hey hi, to anyone that still follows this blog:
I'm moving DJ to my multi, @deficd
If you want to continue any threads or anything over there, even if they're literally two years old, just let me know!
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@codeb-b-b-breaker
hey hi, to anyone that still follows this blog:
I'm moving DJ to my multi, @deficd
If you want to continue any threads or anything over there, even if they're literally two years old, just let me know!

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Benicio del Toro as Lawrence Talbot
The Wolfman (2010)
Benicio del Toro
STARTER CALL / @codeb-b-b-breaker
"For someone who is supposed to be good at this, you're taking an awfully long time," Wraith hisses in frustration. While DJ works on decrypting the files, he's on guard duty -- overriding the door locks to prevent troopers from making an unwanted entrance. Knowing that locking the blast doors will only temporarily keep them out, he readies his twin pistol blasters. There's a loud sawing sound and a pool of orange heat starts to form on the blast doors. The troopers are slowly cutting their way through. "You have 3 minutes to finish what you're doing if you want to get out alive."
"Only need two," he drawls, mulling over the other's declaration with muted concern. Maybe concern isnât the word. Apathy fits much better, locked into place; heâs learned a long time ago that relying on someone else is bad news. Partners mean trouble, no matter how loose the term. Panic, though, that means death. He wouldn't have been around as long as he has, slicing through as many terminals, if he's unable to work under a little pressure.
Or maybe he's harder to kill then he should be. Huh.
--"There," it's about one minute, thirty-eight seconds actually, and the datacard clicks. Files decrypted, in hand. It's about now he realizes he should pay attention to the rapidly deteriorating state of the blast doors. "What're you waiting for? C-c-c--come on."
ngl I need this man carnally

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Benicio del Toro by Henny Garfunkel (1995)
Your honor, I love him with all my heart.
BENICIO DEL TORO as ALEJANDRO GILLICK

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you fucked up
idk what youâre referring to but probably
âDo you ever consider the consequences of your actions?â
âI think weâve well-established that I donât.â
      The staggered lights on the interstate bathed the roadway in a wash of orange light between patches of night. At that hour there was hardly anyone else on the road, leaving them as she felt, ALONE. âA head without the thoughts,â Fox mumbled, her cheek pressed against the door. âI think thatâs what I need.â Hell, maybe it was what everyone needed.
     Crumpling the opened envelope in her fist, she listened to the radio for a few beats, debating her next move. There was no sense holding on to a REJECTION. Embarrassment and shame still burned in the pit of her stomach, the side-effect of reading the perfectly printed words: WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU. Normally, Fox was against littering, in fact, in made her sick to see trash gathering in the wild places of the world, but for this one, she would make an exception. Smoothing out the envelope to a wrinkled rectangle, she tore it to pieces. The enclosed letter dropped characters onto her lap, all black and orange in the light. It felt freeing to release them out the window she rolled down. Watching the pieces take flight over the silent desert, floating past cactus and Joshua trees, in the side-view mirror.
     Rolling the window back up and returning her cheek to where it had lain, Fox sighed. âMaybe Iâm just too messed up to succeed.â
â @codeb-b-b-breakerâ â¤âd for a small lyric starter.
Stars, he knew, collapsed in approximately three stages. Death, contraction, gravity. He was messed up too. More than her in fact, and thatâs why sheâd called him, whyâd heâd picked up, why they were driving aimlessly into the great, lonely expanse of the night. Death, contraction, gravity.Â
He couldnât help but wonder if it was all his fault.Â
Fuck, she was bright, the brightest, maybe heâd distracted her too much, corrupted her thoughts more than her body, brought her too close to the edge and now there wasnât any possibility of going back. And god, DJ hoped she wasnât destined to become a nobody like him, a secondhand disaster of a person with cigarette lips and whiskey breath and brain full of surviving the night. But Fox was better than that. Better than this. Even if he wound up driving them into a void, someplace where the desert collapsed in on itself, an amalgamation of grains of sand and smatterings of starlight.Â
   âYou d-d-d--donât need some fucking piece of paper to succeed.â Not much for comfort, when he didnât believe, but he did in this moment, and he did for her. âYou never... you didnât choose this.â This life, the way Iâve hurt you. âThis shitty town, your shitty family, me. Youâre gonna make the world a better place, Fox. Yâalready do. Donât need a fancy college on the coast to do that.â
anyway if his s/o calls him daddy he will literally lose his mind and itâs off to the bedroom
happy sinday
paramounticebound replied to your post â@paramounticebound replied to your post THATâS WHAT I WAS THINKINGâŚâ
also dj vc: hey rey you can still call me daddy
@shadowselved
just found this again and i spit out my drink

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â SEND âARE YOU LOST BABY GIRL?â FOR MY MUSEâS REACTION TO YOURS SAYING THAT. â
⪠asked by @codeb-b-b-breakerâ
        â I wouldnât say that. â The smuggler leaned against the doorway of his quarters before the doors themselves had a chance of sliding shut in front of her. One ankle was crossed over the other, arms loosely crossed over her waist as her brown eyes stared at him from across the room. â I think Iâm right where I want to be. What do you think? Am I lost? â
   âOh. Ah, who am I to tell a pretty girl she isnât really where she wants to be?â Smoother than he normally is, without a tongue loaded with silver, least not enough to weigh his jaw down. Whatever heâd been doing, lines of broken code strewn across the screen of the datapad, proved far less important when it was tossed down on the cot. He rolled over to face her, propping himself up on one arm, offering Juni his attention in lieu of it. âBut you are lettinâ a d-d-d--draft in, sweetheart. Come in. What can I do for you?â
[Settling Dust Meme from @codeb-b-b-breakerâ.]
âYou know, I hate to be the negative voice, but⌠did we just lose?â ââââ
â ⌠I donât lose.â A claim born of stubbornness rather than fact, far less from sense than an obstinate refusal to give up. Beneath it, she already knew DJ would be rolling his eyes, maybe even ready to turn tail and bolt before she did something he considered, rightly, as bloody stupid.
But the facts ⌠the facts were that the team of Rodians who should have still been arguing their way out of a security cell somehow werenât, and were instead in the chamber below, with the case of refined coaxium already in hand.
Hand, paw, sucker - whatever the right term was these days. Thera stared for a second, her own hand on her blaster and thoughts ticking over, then spoke without looking away.
âDo you think you can over-ride the door controls, keep them trapped inside?â
Right. If there was anything to be learned about Thera, it was her stubbornness in any task, herculean or otherwise, how impossible it seemed for her to even consider the possibility of defeat. If he were a better man, it might have been an admirable quality. For DJ, it meant that he was constantly torn between sticking it out and trying to save his own ass.
Still-- made his life a bit more interesting than alternating between scores of casino credits and bi-weekly vacations in jail.
   âD-d-d--do I think,â he quoted with a scoff, as if insulted, before, âYou gonna go all,â an assortment of hand movements that only somewhat loosely resembled the firing of blasters, accompanied with nearly audible pew pew vocals, âOn âem?â
There wasnât a need for an answer, and if there had been he wouldnât have paid much attention in the first place, already moving to rip the panel from the wall and beginning to tinker. A simple interface wasnât particularly shocking, though heâd sliced more complicated slots on Nar Shadaa. Only a few more moments passed before the doors in the chamber below them slammed shut, entirely at his mercy.Â
   âYou, uh, donât need my help with the shooty-shooty, right? Not really my expertise.â