#callate space

[mcnuggyy]

ough :-( realizing I may have to ship another box cause I underestimated just how much art stuff and clothes I still have left waa </3

[yyuangss-main]

❝BAILAMOS JUNTOS — SPIDERVERSE HCS

summary ; the spider—men with a hispanic reader who loves to dance a lot and how they are at bailes.

pairings ; miguel o’hara, miles morales (wrote this with earth-1610 miles in mind), hobie brown, pavitr prabhakar, peter b. parker x hispanic fem!reader

note ; because i can’t find any hispanic reader fics for miguel and miles so i’m about to take matters into my own hands and no one can stop me ✌️🤩 added hobie, pavitr, and peter b because why not <3 vale if you see this hush and just read

• — miguel o’hara !

you found out he can dance and never stopped bugging him about it ever since. he’s somewhat rusty but give him a couple seconds and he’s ready to go. he’s really good, same par as you just not so enthusiastic about it. still, miguel loves that dancing is your favorite thing to do.

told you that he’s a romeo santos fan and you busted out laughing. to this day, seeing a romeo santos song in his playlist makes you laugh and he’s like “leave me alone”. you asked him if romeo was better during his aventura era.

yes, this also means he’s the number one bachata lover but keeps it a secret from everyone, especially you.

the first time you two ever danced it was to imitadora in his so called office. miguel had to make sure no one came in. he’s the type to have one hand on your lower back to pull you in and he has your other one in his, up beside of his head. whole time he’s dancing with you he’s telling you how much he loves you and has you like “o—oh okay 😳”

no space in between you guys whatsoever. he wants to have you as close as possible and sometimes rests his chin on the top of your head as you two dance to whatever song is playing.

he’s definitely an arm around your waist type of guy. you took note that it was his first instinct when dancing. whether it be when you are in la rueda together or it’s a dance that needs a pair, his arm instantly goes around your waist. also probably the kind of guy who dances with an arm around your waist while both of yours are around his neck.

you’re also an arm around the waist when it comes to this man. i mean, why else is he gonna have that slutty waist if you can’t have your arm around it? anytime you guys are dancing and his arm is around your shoulders, you take this into your advantage and hold onto his waist. he’s like “stoppp 🙄”

miguel is at the age where he just criticizes every song you guys are dancing to. do not look at him when a song he hates is on. he’s staring at you through the corner of his eye just saying ‘don’t you dare’ cause wym you wanna dance to prince royce with him?

makes compromises especially if you have told him you like that song or artist.

“que canción tan fea. no se quien le dijo a valentin elizalde que podia cantar.” (t: what an ugly song. i don’t know who told valentin elizalde he could sing)

“miguel, ya callate por favor.” (t: miguel, be quiet already please.)

most of the time, he doesn’t go in the center of the circle with you. not in a bad way, miguel just loves seeing you dance and capture everyone’s attention. he never gets tired of seeing that smile on your face when you’re dancing with your tias and putting on a show for everyone.

if you want him to dance with you for the entire night, he will. that’s no issue for him. besides, certain bailes he’s the one that’s glued at your side and takes you to dance.

bonus; miguel likes taking a break from all his screens once in a while and starts dancing with you. whenever this happens though, miguel prefers to play slower songs or anything where you two don’t have to move around as much. as long as he’s holding you, that’s all he wants. and he admits to romeo being better in aventura. last verse in ella y yo is all you need as proof.

his dance skills when you first started dating: nine out of ten

his dance skills presently: ten out of ten

his favorite genre and artist: bachata ; romeo santos

• — miles morales !

when you two first started dating, he knew how much of a dancer you were. you’d always post some videos of you and your cousins at quinces or bailes. so when you both were hanging out by yourselves in his room, you started playing some music to dance with him. then he just looks you in your face to tell you, “nah yeah i can’t dance sorry.”

you called him a “yo no sabo” kid and he was highly offended. regardless, he was very willing to learn because he doesn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t care.

you have so much stamina when dancing he cannot keep up with you. from the minute everyone is allowed to start dancing, you are the first one there and he’s along with you. miles decided to count how many times you sat down throughout a baile and it was three times. those three times were simply because the hosts asked the guests to sit down.

he doesn’t know how you can transition from one genre to another so quickly. half a second ago you both were zapateando together and now they have corridos playing. you were so fast to put you hand on his shoulder and reach for the other, meanwhile the poor boy is trying to process the new beat which is much slower and he trips on his own feet. he’s also very shy compared to the rest when it comes to dancing.

feel like he enjoys listening to female artists a lot more to the male artists.

miles is surprisingly good at tejano, huapango, and wepa. so much so you had to ask him to teach you and he was like ‘neehee what was that, you yo no sabo kid?’

he’s definitely more of an arm around your shoulder type of guy. it just makes it easier for him to pull you towards him and so you two take your steps together at the same time. likes it when you bring your arm around him too or if you hold his hand.

one time, you invited his parents to come along with him at one of your cousin’s quince. you found out miles’ dad is the exact same as he is. even when his parents were dancing, his dad was doing the same things as him. miles is just a carbon copy.

at that same party, miles left to the bathroom for a couple minutes and when he came back, his dad was sitting by himself at their table. meanwhile, you and his mom was nowhere in sight. he asked where you two where at and his dad just said, “on the dance floor,” and pointed to you and rio getting cheered on by your entire family while being in the middle of the circle.

it made him feel happy and once again, offended, because you were dancing with his mom and because you weren’t dancing with him. you and rio got along super well but the way she was having the time of her life with you made miles know he made the right choice.

offended for a third time because you took her to a birthday party you got invited to instead of him. it’s around ten pm when he gets a video of you and his mom getting cheered on while dancing to some cumbias and pulling dance moves he’d never seen before. his first thought once he’s done watching the video is, “yup. she’s the one.”

bonus; miles is really great at la quebradora. you can really thank his spider—man strength for most of it. it didn’t take you guys long to perfect it and once you guys show it off at a baile, his whole nervous demeanor is gone for the remainder of the night. he’ll constantly ask someone to record you guys when doing la quebradora and posts it whenever he can.

his dance skills when you first started dating: six out of ten

his dance skills presently: nine out of ten

his favorite genre and artist: tejano ; selena

• — hobie brown !

hobie’s really at bailes to eat. like. nothing else to it 😭 you’ll invite him and he’s already thinking of all the to go plates he’s going to bring back home. yes yes, he dances with you. why wouldn’t he? but that food?

hobie gets you in trouble every time with your tias. they baby him saying “mi pobre hoberto, verda que no te da de comer?” (t: my poor hobart, she doesn’t give you anything to eat right?”) and he’s like “no tia 😖” and they give him two plates he’s smirking at you talking about some, “grassy ass.”

off the bat, he’s already preferring corridos, norteñas, bachatas or anything you have to dance to as a pair because of the height difference. he loves being able to hold you close and just look down at you.

though even with songs you don’t need to be paired up with, he’ll do it regardless. hobie just loves the idea of being close to you even in your most favorite thing to do.

he’s one to stick to the basic dance moves and sometimes he doesn’t put much effort when dancing which makes you mad. he knows it does he’s just doing it on purpose because he’s evil.

hobie understands spanish to a good level thanks to you. he likes singing the lyrics with you as you guys dance together. you’re so passionate about it and sometimes he just stops to admire you, a smile on his face.

prefers a lot of the older artists compared to the newer ones. has a bit of a hate relationship with corridos tumbados. doesn’t really want to dance to those and won’t ask you. if you ask him, then he’ll go but you take note he sits there, judging the song as he eats his fifth plate of rice and barbacoa.

he’s an arm around the shoulders type of guy too. it’s just connecting back to the height difference. this makes it easier for the both of you as well so at least one of you can lead. easier for him to lean down and give you a kiss on the side of your head.

likes it when you tug on his arm, dragging him to go dance with him because a song you both like is on. he thinks it’s really cute how excited you get.

bonus; hobie knows which artists you like and the songs as well. he even made a playlist of it to listen to whenever you’re not around. pretends to be shocked when a song or artist you like comes on even though he requested it so he could ask you to dance.

his dance skills when you first started dating: seven out of ten.

his dance skills presently: eight out of ten.

his favorite genre and artist: corridos ; chalino sanchez

• — pavitr prabhakar !

off the start pavitr was so good at dancing that you barely had to teach him much. instantly, his favorite genres are cumbia and merengue. you’re both in your own world when they come on. he prefers them the most since he likes that you have to move around more to them.

the main thing you had to teach him was how to zapatear. pavitr had the most trouble with that since there were so many different versions of it. he quickly caught on though by looking at you and your family members dance it from the sidelines. he struggled a bit even after grasping the concept but now it’s in his favorites too.

more of a hand holder when it comes to dancing. he just finds it easier to pull you around and give you a spin. but also it gives him a bit of stability and that you both are moving at the same time together.

surprises you with some dances you didn’t even know he was practicing on. they played la iguana one time and pulled you to the center with him. next thing you know, pavitr’s doing la iguana and you’re just staring at him in shock as everyone’s recording him.

loves, loves, loves it when you tell him that everyone at el recalentado was talking about him turning up and being the life of the party. they had asked you if he was columbian and they began guessing what race off his dance skills. until you told him pavitr’s indian and they were so surprised. he got dubbed as a hispanic by everyone there. he feels so special when you tell him. it has him giggling and kicking his feet, “aw your family likes me :)”

pavitr loves doing el grito with los tios. he just likes feeling included in everything. he heard them do it once and just went along with it. you side eyed him wondering how more of a natural he is than you are. is he secretly hispanic? you’ll never know.

texts you one day saying, “your aunt is celebrating your cousin’s birthday. do you wanna go to the party with me?” and you’re like “babe wym?” yes, you saw that right. he gets invited now before you. pavitr is now immediate family. he’s legit the first one to receive an invitation now.

he’ll surprise you by taking you to some bailes he knew about. please do matching outfits with this boy when you guys go 🙏 he’ll dress in your culture’s traditional clothes. in fact, he even starts wearing them as an every day outfit. you find it cute and can’t help but give him a kiss.

that being said, you guys don’t come back home until after three from a baile. you always apologize to your parents but they know that you and pavitr are having the time of your lives. you both love dancing just as equally and you’re glad you found someone who loves it the same way you do. and you both complain about how your legs hurt the next day together.

i mean it when i say no one can take you guys off the dance floor for anything 🙅🏻‍♂️

menace to society when duranguense plays. society being you because he saw a video of this couple spinning really fast while dancing duranguense and they called it “el tornado”. he started doing it every time the genre comes on. turns out he just thought the video was hilarious and loses his mind over it.

bonus; he was one time blasting la mama de la mama at the max volume with hobie driving an old honda civic, driving at full speed down the streets chasing an anomaly in their spider suits. no reason for them to even be in a car, they just wanted to jam to the song.

his dance skills when you first started dating: nine out of ten.

his dance skills presently: gets snatched up by your tias to dance with instead of you.

his favorite genre and artist: merengue ; k—paz

• — peter b. parker !

first time he ever went to your family party early stage of you guys dating and everyone was like, “how did you two get together?” he’s like “haha yeah i don’t know myself.” when he literally bagged you like this except he said his name instead.

he’s actually standing with los tios as they all watch their wives get down on the dance floor and they’re stuck recording the entire thing for el facebook live. except unlike los tios he’s over there like 😃🤳🏻. he is your top supporter and then tells one of them, “yeah that’s my wife :)” as if they didn’t already know.

his icloud hasn’t been backed up in six years and finally asks you why it keeps saying it. turns out he has over thirty thousand videos in his phone of you at parties dancing. refuses to delete any of them.

he wasn’t the best at dancing when you guys first started dating. okay he was terrible. there was no saving him. which was such an issue for peter because you were always dragging him to bailes and he would have zero rhythm. of course, you started teaching him whenever you guys had time. he practices on his own sometimes just to save you the trouble.

peter tries his hardest to learn because it always makes you an extra amount of happy when you two are dancing together. just do not take him when merengue comes on. he refuses to go.

for one, he’s too stiff dancing it but his legs? how do you dance this every time it’s on let alone continue after the songs change? he’s in pain and had to sit out for the rest of the party the first time he danced merengue. to this day, peter still feels the burn in his legs.

also an arm around the waist type of guy. he loves it a little too much. he likes having both of his arms around your waist while you guys dance to norteñas. he never takes his eyes off you and he likes to give you kisses during the songs.

dumbass accidentally dedicated a narco corrido to you meanwhile you just had to smile and nod at him.

you don’t leave him with los tíos for a long time anymore because he ends up becoming a whole new person. he got drunk with them and all of a sudden, peter just magically knew how to dance. he was having a whole dance battle with one of your tios and won. he’s like, “ya viste? 😃 dicen que gane!” (t: did you see? they said i won!”) where the hell did you learn spanish from? has no recollection of him speaking it the next day.

in fact, he’s actually a whole new persona when tierra caliente music comes on. you still don’t know why and won’t ever find out. the roles end up getting reversed and now you’re dragged to dance with him instead.

needs about two to three weeks to recuperate. what do you mean you guys are going back again? begs you to let him stay home and sleep so he doesn’t need to go to el recalentado.

bonus; definitely said big booty latinas was his weakness to you thinking you were his favorite tio when he was drunk at one point. cried the entire way home because you “kidnapped him from his big booty latina and she was gonna beat both of you up.”

his dance skills when you guys first dated: zero out of ten.

his dance skills presently: eight out of ten.

his favorite genre and artist: norteñas ; seto vargas

[fluffyspaceball]

👉👈Ok I am madly in love with the headcannon of Keith knowing Spanish but Lance and the other members of Voltron don't know this .👉👈

So whenever Lance says something to the team only Kieth understood what he was saying but stays quiet cause this is his only source of amusement . Like imagine

P:Lance get out of my room you drama queen

L: callate enano(shut up you midget)

P:what does that even mean !!

//Keith in the background eternally signing//

__

L: cásate conmigo allura(marry me allura)

A:pardon me?

H:oh don't worry it's just Lance speaking Spanish

L:sì!

A:Yes Lance I do now see

S:I'm pretty sure that sì means yes

L:crees que sabes español shiro el héroe (you think you know Spanish Shiro the hero!?)

//keith in his head:Lance needs to calm down//

But sometimes when Lance get extra annoying he buts in.

C:ok you qizsnaps this training routine will be very challenging and if will force you to work together. Speaking of working together,I recall one certain time when me and a couple of space piratea to team up to try find the beard of atla-

L:Coran! ¡Amigo! Te juro por Dios que te calles con las historias tontas solo por un rato(Coran!Buddy!I swear to God shut up with the dumb stories just for a bit!)

S:Lance!English so the rest of us can understand.

L:LaNce English PARA QUE EL RESTO DE NOSOTROS PODAMOS ENTENDRE (LaNce EngliSh sO tHe ResT oF Us cAn uNDersTanD)

S:that one I understood!

H:*sighs*

P:what is happening !?

L:*aggressive Latino noises*

A:can we all calm down

C:oh this reminds me of a time whe-

L:Iré Keith Iduna Su segundo nombre en ti(I will go Keith Idunohissecondnam on you-)

K:shut up Lance!

P:yea Lance

L:what why just me?

H:ahhhhhhhh!

S:everyone calm down

A:why couldn't I get more organized paladins?

__

And I know for a fact that Lance complements Keith under his breath in Spanish and Keith doesn't know whether or not Lance is being sarcastic or not.

L: stupid mullet head

K:what have I done to you now??

L:mira como te ves(look the way you look)

K: what?

L:shut up!

__

A:we need someone to watch guard

K:I volunteer

L:por supuesto, Keith se ofrece como voluntario.(of course Keith volunteers )

//k:what is his problem?//

L:Tan fresco y desinteresado(so cool and selfless)

K:huh

H:Lance buddy we talked about this.No insulting people in Spanish.

L:w-well he deserved it.

__

K:Lance why are you in my room?

L:ODIO LO HERMOSO QUE ERES(I HATE HOW HANDSOME YOU ARE)

K:umm...

L:ok byeee

//k:what just happened//

__

This also probably when on for a while to until Kieth got annoyed and decided to do something .

P:I believe full heartedly that boys are dumb and illogical

A:this I too believe

L:Creo que Keith se ve atractivo.(I think Keith looks hot)

H: did you just insult Keith again

L: mabye

H:dude

L:quiero salir con el(I wanna date him)

P:no one knows what you're saying

K:I do

H:..what?

K:I know Spanish and Japanese.My dad spoke them both.

L:esto es una broma no?(this is a joke isn't it)

K:nope it's all true

P: so you could understand what Lance has been saying this whol time ??

K:yep

L:I feel like jumping of a cliff right now

K:¿Ya no quieres salir conmigo~(you don't want to date me anymore~)

L:yep definitely jumping of a cliff.

[witchingdream]

HONESTAMENTE si yo no fuera menor de edad, estaría donando mi dinero de sobra a la caridad por el huracán

[pandasaurio-espacial]

I have not watched a single episode of the mandalorian yet and all i know is that every few episodes he will interact with a new man and y'all LOSE IT

[grimnirson]

i thot i could write a 5 page essay but i’m litcherally going overboard on citing and it’s gonna end up longer and it has to b 6 pages including works cited which is already 2 bc i had to cite three whole ass trump tweets

[jamespotterthefirst]

Girl Talk (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart, beyond

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende)

Word count: 500

Warning: NS*FW conversations

Premise: The Allende sisters tell each other everything, much to Ethan’s dismay. 

A/N: For context, my MC’s sister ends up with Tobias. Thank you @jerzwriter​​ for telling me “WRITE IT” when I mentioned this HC at 1 AM. 

“... whole weight? Won't he suffocate?”

Lilac's laughter echoed around their living room. Though she wasn't in Ethan's view yet, he could imagine her throwing her head back, completely succumbing to her amusement. As he approached the threshold of their living room, he was proven right.

Meanwhile, her sister, Laurel, glared at her from where she sat. It was clear she failed to find the humor in the situation.

“He won't,” Lilac explained once she sobered up. “And if he dies, he dies. I think he'll want to go doing what he loves.”

This time, it was Laurel who let out a loud laugh.

“You're ridiculous,” she informed her sister matter-of-factly. “You sound like an expert on this. Do you know this much from your experience with Ethan?”

“Experience doing what?” Ethan asked, announcing his arrival.

His wife jumped at the sound of his voice, but she composed herself quite admirably.

“Nothing,” she replied quickly.

“Face riding,” Laurel said at the same time, as casually as someone relaying the weather.

Ethan, used to Laurel’s antics, barely reacted.

“Laurel,” he said in greeting. “Lovely to see you, as always.”

Lilac's sister saluted him in return.

“You're just in time, cuñado. Lilita was just giving me some advice Tobias has been wanting to try it for a while.”

Ethan grimaced. Laurel pretended not to see.

“Any input?”

“Ethan would rather be trampled, Lau,” Lilac interjected.

“There is no reason I should know this much about my good friend and colleague,” Ethan added. “A friend and colleague, I have to look in the eye tomorrow morning.”

“Alright, alright! I'll stop. Though I don't see the big deal. Lilac and I tell each other everything.”

“Shhhh!”

Lilac waved her hands urgently in an attempt to get her sister's attention. It was futile.

“Everything?” a stunned and equally intrigued Ethan asked.

“Everything,” the other Allende sister confirmed solemnly. “As far as I can tell, you have a five star rating and raving reviews.”

“Laurel, callate.”

“Great job, Dr. Ramsey,” Laurel added enthusiastically, adding a wink for good measure.

Twenty minutes later, after Laurel left, Ethan raised his brows at his wife expectantly. Lilac, meanwhile, looked uncharacteristically bashful. She shuffled on her feet as she waited for him to say something.

“Five star review, huh?” he asked at last, breaking into a smirk.

Her relief was palpable.

“Is that a surprise?”

“Not at all.”

They closed the space separating them, Lilac easily stepping into his embrace.

“Always so humble, my husband.”

Ethan chuckled. “You forget I'm also present at these five star events. I can tell I earn that rating every time.”

Lilac only shook her head rolling her eyes. Her smile, however, was all he needed to know he was right. They both laughed and when that dwindled away, they shared a quick but passionate kiss.

When they pulled apart, a thought struck Ethan with a drop of his stomach.

“Do you think your sister tells Tobias everything you talk about?”

“Almost definitely.”

Ethan groaned.

“It's okay,” Lilac assured him with a laugh. “Laurel tells me everything too so if he ever dares tease you about it, you can remind him he wears socks during sex.”

Ethan's grimace only deepened.

“Why do I have to know this?”

“He claims it improves circulation and the potency of their—”

“Stop.”

Lilac’s laughter overpowered her so much that she almost lost her balance, clinging to Ethan for dear life.

“Is that even true?”

“They—”

“You know what? I’m happier not knowing.”

Just a bit of pointless nothing. Hope you liked it!

Note: Now I can picture Ethan wanting to know, but not know, if the sock thing is true every time he sees Tobias.

EDIT: I speed wrote this late at night so I didn't realize I was unclear about a lot lol.

The sock thing is a myth. Nobody but me, God, Tobias and Laurel know the truth

These sisters tell each other a lot, but not the gritty details

They can definitely guess what the other is up to with their significant other but not in detail, no

For example, Tobias will walk into the office one morning, grinning and teasing Ethan about the B&B he and Lilac ran off to

Just like Ethan unwillingly has to hear about how a major Boston fine dining restaurant blacklisted Tobias and Laurel for never making their reservations. You know why.

Also, the next chapter of YBF is 90% done. That’s coming next :)

Love you all!

[hobyi]

has no one made gifs for hong jinyoung’s new mv??? ; v; ow.....

[mcnuggyy]

how to be normal about my cousins 4 year old dragging my plushies across the dirty floor while I broom and mop the kitchen

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober No.23

Hollow-eyed, Rios crossed the bridge to drop into the pilot seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Hospitality Hologram shimmering away, but he was too tired to voice his chronic annoyance with that particular crew member, and he secretly had to admit that he was grateful for the cup of tar-black coffee he found steaming within reach. He took a sip of the scalding hot liquid, desperate for a caffeine kick.

“Got any sleep?”

Rios hadn’t even seen Raffi, slumped as she sat in the navigator’s seat. She swiveled around to him with hanging shoulders, her curls wilder than ever, the rings under her eyes so dark they looked like bruises.

“No,” Cris sighed. “You?”

It was a rhetorical question, really, and Raffi huffed, pointing at her face. “Do I look like I slept?”

Fact was, none of them had slept in three days - except for Picard, who was out like a light in his quarters after the EMH had insisted on dosing him with a narcotic, worried about the old man’s heart. Sleep deprivation, he’d lectured them, could kill, and Rios was starting to believe him. Only that he was close to killing someone. Anyone, honestly. After nearly seventy-two hours of being trapped, with an offline engine, in a cosmic phenomenon that was somehow affecting their brainwaves, Rios was suffering from a very short fuse.

The most enraging part: While Raffi, Picard and him - the only human crew members on board at the moment - were turning into zombies, the holograms remained completely unaffected. Bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed, they zipped through La Sirena’s decks, running system checks and analyzing scans and fiddling with the ship’s engine, driving Rios crazy with their limitless energy and chipper mood.

Too bad that a hologram didn’t die when you choked it with your bare hands.

Rios threw a murderous glance at Emmet, the hologram currently slumbering in his seat in front of the tactical controls. He was the worst to bear, falling asleep in an instant as soon as his code told him he was sitting and no hostile activity required him to be awake. Feet propped up on the console, head tipped back and mouth open, he was currently snoring obliviously. And as a hologram, he didn’t even need to sleep.

Rios’ fingers involuntarily curled into claws.

“What is the nature of your psychiatric emergency?”

The EMH had materialized beside him and, hands in his pockets, was studying him with professional concern.

“You heart rate is elevated, your blood pressure is climbing, and your cortisol output-”

“Deactivate!”

“But Captain, I am…”

“Deactivate!”

The hologram disappeared with an affronted poof.

“Nice,” Raffi commented sardonically, chin propped up on a weary arm. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Cris meant to roll his eyes, but it would worsen his headache, so he left it. Scrubbing his hand across his face, he tried to knit a clear string of thoughts together in his increasingly unreliable brain.

“We need to get away from here, Raff,” he said darkly.

She blinked tiredly. “I know.”

And it was true. What had felt like a weird anomaly three days ago - their impulse and warp drive dying suddenly, then the insomnia - had escalated into a dangerous crisis. In spite of incessant work, they hadn’t been able to bring the engines back online, and they didn’t need the EMH’s lectures to point out the consequences of sleep deprivation. They felt them.

Physical exhaustion was the least of it. Cris could get past the headache, the soreness, the nausea and the dizziness. But the tricks the insomnia played on his mind were an altogether different thing. He could no longer concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes, and his short term memory had gone to fritz. It was bad enough that the tiredness was affecting his eyesight, causing the EMH to suggest reading glasses and almost getting his programming wiped by an infuriated Cris. But now he was starting to see things.

Hallucinations. They were a well-known but nevertheless deeply disturbing side-effect, and Cris, all too familiar with the phenomenon from his breakdown after the Ibn Majid disaster, was once more stalked by demons he thought he’d laid to rest. Captain Vandemeer had visited him in his quarters when he’d been staring into the darkness last night, sleepless, but too exhausted to remain on his feet. The top of his head gone, blood and brain matter dripping from the ceiling, Vandemeer had looked at Cris with opaque eyes, and it had taken half a bottle of Pisco to make him disappear.

Rios punched a button on his holographic controls.

“Ean!” He barked. “Status report!”

“We’re still offline, Cap’n,” came the instant reply. “But Enoch thinks he may be on to something. There’s a pattern of sub-photon waves that seems to be targeting the temperature sensors with galandrion radiation, effectively-”

“Only the bottom line, Ean,” Cris cut him off. His brain had shot down after “sub-photon waves”, unable to process anything more complicated than a spaghetti recipe.

“Bottom line?” Ean repeated. “We’re working on it, Cap’n.”

“What Ean means,” Enoch picked up, flickering into existence on the bridge with an avid expression, “is that we think we’re close to solving the problem. Now, if the scan check that I reprogrammed to include sub-photonic and pseudo nano-neurologic patterns reveals that not only the temperature sensors but also the newtonian reverse weight-speed effect of-”

“Callate!”Cris shot up from his seat. “Shut the fuck- Jesus!”

He’d closed up to the ENH in two strides, right fist pulled back to punch, and he’d managed to rein himself in only at the very last moment. He shook out his arms, trembling, trying to get rid of the tension and the shock he felt at his near loss of control.

Eyebrows raised in innocent wonder, Enoch cocked his head.

“Captain?” he asked kindly. “Would you like me to re-activate Emil? I am sure he could provide you with a sedative, if you’d like.”

Rios shot around again, blood boiling. All of a sudden, the bridge’s ambient lights felt too bright, and the cluster of stars visible through the panoramic window seemed to move forward, speeding up, threatening to attack and swallow La Sirena.

“Emmet!” Cris yelled. “Deflector shields!”

The ETH jerked awake and blinked at his screens in confusion. “Que? No veo nada.”

Raffi had gripped the arms of her seat and was looking at Rios in alarm.

“Babe,” she said anxiously and got up. “There’s nothing out there. You have to… Here.” She grabbed his arm and tried to lead him back to his chair. “Here, sit down.”

“What?!”

Rios glared at her. Raffi’s face looked strange all of a sudden. It… reshaped. Her hair shrank back into her skull, getting shorter, smoother… white. Her skin brightened, nose widening, her eyes morphing from brown to blue. Stubble appeared, and her clothes… his clothes… a Starfleet uniform with a captain’s badge.

“Sit down, son.”

Vandemeer. Intact, smiling paternally, he gently led Rios to his seat and sat him down.

Then, still smiling, he lifted a phaser, put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Rios screamed, and he was still screaming when the EMH put a hypospray to his neck and cut his strings.

XXX

“Coffee, babe?”

Rios blinked a veil of deep sleep from his eyes. When his vision sharpened, he saw Raffi’s hand in front of him, balancing a cup that smelled of heaven.

He sat up and stretched before he took the coffee, looking around his cabin. He felt rested, and, to his surprise, he heard the familiar hum of La Sirena’s impulse drive propelling the ship through space at cruising speed.

“We’re back online?”

“Yes. Three days ago.”

“Three days ago?!” Rios almost spilled his coffee. “How long was I out?”

Raffi smiled, but there was an uncomfortable edge to it. “Three and a half days.”

“Dios.”

He racked his brain, memory creeping back in. Memory - and shame. Scratching his beard, he looked at Raffi with unease.

“It was pretty bad, huh?”

“Pretty.” She nodded. Then she placed her hand on his arm and rubbed it gently. “But you weren’t the only one. I cracked a few hours after Emil put you out. He says I was trying to open the cargo hatch to take a walk.”

Cris lifted astonished brows. “Good idea.”

Raffi’s worried face softened into a chuckle. “Not one of my best. I’m glad your holos were there to stop me. They’re not entirely useless, you know?”

“Right.” Cris smirked. God, he hadn’t felt this rested in ages. “Not entirely. But please don’t go and tell them I agreed with you on that. Enoch will never stop rubbing it under my nose.”

As if on cue, the EMH materialised at the foot of Rios’ bed.

“Captain Rios,” he said. “I am pleased to see you awake! And your brain waves have returned to a normal pattern. Now, if I could ask you to meet me in sickbay for a thorough scan of your neural-”

“Deactivate!”

Raffi smiled as the hologram begrudgingly dissolved.

“You ready to come back to the bridge, Captain?” she asked Rios, the twinkle back in her eyes. “Or do you need more sleep?”

Cris swung his legs from the bed.

“Sleep is overrated,” he said sardonically and headed off to take a shower.

[seeaddywrite]

6. “Where are you? Tell me where you are.” animal kingdom with deran x adrian plz!

this is probably not what you wanted, & far longer than anyone expected, but! here it is! haha. Thanks for the prompt! :) aaand this is my first fic with these guys after binging the entire series last week, so if i’m way off-base, let me know!

Adrian Dolan was born with an honest face and a charming smile, and thanks to his family’s association with Janine ‘Smurf’ Cody, he learned how to put them to use at a young age. The babysitters his mom hired before she took off always raved about how cute and well-behaved he was, never noticing the stash of cookies and toys he’d collected and stored beneath his bed. He remembers beaming toothily at the older lady who owned the corner market as he walked out of her store with pockets full of stolen candy, and the way she only chuckled and told the customer she was checking out what a great kid he was.

Adrian also remembers, vaguely, grinning up at a uniformed officer from the heat-baked sidewalk outside his family’s shitty apartment in Oceanside while his father jumped out the back window and ran for his freedom – remembers how the officer had blinked and held out a hand for Adrian’s, and called after him when the ten-year-old boy ran instead of accepting the offer. He’d gone straight to Smurf’s, of course. It’d been drilled into his head at an age far younger than ten that when Dad needed to lay low, he went to the Cody house and trusted the people there to protect him.

As a teenager, Adrian used his honest face to stand lookout for Deran and Craig more times than he could remember. Those memories are a blur of questions and frowning officers, of sun in his eyes and adrenaline flooding his system until it felt like his heart would pound out of his chest. He remembers Deran dragging him into an alley and kissing him senseless after they got away with stealing a sports car on fucking camera, and the way Deran whispered over and over again how incredible Adrian was into his skin while they had sex for the first time just ten feet from the police station where they were questioned.

He got older, and he got more independent. Adrian turned surfing into a career for himself, used the natural talent his father had encouraged and made himself something on the circuit. The Codys remained part of his life, Deran more than anyone – and Adrian knows that he was a damned idiot, letting them impact his entire life in such a way. Renting from Smurf, taking off with Deran, letting himself get beaten and terrorized and treated like shit in the name of staying with the one man he’d ever loved. But even through all of that, Adrian kept coming back, kept leaning on Deran and his reputation when he had to in order to keep himself safe from the thugs in Oceanside who knew exactly where Adrian came from.

After all that, it’s no wonder keeping secrets from Deran is so fucking hard, now that they’re in a good place and living the life Adrian’s always wanted together. They share space and breath and secrets, and keeping the fact that he’s working with the DEA from the man he loves is a lot like trying to digest acid. From the outside, no one can tell – but inwardly, Adrian’s being eaten alive. He can lie with the best of them, and switches through masks and cons as needed, but it’s never been that way with Deran.

Adrian’s always prided himself on being the only person in the other man’s life that gives everything to him straight, no bullshit, and trusts that he’ll be okay anyway. This drastic change in their dynamic makes everything seem off-balance and wrong, and Adrian knows that Deran feels it, too. He’s asked, point blank, what’s going on with Adrian, and the fact that even Craig is asking questions tells him that his house of cards is going to come tumbling down in a spectacular way at any moment.

So, in a way, it’s not surprising when Deran awakens with a jolt in the middle of the night to find a stranger in a ski mask pointing a gun at him. He swallows, the sound audible in the otherwise silent milieu of the bedroom he shares with Deran, and takes a precious second of the mere moments he’s got left to thank whatever God might be listening that the other man is gone tonight, working a job with his brothers in Santa Monica.

“Get dressed,” the man tells him, his voice a low, menacing rumble that starts Adrian’s heart pounding at doubletime. He feels light-headed with panic, can barely suck enough air through his mouth to inflate his lungs as the barrel of the gun is waved nearer his head, but Adrian follows the order, moving mechanically as he yanks a pair of too-long jeans over his legs. They’re Deran’s, he realizes belatedly, but it’s too late to change now – and there’s something poetic about the idea of dying in his lover’s clothes. Like they’re connected, somehow, even when that’s the last thing Adrian should want. Deran can’t be connected to anyone’s murder, not even Adrian’s, not without serious consequences.

“Down the stairs, out the door, and into the car,” Adrian’s abductor orders, his thin lips moving in the slit of the ski mask. Adrian nods once, silent, and begins to move – only to freeze when something cold and solid meets one of his kidneys. “You pissed off the wrong guys, kid. All we asked you to do was carry a fucking bag. How hard is that?”

Adrian doesn’t answer. What would he say? That it’d been harder than he expected? That it wasn’t his fault? None of that is true, and Adrian doesn’t want to make himself a liar this close to the end, just in case all those sermons his mom had dragged him to as a kid weren’t bullshit. Besides, he’d known when he accepted the smuggling gig that it could backfire on him – smuggling drugs was stupid, especially with no real plan or forethought. But the money, the need to feel on equal footing with Deran, was a siren’s call, and he’d succumbed. But Adrian had grown up as an honorary Cody, and so he knows better than anyone that life’s short as the weakest link… and even shorter as a rat.

He doesn’t know why they’re bothering to take him somewhere else to kill him. Maybe they know who Deran is and don’t want to risk being connected to a murder in his house, or maybe they want to torture him first, in retaliation for the information he’s given the Feds. It doesn’t matter; Adrian’s not brave enough to tell them ‘no,’ to make them shoot him here, and even if he was, he wouldn’t. Not when that would mean Deran coming home to his corpse. Adrian might be naive in thinking it would affect him to find that – if he had to guess, Adrian would hazard that Deran’s seen dead bodies before. But they’re together, have been for such a long time … surely it would matter? He’s not stupid enough to think Deran loves him – he’s pretty sure Deran doesn’t know how to love, not really. Not with his family. But he has to mean something to the man, or he wouldn’t be sharing his bed and home with him. 

“Miguel! Sabes quien es el dueño de esta casa?”

Adrian frowns, the presence of a second person surprising him. The other man is somewhere beyond the bedroom – the kitchen, maybe? – and sounds alarmed, but that’s all he can tell with his rudimentary Spanish skills. “Callate! Just go start the car!” Miguel calls back, the volume and proximity making Adrian’s ears ring. He’s shoved forward, out into the kitchen, where the second masked man is staring down at the bills strewn over the counter, waiting on J to help Deran with his budgeting. The bills. With Deran Cody’s name on them. 

Hope sparks in Adrian’s chest, desperate and impossible to ignore. Maybe these guys didn’t know who owned this house – and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to convince them not to kill him. The Cody name is infamous in Oceanside, after all, and Adrian knows Deran would be obligated to retaliate against a home invasion even if he didn’t give a shit about Adrian, which isn’t the case. 

“What’s the matter?” Adrian asks, hoping the tremulous quality of his voice will be mistaken for breathlessness after being forced to move so quickly. “Didn’t realize you were fucking with one of the Cody’s people?” Smurf didn’t have a lot of morals – or any, actually – but she did take care of the people in her properties, and always had. It’s self-serving, ultimately, since it’s how she maintains loyalty and her position on top of the criminal underbelly of the city, but it’s still true. And all of the people who run in her circles know it. “Didn’t notice you were dragging me out of Deran’s bed?” 

The man hauls back and strikes him in the side with the butt of the gun, and pain erupts in the wake of the hit, but Adrian doesn’t cry out. He’s been hit before, plenty of times, and his captor isn’t nearly as strong as some of the guys who have taken issue with the way he lives his life. Adrian stares, trying to imagine what Deran would do or say in this situation – but comes up empty. Deran would never be stupid enough to get into this situation in the first place, and there’s no good in pretending otherwise. Adrian isn’t Deran. He’s not nearly as good at brute force and intimidation, and if he tries to be, it might get him killed that much faster. 

“I wonder what he’ll do to you,” Adrian muses, once he’s gotten his breath back. “He and Craig are pretty tight, and I know he likes to use his bare fists, but Deran’s pretty smooth with a baseball bat. And God, you should see him with a gun in his hands. It shouldn’t be hot, I know, but –”

This time, his captor uses his fist, and he might be a little stronger than Adrian thought. His eye swells almost immediately, and the way his chest throbs with every breath he takes tells him that he’s probably got a busted rib now, too. As Adrian recovers, slumped against the kitchen wall with blood trickling from his busted nose and two guns trained on him, the men toss rapid Spanish back and forth, the anxiety in their body language escalating quickly before they both relax. They’ve got a plan, then – Adrian lets his eyes drift closed and prays to a God he doesn’t believe in for a quick death.

                                                                   ********

The room they tie him up in is small – Adrian would guess it’s a closet, except for the narrow window to his left and up near the ceiling. His hands are bound behind the chair with twine that digs into the skin of his wrists, and if he moves too much, blood starts to pool, warm and sticky, in his palms. His ankles are likewise bound, one to each leg of the wooden chair he sits in, and there’s no way out of that, not for him. 

He’s there for what must be hours; it’s hard to track time in the tiny room, and he’s pretty sure he fades in and out of consciousness a few times, because the light through the window seems different every time he remembers to look for it. He wonders why he’s still alive, from time to time – they’ve kidnapped him, there’s no point in keeping him alive. Deran and his family will come for them either way, and at least they’d only have to hide from the Codys if they fulfilled their obligation to the gang who’d sent them in the first place. 

At some point, Miguel charges into the small room, mask still in place, and shoves a cell phone to his face. Adrian blinks, trying to figure out what’s going on, but Deran’s voice is tinny and familiar in his ear, and that’s all he needs to know. 

“Adrian? Adrian! Are you there?” 

He clears his throat, trying to ignore the embarrassing lump building there at just the sound of Deran’s familiar fury. “Hey,” he says, and finds his voice hoarse. “I’m – yeah, I’m here.” He doesn’t know what to say, or why they’re allowing him to talk to Deran, but he’s not stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I messed up, Deran,” he manages finally, his breath turning ragged. “Fuck, I messed up so bad, and -” 

“Where are you?” Deran cuts him off, the words harsh and implacable. He’s in work mode, now; Adrian can tell it by his tone even without seeing the cold, thoughtful expression on his face. “Tell me where you are, and we’ll come get you.” The royal ‘we’ where the Codys are concerned isn’t surprising, but the rush of relief that Adrian feels to know they’re all involved is. He’s never known the Cody’s to fail in their end goal when they’re all working together, and if they’re all coming to get him – well, he might live through the night after all. 

“I don’t know,” Adrian says, the words a croak in his sore throat. Fuck, how long has it been since he’s had something to drink? “I don’t know, Deran, I -” 

“Adrian, listen to me.” Again, Deran interrupts, stopping him from an embarrassing emotional display. Miguel is listening, watching him with beady black eyes through his ski mask, leaning in close enough to hold the phone that Adrian can smell the beer on his breath, and Adrian doesn’t want to break down in front of him. “I’m coming to get you. Everything’s gonna be fine – but you gotta keep your head, all right? This is just one giant, scary fucking wave trying to drown you, but you always come out on top, right? Breathe. Trust me – I got this, okay? I got you. Always. So tell me you’re with me, and get the jackass back on the phone. I’ll get a location from him.” 

I got you.

The words are the closest Deran’s gotten to ‘I love you,’ at least in the sense that Adrian understands love. Deran’s begged him to stay with him, tried to manipulate him with tears and begging, but this is something different – this is an exchange of trust. This is Deran, coming for Adrian when he’s fucked up and put them all in danger. This is Deran being reassuring and supportive, and Adrian is so overcome that he barely manages a coherent response. 

“I trust you,” he says, because he’s not saying anything else with Miguel’s rancid breath in his face. He’ll save those words for later, when he can be sure, when he can look in Deran’s eyes and see the truth there, when he’s come clean and knows that Deran can accept the shit he’s done. 

Because his words are true. Adrian trusts Deran, and because he does, he knows he has time to wait for the perfect moment. 

                                                                  *******

Adrian makes an effort to stay aware after Miguel disappears with the phone, already arranging a dollar amount and a meeting time for the exchange to happen. He sounds smug, like he really thinks this has all worked out in his favor - and hell, maybe it has. Adrian has no idea what’s going to happen next, if this will be the end of his association with the smugglers or not, but he can’t think about the future just yet. He’s stuck on the lack of circulation in his hands, on the ache in his side – and on the fact that Deran is going to see it all when he shows up, and he’s damned sure to have questions. There’s no way Adrian will be able to hide the fact that he’s been talking to the Feds, now, and – 

All panicked thoughts flee as soon as the fighting starts outside. Adrian would’ve had to have been deaf to miss the thuds and clatters, the smack of fist on skin. He recognizes Craig’s laugh and Pope’s irritated reminder to watch his fucking back– god, that guy enjoyed brawling way more than could possibly be healthy. J is as quiet as always, but Adrian catches him telling someone to, “Go get him, dumbass!” in a particularly exasperated voice. 

And then Deran is there, illuminated in the suddenly-opened doorway. He’s wearing a white button-up shirt, the kind that bougie idiots wear under suit jackets, and it’s torn in a couple of places and spattered in brown-red stains that Adrian hopes very much belongs to someone else, but his black slacks and shoes are unmarked, which either means he wasn’t involved in much of the fight, or that it was a fairly easy one. 

“Deran,” Adrian breathes, raising his battered face to get a better look at the other man, who seems to be frozen in the doorway. “Is it – is everyone –” 

Finally, like the sound of Adrian’s voice had broken whatever spell was keeping him frozen, Deran surges forward and drops to a crouch at his side. Adrian moves his head to look at him, taking in the way his hair has fallen out of the attempted ponytail and the sweat dripping from his brow even as Deran slices through the twine binding his wrists with a knife he’d pulled from the back of his waistband. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and Adrian wonders what his wrists look like to evoke a reaction. Judging by the fact that he can’t feel his fingers, he decides he doesn’t want to know. His ankles are freed next, but Adrian doesn’t notice – the silence from Deran is starting to freak him out, and he’s already pretty fucking shaky. Would it be too much to ask for a little reassurance? Or a kiss – or even just a fucking touch?

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What hurts?” Deran’s standing over him, and it takes a moment to register that there’s a tear making its way down Adrian’s cheek. Fucking damn it. “Adrian, talk to me, man, what’s -” 

Adrian shakes his head, because he’s not admitting that he’s crying because Deran’s acting coldly toward him – but he’s not willing to lie, either, not when lies are what got him into this mess in the first place. 

There’s a quiet moment, broken only by the sound of someone begging in the living room for someone else to stop – Pope, if the sound of Craig’s reminders not to kill anyone are any indication – and then, finally, Deran cups Adrian’s chin in one calloused palm, making him look up with care. After an instant of shock at the contact, Adrian pushes his cheek into the touch, noting with some incredulity that Deran’s hand is shaking. 

“I need you to tell me that you’re ok, man,” he says, and Adrian’s brows lift at the urgency in the statement. “I need to tell me that you’re okay, and I need you to mean it, because if you’re not, I’m going back out there to kill those motherfuckers.” There’s a dark sincerity to the words, and though Adrian knows Deran is not a killer by nature, he will follow through on that promise if Adrian gives him a reason to. It’s a heady sort of power, and Adrian has no idea what to do with it. As much as he wants this problem to disappear, those guys are grunts – they’re not the real problem, and really, they’re just stupid. Killing them won’t help anything. It won’t make Adrian sleep better at night. 

But it settles him a little, to know that Deran means it. That might make him a sadistic son of a bitch, but Adrian doesn’t care. Acts of violence and stacks of cash are the best ways that Deran – and his entire fucking family, really – know how to show affection, and Adrian is fluent in the Cody language. 

“I’m okay,” Adrian says, and he leans forward, into Deran’s chest to press a clumsy kiss against the side of his neck. Blood smears over his white shirt, but Deran just wraps an arm around him and holds Adrian there, gently enough that his ribs don’t protest, and tightly enough that his need for skin-to-skin is almost satisfied. The itch won’t go away until he’s had the chance to get rid of the stupid shirt Deran’s wearing, but it’s enough for now, when the rest of the Cody brothers are in the other room. “Don’t kill them. It’s not really them that’s the problem.” 

Deran pushes sweat-lank hair from Adrian’s forehead with one hand. “This have to do with whatever’s had you acting so weird, lately?” 

Adrian nods reluctantly. “I fucked up,” he admits, biting at his lower lip until he remembers that his face aches, and more movement is not the way to help it. “I needed money, and I hate taking yours, so I –”

“Not tonight,” Deran says with a weary sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. Adrian can read the frustration in the tension of his back and the roughness of the gesture, but when he helps Adrian to his feet, his touch is careful. “Let’s just get you to Mexico. We’ve got a doc there who can fix you up, and we’ll – go from there.” 

They’re two steps from the door to the closet when Deran stops abruptly and pulls Adrian in against his chest. The latter winces as his ribs protest, but he’s happy to accept the searing kiss that he’s given. His fingers are still numb, but he wraps his arms around Deran anyway, clinging to his solid strength and familiarity as the world shifts and rocks around him. He’s never been part of the criminal part of Deran’s life before. He’s heard the plans, he’s been an alibi – but this, this is different, and he knows that there’s no going back. His surfing career is over. There’s no fallback plan, no way out, but it’s hard to panic when Deran’s mouth is hot against his own, almost bruising in the intensity of the kiss. 

Deran’s not walking away. Deran came for him. 

And Adrian’s damn well going to show up for him in return. So he holds him as best he can, shows him that he’s alive, that his heart is still beating, until they’re both ready to leave that room and face the music. 

[thefanficfaerie]

Weekly Reading List 49

Weekly Recommendations get posted every Saturday. All stories are character x reader unless otherwise stated. Graphic by the awesome @wonders-of-the-multiverse.

Thanksgiving I am Thankful For by @auduna-druitt McKirk

Tropes Soulmate AU  Distance by @bbparker Jim Kirk 

Daddy!Character

A/B/O Dynamics Coming Home Part 10-18 by @not-close-to-straight  Polyvengers Chameleon by Blue_Five McKirk 

Modern AU Fucking Drive by @kaunis-sielu Steve Rogers The City That Never Sleeps Part 2 by @the-shield-of-writing  Tony Stark  Billion Dollar Man Part 9 by @marvelous-fvcks  Tony Starks Mafia Princess Part 7 by @4theluvofall Steve Rogers Beyond the Camera by @imoutofmyvulcanmind McKirk Growing Up by @pinkamour1588 McKirk Guardian Part 4 by @auduna-druitt McKirk Our Two Dads and the S’mores Experiment by @randomlittleimp

Wonder Woman Steve Trevor

Game of Thrones Robb Stark The Spirit of the Bear by @megsironthrone​

Jon Snow

Avengers Steve Rogers In Your Arms by @tayrae515imagines Sweat by @this-kitty-has-claws NSFW No Restraint by @captain-rogers-beard NSFW I Just Need You by @becaamm NSFW Rise Up Part 9 by @tilltheendwilliwrite NSFW Wingman by @sighhawkeye Lycan by @sighhawkeye Dream a Little Dream by @writemarvelousthings Secrets and Shields by @writemarvelousthings Callate by @becaamm NSFW Only Love by @kalliria Slow Ascent by @because-imma-lady-assface

Tony Stark Dancing with the Devil by @the-shield-of-writing When He’s Falling, She’ll Catch Him by @the-shield-of-writing Stark’s Secret Santa by @sherrybaby14​

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Law and Order: SVU Rafael Barba Telling Olivia about meeting his Girlfriend’s mom by @mlhart Wine-tasting by @imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul Green, Green Dress by @writefasttalkevenfaster Making Up For It by @ghostofachancewithyou

Star Trek 1250 Follower Ficlets by @outside-the-government​

Jim Kirk The Stars and You by @iguess-theyre-mymess Like No Other by @trade-baby-blues​

Leonard McCoy Early Christmas by @make-me-imagine Patience is a Virtue by @outside-the-government NSFW My Heart Beats Only For You by @outside-the-government​ Odds Are by @mybullshitsensesaretingling

McKirk Taken Apart at the Seams by @captainsbabysitter-blog NSFW Pancakes and Protein Bars by @pinkamour1588 Back From the Edge by captainnperfecthair Could Roses Bloom by @thevalesofanduin McKirk

Jim Kirk x Reader X Leonard McCoy

NCIS Tony DiNozzo Movies by @lucifersagents​

Misc Fandoms The Doctor and His Idiot by @captainsbabysitter-blog Chris Pike/Phil Boyce Light of Valhall, Fire of Hel /Part 1 by @musikat18 Skurge To My Beloved by @ruckystarnes Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans Planning by @theycallmebecca

tags: (strikethroughs I cant tag) @thelawschooldiva @outside-the-government@isaxhorror @rayleyanns  @sistasarah-sallysaidso @grumpykate @auduna-druitt @engineeringtrashcan @impalaanddemons @dirajunara @the-space-goddess-16 @catbutsfurrever @a-girl-who-loves-disney@pinkamour1588 @fangirlinglikeamentalpatient

[witchingdream]

Mi dashboard son puros post de "Mientras no estabas" como...... ya entendí que abandoné a todos por unos meses..... deja de restregarmelo en la cara....................

[grimnirson]

i found a good park to start planning my birthday ladies!!!!!!! AND IM GONNA ASK PPL TO BRING FOOD SO IM NOT STUCK BUYING EVERYTHING YAWWWW 💪💪💪💪💪💪💪

[astudyinimagination]

Music recommendations? (Who's your favorite artist?)

Um... Enya and Loreena McKennit, I guess. Anything by them.

I also listen to a lot of indie rock/pop, so: Imagine Dragons (It’s Time, Radioactive, Bleeding Out, Demons, Monster, Shots, Gold, Believer), The Script (Walk Away, Breakeven, Hall of Fame, Superheroes, Paint the Town Green), Christina Peri (Human, Distance, Arms, Jars of Hearts, A Thousand Years), Paramore (Ain’t It Fun, Playing God, The Only Exception, Monster), Taylor Swift (Fifteen, Blank Space, Shake It Off, Back to December, Enchanted, Eyes Open, Safe & Sound), Colbie Callat (Brighter Than the Sun, Try)...

I think that’s a good half or so of my Pandora Thumbprint station, lol.

[sombrc]

“Wanna go for a ride?” (( vaquerc ))

          The hours just ticked on by, faster and faster with each drink tossed back.  How many was it now ?  She’d lost track a few hours ago, holding onto her last two for a longer period than the previous four or five.  Sure, she can let herself go a bit around him, not like he’d ever judge anyone for being a mess, but she couldn’t afford to lose herself completely.  Jesse may have others fooled, but Sombra knew men like him all her life.  Underestimate them and it could be the last thing she would ever do.  

          Nails rack against the near empty glass, a genuine smile curls her lips, but she’d leave the reason up in the air to him.  No need to let something so small bloat his already large ego.  Let him think she’s got something planned, which … she did.  Her head tilts back, the liquid warms her throat and scorches the walls on its way down.  She inhales exhales dramatically setting the glass down with a loud smack before she yanks the cowboy out of his chair towards the open space.  He opens his lips to protest but her finger is quickly pressed to his lips to hush him.  ❛     Callate.  Just hold on, okay ?     ❜  Nail trails down across his skin, down his chest, fingers curl around his wrist as she spins around and presses her back against him.  She’s moved his hands down to curl around her hips as she sways in front of him.  A part of her wanted to see his face right now.  To see how he’d handle being pushed out of his usual comfort zone, while she always embraced the rhythm of music every chance she got.

                    ❛     Wanna go for a ride ?     ❜ he whispers in her ear.

          The hacker chuckles, spinning around to face him, arms wrapped around his neck while his remained glued to her hips.  The smile she wore before only widens as mischief gleams in her eyes.  ❛     That depends Joel … Where is it you wanna go ?     ❜  (   @vaquerc  )