two of you fell into a routine. You’d sit at the kitchen counter on one of their high stools, either studying or playing random games on your computer while you listened to a podcast. Taerae would read and drink tea, listening to various types of music (from jazz to trot, which you found entertaining).

Then, you made a bold move—instead of sitting at the kitchen counter, you sat yourself down at the table, in the opposite corner. Taerae looked at you for a brief moment but didn’t say anything, which made you feel decently impressed with yourself. In your delusion, you were convinced your plan was “working,” even though you had no proof that he viewed you as anything but Dayeon’s friend. 

And then, it happened. One night, Taerae was out with his friends later than usual, and you’d felt a little discouraged in pulling your little scheme to hang out with him. But, you figured that, if you didn’t go sit down there at least for the hours you usually did, you’d look suspicious (and fall behind on your schoolwork). So, you set up shop, spreading out your books and papers across the table while you compiled them into your notes.

When he got home, it was around 1 in the morning, and you could tell he was drunk from the way his cheeks were flushed (and the fact that he didn’t hang his car keys—in fact, his keys were nowhere to be found). He nodded at you as he walked to his room, shuffling his feet and yawning. You nodded back, suppressing the smile you felt itching at your lips. A moment later, he came out, wearing the same red sweatpants and black sweatshirt that he loved so much.

You then realized that you’d never been able to watch him make his tea, so you found yourself staring at him the entire time he did—from getting out the tea bags from the cabinet to him adding a plethora of little ingredients, like honey and a single drop of cream.

Then, he turned, and you immediately averted your eyes, staring at your computer screen. Taerae sat next to you instead of sitting on the opposite side, still leaving a chair in between you two. You felt yourself tense up but tried to give the illusion of being as relaxed as possible in hopes of keeping your silly crush a secret.

This time around, Taerae didn’t read a book and sat drinking his tea. He put his music on as usual, settling on the same samba jazz he’d been listening to the night you first met. He leaned back into his chair, and you continued to fight the urge to stare at him from the corner of your eye.

“You want to know something?” he asked, a little slur to his words. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Depends on what ‘something’ is.”

“We barely talk,” he began, laughing at himself. “But I think about you all the time. When we’re not sitting here together, I almost feel miserable. You live in my house and I still feel like we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Woah,” you said, eyes wide. “Are you sure you want to be saying this when you’re drunk?”

“When else would I say it?” he snorted, brushing his hair out of his face. He took another sip of his tea. “I’ll probably regret it in the morning, but at least it’s off my chest. Don’t tell me how you feel. Just go back to your work.”

You cleared your throat, buffering for a moment. Then, you did as he asked, and went back to furiously typing away at your study guide. About fifteen minutes later, Taerae got up and put his mug in the sink, disappearing deeper into the house—but he left the music playing.

iii. silentium

You didn’t see Taerae until the next night. He didn’t come down in the morning, and you noticed his shoes were gone from the rack next to the door. When you asked Dayeon when she emerged from her bedroom at nearly 1 pm, she said she’d gone to get his car and ended up deciding to spend the day with his friend Matthew.

You found it hard to keep a straight face in front of Dayeon for the rest of the day, wanting nothing more than to spill out all of your feelings to her, as she was your best friend. You also knew that she would likely be less than pleased that your stupid plan to get her brother to fall in love with you worked, so you kept your mouth shut.

It was also out of respect for Taerae, too, as he was probably dying of embarrassment while he was out with his friend. And, as you expected, he arrived back to the house well after Dayeon had passed out, eyebags prominent under his eyes.

You were sitting at the dining table playing Tetris, listening to a random podcast that talked about random items and events that piqued the hosts’ interest. He didn’t go into his room or make his tea this time, just sitting down next to you (with one seat in between, of course).

You took your AirPods out and paused your game, leaning back into your chair. “Sorry,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table. “If I made things weird, that’s not cool for you, ‘cause you don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll probably be out and about more when my parents come back.”

You stayed quiet, devising a plan in your head. Part of you was exasperated that your stupid sit-in-the-same-room tactic worked, and the other part of you was screaming in your head, banging on the walls, and giggling maniacally.

You slid into the chair that separated you two, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Then, before he could turn to look at you, you planted a quick kiss on his cheek. You felt like a middle schooler doing that, but it was the only thing you could come up with before Taerae gave up and left you alone.

He turned to face you, eyes wide and cheeks red, like they’d been last night. For a moment, you stared at each other, not saying a word. Then, you got an idea that made your head spin at just the thought of it—it was cliche and straight out of a movie scene, but you couldn’t help but want to actualize it.

Taerae seemed to have the same idea, as he leaned over and kissed you with a sort of fervor that you weren’t expecting. You couldn’t help but return the kiss, putting your hands on the sides of his face and pulling him closer to you. He pulled away for a second, tugging his glasses off his face and practically throwing them on the table.

Taerae’s lips were soft against your own, plump and perfect to kiss. You were close enough now that you could smell his cologne, which was light and airy, and you felt like a thousand flowers were blooming in your chest. Taerae ran a hand through your hair, which nearly made you swoon (if you weren’t already swooning.

You must’ve made out for a good ten minutes (at least that’s what it felt like), hugging him close to you like if you were to let go he would disappear in a second. The only thing that managed to draw you apart was the loud sound of Dayeon’s bedroom door opening, which caused you to practically shove him away from you. You nearly fell out of your chair as you rushed to get back to your original seat, patting your hair down and shoving your AirPods into your ear.

Taerae grabbed his glasses, pushing them on carelessly while he stood from his chair and nearly ran to where he kept his tea mugs. He began making his nightly tea, although you could see his hands shaking as he filled his electric kettle with water.

Dayeon skipped down the stairs and over to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and leaning down to hover her head above your shoulder. Then, she plucked out your earbud, putting her phone in front of your computer screen.

You prayed to every god that she couldn’t smell Taerae’s cologne on you, trying to focus on her screen. It was a wall of texts, the contact being easily identifiable as Taerae’s friend, Gyuvin. You scanned every word, bringing your hand up to scroll through them.

“He asked you out?” you blurted out, not thinking about the implications of saying that right behind her older brother. It was a panic reaction, a last-ditch attempt to get her away from you so she wouldn’t find out that you’d made out with her brother in her living room. Taerae spun around, and Dayeon detached herself from you immediately, staring at you with betrayal in her eyes. Taerae looked at her with betrayal in his eyes, too, and you suddenly realized that he knew that she had a thing for his friend.

“I knew Matthew wasn’t telling me something,” Taerae scoffed, causing Dayeon to shrink into herself. “How dare you date one of my friends? In what world is that legal?”

“Do you want a free pass to date one of mine?” Dayeon argued back, which caused you to look away with guilt filling your veins. “I’ve had a crush on him for years, I deserve this!”

You hoped that she never found out about you and Taerae.

iv. quiet

It was the night before Dayeon’s parents got home, two weeks before your dorms opened back up, and Dayeon had gone out with Gyuvin, one of his friends, and a couple of your friends. You’d been invited, but you lied and said you weren’t feeling well, thinking of the opportunity to spend the entire night, alone, with your now boyfriend.

Then, he went and ruined it. You stared at your neck in the mirror in absolute horror, looking at the red mark that was blooming on your skin. Taerae sat on the counter, watching you search through your plethora of makeup bags for the green concealer you’d bought back home.

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” you said, finally finding it in your bag of eyeliners. You immediately began dabbing it onto your neck, picking up your beauty blender and trying your best to blend it out.

“This is not my fault,” he shot back, frowning. “I barely even sucked that hard. This is on you. If you didn’t bruise so easily, we wouldn’t be here.”

You shivered, picking up your normal concealer and beginning to spread that out on the green blob you’d created. “Never phrase it like that again. And, for the record, you bit me. I felt it.”

He huffed, hopping off the counter and walking behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. You blended out the normal concealer as well, letting out a sigh as it (mostly) disappeared. “The night before your parents come home and you do this to me. How cruel is that?”

“Maybe it’s a good thing. Then we won’t have to sneak around for two weeks, right?”

“I would rather die than have your parents assume that I’m having sex with their son, but okay,” you replied, sighing. You stared at him in the mirror, now, putting your hands on his arms. He stared back at you, putting his head on your shoulder. “Either way, I don’t like hickeys. My friends used to show up to school with them all the time, and sometimes they’d end the day with one they didn’t have at the beginning. It always grossed me out.”

“Then it’ll never happen again,” he replied, squeezing your middle. “Promise.”

Taerae kissed your shoulder, humming. “Dayeon’s getting home soon. We should go to bed.”

“Is she coming home?”

“Gyuvin texted me that he and Kazuha are bringing her back. He said she doesn’t feel well, and that she thinks you got her sick.”

“Awkward,” you giggled, nearly frowning when he let go of you. You turned to face him, and he put his hands on the counter, trapping you in between him and the ledge.

“Good night, my love,” he said, pecking you on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Be ready for our two weeks of hell.”

“I wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

thank you for reading !

[sgiandubh]

New angle

Just in, in a slightly different format:

C, arriving alone at the Charles Finch (that bookstore lunch guy, last December: an old, influential friend) and Chanel's pre-BAFTA party, in London.

Yesterday. Pics still being released by Getty Images. Still keeping an eye.

The red carpet excuse does not fit, here - no red carpet for parties, just an arrival zone functioning like a photo/press area of sorts. Also, a wee reminder that the last in your face appearance of T happened at another Chanel event, the Gabrielle Chanel Fashion Manifesto Party, on September 14th 2023.

Last but not least, I shall leave here the latest pic on my screen in the just released series, still updating as we speak:

Fashion designer Tom Ford and his +1, actress Emily Blunt, photographed together at the same event.

Tom Ford is happily gay and less happily Richard Buckley (a former Vogue editor)'s widower since 2021. Not all the people coming together at an event are a real couple, in their real respective lives. Not all +1 attendees are 'shy'. And no, McInsipid (cheers, @earthaliensworld!) was most probably not there.

I wonder why (no, I actually don't).

[Edited]: T's last appearance was at Netflix's special screening of Leave The World Behind, last November (gracias por corrigirme). Oh well, this guy annoys me more than trigonometry, back in the day.

[tanadrin]

Maybe I've just been neokeynsianpilled by Unlearning Economics over on Youtube, but I really cannot emphasize enough how bad I think it is that you haven't had a UK government willing to undertake serious public spending in the last 14 years. It's bad enough that the European economic consensus generally is that national debt is terrifying and must be avoided at all costs, but austerity in the UK was really bad, and the state of former bedrock social programs like the NHS is also awful, and a major theme of Labour's manifesto seems to be ~FIsCaL rEsPonSiBiLitY~ at a time when expanding government spending is actually necessary to forestall severe social crisis (or to keep current social crises from getting worse).

It's not enough to have a red-colored party banner; it's not enough to tout your working-class bona fides. You actually have to have a program of government that's capable of solving the problems your country faces. Keir Starmer absolutely doesn't have that. You can make the case maybe the Lib Dems don't either, but at least they have a plausible argument. And frankly I think I would be a worse leftist than I already am if I thought it was more important to support the historically (theoretically) center-left party than to look at, like, the actual material consequences that their respective campaign promises are likely to bring about.

[jetskisonyourmoat]

An old interview from 2007 ☺️

[credit to Twitter user who took photos of the interview]

Transcript:

Coldplay in scarves and woolly mittens. The Libertines as Dickensian street urchins, and REM's Michael Stipe as um, Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. The NME Christmas cover has an illustrious tradition of rock stars arsing around in their best dressing up clobber for a day Some need gentle coaxing, some need a raft of costume. based ideas sent over by our art team before theyll commit. Others, like this year's Christmas cover stars Arctic Monkeys, have planned the concept and hired the outfits even before our tentative email request has had time to settle in their manager's inbox. "We want to be evil elves," came the return message moments later. "Not naughty elves, not mischievous elves. EVIL ELVES.” Which is why, one Wednesday afternoon in late November, we find ourselves at a north London photo studio strapping dynamite sticks to reindeers, impaling others with giant shards of metal, hiding a bomb in a snowman's hat and handing Arctic Monkeys bassist Nick O'Malley a mallet and then standing back as he sends carefully wrapped gifts shattering across the room. Of course, there were the annual set of complications in trying to co-ordinate a photoshoot of this magnitude: Alex Turner requesting the ‘smacked-up elf’ look from the make up artist, but looking more like a cherubic waif with every ring of dark eyeshadow applied, Nick shunning the hired-in pixie boots in favour of his own toe-curling pointers ("from Prada, thank you very much") and a minor tussle over which band member was going to get their ears stuck on first. That and the endless flutes of champagne threatening to sabotage the interview scheduled for straight after the shoot (“I feel very light headed and unsteady on my feet, NME," says Alex, wobbling).

Eventually we manage to steer them to a corner of the room where a Dictaphone awaits. By this time Nick, Matt Helders and Jamie Cook's costumes are on coat hangers and they're back in civvies. Only Alex has opted to stay as an elf, at least as long as the interview lasts. It's a heated hour that will see them debate the big topics of the year, consider their own personal highlights (Nick. "Glastonbury. NME: And your defining Glasto 2007 moment? Nick "Er, headlining the fucker") and lowlights (Mike Reid RIP). Before all that though, there's the small matter of destroying Christmas 2007 for everyone. Your favourite worst nightmare before the festive season is about to be unleashed.

NME: Hello, Nice costumes.

Alex Turner: "Thanks. You might say we dress up too much, But really, what is too much? It's good to escape your own face for an hour.

Matt Helders: "It's easier to hide behind a costume, isn't it? I felt in good spirits up there though - I’m not sure I was really feeling evil enough.

So what's Arctic Monkeys squad of evil elves manifesto for ruining Christmas?

Jamie Cook: "Go out on Christmas Eve.

Alex: "I heard a terrible story about a friend who went out on Christmas Eve once. This lad got hammered and, you know when you're hungover and, like, your thoughts and your mouth aren't connected properly? Well, he was eating his Christmas dinner and his nan were wittering on as your nan does, and he thought to himself. Oh, shut up Nan, you cunt. Then he looked up and everyone was looking at him and his dad went. I think you'd better just take your dinner upstairs and eat in your bedroom. He’d said it out loud (The table collapses in laughter).

Matt: "His nan was a cunt, though."

Alex: "So there's a way to wreck Christmas - call your nan a cunt. Actually. you should leave that out cos my nan buys NME more than my mum. My nan files her NMEs!

Matt: "So our real answer would be... I dunno, burn everyone's house down.

Alex: "Or, you know those Santa’s that come on a truck to estates and all the kids come to see them? Maybe you could hijack one of them as another Santa then rip your beard off

Matt: "....and punch the kids. Or the dad. There's nothing worse than beating kids dads up in front of the kids!"

Alex: "(Nodding) Nothing worse.

Moving on. What does a traditional Christmas entail round at Alex Turner, the only child's, house?

Alex: "Quality Street. That's the only tradition around mine. Other than that, just looking at the phone thinking. Can I ring them (points at other Monkeys) on Christmas Day or is that out of order?'

Matt: "Yeah. it is. (Holding hands up to each ear to mimick a two-way phone conversation between Alex and himself 'Do you wanna come round?' 'Al, it's Christmas Day. My nan's here.' 'Yeah. but I'm just sat here at home...' "

Alex: "We've been discussing how there's nothing to do on Christmas Day and maybe having some kind of party this year. Fancy dress, obviously. We were talking about having some sort of Ultimate Warrior party."

Matt: "Wrestlers weren't it?"

Alex: "Ah yes, wrestlers."

What are you doing for New Year's Eve?

Matt: "Last year was crap. I DJed in Sheffield at midnight. The first song everyone in that room heard going into 2007 was 'Boom! Shake The Room, which was a good feeling"

Alex: "That's something to be proud of. This year we've got nothing planned. We all go out together though; we were at that club."

Matt: "It rarely works, New Year's Eve. It's always such a fucking build-up."

Alex: Everyone's like, '(Whining voice) What are we doing now?' And then it fucking snows, doesn't it?"

Um, not where I'm from...

Alex: "It always snows round where we are"

Jamie: "It's not snow, it's sleet."

Alex: "I remember walking home last year in it and no taxis stopping for us."

Jamie: "Yeah, 'Im not taking you to High Green, mate."

Nick O'Malley: "I booked a hotel last year in Sheffield city centre and just stayed there."

Alex: 'Maybe well stay in this year. See Jools' Hootenanny and that."

What New Year's resolutions are you going to make?

Alex: "I want to learn how to cook food. I want to do a good curry."

Nick: "I want to get to a level of fitness synonymous with that of a boxer - just so I don't get out of breath walking up the stairs"

Jamie: "I want to grow a beard. I’m not shaving after today."

Alex: "Otherwise I'm allowed to punch him in the nose."

Matt: "I want to learn to do a back somersault and a front somersault."

Jamie: "Oh, and be able to dive into shallow water from a height and not hurt yourself."

Alex: "Yeah, flips, juggling. unicycling. I think were all always looking for improvement in our overall balance."

The coming year dealt with, it's time to turn the clock back and get Arctic Monkeys' take on the headlines that shook 2007. For this, Alex takes a more noticeably back-seat role in the conversation especially when the spectre of political allegiance rears its head and he actually goes completely mute. According to his press officer afterwards, having seen Arctic Monkeys branded Gordon Brown's favourite new band before he became Prime Minister, Alex is reluctant to say anything that any of the political parties could use to their advantage. From here on in then, Nick'n'Matt take over from Aln'Matt as the comedy double act. Meanwhile, Jamie will reserve his sole contribution to the conversation for an animated outburst about social networking sites in the workplace.

This Christmas marks the one-year anniversary of James Brown's death. Did he mean much to Arctic Monkeys?

Nick: "Yeah, we were big fans of James Brown."

Alex: "The first ever gig we did, we walked onstage to 'The Payback. And at college I had a pair of jeans I'd written on in red marker ‘I've got soul and I'm super bad!

Jamie: "He did as well."

Nick: "It was one of those things when you heard, you didn't want to believe it. A bit like Steve Irwin."

Alex: "Or Mike Reid. (Genuinely moved) Mike Reid, that really hit me that."

Nick: 'I don't think there was a big enough fuss about that as there should have been."

Matt: "I tell you when Ill be dead upset- and I don't really want to say it cos he's not dead yet, but I might as well get it all out -and that's when Bruce Forsyth dies."

Alex: "(Gravely) Ah, Forsyth."

Matt: "Cos I know I'm going to see it.. all being well my end."

Nick: "Touch wood."

Alex: "Cover the holes!"

Nick: "(To NME] Do you know where that expression comes from?"

Alex: "Apparently there's these little people who live in the wood. Like these little fairies that bring things that you say to life. So you cover the holes so they can't get out... Yeah, Mike Reid. I remember reading about that in the airport.

Then there was the Celebrity Big Brother race row early in the year. Did you watch any of it?

Nick: "We made a point of watching that. We wanted to watch where what's-her-name got kicked out. That said it all, and they didn't have any crowd there"

Alex: "Oh, Jade."

Jamie: "I thought Jade Goody and the one that was getting abused by her.

Matt: "Shilpa Shetty."

Jamie: "That's right. I thought they both played it bad."

Alex: "Jo from S Club 7 can fuck off I’d send her to jail Why? I just don’t like her; I think she came across horrible."

Nick: (Changing tact) “I texted one of those numbers to find out about touch wood (Reaches for beeping phone and starts reading) Touch wood is said to come from a mid-18th century story in which children being chased who touched wood were said, to be immune from being caught"

Matt: "I don't believe that. This has been wrong once before and thats when texted, to ask who's headlining Glastonbury and it said Eric Clapton. (Pumping chest out defiantly) It weren't - it were us!"

Of course the biggest music story of the first half of the year was Keith Richard revealing he'd snorted his father…

Jamie: "(Laughing) His ashes weren’t it?

Yep. What's the weirdest thing you've ever snorted?

Matt: "An eraser. That's not true actually I've witnessed it but never done it I wish I had. I didn't live enough at school”

What did you think of Keith's revelations?

Matt: "I think it was shortly after he said we were shit. He said something like the ["Load of cunts. load of cunts. Posers, rubbish was how Keef actually described the Monkeys, alongside Bloc Party and The Libertines in the same NME interview.

Keith said he didn't like The Libertines who reformed for one night only in April, with Carl Barât joining Pete Doherty onstage at London's Hackney Empire. Did you care?

Alex: "Yeah, I was interested in that. It was a 'should've been there moment, I imagine.”

Matt: "I’d have liked to have seen that.”

Nick: "They're one of the bands that a very young us were really into."

Would you like them to get back together permanently?

Alex: "(With just enough sarcasm) The greatest hits album were enough for me”

Jamie: "They didn't sling it out though did they? It was the label."

Nick: "I read something where Pete was saying he didn't even know it had come out.”

What about the new Babyshambles album? Were you fans of that?

Nick: "I’ve only heard a few songs, but the were good tracks."

Alex: "I liked it and I liked him on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross.”

Nick: "He seemed like a nice gentleman"

Alex: "I met him once. I was at this party in this club this time last year when we were recording, and someone who I’d never met said Oi! Come here and led me through this door and there was a studio and in this studio he was stood there with his top off."

Nick: "Topless?!"

Alex: "It were surreal. For a start there's a studio in a club, then there’s Pete Doherty and then he's got his top off he’s taller than you’d think.”

Matt: "I remember meeting him, as a fan actually, at a Strokes gig at Alexandra Palace I had my picture took with him and that’s when I realised he were tall."

In May, offices and schools across the UK began blocking students from using Facebook.

Alex: "I’ve never even been on Facebook"

Jamie: "(Antagonised) You know what? That’s fair enough if they should be workin’ or learning, not making take friends"

Matt: "What's the difference between…”

Jamie: "(Raising voice) No, but fair enough! You're fucking working!"

Matt: "Um, what's the difference between Facebook and MySpace?”

Please tell me one of the Arctic Monkeys knows what Facebook or MySpace are...

Alex: "I've never looked on them."

Jamie: "I haven't."

Matt: “I know what MySpace looks like, cos other people have shown me theirs, but none of us have actually got one.”

Are there any sites you do frequent?

Matt: "I don't mind The Hype Machine. I go on to search for remixes before they get heard properly."

Nick: "I got really into Wikipedia at one point. I read loads of things about joe Meek and Shack"

Alex: "He’ll read all these facts then casually throw them into conversation the next day."

Matt: "Askjolene.com is the biggest adult search engine in the world.. Just throwing that in there"

Gordon Brown - a big fan of yours, apparently - took over from Tony Blair this summer as Britain's 51st Prime Minister. How's he done so far?

Nick: "I've not really noticed any changes."

Matt: "It's neutral for me."

Who will you be voting for next time?

Matt: "I need to start evaluating, reading all their manifestos."

Nick: "I’ll Wikipedia them all and make a decision that way.”

The UK smoking ban kicked in on July 1. Has it bothered you?

Matt: "Nick's the only one of us that smokes."

Nick: "Oi, my mum reads this!"

Matt: "(Back-tracking hastily) Like I said, Nick doesn't even smoke."

Nick: "I agree with it, even though 1 do smoke. I think it's a good thing."

Alex: "You get weird smells now, I reckon."

Matt: "We were reading about that place where they give out free deodorant because you smell people more now in bars."

Nick: "It's a good way to meet new people outside I've found. And it someone's getting on your nerves you can just say. 'Right, Im going outside for a cigarette."

Alex: "I think it will become less strict in a few years. 'Cos like in New York they've had it a bit longer and they turn a blind eye to it some places there now.”

In August we had another music legend pass away; Tony Wilson.

Alex: "That were a right shock. I'm not a huge fan of the Manchester music scene. but enough for his death to mean a lot."

Nick: "I always imagine him as Alan Partridge, y know! Well, Steve Coogan in 24 Hour Party People. That's where I first got to know of Tony Wilson."

Alex: "(Looking glum) What happened in September, NME?"

You can have the Diana death inquest or Klaxons winning the Mercury Prize.

Alex: "Klaxons winning the Mercury Prize."

Matt: "You could say Klaxons winning the Mercury Prize if you want, or you could say us losing the Mercury Prize"

How did you feel about that?

Matt: "It were alright. It were a bit of a dent on my life."

Nick: "Well done, Klaxons. I wanted Dizzee Rascal to win it."

Matt: "'Yeah, Maths + English'"

Nick: "I thought it was Winehouse's though."

Alex: "But then I think Klaxons' album is more of an album than Amy Winehouse's album. Like, Amy Winehouse's album had some good tunes an' that. But I think as a thing, you can't really argue with Klaxons."

What did you think about Radiohead shocking the music industry with the way they released In Rainbows' this autumn?

Alex: "We heard Radiohead's riveting radio broadcast on the way home last night."

Matt: "I nearly fell asleep at the wheel!"

Alex: "I were nudging him! 'Keep your eyes on the road!"

Nick: "I think it was quite a clever idea for them. I think it works well for them cos their fans are the type of fans who’d probably really be into that concept."

Is it something you'd ever do?

Alex: "Nah."

Matt: "That'll be memorable 'cos they'd gone out of their way to do something different, but I don't think we need to. Obviously they don't need to either. They can afford to do stuff like that."

Alex: "They've done it now. You only need to do an experiment like that once. I don't feel like it was designed to change anything"

Matt: "They said themselves, 'It's not a template' See! I was listening last night."

Then at the end of the year, Led Zeppelin finally played their long-awaited reunion show in London. Did you apply for tickets?

Matt: "Nope. I would have gone if late Led Zep drummer] John Bonham was still alive."

Nick: "Oh, Matt."

Matt: "I'm not that bothered by them. It's not that big a deal."

Jamie: "Nah, it really is! (Laughing) Thats why a lot of people are going."

Nick: "I had a phase of being a big Zep fan. I remember I had a perlod of about six months thinking they were the bee's bollocks."

Which brings us right up to the end of the year. What great truths have Arctic Monkeys learned in 2007?

Nick: "We learned that we're really into finding out where expressions came from. So we learned where 'fill your boots' came from - it's where old, er-”

Matt: "Cavaliers."

Nick: "Yes, Cavaliers!"

Matt: "They'd get their place at the bar and once they were there they wouldn't want to lose it, so they'd piss straight into their boots so they could carry on drinking. They had big boots on, like. That's it. There's our great truths.”

Or are they? Can we trust anything that comes out of the mouths of Satan's Little Helpers? Perhaps it's all just an evil plot to make us urinate on our own footwear this Christmas. Or go on festive arson rampages. Or cause expletive-induced coronaries in the elderly. Whatever, Arctic Monkeys certainly wish you all a very scary a Christmas.

[mammalsofaction]

8

8. Perryshmirtz kissing... In secrecy

From our Prompt list here.

Forbidden Fruit

Rating: M

Relationship: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: established relationship, forbidden relationship, non graphic violence, canon typical violence, Perry's being monitored, Perry speaks,

A/N: I finished the draft for this months ago before a bunch of shit went down and I had a bad time. I've cleaned it up the best I can now that I have a bit of time to spare, so I hope the wait was worth it Nonnie.

"One last thing before you go, Agent P." Francis calls out, and there was something in his voice, Perry thinks. That makes his heart skip a beat. He has to ensure his face was perfectly neutral as he turns back to the screen of his lair to listen.

"We've had the RnD investigate into the odd cut-offs of your mission recordings, and Carl has made the executive conclusion they've been tampered with." The Major says carefully, his dark brown eyes almost subtly calculating. He clears his throat. "You wouldn't--ah--know anything about that, would you?"

Perry ensures to provide a thoughtful pause before firmly shaking his head. The Major hums.

"Well, get to the bottom of that, Agent P."

Perry gives Francis a characterically sharp salute, and jumps into the parked hoverjet on its designated landing. He watches the screen go black as the Major dismissively ends transmission, but it takes the whole flight over to DEI to calm his heart rate back down.

---

Their wrestling this time around had taken them into the open air balcony of the lab, and Perry knows Heinz had figured he's been off-key all morning. 

Heinz doesn't give him any less quarter nevertheless, and Perry's so out of it he'd almost given him an opening--or three.

He ducks sharply--just in time for the Phillips' screwdriver Heinz had been aiming for his head lodges into the wall behind him, and Perry takes that second of momentum to sweep the scientist's clumsy feet from under him, forcing them both into a barrel roll across the laboratory floor. Heinz grunts as Perry slams his head into the polished tiles, teeth barred.

"Where are you?" Heinz asked aloud, as if he couldn't help himself. Perry can feel his heartbeat, thumping a million miles per hour from beneath his palm pressed into Heinz's chest.

Perry's heart rockets into his throat, and he shakes his head, as subtly as he could. Equally impulsively, Heinz's eyes darts to the space above his head-on his hat-but it was only for a second. Brief enough to overlook. Heinz twists his lower body,  and Perry's vaulted a couple of feet away from the force of the kick into his abdomen.

"Target identified."

Shit.

Sure enough, when Perry turns to see, the nozzle of the Voiceless-Inator had begun to glow an ominous red, prepped and locked onto the podium where Roger would be presenting his early manifesto for the next Trimester Mayoral Election. Heinz had begun to cackle, an early celebration for what he's probably thought of as an easy win, but it isn't the first time Perry's had to make do with luck in the nick of time.

Perry rifles through his hat, fingers trailing over the seamless pockets stitched between the silk layers from within its crown. He rolls onto his feet, trusting his instincts to land him on what he needs from his trusty box of tools, and as the countdown nears its end, Perry tugs out a three piece compact mirror, poised right ahead of it's unnatural chemical beam.

"NO! WAIT! REDIRECTING THE CHARGE IS GOING TO MAKE IT-!"

BOOM!

Perry can feel his ears ringing from the volume of the ensuing explosion, and he feels himself thrown off by the force of compressed energy, saved by the familiar grip of an arm, hanging him over the balcony walls.

Perry coughs, spitting up black phlegm as Heinz grunts and yells and swears, pulling his weight up and over into the safety of the sooted foyer. The neighbours don't look twice anymore, and the residents beneath had smartly cleared away from any potential debris within the last few minutes.

Life in Danville will soon continue apace. For now, there is an unnatural silence as two men lay on their backs, heavily panting black smoke and the burnt smell of gasoline.

In the very distance, there is a joyous cry to mark the end of another successful manifesto with everyone's voices perfectly present. Only just marking the presence of a droning speech up until that very moment. There is more grunting, the heavy sound of steel elbows on hard tiles, before Perry finds himself looking up into a pair of concerned baby blue eyes, a narrow face and much beloved crooked aquiline nose.

Heinz looks him up and down, and Perry sees the relief that courses through him as he'd apparently found whatever he was looking for.

"There you are." He says, in a single breath, and Perry briefly closes his eyes as Heinz leans down, knocking their foreheads together so they could share breaths, heated and soot-stained. "Curse you, Perry the Platypus."

Heinz trails the tip of his nose down the line of his cheek, and Perry swallows so loudly that Heinz freezes, acknowledging the tension still present in his shoulders. Perry presses his hand into Heinz's chest, poised above his own. Allegedly to push him away, but he finds his hands clasped again right over where his heart should be, beating the rhythm of his favourite tune.

"It's gone." Heinz whispers, right into his ear. It tickles the hairs right above the back of his nape, and Perry shivers. "The explosion blew it off of the balcony, we're alone. It's alright."

His hat, gone, yes. He notices it now, the stark emptiness where the warmth of his fedora should be, and with it, OWCA's equivalent of a body cam.

This moment was their own. Finally, their own.

Perry inhales sharply, lips brushing against the smooth skin of Heinz's jaw. He shakes his head firmly, trembling.

"No?" Heinz asked.

"Almost-," Perry says softly, voice raspy from the soot and disuse. He cuts himself off, tries again. "He's...onto us. Heinz."

"Francis?" Heinz demanded, his own voice thick with incredulity. Further emphasizes as he leans higher, putting real space between them to express the sheer disbelief on his face, but when Perry whines from the cold of the sudden distance, he leans back down quickly, planting a quick kiss on Perry's chin that disorients him as efficiently as a punch.

"It's Carl." Perry corrects, and the confusion clears out in an instant. The agent clears his throat, preparing himself for a different sort of argument. "Heinz." Perry chides, as well as he could in state as dazed and lovesick as he was. The other man began to trail sweet little pecks over the length of his jaw, down the bowl of his collar, and back up the bridge of his nose. "Heinz. Listen. I-I think we have to-,"

Stop, Perry wants to say. Stop, stop, stop, but he captures Perry's lips in his own, his mouth wet, deep and hungry-and the noise that falls out of him is better akin to more, more, more.

"Heinz," Perry says, an ineffectual scolding between every intake of breath. As he pulls Perry's tongue into his own mouth, sucking, Perry feels his hips jolt involuntarily, one leg crossed behind the other man's back. "God, Heinz,"

"Gott, but you're feeling clingy." He answers, his voice making it sound like a compliment . Perry feels his hands, dexterous and desperate, pulling down the zipper right there on the balcony floor, in front of every neighbour and God himself, at three forty fucking five in the evening. He palms the straining tent peeking out the front of his trousers, and Perry chokes on his own breath. He knocks the back of his temple into the floor, gasping.

It was bold, mortifyingly so, particularly in the daring light of the evident scandal. A forbidden fruit Perry should have never let himself sample all those months ago, and now he had no way of turning back.

"I've got you, mausebär." Heins assures, leaving black smudges on his shirt, all the way down. Perry stuffs his fist in his mouth,  body burning hot with anticipation. "Hold on to me. Good boy."

Perry turns his gaze to the sky, relishes the brush of his air against his hair-bare and damning--and reminds himself that Eve had never regretted her mouthful, not even once.

[kairoot]

❝ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭 ❞ | nrk.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : enemies to lovers, high school au, fluff, comedy, maybe a bit of angst (idk)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : harsh jokes probably, niki and his friends being kinda mean, light cursing, name calling

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 : by @keiipopped

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : dancer!niki x dancer!fem!reader ft. heeseung, sunghoon, yunjin, hanni & kyujin

author’s note: context for one of the insults in here: this is when kyujin had her red hair. just so you guys don’t get confused as to why niki’s calling her ‘redhead’ 😭 kind of inspired by charli xcx’s ‘constant repeat’ ?? idk it kinda gives me enemies to lovers type vibe in some of the lyrics.

the manifesto outfits for 4Z

SS ➜ high school dancers niki and y/n can’t stand eachother. then again.. they love each other. then why is niki always being so mean? y/n’s dance group, 4Z and niki’s group, PRDX go into the school’s dance competition , battling against each other to be the face of the school’s best dance team.

—

“so, when are you gonna tell him?” hanni asked y/n as they walked side by side, carrying their lunch trays. kyujin walked on the other side of y/n, already snacking on her meal.

“hanni, how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t like him.” y/n replied, shaking her head. hanni had been going on and on about the school’s best dancer, riki, but everyone called him niki. or so he said he was the best but Y/n thought otherwise. half of the school was 4Z fan-based and the other was for PRDX.

hanni swore y/n had a crush on the boy but Y/n always denied. even though they always bumped heads, y/n did have feelings for him. she could never admit that to her team, though.

“i don’t know, n/n. you seem to give him heart eyes everytime he looks your way.” Kyujin spoke, apple still in her mouth. Y/n slightly shoved her jokingly, “what are you talking about, Kyu?” she asked rhetorically.

the three continued to walk to their table, finding the dance group’s leader, Yunjin. she greeted them as they sat down and began talking about the upcoming dance competition.

“so, have we figured out outfits for The Manifesto?” Kyujin questioned the leader.

“well, i was thinking like orange at first to go with the theme but I heard that’s what the 3 idiots are wearing.” Yunjin rolled her eyes, referring to Niki and his members, Heeseung and Sunghoon. they were both older but stuck to him like minions.

“so, maybe black? i know it’s common but some leather would be cool.” the leader suggested. the group looked at each other, trying to decide whether it was a good idea or not.

“the principal said nothing inappropriate or revealing, though..” Hanni commented. “yeah, but we’re not wearing lingerie, Hanni. just a subtle leather bottom is fine.” Yunjin scoffed jokingly.

by then, Y/n was in her own world, taking small bites of her food. she looked over to where Niki’s table was, watching all of the boys chunk milk cartons at eachother, the girls lining up at their table to giggle at their antics.

niki sat at the lunch table, laughing at his friend’s foolish behavior. his tray was discarded to the side, nothing but an apple there. he went to grab it, but caught Y/n’s eyes instead. she didn’t even realize she was staring until the boy sent a wink her way, flashing his signature smile.

she quickly averted her gaze, blinking extra hard to knock herself out of the trance she was in. the group continued to discuss their plans for the competition, agreeing and disagreeing with certain things.

“well i’m stuffed so.. Y/n, you coming?” Kyujin asked, tilting her head towards the cafeteria’s garbage pail. the other girl nodded, getting up to leave with her friend. they said their goodbyes to Yunjin; Hanni heading to her next class.

the two students walked side by side, chatting up a storm before a taller male stepped in front of them.

“let me clean this for you.” it was Niki who had offered to empty Y/n’s tray. his hand gripped the edge of it as if he had really been insisting on cleaning the tray for her.

Kyujin’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked the older male up and down. “i don’t think she wants to-“

“yo, shut it, redhead. i wasn’t asking you.” Niki snapped at her, turning back to Y/n. her expression mirrored the one that Kyujin still wore on her face.

“nah, she’s right. i’m good-“

“really, l/n. let me do it.” he shifted the tray towards him, attempting to yank it away from her. Y/n did the same thing, pulling the tray back in her direction.

“No.”

“why not?” he smirked playfully, the tray jerking back in his direction. It seemed like a game of ‘tug-of-war’ at that point. Niki was enjoying it, though.

“give it back, Nishimura.” y/n struggled to pull it this time as Niki held the lunch tray against his tall frame, y/n coming closer to him with each pull.

“wow, i’ve really got you in my embrace now, huh?” he giggled, enjoying the contact with his enemy.

“niki, seriously, give it back-“ y/n’s complaints came to a halt as red sauce splattered on her uniform top, some against her cheek. everyone in the lunchroom stopped what they were doing to see the mess. niki’s hand had let go of the tray mid-tug.

a series of chuckles came from the left side of Y/n. it was Heeseung and Sunghoon, snickering at the incident. y/n felt heat rush to her face as all eyes were on her. some others joining in with the giggles.

“seriously, Nishimura, what the hell?!” Kyujin shouted, grabbing Y/n by the arm; rushing out of the cafeteria. Y/n pushed passed Niki as he tried to call for her.

the trays were long forgotten.

y/n felt tears prick her eyes as the anger inside her brewed. Kyujin walked her to the locker rooms, silently cursing at herself for not stopping the boy.

“it’s alright, kyu. i promise.” Y/n chuckled as they walked into the changing room. she walked to her locker, finding the soft pair of sweatpants and t-shirt she packed.

“you say that but i really should have stopped him. i don’t know how i didn’t see that coming, i’m sorry.” she patted y/n’s arm, walking towards the door.

the other girl smiled, waving off Kyujin’s apology, continuing to tell her it was fine. Y/n changed into her clothes while they chatted for a bit until Kyujin had to leave.

“meet me in the gym, alright? we still need to work on our part in the routine.” the redhead said before leaving the locker room.

walking towards the gym like Kyujin told her, Y/n stopped at the door as she heard music already booming through the speakers. she quickly ran through the big doors, her conscious telling her that she was late.

she fumbled to get into the gym, only to find three sleeveless guys moving around the squeaky floor, cackling with each other. before any of them could see her, she backed out through the doors.

she scrambled to pull her phone out, leaning against the wall while finding Kyujin’s contact.

“hello?” her voice rang on the other line. Y/n planted a hand against her forehead, face palming at the girl’s carefree tone. “kyu! I thought you told me to meet you in the gym?” she whisper yelled.

“i did! but that cute guy that I told you about.. he wanted to know if I needed any help with studying.” Y/n could hear her smile through the phone. “why do you sound like you just saw a ghost?”

“only because I did, but worse. It was Niki. he was with Thing 1 and Thing 2.” Y/n scoffed, readjusting her tee. Kyujin responded with the same sound, rolling her eyes.

“how in the hell did those idiots get there before us? you know what, don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.” she grumbled into the speaker.

as the girls finished their conversation, Niki came out of the gym, neck covered in sweat. He looked around, catching a glimpse of Y/n against the wall.

“yo, l/n,” he smiled, walking up to her. her eyes widened as she looked up from her phone, attempting to turn away from the boy. he brought his hand up to catch her wrist, pulling her back towards him. “you following me, dummy?”

she snatched her wrist from his grasp, scrunching her face up in disgust. “yeah, right.”

he flashed his smile again, playfully shoving her arm. “why else would you be here, then?”

“we were gonna use the gym, but it turns out the three musketeers ended up here before us.” she snorted. niki scoffed at the nickname she gave him and his friends. he ran a hand through his wet hair, raising an eyebrow at the girl.

“what? the fab four couldn’t find anywhere to practice their 3-step routine?” he pouted, mockingly. y/n tried to hide the offended look on her face as she began to push past the boy.

“wait,” niki giggled a bit, pulling her back gently. she’d be lying if she said she didn’t get butterflies from how close they were.

“how about we share the gym? one half is PRDX and the other half is.. your team.” he shrugged as if it was the best idea ever. y/n’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“my team and your team in the same space? i don’t think so.” she shook her head.

“why not? we’ll practically be in the same space for The Manifesto. though, you guys won’t last that long.” he snickered a bit causing y/n to land a harsh punch against his arm.

“see? this isn’t gonna work. especially not with your buddies.” y/n grumbled.

yunjin, hanni, and kyujin stood on one side of the gym, arms crossed. y/n stood next to them, awkwardly.

“well, i’ll be damned. niki, this was your idea?” sunghoon chuckled, pointing towards the girls. heeseung shook his head as he took a sip of water, laughing with the other boy.

niki shrugged, “yeah, i mean, i don’t see a problem with it.”

“really? you don’t see the problem? or is that cause your ‘n/n’ is here?” sunghoon tilted his head. niki bit back a smile as y/n’s eyes widened in embarrassment.

yunjin rolled her eyes, becoming impatient. “whatever, can we just get the speaker?”

heeseung and sunghoon stared at each other, a laugh erupting from both of them.

“we should call them banzai and ed. they’re always laughing.” hanni whispered to kyujin causing her to snort a bit too loud. sunghoon shot her a glare, making her roll her eyes.

“alright, dumbos. we’re gonna do our routine first and then you all can practice your 1-2 step, yeah?” sunghoon shrugged, smiling as he grabbed his phone to start the music.

motley crew by post malone blared through the gym’s speakers as the girls took their seats in the bleachers. two of them talked while the two others watched. y/n was definitely watching niki a little too hard.

“gosh, snap out of your trance, y/n.” hanni giggled, elbowing the girl softly. y/n scoffed at her, shoving her back. she waved off hanni’s joke, still watching niki.

he was a really great dancer. he had a lot of flow in his body. the way he was able to make his moves so clear.

some time into the routine, y/n didn’t even realize that she had began to like niki more and more. he would look her way a few times, smiling or nodding his head towards her. she felt herself look away in embarrassment or roll her eyes at him each time.

“okay, fab four. your turn.” sunghoon breathed heavily, patting a towel against his neck. yunjin connected her phone to the bluetooth, setting it down on the floor as a marker.

the girls grouped together to slide the huge closet mirror over to their side, setting it in front of the bleachers. niki, sunghoon, and heeseung sat on the other side.

they stretched a bit before getting into place before the song could start. their song was constant repeat by charli xcx, which yunjin had been begging them to do.

y/n was too into the music to notice that niki was watching her. his head slightly bopped to the music, squinting his eyes a bit. even sunghoon caught himself watching how charismatic all of them were.

[ I hate inserting these in my writings now but a huge time skip because I haven’t written in a long time so there’s 0 creativity here and I’m not sure what they should do in the gym other than niki watching and flirting with reader from afar I’m so sorry you guys 😭 ]

everyone scrambled around the dressing room, putting on the last of their accessories. they bumped into each other, mumbling to themselves about items they’ve misplaced.

“okay, out of this place in like 3 minutes, people. we’ve seriously gotta go.” one of the mc’s, haeun peeked her head into the room, causing the girls to rush towards the door.

“before we go, i just wanna say that we will beat the little paradoxes, okay guys?” Kyujin said breathing hard. she seemed to be getting a bit nervous, which is definitely not what the group needed in that moment.

yunjin nodded her head, blonde hair bouncing. “yeah, Kyu, totally. let’s go.”

they stepped into the crowded gymnasium, the lights low and purple, students scattered everywhere. everyone still trying to get into the bleachers before the competition started.

“well, this is what we’ve all been waiting for, right, haeun?” changmin said. he was the second mc for the night, him and haeun would be keeping score and narrating the whole event.

the girls walked hand in hand to their spot behind the stage as the mcs continued their chat. they all waited until the long introduction was over and when they would start calling the groups out.

of course, PRDX was first. the girls still sat in the back, calming their nerves. y/n heard the routine song, only imagining what niki looked like on the stage.

y/n walked to the side, watching from behind the curtain. once again, she fell in love with niki’s flow. with the way he moved. in one of the moves, he turned to face the back where y/n was, which made her move back behind the curtain.

the crowd went wild for the group. they absolutely loved PRDX. but of course it was mostly girl screams that were heard.

“oh my gosh, they’re not even that good. like seriously.” kyujin folded her arms, shaking her head.

“yeah, but you’ve gotta admit. they’ve got some type of charisma to them.” yunjin mumbled, peeking outside the curtain beside y/n. they all stared at the leader in confusion.

“well, that was a sudden change..” hanni snorted.

soon enough, it was time for the girls to go on. they put in two songs for their routine. y/n caught niki’s eye as she stood in place, waiting for the music to start. he smiled, slightly cheering for them. this confused the girl but she focused back on her performance.

around the second song, the girls jumped down from the stage, surprising everyone. the crowd got louder, everyone ‘wowing’ and ‘woahing’.

by now, they were in the middle of a crowd dancing with the spot light all over them. literally and figuratively. they were making their way towards their rivals, rubbing their victory in their faces.

the boys scoffed, one of them folding their arms. niki was kind of into it, laughing at the act.

the girls didn’t stop though. y/n came to the front, really showing off in front of them. she had a point to prove. that her team really could win. that they were the best dancers.

sunghoon glared at her the whole time, never taking his eyes off of her. he couldn’t stand the smug look on the girl’s face and the fact that his friend was actually enjoying it.

once again, y/n got to into the music, not really aware of her surroundings. her members had let her have a solo, really making her shine.

before she could even make the winning move, liquid had been thrown at her, causing her to slip.

“yo, sunghoon, what the hell?!” niki shouted. more people came off the bleachers to see the second incident y/n had been caught in.

“okay, no need to be a fcking jerk, sunghoon!” yunjin shoved him, her members pulling her away. he stood there, brushing off his jacket as if he hadn’t done anything.

y/n winced at the pain in her ankle and back. niki had ran over to help her but she quickly denied.

“no, i think you and your team have did enough.” she grumbled out. he ignored her complaints, picking her up and wrapping one of her arms around him.

he walked her to the dressing room, sitting her on the big red couch,“i’ll be back with some ice, alright?”

the girl nodded, kicking her shoe off and sliding her foot up to the cushion.

he walked back to where the drinks were, grabbing a cup and filling it with ice. he saw sunghoon walking out through the gym doors, a scowl on his face.

he shook his head, bringing the ice back to the room.

y/n had thrown her gloves and vest to the side, her eyes closed.

“you sleep already, dummy?” he chuckled, sitting next to her legs, placing her injured foot in his lap.

“yeah, i wish.” she snorted. he looked at her for a minute, admiring her features. now probably wasn’t the best moment, but…

“you’re really pretty.” he looked down at her ankle, carefully placing the cup of ice on it. y/n’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes popped open.

“what?”

“i said you’re really pretty.”

she scoffed, “and out of all times, you wanna tell me this now? nishimura, you and your members have caused us hell and you wanna call me pretty?-“

“shut up, i’m trying to confess my love to you.” he smiled a bit, readjusting his position so he was facing her.

“i know i haven’t always been the nicest person. teasing you ‘n stuff. but i really like you y/n, i do. this sounds so corny out loud but it’s the truth.”

she sat up a bit, looking around. was this a dream? after all that head bumping and teasing each other, niki actually liked her?

“so, you mean to tell me that.. you were only mean.. ‘cause you liked me?” she questioned. she wanted to make sure she had this right, it was all so sudden.

“well, not at first, but yeah.” he shrugged, smiling. she shoved him a bit, looking down and mirroring his expression.

she looked back up at him, “do you really mean it? you’re not being stupid this time? you’re not recording this so you can send it to heeseung and sunghoon for some giggles?”

“y/n,” niki rolled his eyes, smile still plastered on his face. “no. i really do like you. and you’re really talented, i like that.”

she smiled once more, heat rushing to her face. it was silent for a bit until she spoke up again.

“so..?”

“so?” niki took the ice off of her ankle, placing on the floor. he turned to her again, attempting to read what she was thinking.

her smile widened, “how are we gonna tell our teams?”

taglist : (message to be added)

author’s note : kei bb, im so sorry, this was so bad 😭😭 as you can see, im not in the habit of writing long things rn, i haven’t did it in so long.

[snattachcanine]

Edit: My political ideology can be summed up as, "No living thing should be forced to suffer to exist. Especially for the sole benefit of a tiny population. That's called parasitism, kids, and that's bad."

US political BS:

To every single woman that voted red, why do you fucking hate other women so much. You just signed the rights away to your body, your right to work and be independent, your right to education, and your right to vote.

To every single person that voted red, why the fuck did you vote the Nazi party into power. Did you all bloody forget the lead up to the Nazis being voted into power in Germany? Why is the collective memory of you ingrates so horrible?! Oh wait, it's because the Republican party destroyed the US school system under Bush. That would explain it!

Trump is a puppet and clown but he's a dangerous one and the groups this orange moron is aligned with know that. Trump isn't the problem (other than literally being a felon but the asshole is rich and we know the justice system can be bought if you know who to talk to), it's who's lining his pocket and pulling the strings, that will be getting these bullshit laws passed.

I don't care for Harris but Project 2025 is a literal Nazi party takeover manifesto underneath a Christian Nationalist veneer.

You people are shit Christians, the actual teachings of Jesus as they are in the bible are NOT what is written in that horrifying document.

As it stands, the US just elected a religious extremist group into power. The same type of religious extremists that are making life god awful for regular Muslims (as they're the dominant religious group being affected in these countries) in the Middle East. Why did you vote in the Christian equivalent?!

Just... There literally is no future, is there?

All because people that think the world can't change vote in people (let's face it, usually men) that make life worse because they can sell a good product. This is the vast amount of how actual Republicans around me think, they don't believe the world can be better or that people can do good so they make everyone around them bloody miserable.

Project 2025 destroys women's rights, LGBTQ+ rights, agriculture, and a whole host of things we fought hard for and subsequently took for granted.

Good job guys that voted red. Bravo.

[lakesbian]

alright this one is getting its own post instead of a reblog on a post that is Entirely Not About That. presenting the 'what if we put amy and alec in a room together' manifesto because the thing is that it is interesting but not in the way amy/alec shippers think

Amy shook her head, talking over her, “She’s always been emotional, passionate, unrestrained, and she’s channeling all this new emotion into hate, because it’s the closest equivalent.” “New emotion?” Regent asked.  “You mean you mindraped her.” Amy looked like she’d been slapped across the face.  I wasn’t surprised, but hearing it said out loud was unsettling.

“Nice,” Regent said.  “She could be a human-spider hybrid.  Add some insult to injury with the mindrape thing.” I could see Amy tense.

it is relevant to his character that he's the first person to cut through amy's euphemisms (and everyone else's avoidance of saying the unsettling part out loud) and outright say "you mindraped her." he calls the euphemistic language out and then intentionally repeats it a second time for no other reason than to bug her about it. it's vaguely reminiscent of something he says to sophia during his interlude:

“You and I are more alike than you’d suspect, I think,” he said. “We’re both arrogant assholes, yeah?  Difference is, I admit it, I don’t dress it up and tell myself that I’m a bitch and that that’s a good thing.”  He burned Emma’s face out of another photo.

he has a repeated habit of making people uncomfortable by calling something out for exactly what it is, whether it be "yeah sure cape groupies, my dad's girls, people i used my power on towards the end" or "you mean you mindraped her." he's desensitized enough to really all forms of violence to be unbothered by committing or witnessing them, but he seems to harbor a genuine pet peeve for people who obscure or unreasonably justify what they're actually doing. as uncomfortable as he can make taylor, it's often not that he's doing things worse than the other undersiders, but that he's the person most willing to openly admit what he's doing--or to pettily call out what someone else is doing.

i think it more or less boils down to the fact that he's never gotten to be the person on the peripherals of violence making up neat and tidy ways to talk about it: he spent his entire childhood being hurt in every way imaginable & being coerced into doing the same to others. i think it left him with a sort of genuine distaste for being expected to talk in circles around the viscerally awful things he had done to him or did to others, and subsequently, for people who have done similar things but can't fucking fess up to the reality of it. it's like he's been walking around his entire life just absolutely drenched in blood, witnessing so much else get covered in it, and he's starting to get legitimately bothered over people standing around twiddling their thumbs and pretending it's red paint. he knows it's blood. he's been tasting it since he was 6. he would really like if everyone else could also grow up and admit it's fucking blood.

it's always funny to me that amy/alec shipping is, like, a Thing--a niche thing, but a Thing, because i could not think of a rapist more hand-crafted to piss amy dallon off than alec vasil. he cannot go Three seconds in her presence without going "oh you raped her? you mean you raped her? with your mind? like she doesn't just have new feelings you specifically mean you mindraped her?"

she, on some level, views herself as someone who did harm because she's irrevocably, ontologically evil, and is sort of desperately obsessed with minimalizing or half-justifying her actions to herself so that she can avoid recognizing that she feels like she can't be better. she's clinging to the idea that she can be "redeemed" if she does something of equal measure in the opposite direction (e.g 'spending the rest of her life healing people' as she mentions), but because she can't even directly acknowledge how bad her actions actually were without crumbling under the weight of the idea that she's doomed to be that bad, she's fundamentally incapable of looking directly at what she did at this point in the story.

alec, on the other hand, is really fucking upfront and fairly objective about his actions--he never ties them into some Inarguable Truth About His Soul, and he's pretty honest about whether or not he thinks they're justifiable. in 14.1, he has this dialogue with cherie:

“When daddy had you practicing your powers, you ‘hijacked’ a few people at a time, used their bodies to get high with no consequences for you, you threw orgies for yourself…” “Again.  I was a kid.”

but despite the fact that sophia is, on some level, justified in his mind by his "eye for an eye, this is a favor for taylor" rhetoric--he's fine with admitting that he's also just doing it because, yeah, he's an arrogant asshole and he feels like it. some of it was because he was a kid being groomed, and some of it was because He Felt Like It.*

*sure, he only Felt Like It because he has a comically large cocktail of unpacked psychological issues--but he doesn't know that, he just knows he felt like it.

in other words, he doesn't subscribe to the idea that any of his actions are, like, Ontologically Predetermined By His Inner Being or even necessarily all related. he's like the fuckin' "might do it again, prolly not" dude from the sex offender shuffle. okay, sorry for saying that in my seriouspost. but his philosophies would clash hilariously badly with amy--he insists on accepting his own & others actions for exactly what they are, he's generally very invested in not being his father (being asked if he intends to turn out like his dad is one of the only times something briefly upsets him), and he's actually doing pretty okay at that. he's like...shockingly well-adjusted given the circumstances. his entire arc is more or less a slow upward climb.

i think having to be around someone who both believes and would outright admit "yeah i raped people, no i dunno if i feel that bad, no i'm not raking myself over the coals for it, yeah some of it was because i was a kid, yeah some of the other stuff wasn't, no i'm not Predestined To Suck," would like. clash with her beliefs abt 'ontologically evil' being a real thing, abt punishment as justice, etc. in a way that would really bother her. she spends a lot of her time in her head trying to twist things around until they feel salvageable to her, but alec is 0 amount concerned with rationalizing to make him feel alright--he just does things, some bad, most shitty attempts to be better.

it's, funnily enough, far more functional for improving than what amy has going on--he operates on material actions as opposed to her Self-Flagellating Thought Labyrinths, and the fact that he's busier moving on from things he can't materially change than he is kicking himself in the face means he can actually achieve some form of progress towards more functional approaches wrt human interaction. i think if amy had an extended conversation w/ him about the subject, she'd both be disgusted with him for not thinking thoughtcrime is real and deeply resentful that this fellow ontologically evil villain is doing better at moving forwards as a person than her despite not 24/7 flagellating himself + yearning for "redemption" like she is. it'd throw a disturbingly large wrench in her worldview, and she would not be happy about it.

oh, and alec would think she's weird and mopey and dumb and annoying and "why do it if you can't even admit it." and he would probably tell her as much. which is the point where i unlock the door to the room so alec can sprint out to escape amy's attempt to put tastebuds on his asshole.

[ksnfangz]

PART FOUR : which one is the real cat ?

“ Yang Jungwon I swear to god if you sneeze near me one more time!” sunoo scolds. “ Put the cat down,” he orders. Jungwon frowns gently placing the cat onto the floor. Kneeling down next to it as it rubs itself against his hand. Purring softly.

“But hyung it’s so cute…” Jungwon argued giving the small animal one last pet before standing up.

“ I know they’re cute but your eyes are looking puffy and your nose is red, take a breather outside then you can come back in okay?”

“Okay.” jungwon sighs moving to the back to quickly wash his hands before leaving through the back door of the cafe.

He sits down on one of the wooden benches busying himself with his phone. Mindlessly strolling through randoms apps, sniffling as his nose continues to itch.

Not even noticing as someone approached him until he feels a soft hand on his shoulder.

“ Hey are you okay?” a worried voice asks pulling jungwon attention from his phone.

Holy shit…

“ um yeah, I’m fine just getting some … air.” Jungwon replies doing his best to not stumble over his words.

“ your eyes are super red.” Y/n points out a small pout resting on her lips, her eyes filled with worry.

She must’ve thought the he was crying.

“I have a cat allergy this is just a reaction to the fur that’s all,” Jungwon explains he can see the way the girl's face morphs into a more relieved expression .

“ oh! I’m sorry for bothering you then I thought you were crying.” Y/n says embarrassed.

“ No, it’s okay, thanks for checking up on me.”

“ no problem…”

“ Jungwon.” he finishes holding out his hand praying to God that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t too noticeable as the girl repeated his name to herself seemingly recognizing him before shaking his hand.

“ I’m y/n!” she smiled before either could pull their hands away the metal door opens revealing sunghoon. Jungwon groans internally.

“ Y/n! You’re finally here thank god sunoo is 5 seconds away from killing me. could you please help me clean the litter boxes? and their food trays.” Sunghoon rambles before looking down at their hands.

“Oh, you met jungwonie ! remember the one you called cute.” Sunghoon states earning a glare from the younger.

“Will you just get inside,” Y/n shouts hitting his shoulder before walking inside leaving a flustered jungwon sat in his same spot.

“ It was nice meeting you … ” jungwon starts though his sentence dies out as sunghoon laughs at him shaking his head.

“ Why are you so annoying.” Jungwon whined. “yeah yeah what ever come on in.” sunghoon chuckles pulling the boy back inside.

☆ 𝑪𝑨𝑻 𝑭𝑼𝑹 . . . yang jungwon a boy allergic to cat fur who risks his life everyday just to get a glance at the pretty girl who works behind the counter at manifesto cat cafe

☆ TAG LIST : @advre-you @woncine @chaechae-23 @jaehyunsblkgf @yeomha comment or send ask to be added!

☕️prev - masterlist - next 🐈

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Disgrace Chapter 4 : Crosshair x F!OC

How does one ignore the inevitable? You already know it's useless to try to avoid it, but how do you ignore its presence at your peripherals? The way it taunts you. There is absolutely nothing challenging about being stuck together on an isolated moon completely alone and cut off from the outside universe for an undisclosed amount of time. There should be plenty of wholesome ways to distract oneself... right?

Chapter Specific Warnings: Nudity, Unprotected Piv, brief angst

Authors Notes: Crosshair and Tah'Nyem are like those cats who hiss and yowl at each other through a glass door but have no idea what to do once it's been opened. They chat a little about Tahny's life, love lives, and the things they refuse to talk about. Paging Medic Crosshair.

Word Count: 6700

Dynamic: Princess x Guard, Speed running Co-dependancy, A Mangy Cat and his Aggressive little Chihuahua. She's a damsel, she's in distress- she can handle it.

<-Previous Chapter - Read On Ao3 {START HERE}

Music Inspo- Aliens Tawk by Taw Listen on Spotify - Listen on Youtube

Chapter 4 : Aliens Talk

Unbelievable.

I looked into my empty pack and the giant tear along one of its seams. 

This was designer…

I huffed and slouched back into the co-pilot chair. 

So this means everything but the inner pocket of credits was lost in the factory. Fantastic.

We had already made the jump to hyperspace, though we weren't headed straight to Ga’hah. 

Crosshair had taken a data device from a pouch and popped it into the navigation with a click. An encrypted code set a scrambled coordinate, a safe house, possibly a moon. We won't know till we get there. 

Our ship wasn't making for an extravagant trip, the partially stripped vehicle lacked any food stores and we had limited water. There were cleaning rags piled in the corners. Some crusty, tattered jackets, and a dusty pair of knee boots in the door less storage closet. The life support system was fine, but once again, freezing. 

Still. 

I got up and searched a pile of rags, picking one out that had the least amount of stains, and headed to the small sink. I wet the cloth conservatively and wiped at the dust on my face and arms, hissing as the rag passed over the scrape on my jaw where the intruder's boot had broken skin. I pulled the cloth away to eye the dark bruise that had come in. Seemed like that happened weeks ago now but it had only been about half a day. 

No medical supplies. I'll just have to tough it a while. 

The damp cloth left me more vulnerable to the cold and I would kill for a hot shower. 

And a snack. 

We had avoided saying anything for a bit now. Hunger was making us both snippy and it was safer to just avoid pushing each other's buttons in the small space. Though, I may be blaming hunger where withdrawal was a likely culprit; felt very alone with my thoughts suddenly…

I ran a little more water and rinsed my face, catching eyes watching me in the mirror when I looked up again. 

“What is it?”

I turned at his puzzled expression.

“Is that ink too?”

He gestures at the red markings and shadows around my eyes. I guess he expected it to fade like my arms. 

“A more permanent variety, yes, tattoos but it's cultural. Means I'm of age.”

He paused, but not at the insinuation.

“You have tattoos on your eyes?”

I looked at him for a moment. I admit the tats were subtle, the lines much finer than what used to be traditional. Most just assumed it was dramatic makeup. 

“...as do you?”

The air was awkward now, and I sighed. We need some food. I hope the safe house is fully stocked. 

And has running, hot water. 

I eased myself back into the co-pilot chair across from him, careful with the torn split of the tattered gown and my manifesto of growing aches and pains. I was physically active but not ‘running around blowing up factories,’ active and the extra wear and tear was catching up to me despite my conditioning. There was no spice to dull the aches and throbs and stings that plagued me. 

“Sorry.”

“Hmm.”

I looked up. 

“For what?”

“I should have let you change.”

He was eyeing my bare, scratched up thigh, though that might have been to avoid staring at the stiffened peaks beneath the thin fabric over my chest. It was always so cold on these ships.

“You're right… You should have.”

I shifted, lifting my knee to rest my foot on the cushion of the chair, letting the skirt fall away exposing the curve of my ass against the seat. 

He cleared his throat and turned back to the racing field of hyperspace, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. 

Serves you right.

It was only fair he lived with the consequences. I looked over at him, pristine besides the streaks of dust here and there and contemplated getting my own set of armor. 

And I'd never leave home without it. 

The thought was glib, and mostly an attempt at amusing myself. My mind drifted to other ways to torment my captive audience. An empty can, hurtling through space. Nothing but two chairs, us, and time to kill.

… I'm just hungry. And bored. Behave. 

“So… spice?”

He broke the silence, seemingly desperate for something else to think about besides my shivering, exposed form.  

“I'm not an authority but… what about it?”

“You, uh, like it?”

“Oh, Yeah, can't deny that… it feels nice,”

“You do it a lot?”

“Not that often, The burnout is no joke, but ‘you can't run the underworld in broad daylight without knowing how to do things safely.’... so, it's fine… I know what I'm doing,”

I put on a mock tone of my father for a bit that seemed to amuse the man across from me. 

“Is that what you're doing? Cleaning up the underworld?”

“It's what my Vah’hadarr says he's doing, cleaning up the dirty side of dirty business,”

There was a little venom in that last part as I thought about the recording and the possibilities of my willful ignorance.

“It's his show…I just manage some of the actual business, It’s club and hotel and theater all in one, and it's a chore making sure it all stays legal and without political incidents,”

“Just that, huh?”

“It's a complicated trade! Mostly flimsiwork honestly, but the workers can be absolute divas when they get in a mood,”

I was on a roll now, the irritability of an empty stomach and an unhealthy amount of disassociation had me focused on the mundane topic. 

“they think because they own shares they can petition me to let them drink away all the booze and blow our spice, And Kahtzi needs to learn to not abuse her authority! The shyte she gets me into, Kriffen workplace relationships…You know, it's actually refreshing having a new set of people trying to kill me!”

I threw my hands up before resting on an arm and rubbing my forehead. 

“Who's Kahtzi?”

I was brought out of the foray into my everyday life and back to the bare cockpit.

I thought for a moment, trying to quantify Kahtzi.

“Mm, Assistant, best friend, on and off lover,”

That would have to do, it was more nuanced than that but hard to summarize. 

He made a noise that I couldn't really interpret, eventually asking:

“On?...or off?”

“Currently?”

…

“Guess I simplified too much. We're never really a… couple, Just… two people who take care of each other? There's not really an ‘on’ or ‘off’, we love each other but don’t really work like that… together, long term,”

A beat of silence and him patting his belt, looking for something and then giving up.

“Why not?”

I smirked a little, shooting him a look. 

“Missing the right parts,”

“There's tools for that you know,”

“Oh but those don't satisfy like flesh and blood,”

He smirked back and we fell silent again. 

“How bout you, tough guy?”

“Me what?”

“Ever been in love?”

A pause as he chewed on that…

“I thought so… maybe, once or twice,”

He finally admitted. 

Cute. 

“Not at one of our houses, right? The girls can be convincing but they are paid to act like that,”

He chuckled. 

“And the boys?”

“Less convincing, that… more your thing?”

“Ah… uh, not really,”

“‘Not really’, what's that supposed to mean? Just like to look?”

“Sort of, just… some clones seem to, I just… haven't,” 

“Fascinating,”

I held my hand like it was holding a holo recorder,

“The courtship rituals of clones seems to be one of varied taste and values, furthering evidence of their individuality,”

He looked at me sideways and I felt like maybe I had gone too far.

“Sorry… I had a professor who did field studies, it's kind of a running joke between Kahtzi and I,”

I had let my guard down, and that was probably a little insensitive. I’m not too sure about clone… culture?

“Don’t be… just, seemed familiar,”

The mood had passed though and I leaned back, letting my eyes flutter shut. 

“I hope we get there soon… it's too cold to relax,”

The quiet air hung around us, thicker than before. 

~~~

I woke up, having dozed off eventually, curled up uncomfortably in the large chair. A tarp or drop cloth of some sort had been draped over me as a makeshift blanket. 

My stomach growled and a pang hit me as the acid started to flow. 

I eased my sore legs down, stretching them carefully; glad to see the fatigue hadn't grown into full on pain, and cast about for my unlikely companion.

He was bent over the console where our encryption chip was plugged in, now projecting data and instructions for our arrival. 

I padded over, my slippered feet not making much noise on the metal flooring. My hand slid to the small of his back, signaling I was there, and I leaned to look around him to the projection. 

Stifling a jump, he shifted so I could see.

We were headed to a red sun system, uninhabited. There were warnings about how much tech we used outside of the bunker, apparently any signals picked up by passerby's would be suspect. Keep the beacon on us, but abandon the ship till it's needed again. 

“So just… sit and wait?”

“Mm,”

“This seems a waste of your talents,”

“It is,”

“I once again ask…Why send you?”

“An impeccable record of self control,”

I laughed at that,

“What's so funny?”

I wasn't sure, that just seemed… wildly inaccurate. No reason to think so though, he had in fact been quiet in control of himself. 

“Is it really all that important? It can't be real that you were ordered not to sleep with me, literally…”

He shrugged giving me a look like he wasn't sure what else could be said about it.  

I scoffed at that, irritated at the confusing perimeters of the situation. 

“and to think, if they stuck me with a Reg it wouldn't have been an issue,”

“What do you mean by that?”

The question wasn't accusing, just a hint perplexed at my wording.

… Maybe I said too much. 

I sobered and straightened, trying to think of a way to side step the topic. 

“I tease, I flirt, but it's all an act… it's my job in fact, to seem available but not be, but I don't push things very far… usually, my actual cravings are…”

An enigma? Rare? A reflection of my inflated ego? Either way this is different…

I trailed off, once again too close to the truth, and retreated slightly. He was raising an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish the explanation and not realizing how dangerous it made him look to me, or perhaps, maybe he did. I deflected,

“Isn't it annoying, to have to follow such petty commands?”

Turning, I wandered back towards him, lifting my arms to rest against his chest plate and leaned in close, remembering the darkness that swirled in him, in me…

How much did he see?

“You were in here, what do you think?”

He seemed to know where my mind had went, but my question appeared to bother him more than intended. There's definitely something hiding in there.  

“I think ignoring direct orders has never been an issue for you… what changed?”

We can't keep this up, without any eyes on us it seemed idiotic to keep denying ourselves. I continued, pressed to him as I was, I had to look up to catch his eyes. 

“Is the Empire really such a loving mistress?”

“...I need to be trusted,”

It was the truth, but vague enough to not answer anything. He did something… I saw it, and he's been in that swirling storm ever since. 

Was it worth it?

There was a harsh beep from the encryption chip warning that we would be dropping out of warp. 

I snapped out of the spell that had begun to fall over us and went back to sit in my chair, strapping in.  He followed shortly.

~~~

The moon under the red sun was eerily quiet. Most of the surface was water besides a few flat islands covered with coniferous pines and ferns. All that could be heard was a gentle lap of water, there were no animals, no insects… no breeze.  

The sky was a deep purple and my skin looked red under the dark filter of the alien sun. Everything else was black. The trees, the ground, the beach of smooth flat stones. 

We had been walking a while, having set down on the opposite side of the designated island as instructed, and were making our way to the bunker that should be waiting for us. Our footsteps made small shuffles and clatters as we moved down the beach, Crosshair holding the beacon out as it flashed quicker and quicker as we found our way. 

I held my tattered slippers in my hand as we picked our way along. The moon was temperate. The sun, large in the sky, cast a moderate amount of heat making the stones comfortably warm beneath my feet. 

“I wonder if it's safe to swim…”

“Should be, but I wouldn't trust it,”

I looked over the smooth expanse of water to our left. The waves were so gentle the horizon looked flat and reflective, the red ring of the sun reflecting in the inky sea. 

The beacon chirped as we came even to a path cut into the ferns and turned to follow it, eventually coming to a large metal alcove jutting from the ground. Crosshair tapped the device to a panel on the door triggering a loud mechanical whine that cracked the otherwise pristine soundscape, and the door was opening. 

The first chamber was dark, the walls thick and insulating. We walked a ramp downward, about twenty paces, before coming to another barrier. 

This door clicked and a blue light illuminated the space, scanning us from floor to ceiling. 

“Welcome. Tah’nyem Ra. And. Companion.”

There was a loud swish and we were let into a small, furnished apartment. The kitchenette and living area were equipped with the usual amenities. Thick ventilation and a bank of carbon scrubbers were recessed by the door, explaining the thickness of the walls.

How well can that actually scrub all the emissions? Where do they go?

With a small electric hum, the lights came on warm and low, and a screen flashed over the couch projecting a feed of the surface. It was all rather lush, despite its size, fine fabric and intricate metal work everywhere you looked. 

A low whistle came from beside me and I turned to look at the soldier, not seeming too out of place against the black tones and shadowy aesthetic of the safe house furnishings.

“This’ll do,”

I dropped my tattered bag to the floor where it hit with a clunk, the credits and old boots from the shuttle landing hard on the tile, and made for the kitchen. 

Please please please

Popping the pantry I laughed in relief as I took in the rows of food stores. Nothing too fancy but it was more than enough for two people to live fat and happy for a while. 

I grabbed two packages and headed to the rehydrator tucked on the wall, catching Crosshair's profile still standing awkwardly by the couch. 

“Relax, Commander, Mission accomplished,”

“Not yet, we still have to get you home,”

He looked at the data stick in his hand, now quiet and dark. It would blink again once new arrangements have been made for me. Which, if my parents left the same day using civilian travel plans…

“We could have days before Vah’hadarr lands on Ga’hah,”

And who knows how long he wants me underground…

“Go on, take a shower or something, you earned it… and probably need it,”

Turning back to prepping food, I popped the packages open and tossed them into the machine, hitting the appropriate buttons so that it started humming softly. 

Crosshair hadn't made much progress, now casting his eyes about the clean, black living room and down to his guns and armor dusted in brilliant red sand. I rolled my eyes, wondering what had him so… of kilter.

“Just put it by the door, someone will probably clean and restock this place later,”

He jerked into motion and started stacking his things by the door frame, pieces of armor plating coming off in loud clacks against the hum of the cooking food. 

I leaned against the counter and eyed the sleek under suit that was emerging from beneath the plates. 

Doesn't take much imagination from there does it…

He moved to remove the belt and codpiece and I turned swiftly to look at the humming rehydrator instead. 

Well that was unlike me…

What is this? Blossoming respect?

Ugh, gotta get rid of that…

Out of the corner of my eye I traced his movements as he crossed my peripheral and into the back room of the bunker. 

I checked the timer on the food and followed, waiting a moment to hear the water start in the fresher before leaning against the door. 

“Hey, pass me your body suit, I'm sure there's a washer in here,”

There wasn't a reply but it wasn't because he didn't hear me.

“It's okay, I'll find a robe or something while you wash,”

A few seconds and the door opened, him in a towel, avoiding my gaze and holding out the black suit.

I took it and the door zipped shut again, quickly. 

There was a closet next to the refresher door and I clicked it open. More towels. Next cabinet had two robes hung inside and I grabbed them both turning back to the fresher and hung one on a hook near the frame, taking the other for myself as I padded back into the short hall. 

There were two bunks opposite the door to the room and another thin door. I opened it to find the expected utilities, tossing the body suit in. Listening to make sure the shower was still running I stripped out of my tattered nightgown and tossed it in as well. 

Wishing I hadn't let him go first, I slipped the robe on, committed to filling my belly anyways. Which,

A beep could be heard from the kitchenette and I wandered back to retrieve my much needed calories, taking the two rolls from the machine and finding a plate to leave one out for Crosshair. I took a bite out of mine and savored the protein and grains, though they could use a bit more seasoning, I was starving. I eyed Cross’s portion and grabbed two more packs from the cupboard. 

That is not gonna be enough.

The faint sound of running water stopped and I scarfed down the rest of my food, eager to shower myself. 

My pace towards the bedroom faltered as the door opened and the tall clone hesitantly emerged, the gray waffle knit doing about as much to hide his frame as the tight black under suit. 

I glanced down at his exposed calves and marveled at their definition for a moment.

“Uh, there's food on the table, more cooking if you're still hungry,”

I pushed past him into the room, wedging him out and shut the door. 

Days shut in alone together and I'm supposed to behave myself. Be’llahl, what did I do to deserve this?

I knew what I did. 

I looked through the rest of the storage and found some silk button ups and trousers. Nothing my size. I checked a few more drawers, but the only female clothing I found were skimpy lingerie pieces. Sighing, I grabbed one of the large shirts and made for the fresher. 

Kriffs sake Vah'hadarr, you sure you don't want me shacking up with soldiers?

Be'llahl or not, I wanted nothing to do with thoughts on why my father's safe house was stocked with such sundries.

The water was already warm, and I stepped into the spray with a relieved groan.

My scrapes and scratches stung as the water flowed over them and I liberally coated myself with soap, feeling like the dust and sweat might never come off. 

At least it's decent stuff. 

My mind drifted as the creamy suds rinsed off of me. Mostly to the brief flash of Crosshair, framed in the door in nothing but a towel. I hadn't really processed the visual but now that I was clean and undistracted by hunger it came back in a vivid assault. 

Two days?... At least. Does today count?

I turned the handle, cutting off the warm stream and stood in the stall, letting the water bead and run down my skin, enjoying the feeling of it a moment before reaching for the towel. 

Finally dry, I carefully slipped on the black dress shirt. It was the style my father wore, the slim cut almost framing my torso, and fell to about mid thigh, reminding me how short I was compared to most Ga’haiians. I thought about rolling up the sleeves but the material fought me on it so they stayed long.

I hung my towel next to the other damp cloth already drying next to the door and stepped back out into the bedroom, catching my reflection in the mirror. 

I'd say the look was seductive, if it wasn't for the bruises and scratches that patterned my exposed legs, the oversized article hanging off my hips in a way that complimented my slim build.

Well, better than lingerie…

Wandering out to the living area I found Cross at the counter on one of the stools, halfway through the third roll and cleaning the smaller of his guns. 

He looked up from his task, eyes traveling from exposed knees to my dripping hair as he took another bite.  

What the kriff now?

I rocked from heel to toe a few times in the awkward seconds, but he was pushing away the cloth his work was organized on and tapped the stool closest to him before finishing the rest of his food. 

Closing the distance at an unsure pace, I slid onto the bar stool indicated and he pulled over another box. He had found the medical kit, popping it open now to retrieve a canister of bacta spray. 

“Oh, I can do that myse-”

He shot me a look and I shut up as he cupped my chin to examine the bruised abrasion on my jawline. 

A warm sensation spread over the wound as he carefully applied the slimy substance. 

“How did you manage to take such a beating…”

The wonder came under his breath as he moved the fabric from my shoulder, pinching a gash together and applying more spray. 

“I can handle a little pain… enjoy it even-” 

I winced, letting free a small whimper as he lifted my sore leg and assessed the damage there. 

“That I can believe,”

A sigh, more spray. 

“Some escort I turned out to be…”

“Don't sweat it, I'm breathing, even have both arms still in the sockets…”

Our eyes met briefly before he finished and set my leg back onto the foot rest of the stool. 

“Those should be healed by morning,”

“Well, thanks doc, what would I do without you,”

He snorted dryly and pulled his gun back, patting at his waist, making a face like he forgot he was in a bathrobe. 

Oh!

I got up and started opening drawers in the kitchen. Finding a little box by the cutlery marked in Ga'haiian.

I triumphantly pulled out a couple travel vials of toothpicks, and rolled them across the counter where he was still perched. They were gratefully snatched up, one quickly finding its way between his teeth. He leaned into his work with more enthusiasm now that he could concentrate and I slipped a few more vials into my bag's inner pocket, moving it from where it was still discarded on the floor.

Wonder when he managed to lose them.

At least he was keeping himself busy; it was my turn to figure out how to spend the time now that my creature comforts had been met. Well, most of them.

Finally free to really roam about the space I realized there wasn't a lot to look at. The living area was made up of a low, deep couch made of a soft black leather, a console with speakers beneath the false window, and another screen housing facing the couch. The kitchenette was barely a hallway, separated from the rest of the space by the thin island counter Crosshair was leaning over. Then the short passage with bunks and utilities to one side and the proper room with the refresher on the other. 

The bunker had no access to the outside holonet, its system self contained and concealed from any scans or probing. This meant all entertainment was limited to whatever was preloaded into the base's memory. 

I scrolled through the holopad, reading through the meager selection of games, films, and music. There… wasn't much. 

Wonderful, we can spend our time playing cards.

I selected an old Diva Shaliqua track and the hypnotic tones of the Theelin’s voice poured from the speakers, making the space more familiar and inviting. 

I turned to Crosshair gesturing to the speakers, and he nodded approval. 

“You a fan of the Divas?” 

“Not really a fan of anything,”

“Mm… Kahtzi’s related you know, not that that's saying much, I think all Theelin are related at this point,”

Kahtzi was a human Theelin hybrid, and would have been rather difficult to meet if I hadn't attended such a prestigious university. There were only about a million or so left in the galaxy. 

There were nested cabinets all around the room and I popped them open systematically, checking their contents. Most were empty, but one contained a few soft knit blankets. I carried one back to the couch and sank into it, pulling the knit tight around me. 

Exhaustion was catching up to me quickly, the nap on the tiny shuttle didn't do much in the way of rest. The warm living room and soft music were lulling me into a state of true relaxation.

It wasn't long till my eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and I fell into a deep sleep. 

~~~

Where's that cultural dress I had made for the meeting, Tah’nyem? 

…

No it's not revealing

…

That's the style, li’ha, the clients appreciate the care we pay to their customs.

… 

Wear. It. 

…

It was dark when I opened my eyes again, the stereo and most of the lights turned off. 

I couldn't see Crosshair, but I could hear his breathing in the direction of the bunks. It didn't take long for me to figure that that was what woke me. The breathing was labored, almost panting, irregular. I got up with my blanket and tip-toed over to the hall to check on him. 

As suspected, his eyelids were twitching rapidly and a sheen of sweat glinted in the remaining light spilling over from the kitchen. I thought about waking him, but the brown eyes fluttered open on their own. He looked disoriented for a moment, but quickly refocused on me standing near the foot of the bunk. 

“What are you doing?”

I sat next to his knees. 

“Just seeing what the fuss is about, you remember what you were dreaming?”

He was quiet for a while. 

“No,”

It was a lie. 

“You know, if you were to talk about the shadows that swim behind those eyes… who would be safer than someone you'll know so briefly?”

That didn't seem to placate him, but he forced himself into something resembling ease. 

“It’s… I'm fine,”

I reached over and took his hand, turning it to massage the palm as I had on the transport only a day or so ago and the ease seeped into him, becoming real. 

“You want to go back to sleep?”

“No,”

Genuine this time. 

“Me neither…”

I cast my eyes about the space, now feeling stiflingly small. 

“Come on,”

I tugged his arm, getting up from the bunk and letting my blanket fall to the floor. 

“Where, exactly?”

“Let's get some fresh air,”

“Prince-... Tah’Nyem, we have to stay within the walls,”

It was the first time he had used my name rather than the more derogatory form of endearment and it sounded wrong in its formality. 

“Tahny,”

“What?”

“Call me Tahny… my full honorific feels… too heavy on your lips,”

No one really called me that anymore other than my mother, but…

“We have to stay inside… Tahny,”

My heart fluttered. The childhood nickname sounded different, colored by his voice, and it only spurred my resolve. 

“Anything a scanner can pick up has to stay down here, empty your pockets and it'll be fine,”

He still resisted. 

“They can scan for life forms…”

“The trees will throw them off,”

I turned, still holding his hand, to be even with him sitting up on the bunk. 

“Please, Crosshair?”

Since we're on a first name basis now…

A little tremor went through him and he sighed, moving to get up but pulling his hand from mine to close the robe that had come undone while he slept. 

Together, we left the mechanical hums and whines of the bunker doors, making our way back out into the dark, red stained landscape. 

The sun was positioned differently, but nothing else had changed since we had passed through hours ago. The rocks were warm on my bare feet, and the water lapped softly against the surreal, black backdrop of stones and trees. 

I could feel his wary presence, calm but untrusting, scanning the horizon. He had grabbed his rifle, and now held it lazily to his side while he took in the alien moon. 

Turning back to the sea, I breathed deeply, expecting to smell salt, but all that came to me was the vaguely green scent of ferns. How good it felt to be outside. 

“I've never seen a world like this, have you?”

“Red suns I've seen, but like this? Not… exactly,”

“New for both of us then?”

A noise of affirmation. 

I stood a moment, taking it in, breathing the fresh air and toying with the buttons of the shirt I was draped in. 

“I wonder what else we have in common…”

I didn't need to use much imagination, having been forcibly dragged through each other's minds. We're both filled with dark, swirling thoughts of people not their own. An ever growing resentment for being perceived, thoughts racing in an ever tightening circle of how to be free of… well, everything.

Death wish?

It seemed like an accurate label, and its hold was on both of us. We flirt with danger in different ways… but we were just begging for one instance, one moment, where maybe the danger will win. End the torture, the loneliness. Give us our freedom. All it took was once. Was one bad decision really better than another?

“Put your gun down.”

“No,”

A pause of consideration,

“Why?”

“You won't need it.”

A moment passed as he fought with abandoning his physical sense of security. Eventually, I heard him put the stock on the ground, apparently leaning it against one of the trees at the edge of the narrow beach. 

With a deft hand, I worked the buttons down my shirt free of their clasps and let the fabric fall with a slither onto the warm stones. 

“Tahny!”

Alarm in his voice. 

“Quiet.”

The command made him rock back from whatever action he meant to take to end this. 

I turned to look over my shoulder. He was only a few paces away, transfixed in a sort of befuddled way. 

“Why do we give them everything?”

“W-what?”

“Everyone else. Those who control us, own us as you will, just… accepting that if they decide to change our lives, abandon us, use us, it's in their power to do so, and yet- what do they let us have for ourselves? What do they think of us?… they don't even see us,”

He didn't answer, I didn't need him to. 

“Listen… you can walk away, go inside, forget this and me the moment we part ways,”

A long moment of nothing but the lap of water…

“..or?”

It was so quiet. I turned and slowly closed the distance, pressing against him, feeling how tense he suddenly was. 

“You can help me remember this beautiful night in a way that would always be ours,”

His breath was carefully even. 

I looked into his eyes, pleading. 

“How many times will you throw yourself at death till it finally snags you? Would you really go off to die without having me? Never knowing…”

He still teetered on the edge of duty and reason but had run out of excuses. His eyes darkened as I reminded him of our grim realities, stoking an anger that reflected what was burning through my core. I kept pushing,

“I don't know how you work but for me… it would be torture to never know you,”

I had my answer when his arms snaked around me, crushing me to him as his mouth found mine, clamping to me with a sudden, desperate hunger; Ravenous to take, to have, to fight back in a way that would bring a smile to Be'llahl.

Hands running over his chest in return, I slipped the robe from his shoulders helping him to catch up to my nudity. 

His fingers roved down my hips, giving my ass a firm squeeze before he carefully lowered himself to the ground pulling me into his lap, never breaking the kiss that was slowly consuming us in flames of lust and hidden rage. 

I moaned into his mouth in need as I felt his cock stiffening against my thighs. Taking him in hand, I felt the weight of him, the length against my wrist as I gripped the base. I couldn't wait much longer. 

“Please, Crosshair…”

My flesh was on fire, his hands on me sending waves of tingles to my brain churning me into a sensitive mess. He stroked his fingers up my spine and I arched against him with a gasp. Using my free hand to cup his neck, thumb caressing the edge of the ragged scar over his ear, he took the opportunity to bite at a nipple that had come in range. 

This earned him another pitiful moan and I stroked his length wanting it inside of me. 

With a low growl he gathered my arms and held them behind my back easily with one hand. The other slid over my hip and down between my legs, gently caressing the tender petals he found there making me tremble as he coaxed the slickness of my arousal to drip onto his waiting member. 

He moaned low, the same need consuming him, and he guided himself to my entrance. There was no resistance as he lowered me down to take him fully, pulling me into him till he was sheathed in me, grinding against my slick and swollen lips. 

We both sighed in relief before our mouths met again, less frantic now. Taking the time to explore the sensation of us, pulling back only to look at each other, bodies now interlocked. He was beautiful beneath me, naked and drenched in red light…

I squeezed my thighs. Rocking myself on his lap, desperate for some friction, he tightened his grip on my wrists. His other arm wrapped around me firmly but he was letting me take the lead. Cross’s lips gently brushed my forehead creating a strange juxtaposition with the rough, dominant hold around my bucking hips. 

The stones under my knees shifted with me as I rode him, his hands guiding my bouncing body. He was trembling, but focused, not wanting this to end too soon. I could feel the pleasure shifting into something more wild as I reached the first threshold. He pulled me down onto him suddenly, slamming into me, driving me over the waiting edge. 

The climax took me quickly, days of tension making me easy quarry, and my knees squeezed his hips as I let out a strangled cry, any other thoughts forcibly scrubbed from my brain as I shook in his hold. My desire was only deepening. I was starting to fear the physical contact wasn't going to be enough any more. I wanted him in my mind again, clawing against my soul. 

“Look at me,”

My eyes fluttered open, not realizing I had closed them. I drank in his face, the rapture in it, the red sun reflected in his eyes. 

This will have to do…

He let go of my arms, letting his left hand drift to my hip while his right trailed up to my neck, holding it gently as he laid back onto the stones. He thrusted up, increasing the power from below. 

The scoop of my hips became violent as I met each of his strokes, arms now free to use his chest  for balance. I dug my fingertips into the firm pecs as pleasure pushed the sense from me; It escaped in wispy moans that carried across the rippling water. It didn't take long for another orgasm to rip through me, harder this time. My muscles clamped down on him threatening to push him free as I cried out, echoing into the quiet, alien night.

I didn't dare look away. With him holding my neck, I couldn't if I wanted to. It was all intensity rolling off of him and a rumbling through his breastbone, pleased with my writhing form holding his eyes so desperately.

“Oh Cross… li’nen, you feel so good,”

The world was spinning, he shifted us, skillfully flipping to be on top of me. My back pressed into the warm stones and I adjusted, wrapping my legs around his hips as he continued with careful, measured humping. 

No… that's not right.

“Don't, ah! hold back,”

His rhythm faltered but he didn't change pace. 

“I don't want to, ha-hurt you,”

“It's okay… I can take it, just… I want it all Cross-hah, give me everything,”

He took a deep, shaking breath… then roughly thrust into me. His chest pinned me as he scooped forward in a full bodied motion taking up a slower, harder rhythm.

I hadn't realized how much he had been restraining himself and I groaned at the new force. It took a moment to acclimate before becoming comfortable. I remembered what was said about his enhanced strength…

I'll have more bruises tomorrow for sure,

The thought was wiped clean as my body shuddered with each hammering thrust, any jolt of pain becoming pleasure as it was lost in the labyrinth of my quivering nerves. All I could do was wrap my arms and legs tighter about him. 

I was getting close again. Listening to his soft grunts as he ravaged me was just as erotic as the physical sensation. It felt like I was floating, eyes glazed, no longer capable of much sound at all. I clung to him, his breath, his heartbeat, the only thing that was real anymore. 

A gasp finally escaped me as everything became brighter. I claimed his lips again as I came, nails biting into his back and legs locking about his hips as my muscles flexed against him wanting him as deep as possible.

It was finally too much for him and his breath caught as he lost the battle with his own pleasure. He pressed back against me, letting my knees pull him deeper as he twitched inside, wracked in his own orgasm, a soft groan against my lips,

“Tahny…”

Before he collapsed over me. The hormones fled, leaving him spent and panting. 

I stroked his back as he rested his forehead against mine and we breathed heavily… together, reduced to our most vulnerable forms. 

Two frightened children, lost and adrift on the edge of the galaxy, grasping for a friend in the dark. 

Shhh... *ushers you away*

[hope-to-hell]

When the dam breaks (carry what you can). John Wick x August Walker, aka the crossover that nobody asked for but is happening anyway. Two bedraggled men meet in a bar. They’re cold. Wet. Miserable. It’s a good time to find a warm willing body. Smut, oral, handjobs, angst (dammit this was not supposed to happen), over abundance of water metaphors.

———

John and August are unlikely companions, if you can even call this companionship. It’s the natural outgrowth of a chance meeting, two souls brushing against each other in a bar that’s seen better days. It’s silence, save for the soft thump of glass on wood after each sip. It’s the faraway drone of rain and the droplets sliding down John’s cheeks before he pushes his hair back with a sigh and folds himself down onto a barstool. You look like shit, he says, with a sideways glance that cuts to the bone and spreads out warm beneath August’s skin.

Says the drowned rat. August isn’t exactly fresh as a daisy either; he’s been drifting, friendless, washing his socks in one motel sink after another for weeks. Can’t go home to Langley, can’t go crawling back to the Apostles and beg to be accepted into the fold. Either way he’s a traitor; either way he can expect a long imprisonment somewhere far from the light, followed by an unmarked grave and an eternity of rotting into worm food. He rubs thumb and middle finger together and considers his next words. Buy you a drink?

Yeah.

Of the two of them, August is the talker, all bravado and schemes within schemes within schemes. He can weave a tale so riveting that he’s long gone before you notice there’s nothing at the center of it but empty air— or at least that’s how things used to be. Poor fucker doesn’t have a soul loyal to August the man anymore; he’s been written off, 86’d, thrown to the dogs. John Lark the myth is another story. There’s probably someone already stepping into those shoes, shedding their old name and taking up the mantle of Lark the Apostle, Lark the world-ender, Lark the killer of innocents. He’s got revolutionaries lining up around the block to suck him off while he reads from his beloved manifesto.

You really believe that shit?

Yeah. No. I mean. What he means is that he wants— wanted— to excise the rotten core of the world, to cauterize the wound and find a new way forward. What he wanted was the impossible. What he got was— what? Chucked off a cliff, crushed and incinerated in a lonely valley? Nah. If he’d done that, then he wouldn’t be here, bottle dangling from his hand, doing his damnedest not to let his leer slip into a grimace. Fuck it. If I wanted to spend the night feeling sorry for myself I’d just sit here until I float away. Nevermind the chorus of coward coward coward that stands behind his every thought. Nevermind the moment he lost his nerve and bailed on the last leg of the mission.

Was it cowardice, though? To stand on the precipice of the world’s undoing and feel that gnawing sense of wrongness? August says it is, but he’s a liar even to himself. Easier to tell himself he was too shit-scared to go through with it than to face the years he’s spent doing it all wrong. Come on. August leaves the bottle and makes his way upstairs. John follows a half step behind, shedding pieces of his suit until he’s no longer bulletproof, heart hammering away with only a sweat-stained shirt to keep it contained. And soon enough that, too, is gone.

Everything in this room is tinted red from the neon sign that blinks and fizzes outside the window; its light pulses in time to the need that ratchets their breath higher and faster; the slow steady exhale-inhale-exhale that leads up to the kill shot has no place here. This isn’t a dance; the burn of stubble is artless, honest, cutting swaths of mine across their skin. There’s a scar below John’s clavicle that still carries that strange sensation that vibrates between numb and burning; August fills its shining red hollow with tongue and teeth, biting down and working his jaw to make John buck his hips and growl.

(What’s the last thing you want to see? To hear? To feel? What sensations are you going to carry with you when you leave this world?)

Fucking and fighting are much the same at their core. There’s the sweat and straining limbs, the tight-knotted elation of movement, the rough raw physicality of it all. And there’s blood smeared on the sheets, scabs torn off from the friction of bodies sliding across the bed; John looks down at August and there isn’t a sneer or a smirk or any kind of twisted lip to mark his conquest but it’s clear all the same. And so they stare at each other, wild-haired and panting, until August speaks because of course he’s the first to break the silence.

We gonna fuck or what? There’s no waver in his voice, of course not. Probably not. Aw hell. He hears it plainly and maybe it’s just been too long. Maybe he’s still burning from the inside. But it’s strange: there’s no shameful heat across his cheeks, no ache from grinding his teeth in the aftermath of cracking himself open like this. Maybe it’s the way John watches quietly, somewhere between assessing and patient, free from judgment. But he is thinking all the same, lips parted around words that have yet to take form. He speaks like he moves: thoughtful, purposeful, much like the sea in the moments before nascent islands break its surface.

It’s…been a while. Seems there’s always gravel lodged in John’s throat these days. The pad of his thumb is rough and callused; he draws it over August’s mustache and down, arousal sparking through him at the feel of August’s teeth as he bites onto John’s thumb and grins. It’s easy enough to shove his way further, pressing down hard on August’s tongue; need glazes those pretty ocean blues and maybe it’s a risk but he’s going to spit right onto August’s tongue, blood and bourbon leaving their sting.

The thing about taking a risk, about actions that could have repercussions beyond your wildest dreams, about taking a bat to a beehive for that sweet sticky honey, is this: you have to ask yourself, is it worth it?

(That’s the problem with you, John. You know what the fallout is going to be and you do it anyway. You’re a damned fool.)

Yeah, it sure as hell is worth it, if only for the unh that rips loose from somewhere deep in August’s gut. And maybe it’s been a while for John, but he’s not the only one. August’s hand reaches out and it’s shaking, maybe mildly enough that in any other situation it would go unnoticed, just like the gnarl of breaks set and reset, the fingernails that never grew back quite right, the deep white line across his palm. But it does shake. John sees it all, and folds it into his understanding.

John rests his forehead against August’s belly; he breathes and thinks only of this moment, savoring the twitch and jump of muscle beneath him, shoving away thoughts of anyone or anywhere other than this. Easy, he mouths, clever fingers reaching down to grasp August at the root. Gotta want it bad enough.

Didn’t. Ah. Didn’t realize you knew how to be patient.

I got a little perspective. It’s a hell of an understatement, coming from the guy who wakes still wrapped in dreams of the world beyond the world: not white clouds and angels, not burning agony, but merely quiet— until the waking world filters in with its noise and chaos pulsing bloody at the edges of his thoughts. But still, somehow, he walks back into the world. Better days may never come again but he shrugs back into his suit and finds his way from one day to the next.

(Don’t rush it. Time means nothing except the long stretch between stab and scar.)

It’s— oh, fuck. It’s been a while for me, too. Laced between August’s words are the hitched breaths of too much, too soon but he is sweating from ears to asshole and when he says I want it’s the wrecking ball before a failing dam; when he says I need it’s the shiver and groan of cracking concrete; he closes his hand tight over John’s and his fourth finger slots into the gap between John’s third and fifth. Their grip skips and stutters; it’s rough with calluses and scars, the marks of lives hard-lived. But their hands are strong, steadying and falling into rhythm; the susurrus of skin-on-skin is the sound of river stones tumbling as the current carries them along.

It’s a dry burn, and this time when John spits it’s to ease the way, to give brief respite— and perhaps, a bit, to admire the way it slides down August’s shaft— mingling with precum, foamed white with friction.

Orgasm isn’t even the point of all this, although it’s good— better than good, with August’s eyes first screwed shut and then opening muzzy and unfocused— and though John pulses hard and wanting, he holds back; he drinks deep from the well of a mind devoid of thought and for a moment he, too, finds himself purely empty and still. Their hands are still joined, sticky with seed, til August disentangles and reaches out. His hand is almost steady when he says now let me get at you.

And now their places change; the coverlet crumples beneath them as John rolls to his back and hooks one arm behind his head; neon light pools in his navel and in the hollows of his many scars. Words unspoken hang about his lips, caught against sharp fangs. Easy there, he mouths. There’s nothing to prove and nowhere to hide here; their lives are written in tightly shining ink across their skin, and the sum of all those scars is this: we’re here. We survive no matter how we feel about it. He strokes a hand over the back of August’s head, not pressing down but weaving through soft hair. And there— just there, right at the base of August’s skull where every nerve seems to converge— his hand settles in a weightless grip.

August laps up salt and musk, letting the taste burn its way onto his tongue. If his eyes are wet it’s from the effort of swallowing John inch by inch. The red streaked across his cheeks and throat is just from the strain of cataloging every twitch, every rolling groan. It can’t be more than physical, it can’t. It can’t. Absolutely not. Aw, fuck.

Alright? John’s voice is level despite the hitch of his hips, chasing after warmth and that slick clever tongue.

Yeah. It’s just. Just what? It’s like I said. Just been a while. August’s lips are spit-slick and shiny and when he speaks the words are roughly prickled. Now zip it. Gonna give you something you won’t forget. He descends again and keeps his word: he is artless, messy, and above all unforgiving. There is no room to breathe, no finessing John to the edge and back; he swallows hard and with a press of his tongue he ends it. His mouth is filled with bitter come that drips pearlescent from his ruddy open lips; he glances up and he is caught— they are caught— bound and drowning in this moment. He is seen, and in turn he understands.

(Nothing is permanent. How can you stand it?

You don’t. You hold on to what you can and grieve the rest.)

There is time, tonight, to take it slow; the room is paid through the night and anyhow it’s lousy weather. Here beneath the burning shower spray, draped over the back of a chair, tangled in the pile of their own discarded clothes, stillness waits for them. And rain is falling on the river somewhere far away.

[dcdreamblog]

So, the Red Hood. The first one, anyway, not the new one with the biker jacket. Some accounts have claimed that the Red Hood was a single man, a highly skilled thief and gangster who fought the Batman a few times in his early days. Others have claimed it was a collective identity, just a helmet and cloak that got passed around a lot by gangsters whenever they felt like pretending they had backing from a proper supervillain and wanted to disguise their informants. Which theory do you think is more likely to be correct?

So, it's a bit of both and the mechanics of the original Red Hood were kept intentionally mysterious. As best we can tell it went like this.

(The "Red Hood Gang" marching away from an apartment building where an informant had just been killed, their body destroyed in the fire that resulted. Famously, this image occurs on the same Gotham Gazette page where a trusted news source first prints the word "Batman")

The Red Hood Gang was a criminal outfit, mostly concerned with robbery on a mass scale. Knocking over industrial giants like Wayne Tech and Ace Chemical in the wider Gotham region. Their rank and file members wore red lycra face masks and business suits to remain as anonymous and untraceable as humanly possible. (One of the forensic theories about the gang is that the hoods kept members from leaving hair or skin cells are crime scenes) There was however, a leader of the gang called simply "Red Hood One" who wore the much more famous pill shaped helmet. The actual ROLE of this public facing leader is debated and the theories are two fold.

"The" Red Hood was the leader of this gang. A mysterious and dangerous criminal with a potently nihilistic streak who gathered like minded outsiders around himself. This was the most commonly accepted version of events until.

"The" Red Hood was a patsy. A low level member of the gang or even a hostage who was kept at proverbial gun point by the gang to draw police and later Batman's attention towards him and not the actual leaders of the gang who operated in secret.

The second theory was born by, of all people, the Joker who claimed in one of his many, MANY unhinged manifestos that he WAS the Red Hood who famously slipped into an open chemical vat during a chase with Batman.

It's stuck in the public consciousness despite the Joker's honesty regarding his own past being famously untrustworthy and mysterious because said chase with Batman DID happen and it DID result in Red Hood falling into an open vat where his body was never found, which of course makes Gothamites suspicious of his actual death on that night.

Truly I could go either way, if I'm leaning toward option 1 its only because I don't trust the Joker's take on anything as far as I can throw it.