#vega step on me

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Day one of counting until Vega returns

(Block #redacted vega countdown if you don't want to be spammed with this :P)

[chiimeramanticore]

i think i FINALLY understand how to draw him... do you think he knows how much i love him

[kissporsche]

*looks inside Vegas’s brain*: hmm yep, that’s about the mess I would expect

*looks inside Pete’s brain*: oh jesus christ. what the fuck is going on in there. absolutely not, put it back

[boysbeloving]

so you know when you feel like putting your entire weight on someone coz

a. they're so cute and squishable and insufferable and you need to hold them down?

or

b. you want to lie down on someone bigger than you and want to feel that vastness?

yeah me too....soooooooo 👀👀👀

i'd love to know if you're choosing reason a or b for your vote! heheeheehe

LET'S SLEEP ON SOME MEN, Y'ALL

(and a big thank you to @imminentinertia for helping me out with some options!)

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[laesas]

Do you guys ever think about Ken's devastated expression when he sees Kinn alone in the parking lot? When Big, who would have followed Kinn to the ends of the earth, isn't with him?

[bossmamacita]

Got distracted and started brain vomitting Luz info on a page as I do it will eventually be fully filled out lol

[elistilldoodles]

[lu-sn]

vegaspete, vegas & porsche, negotiation tactics, shifting dynamics

a bonus chapter for yall, in which:

somebody is cleaning up the bloodbath, or something. pete wouldn't know

pete makes a very important phone call

vegas and porsche snipe at each other, until they don't

food is consumed, as promised (thanks porsche)

[messenger-of-stupidity]

DUN DUN!

You have been bitten by the mutual virus. To cure yourself, you must provide one reason why you follow each of your mutuals before sending this to others (whether mutuals or not) while in anon.

Good luck!

Oh my god. UHM OKAY. I'm just gonna go through my mutuals from order I followed them. (I'm not good at tttthhhhiiiisssss)

@artbykays - I'm not sure if they realize that we're mutuals or not. Which is fine, it doesn't really matter. But their art is chef kiss amazing. Like seriously, its thanks to them my simping increases.

@darlin-collins - They're funny, have you not seen the stuff they put out into the internet?

@dani-ya-dig - They're just very cool and funny. i tend to follow blogs that I find funny since laughter is the best medicine. They certainly have that.

@romeo-the-homeo - I like lurking through their content because it's very silly of them. (I almost threw my phone when I saw that they followed me back.)

@annahhopee - HER FICS DUDE! I don't know much more to say than that.

@clover-46 - David Shaw. (Real talk, I became moots with Mrs Shaw because we both wanted Redacted Mutuals to talk to. Also their art is scrumptious. I want more of it. I will lurk in her walls until she posts more of it. I will live like Bruno there, building my own civilization of rats while she believes that she is safe from me. She isn't. Not from me, and not from my husband. David Shaw isn't safe either. Vega and I are coming for you and David, Clover.) Can you tell she's one of my mutuals I'm closer to because I'm more comfortable being unhinged?

@frenchiefitzhere - I actually threw my phone when I saw she followed me. I follow her for the memes, the music, the fics. All of it. Also she said that she was sure that Cam would like my IKEA octopus that I named after him and I almost cried.

@/hufflepufff171 - Tumblr Live friendo :)

@itsyourstarboy - Another person that I had a mini freakout when I saw he followed me back. But he's funny as fuck. Also a fellow Guy enthusiast, which I'm happy about. Sometimes I throw anon asks at him and wonder if he knows. He probably does now, but he won't know who is an anon and who is me. MWAHAHAHAHAHA (also he said he liked my fics and I almost cried.)

@epsi-l0n - He's intimidating. I'm going to preface it by saying that. But he's also very funny and isn't afraid to say something that might get people riled up. Actually I'm 90% sure he thrives on chaos and can't live without it. Also he keeps people in the basement and I've been avoiding detection so I don't accidentally wind up in there.

@soup-scope - Their art is very eatable. My favorite breakfast. Nom nom. Whether it's "serious" art or memeable art. Favorite snack. Also they reblog really good stuff that I'm afraid I'd somehow miss otherwise. So they're going my dash a service. (I also stole their shoelaces when they weren't looking but don't tell them. >:D)

@itsrubesshawty - 1. Their blog aesthetic? I love it. I'm a sucker for the darker aesthetics (ironic since I decides to go with bright colors for mine, but I'm trying to make people's eyes bleed so they accidentally click the follow button because they can't see. Which I'm pretty sure is what happened to Rubes.) Also their headcanons are hilarious. I got hooked because of the phone one they graciously tagged me in.

@genderfluid-bastard - He finds reblog gold. LIke seriously, some real gold here. Not fools gold. Real gold.

I love my mutuals, even if I don't talk to them all the time because I'm scared of bothering them. :)

[potatoesandsunshine]

i've come around on modern AUs in a big way but mine just never make sense akgjakg like yeah sure it's set in 2014 but it runs on movie logic. if you stop and think for ten seconds you realize the premise doesn't make sense at all

[rickgrimesdoingrickthings]

Send in ♔ for my muse’s reaction to yours pushing mine up against the wall (( hehehehe ))

Oh he had been waiting for that. He just let her push him. There was even a sense of happiness since she finally had decided to break that tension that had started to build up since the day he had joined her community. He was tired due to the day of work, but he didn't mind. It was always by that time of the day, by sunset, that Vega would show up by his house- each time she had a different "excuse" to visit. And he appreciated every single time, no matter the subject. By talking to Fox since days before, he knew Vega had these affection outbursts, sometimes even without proper context- but he didn't shake at her tackle. He enjoyed it- he secretly liked her roughness and strength- she was a warrior above all else. Rick stared her, almost challenging, excited to feel her pressure, her body against his, wondering what else she was going to do. He already could feel anticipation building up, his heart rate firing, oh he wanted her, he wanted her so bad, since quite some time. Rick wouldn't shake in front of her, no. He was a leader too, by heart- he had his own pride to defend. The sheriff let her pressure his chest, and whatever part she wanted to, feeling her hands on him in that context, she had no idea how much touch starved he was-

@sxbaist

@vuulpecula (look Fox has a cameo hehe)

[whatanightmaregrinch]

boone has now taken to standing in the way for dialogue, and ive become accustomed to having the guy just being everywhere. i didn’t collect boone, boone collected me.

[galariangengar]

💭

[xneens]

not his girlfriend

you’re not his girlfriend, but …

You're not his girlfriend, but you're the first person to listen to his ramblings. The first time he realizes, he notices he's been talking for too long without taking a breath, and you're still paying attention to what he's saying. Microbiology. You know nothing about the subject, asking him to clarify stuff while he talks. He's surprised because everyone always stops him.

You're not his girlfriend, but he knows your coffee orders. They're all disgustingly sweet, as the teams point out, but he knows what to get depending on the day. No matter how urgent the briefing is, he goes out of his way to stop at your favorite coffee shop. Every day, you're greeted with a fresh cup of coffee and a smile.

You're not his girlfriend, but he comforts you after emotionally hard cases. You often find yourself in his arms after wrapping up the cases, resting your head against his chest, allowing him to stroke your hair. He'll spend the flight next to you, his pinky resting on your arm as a way to ground you without the rest of the team exchanging glances.

You're not his girlfriend, but you don't leave his side when he gets shot on the field. You hold his hand as the paramedics carry him in the ambulance, and you only let go when they take him into surgery. He wakes with you by his side, his fingers immediately intertwining with yours before he's even fully awake. You smile and tell him he's an idiot for taking that bullet for you. He replies back with a smile and a, "Better for me to be injured than you."

You're not his girlfriend, but he makes sure you're paired up on cases. He goes to shooting practices to prove to Hotch he can be on the field with you, to prove that he can protect you. He does the stuff you don't want to, mostly readings you don't want to spend hours on or bagging up a used condom from the toilet.

You're not his girlfriend, but you go to every nerdy event with him. Whether it's a Spock convention or some nature documentary showing, you're there by his side. No longer does he find the seats next to him empty. Instead, when he looks over, he sees you and smiles, because now he's not alone.

You're not his girlfriend, but his mom thinks you are. When you spend a few days in Las Vegas for a case, you visit his mom with him, meeting her for the first time. She greets you, smiling coyly at her son, asking you if you like dating her son. He spends the next few minutes trying to convince her you're just friends. And the rest of the month trying to convince himself.

You're not his girlfriend, but he kills the man holding you hostage. He's the first to notice you gone, and he's the first to burst through the door, gun out. He doesn't bother talking to the unsub, doesn't bother descaling the situation, doesn't bother to wait for the rest of the team to enter before delivering a bullet through the man's head. He doesn't bother stepping over the body before he unties you and takes you in his arms.

You're not his girlfriend, but he covers you with a blanket when you fall asleep. He turns the TV off, placing a pillow under your head softly, making sure you don't wake up with a sore neck. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, longing in his eyes as he watches you breathe.

You're not his girlfriend, but he wishes you were.

[pucksandpower]

Malpractice

Franco Colapinto x physician!Reader

Summary: when you agreed to join your cousin Lily at the Las Vegas Grand Prix to watch her boyfriend race, you didn’t realize the weekend would end with you saving a rookie driver with a concussion from the dangerous schemes of his team

The Williams Racing garage is chaos incarnate. The crash replay loops on the screens above the engineers’ heads, showing Franco’s car slamming into the barriers. The sound of carbon fiber shattering is so vivid in your mind it might as well have happened right next to you.

The footage is brutal.

50G.

The kind of impact that makes your stomach twist into knots. Franco couldn’t even get out of the car by himself, the marshals had to haul him out like a ragdoll. And now, the garage feels like it’s on edge, everyone pretending they’re not watching for updates while they pretend to keep working.

“He’s at the medical center,” someone mutters behind you. “They’re checking him out now.”

Good. He needs checking out. A crash like that doesn’t leave you unscathed, no matter how tough you think you are.

You stand off to the side, arms crossed tightly over your chest, watching as engineers, mechanics, and media relations people swirl around each other, avoiding eye contact but buzzing with nervous energy. Lily had invited you here as Alex’s guest, but you feel completely out of place, like you’re intruding on a family argument you weren’t supposed to overhear.

Then you hear it.

“He’ll be fine to race tomorrow,” James Vowles says, his voice low but carrying just enough weight to reach your ears.

You blink, sure you’ve misheard. But no, he’s standing near a huddle of engineers, speaking in clipped tones like this is just another logistical problem to solve. “We can’t find a replacement on such short notice,” he continues, “so we need him in the car. No excuses.”

Your jaw drops. You can’t help it. “You’re joking,” you blurt out.

James and the engineers freeze, turning to you like you’re some alien creature who’s wandered into their secret lair.

He recovers quickly, offering a tight smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met-”

“Are you serious right now?” You step closer, fueled by disbelief. “He crashed into the wall at 50G. He couldn’t even stand up without help. And you think it’s a good idea to put him back in the car tomorrow?”

James’ expression hardens. “Miss, this isn’t your concern-”

“Actually, it’s Doctor. And it is my concern if you’re planning to endanger someone’s life for a race.” Your voice rises, but you don’t care. Let them stare. Let them glare. You’re not about to stand by while they make decisions like this.

“Look,” James says, trying for diplomacy. “The FIA medical team will clear him if he’s fit to race. That’s their job, not yours.”

“And what if they’re wrong?” You demand. “What if he has a concussion? What if he gets in that car and something happens because you couldn’t be bothered to prioritize his safety?”

Before James can reply, the garage door creaks open, and Franco stumbles in.

All eyes snap to him. He’s leaning heavily on his physiotherapist, his helmet dangling from his other hand. His usually sharp, confident features are slack, his eyes glassy. He looks like he’s barely holding it together.

Your chest tightens. He shouldn’t even be standing right now, let alone back here in the thick of it.

The physiotherapist helps him over to a chair, and Franco slumps into it with a groan. “I’m fine,” he says, though his words slur slightly. “Just a little — what’s the word? Shaken up.”

You don’t even think. You march over to him, the rest of the garage fading into the background.

“Franco,” you say firmly, crouching in front of him. “Look at me.”

His unfocused eyes wander to your face, and he frowns like he’s trying to remember where he’s seen you before. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I’m about to save your life, so let’s call it even,” you say briskly. “How many fingers am I holding up?” You hold up three.

He squints at your hand. “Uh … six?”

Your heart sinks. “Okay. Follow my finger.” You move your hand slowly in front of his face, but his gaze wobbles, unable to track it.

“Wow,” he mutters, blinking rapidly. “You’re really pretty.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. “Franco, focus. Do you feel nauseous? Dizzy?”

“Both,” he admits, leaning back in the chair. “But it’s fine. I’ve felt worse.”

“It’s not fine.” Your voice is sharper than you intend, but you can’t help it. “You have a concussion. Probably a severe one. You need to rest and recover, not get back in the cockpit tomorrow.”

He grins lazily, his head lolling to the side. “Are you my MILF angel?”

Your brain short-circuits. “What?”

He waves a hand vaguely in your direction. “You’re older, right? Like … a doctor? And hot? Definitely an angel. My MILF angel.”

Someone behind you chokes on a laugh. You whip your head around to glare, silencing them instantly.

Turning back to Franco, you take a deep breath. “Okay, you’re clearly not in your right mind, so I’m going to ignore that. But you need medical attention. Real medical attention. Not whatever half-assed clearance the FIA is going to give you.”

He reaches out clumsily, his hand brushing against your arm. “You’re bossy. I like that. Are you the same way in bed?”

You grab his wrist gently but firmly, lowering it back to his lap. “Franco, listen to me. I’m serious. You can’t race tomorrow. You could get seriously hurt. Do you understand that?”

He stares at you for a long moment, his expression oddly thoughtful. Then he smiles faintly. “You’re really worried about me, huh?”

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. “Because someone has to be.”

For a second, something shifts in his eyes, like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time. But then he blinks, and the moment is gone.

“You’re nice,” he murmurs, slumping further into the chair. “I like you.”

You sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the Williams team members still hovering nearby. “He needs to go back to the medical center. Now.”

James steps forward, his face a mask of polite concern. “I appreciate your input, but we’ll handle it from here.”

You stand, squaring your shoulders. “No, you won’t. Because if you try to put him in that car tomorrow, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what you’re doing. And trust me, the media will eat it up.”

James’ jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods to the physiotherapist. “Take him back.”

As the man helps Franco to his feet, he glances back at you, his lopsided smile still in place. “Don’t go anywhere, pretty doctor. I’m gonna marry you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, fighting the urge to scream. “You’re definitely not racing tomorrow,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else.

But as you watch him stumble out of the garage, you can’t shake the feeling that this fight isn’t over yet.