seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from Ireland
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from Syria
seen from Austria
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
@wallphasing has finally accepted space as her new home , we’re all so proud of her !
❛ ————— so .. let me paint you a picture . you & me & the cool waters of urania 3 , what do you say ? things have been quiet for a couple of days . i think we can afford a little vacation . ❜
@godshonest / @trashdotexe
start a campaign with me???
The other implication of that post is also, of course, true.
"Please don't ask me to dance with you." (He's an adorable drunk okay)
The crowd was thinning when his crew arrived with the Friday night shipment. Oakley Street—which wasn’t a street at all, but a conscientious network of what the fuzz liked to call ‘organized crime’—had come through on an impromptu, emergency restock to keep ‘em wet through the weekend here at the Crossroads. And while Garrett didn’t usually go along for deliveries, this was a favor for an old friend.
Inside the speakeasy, the lights were low, the band had slowed, and a couple dozen sloshed stragglers were dancing the night to a close. Garrett stood at the edge of the room, behind the cellar door, which he held open just wide enough to watch the scene on the other side.
One of the boys came up behind him, carrying a crate half as big as he was.
“Last one, boss,” he announced.
“Good. Truck’s been parked up-top long enough. Don’t want anyone gettin’ curious—“ Just as his hand slipped free from the door, someone at the bar leaned forward far enough for their silhouette, bent by laughter, to come within his sight. Theirs was a familiar face, flushed and beautiful. Garrett leaned forward for a better look, but the door swung shut, stopping a mere breath from his nose.
“Hey—!” he called, and the boy from before reappeared in a snap, nevermind the giant crate in his arms or the sweat on his forehead. “Take my car back to the shop. Hell, drive it home, if you want—but bring it back in one piece tomorrow morning, understand? I’m stickin’ around for a while.”
The young man could hardly suppress his grin and he stuttered out a giddy yes boss.
Shoving open the backroom door, Garrett walked out to the bar, straightening out his bowtie and smiling winsomely as he approached Hal.
“What’s a pretty bird like you doin’ in a chair, when there’s music like this?” he purred.
Whether it was the spirits or the sultry words, he couldn’t have said, but Hal’s cheeks were rosier than ever. His laughter was bright and bubbling, blue eyes coy and incredulous.
“Please don’t ask me to dance with you,” he implored.
“And why not—?” Garrett quipped, already at Hal’s side, reaching out for his hand. “Don’t tell me you can’t. I won’t believe it.”
The bar-owner drew back his hands and shied aside, laughing softly all the while, but there was nowhere to go save getting up, and once on his feet, there would be no denying a quick dance. Garrett seemed to know this, too, and took full advantage: drawing him onto the floor like a wave pulling him out to sea. He lead them to the heart of the cozy, underground club, flowing easily through the other dancers—and stopped abruptly, catching the unsteady Hal against his chest. From the sly smile on his lips, one might swear he’d done it on purpose.
Garrett wrapped an arm around Hal’s lower back—far from the appropriate way to hold one’s partner; unless, of course, said partner was shaky on their feet after a few drinks. He brought one of Hal’s delicate hands to his shoulder, took the other in his, and lead them in a smooth foxtrot.
The two of them floated across the floor, the feathered ends of Hal’s dress unfurling like a flower as they danced in a dizzying orbit around each other. Hal was at his mercy, caught in the gravity of the quick turns, the gentle push and pull as Garrett paraded him through the room, spinning Hal around him like the moon ‘round the darkened earth.
The music began to fall in a slow, bittersweet decrescendo. Their song was ending; but not without one final bit of fun. Without any warning save a devilish smirk, Hal was swept off his feet and into Garrett’s arms. He dropped Hal into a dip, chuckling as the hand on his shoulder gave a startled squeeze.
“I’ve got you,” he assured.
The two of them stayed like that as the music settled, sharing a moment of stillness so rare in their frantic lives—but that’s all it was. A moment. Applauding as they approached, one of the cabaret girls smiled patiently at them, obviously wanting something. Bar business, no doubt. Garrett helped Hal back to his feet and bowed theatrically, glancing up with a wry smile. The host returned his antics with a roll of his eyes, but it was all in good humor.
“You’ll excuse me,” Hal announced, his honeyed words almost concealing the tipsy chirrup in his voice as he made a valiant effort to compose himself.
“I can wait,” Garrett replied.
PLOTTING CALL !! like this & i’ll hop into your IMs to figure out how ur muse & jorj can interact !! because who doesn’t want to interact w/ a veritable smuggling legend ??
‘ these agents, my unit... every one of them has someone who depends on them. so it do this TO PROTECT THEM -- my family. but i also know that every target... NO. every person... i kill has someone who cares for them as well. it breaks my heart. each one. another notch in my rifle. another weight on my soul. ‘ || ana amari from blizzard’s overwatch. written by kylie. est. 3 nov 2016. credit.
#brandon: *points* his butt is cute
you can look but don’t touch.
crooks my finger & quietly beckons all the star trek blogs to come over. let’s have a party.
