#no way in hell

[steddiecameraroll]

“Is that a pie?” Steve questions as he plops down next to Eddie at the small cafe table.

“Banana cream,” he smiles wide, a small dollop of whipped cream on his upper lip. “Want some?”

“Why do you have an entire pie? And yes, I do.” Eddie grabs one of the plastic silverware packs resting on the table, and flicks it to Steve.

“Why not?” He shrugs like it’s painfully obvious.

“Fair.” Steve pops the fork through the plastic while Eddie pushes the pie between them.

“How’s work?” Eddie asks while Steve takes his first bite.

“Mmmmm, holy shit that hits the spot.” Steve moans as his eyes roll in the back of his head in absolute pleasure.

“That’s wh’t sh’ said,” Eddie mumbles through a bite.

“What?” Steve opens his eyes, catching Eddie with a fading blush on his cheeks.

“Uh, that’s-that’s what she said?” He ends his sentence in a question as if he began to doubt himself toward the end.

“Well,” Steve replies casually before dipping his fork back into the pie. “I have also been someone who’s said that, from time to time. So it’s also what he said.” Steve raises his eyebrows before shoving his fork into his mouth.

Eddie stares in confusion, letting Steve’s words roll around in his brain. Steve watches as Eddie clearly tries to piece a puzzle together in his mind.

Just as Steve is going to give the man a break and change the subject, Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up and his mouth drops open. A sly smirk spreads across Steve’s face and he taps Eddie’s chin with two fingers.

“You might wanna close that or you’re gonna catch flies, pretty boy.”

Robin comes from around the corner and plops into the empty seat across from Eddie, inspecting the half eaten pie.

“What’s wrong with him?” She motions to Eddie as she dips her finger into the whipped cream.

“I broke him.” Steve smiles with a twinge of self satisfaction.

“How?” She grabs another packet of silverware and rips it open trying to free the fork. “Wait…don’t answer that. It has something to do with this pie doesn’t it?”

“And the noises I make,” Steve leans back and crosses his legs.

“Ew,” she scrunches her face before diving her fork into the middle of the pie.

“Can I…? Do you…?” Eddie doesn’t even recognize Robin’s presence.

“Jesus, he’s pathetic,” Robin says with her mouth full.

“Are you offering to help?” Steve says with a smidge of condescension.

Eddie nods eagerly.

“Bring the pie,” Steve slides his chair out abruptly and stands up, moving quickly to the parking lot.

Eddie slams the cover over the pie and scrambles behind Steve.

“HEY! I was eating that, you perverts.” Robin throws her arms up in frustration.

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

[euko-going-insane]

F1 family tree, once again. Digital version this time.

Note: in the end of the day, they are not related, so no incest, okay? Thanks

Note n.2: This is my magnum opus and your daily Bearnelli propaganda.

[beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff]

saw someone say this was a year ago what do you mean it was a year ago it was WHAT

[spirkme915]

No Way in Hell

idk what this is, but here it is! @remusmoonshinezine posted a super sad fic a few days ago and i needed a massive dose of fluff, so i ended up writing this. it's pretty much spirk fluff & crack (from bones' pov) and i have so many regrets, but, apparently, not much shame. Edit: Now cross-posted to ao3

Leonard doesn’t have to look up from his padd to understand that the only question he needs to ask is, “Do I want to know?”

Jim is hovering outside his office door - shifting from foot to foot, indecisive - and, really, that’s indication enough that something has gone horribly wrong. Not life-threatening wrong, no - Jim is eerily calm when that particular dam is breached. And if it was something Jim could fix on his own then he would be holed up somewhere licking his wounds. God knows Jim doesn’t willingly visit sickbay unless it’s for a drink and a semi-tolerant ear as the captain moons over his untouchable first officer.

So, whatever happened, it’s somewhere in that mushy middle ground between death and pining.

“You probably should know, but…”

Leonard sighs, looks up. He’s on his feet - hypo in hand - before he’s thought to move. “Good god, man. What did you do? Stick a hornet in your eye?”

“Something like that.”

The hypo hisses as Leonard injects an antihistamine, then he’s poking at prodding at Jim’s eye, making sure that it’s only the lid and surrounding tissue that’s swollen up like a goddamn helium balloon and not the eye itself. Jim doesn’t protest the intrusion and that, more than anything, sets off Leonard’s internal Red Alert.

He steps back and targets Jim with his best time-to-‘fess-up glare. “There’s nothing in your eye and there aren’t any marks.”

“There, uh, wouldn’t be.” Jim blinks as the swelling begins to recede. “Am I good to go?”

“Am I going to get any answers out of you?”

Jim swivels on his heel, heading for door. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“And I’ll take that as a no,” he grumbles under his breath as Jim hightails it out of sickbay. He presses the comm button. “Sickbay to Spock.”

“Spock here.”

“I just gave the captain a heavy dose of antihistamines. He’ll be out for the night and should be good to go for Alpha tomorrow, but here’s your heads up in case you need to take the conn.”

A pause. “Understood, Doctor.”

Leonard rolls his eyes to the heavens. Jim waxing poetic about Vulcan agility and strength he can take; Spock’s brand of pining makes his head hurt.

“He’s fine. If you want to check on him later, though, go for it.”

“I will do so, Doctor.”

Leonard clicks off the comm before he mutters, “Of course you will.”

Goddamn idiots in charge of the ship. He isn’t paid enough for this.

---

He’s battling the computer over requisition forms the next time Jim shows up at his door. This time, his erstwhile captain is looking guiltier than the groom at a shotgun wedding.

Leonard surveys where Jim has his shirt-sleeves hiked up - skin on both arms spotted with hives. He glances at the garbled supply forms on his screen and briefly envies the tech department - their patients aren’t sentient.

He gives in to his fate and shuts off his screen. “Let me guess. Arm-wrestling with a cactus?”

“I haven’t been in the botany lab today.”

“Then you were ritually bathing your arms in Caitian milk.”

“What? I don’t know where I’d even get that -“

“The source is literally in the name, Jim.”

“- and anyway, isn’t that supposed to be beneficial for Human skin?”

“Not yours.” Leonard gets up from his chair, waving at Jim to come closer. “When did it start?”

“My apologies, Doctor,” Spock says as he suddenly appears in the doorway like a damn wraith. “I was notified that you are having difficulties with your terminal.”

“And tech sent you?”

“You are not known for your ‘bedside manner,’ particularly when you are experiencing frustration. To employ one of your colloquialisms, you ‘scare the pants off them’ in such circumstances.”

That’s actually…fair.

Leonard waves in Spock then refocuses on Jim. “You. Talk.”

“It started about thirty minutes ago. It was just one hive on my right hand and I ignored it, then…”

Despite the lingering nature of that sentence, Leonard is well aware Jim ain’t gonna finish it. Especially since his crush is leaned over a desk only footsteps away. Quite frankly, it’s a miracle he has Jim’s attention at all.

He sighs.

“Look, Jimmy boy. You gotta give me something to work with here.”

“Do I?”

Leonard has a hypo to Jim’s neck faster than Jim can rethink his shit-eating grin.

“Ow, Bones!”

“Serves you right. Get out of my sickbay.”

He doesn’t bother to tell Jim not to come back unless he’s willing to talk. It’s a threat with no teeth and Jim knows it. Even though he may question his life choices on an hourly basis - sometimes minute-by-minute - hitching his horse to Jim’s wagon is one of the best decisions he ever made. He’ll never tell Jim that outright, but he supposes that keeping the golden boy of Starfleet alive, despite his shenanigans, is proof enough.

He watches Jim saunter out - rubbing at his neck as he goes - then turns around. “Verdict, Mr. Spock?”

“I believe the captain will recover just as well as he did the last time. However, I have shared with him that it would be prudent to uncover the underlying cause for his reactions. It appears he has…rejected my advice.”

Leonard narrows his eyes. “I was talking about the computer.”

Spock freezes. Blinks. “Ah yes. I have found the error and rectified it.”

“Great. Now, tell me again why the first officer of the flagship is fixing my computer instead of a cadet?”

“My work is now complete, therefore the question is immaterial. Good evening, Doctor.”

As if it weren’t already ratcheted sky-high, the haughtiness factor flies off the charts when Spock stands, hands clasped behind his back. Even the door seems to swish shut more dramatically than usual.

Leonard isn’t fooled.

Spock came here to check up on Jim, and whatever Spock thinks Jim’s doing - or, hell, knows Jim’s doing - it’s something he doesn’t approve of. Add in the fact that Jim must know that Spock knows, because loverboy didn’t give the object of his obsession even a hint of a glance, and it all adds up to trouble. Possibly heartbreak. Definitely cattiness.

“Nope,” Leonard says out loud. He pops open his liquor cabinet, grabs a bottle, then props his feet up on his desk. “There is no way in hell I’m getting involved in that.”

---

God. Fucking. Dammit.

He’s going to have to get involved.

Jim is standing by the replicators, tray in hand, leaning in as he talks with a visiting Vulcan scientist. On the surface it would seem like any of the hundreds of professional encounters Jim has every day, but Jim’s lips are swollen. Which they definitely weren’t an hour ago, when Leonard just happened to catch Jim waltzing into the labs to greet said visiting Vulcan scientist.

It’s possible it’s another allergic reaction - one minor enough that Jim didn’t seek out Leonard’s help - but the cacophonous silence and phaser beam glare of his table mate tell him otherwise.

Spock hasn’t looked away from Jim and the Vulcan scientist since they walked in together.

Has he mentioned that the visiting Vulcan scientist - who spent the last hour alone with Jim in the lab and now Jim has swollen lips - is a Vulcan?

“So,” he says. “How about that Surak guy, huh? He really put that can-do attitude into Vulcan.”

Not even a hint of a disdainful twitch.

Leonard heaves a sigh.

And he thought suffocating, vaporized blood, and death were the worst things that could happen to him in space.

He’s going to have to get involved.

---

Despite being the emotionless one, it’s clear to Leonard what Spock’s thinking. It’s Jim he can’t get a handle on.

He has even less of a grasp when he walks into Jim’s quarters to find that the captain’s lips have morphed into grapefruits. He has his tricorder in one hand and his hypo in the other in two steps. Thankfully, he doesn’t need an additional appendage in order to deploy his righteous indignation.

“Can you breathe?”

Jim nods. “It’s just my lips not my tongue or throat.”

“Good. Then you’re not in immediate danger.”

He unleashes a flurry of hyposprays on Jim’s neck until Jim is swatting him away. “What the hell, Bones?”

“Me?” Leonard yells. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jim blinks. His lips flap. “What?”

Leonard grits his teeth. He’s surrounded by beings with the emotional intelligence of a turnip. “I thought that your lips were swollen from kissing one certain Vulcan, but this…” He reviews the tricorder readings again, frowns. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Wait. You knew?”

He scoffs. “You made it pretty damn obvious.”

“You can’t tell Spock.”

“You think Spock doesn’t know?”

“Shit. That’s why -“ Jim shakes his head. “I was trying to be discreet.”

Discreet my ass, is what he wants to say. But the hangdog expression on Jim’s face tells him that Jim is already chasing his tail. If Jim thinks he’s going to lure Spock in with jealousy, then he’s got another thing coming to him.

“Look. I know you think you know what you’re doing here -“ Jim opens his mouth to protest that and Leonard glares at him until those flappy lips close. “But you have a reputation that you and I both know isn’t accurate or deserved - relationships mean something to you. And as far as I can tell, it’s the same way for Vulcans. Hell, maybe even more so. So you better be damn sure what you’re doing.”

Jim deflates just as fast as his lips. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“So you don’t think this“ - Jim circles a finger around his lips - “is connected to…that.”

“No.” Leonard refrains from rolling his eyes clear out of his sockets and focuses on the tricorder again. Jim’s reactions started days ago and the visiting scientist just came on board - of course they’re not connected. “But we have to figure out what is causing it. Anything else you need to confess to, Don Juan?”

“I really don’t know what it could be, Bones.”

No, he really doesn’t. Leonard sees the frustration in the set of Jim’s jaw.

“I won’t make you take a trip to sickbay, but I’m going to need some of your blood to analyze. And if it happens again then come see me immediately so I can take readings while the reaction is happening.”

“Got it.”

The slump in Jim’s shoulders softens something in Leonard too. He stows away his righteous indignation - for now.

“Get some sleep, Jim. I’ll talk to Spock.”

Jim shakes his head, emphatic. “No. I need to do it myself.”

Not a turnip then. Maybe more like…a potato. At least Jim has eyes on the situation now.

Leonard takes some of Jim’s blood, takes his leave, and - of fucking course - runs right into Spock as soon as Jim’s door closes behind him.

He has half a mind to facetiously ask Spock if he’s taken on maintenance work now and is checking the bulkheads outside of the captain’s quarters for hull breaches, but everything about Spock is…droopy. Oh, he’s still all harsh angles and coiled muscle, but if Spock had whiskers or a tail then they’d be dragging on the ground. Seems fitting since Jim’s gone full wounded puppy and it’s likely the two of them are about to go at it like cats and -

Leonard’s eyes widen, the readings from his tricorder suddenly making sense.

“Wasn’t your last landing party with Jim on that planet with the emerald tigers?”

Spock inclines a brow. “That is...functionally correct. However, the Ji’ial call them klonukto, which in their language means -”

Leonard waves that away with a mumbled close enough and is halfway to the turbolift before Spock calls out, “May I ask if this is significant to the captain’s health, Doctor?”

Leonard stops, sighs, then turns around. Of course Spock is still concerned about Jim despite what he witnessed today - there isn’t anything logical about the way Spock feels about Jim.

“I think I may know what’s causing Jim’s reactions.”

“You believe it was initiated by our interaction with the Ji’ial.”

Sort of.

Maybe.

“It’s the strongest possibility right now,” he hedges. “I need to go run some tests.”

“I am gratified you have a new hypothesis to pursue.”

Instead of drooping, Spock…eases. That it’s a tangible shift says a whole hell of a lot - Spock is desperately relieved for Jim. Leonard’s guilt immediately takes over and, really? Why is he feeling guilty about Jim kissing someone else in order to make a Vulcan jealous? Not his monkeys, not his circus.

Of course, the words are tumbling out of his mouth before his I-don’t-give-a-shit kicks in. “If you’re going to see Jim, I don’t think you’re going to like what he has to say.”

“I am quite sure you are incorrect, Doctor.”

And, with that, Spock enters Jim’s quarters.

Leonard wants to smash his head against the bulkhead, but…whatever. Spock is gonna Spock and Jim is gonna Jim and never the twain shall meet.

“Not your monkeys, not your circus,” he reminds himself.

He has other mammals to think about.

---

Leonard stations his elbows on the lab table, drops his head into his hands, grips his hair in his fists, and pulls. If he’s also internally screaming, then, well, that’s his own business.

It’s not Ji’ial. Not Caitian.

He even requested a ship-wide scan to ensure they didn’t have a warm-blooded stowaway that accidentally got caught up in a transport beam or some ensign brought onboard to make the Enterprise more homey. No such luck.

Absolutely none of Jim’s readings make sense if there isn’t -

“Spock to Dr. McCoy.”

Leonard may just let a bit of that internal scream slip. He doesn’t have the patience for will-they-won’t-they drama right now.

He hits the comm button because, well, he always does. “What’s up, Spock?”

“You are needed in Jim’s quarters immediately.”

Leonard’s relatively sure that if Jim was on death’s doorstep then Spock would have some kind of inflection in his voice. The lack of it tells him Jim’s knee-deep in that mushy middle ground again.

“I’ll be right there.”

His hypos are locked and loaded when he steps into Jim’s room, all of them clattering to the deck when he takes in the plague-reminiscent tableau in front of him.

Spock stands - spine rebar straight - in a black robe, hands clasped behind his back. His hair is disheveled as if he just removed one of those pointy-nosed masks. He hovers next to Jim’s bed where the captain is laying naked, hives covering him head to feet, skin reddening and swelling. Even though Jim has the sheet draped over his delicate bits, Leonard is relatively sure that they continue all the way -

He winces. That’s gotta hurt.

Or, well, itch.

Or maybe both.

Yikes.

Spock tilts his head. “I believe your hypothesis that my biology is not causing Jim’s reactions is incorrect.”

Leonard’s tricorder drops to the deck too.

“Your what?!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jim says. “Whoa. You said you knew. That it was obvious.”

“Obviously it wasn’t!” He stabs a finger at Spock. “What does he mean his biology?”

“You said I was kissing a Vulcan!”

“Yes. The visiting Vulcan science officer!”

“What? Why would I be kissing a Vulcan who’s not Spock?”

“That’s what I wanted to know!”

“Doctor,” Spock cuts in. “I believe you may want to attend to Jim’s breathing before it becomes more labored.”

Shit.

Spock’s right. Jim’s still able to yell but that’s not gonna last long.

He scoops up his supplies and crosses the room. Jim sags into the bed when the first wave of anaphylaxis meds hit his bloodstream, his respiration begins to even out. Leonard grits his teeth and holds his silence until he’s sure that Jim is easing back from the precipice.

It’s in that quiet that it hits him. He groans. “It’s likely that Vulcans evolved from felines.”

“That is the predominate theory, Doctor.”

He glares up at Spock. “And it never occurred to you that Jim is allergic to cats?”

Spock inclines a brow and opens his mouth, but it’s Jim who speaks first. “Go easy on him, Bones - it’s my fault. He thought it was the most likely scenario and wanted me to tell you, but I was trying to be discreet.”

“When have you ever been discreet, Jim?”

Jim shrugs. “It’s Spock.”

Leonard supposes that explains it all.

Relationships mean something to Jim. They may mean even more to Vulcans. And, well, this relationship has all the hallmarks of “legendary” stamped across it.

Goddamn legendary idiots.

He pushes another hypo into Jim’s neck, sighs. “And there’s the cure for your allergy.”

“That’s it?!” Jim’s eyes widen. “Why didn’t you give me that years ago?”

“Not a lot of Terran cats around these parts, so it should’ve been an unnecessary shot. But I suppose this ones hybrid physiology was tailor-made to set you off.”

Jim smirks.

Spock clears his throat.

Leonard wants to die.

Since there’s zero chance of him gracefully exiting this conversation, Leonard decides…fuck it.

“Congratulations on the sex,” he says. Jim turns a magnificent shade of red, but at least this time Leonard knows that reaction doesn’t need a hypo. Spock looks like he’s in physical pain. Leonard is gleeful. “But really? No more of it for at least twenty-four hours.”

Jim’s Yes, Bones comes through the sheet that Jim’s dragged up his chest to hide behind.

Knowing full well that the timer is already ticking down, Leonard looks up at Spock. “If I don’t hear from you twenty-four hours and five minutes from now, then I’m going to assume the shot worked.”

Spock’s lip twitches. “Understood, Doctor.”

---

Twenty-four hours and thirty-seven minutes later, Leonard is just about to close his eyes and crash when his comm beeps.

He swears into the silence of his quarters then hits the button to play the audio message from Jim.

“Uh, Bones? Question that may or may not be related to…yesterday. Spock doesn’t make this sound when he’s in a healing trance, does he?”

Leonard’s adrenaline spikes. A healing trance? What the hell have they been doing that Jim would even think -

Then he hears it.

Spock is purring.

He thinks about Jim’s swollen eye, his hands and arms, his lips, his entire body covered in hives, then how Leonard’s still not entirely sure what actions caused those particular reactions, and…

Nope.

No way in hell.

Leonard flips his comm closed, turns over, and screams into his pillow. Those lovesick fools are just gonna have to figure out their differing biology on their own.

There is no way in hell he’s getting involved in that.

[hoperays-song]

More Random Canon Sing Things I Noticed PT.3?

Johnny had his hair dyed teal for his Sing 2 performance.

Marcus is an extremely punctual person as shown in the storyboard.

Gunter doesn’t actually cause problems for himself, which judging by these movies track records, is impressive.

Both Johnny and Meena seem to be wearing Converse in both movies.

Mike claims to have gone to the Lincoln School of Music, which I’m not sure I believe but ok.

Gunter refers to himself as Uncle Gunter when talking to Rosita’s kids.

Clay winks a fair bit when he is talking with the troupe.

There are apparently awards in the entertainment industry called The Golden Piccolo and The Archer Newman Award. 

Jimmy’s bodyguards are apparently around the clock? Whatever they were being paid was definitely not enough, I can promise you that.

Both the Q-Teez and Mizuki are big fans of Ash’s.

The dancers wear a unisex practice uniform of tights and a leotard.

Marcus is the only one of the gang who’s name isn’t clearly a possible nickname. Stan could be Stanley/Stanford, Barry could be Bartholomew, and Johnny could be short for like 10 different names.

[thatonedelusiongirl]

WHY DID SHE JUST SAY I WAS A KID 🥹 I AM SOBBING VIOLENTLY STOP IM DONE FUCKKKKK

[warlordfelwinter]

as a st louis bitch i personally cant wait to see how they reconcile in a visual medium the part of pjo where he jumps out of the arch and lands in the river

[wrenhavenriver]

[littlekiwimonster]

guys guess who my favorite character is (impossible edition)

[ilovemount]

FUCK OFF

[nico-di-genova]

Ocon threw up in his helmet on lap 15? My god. Did he have to drive with it just…in there??

[beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff]

apparently this was 6 months ago????????????? Wgat.

[great-cats]

Chile, anyway.

Personal favorite characters..many of which are awful, awful people

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Call me crazy. Call me insane. Call me whatever you want. But I still think Portwell is getting back together next episode with a love confession.

[mildrededenparker]

No way my mom’s boyfriend is trying to take my family on vacation cause I caught him smoking weed, that’s not the outcome I would’ve expected. Should I accept this as his apology for stinking up my entire home or just stay home and watch movies?

[kbrellalover]

Bitch ate her own pussy....