#Tommy deserved a honorable mention

[ikeameatballspoisonedme]

Severely underrated DE characters

#I never saw anyone bringing up Bird Nest Roy's backstory outside of 1 Tumblr post about pyrholidon #THAT SHIT IS SO INTERESTING HE'S THE GOAT!!! #Everyone loves Acele for helping Harry during the ice cop hat fuck show but NOT ENOUGH i want more Acele!!!!!! #Cunoesse being so avoidant to Harry made so many people hated her. Bruh she's a CHILD #Use some critical thinking skill a bit... Cuno also the GOAT but you dont need to also be scared of Cunoesse 😭😭 #Soona... my beautiful woman in STEM wife. Deeply underappreciated #Tommy deserved a honorable mention

[say-al0e]

Casual

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Steve Harrington has always been kind of an asshole and you've always been kind of in love with him. But a lifetime of friendship doesn't mean either of you are ready for something more than a casual fling because there's nothing scarier than vulnerability, even in Hawkins. [Set between seasons 2 and 3] Warnings: Car sex, requited unrequited love, unprotected PinV, mentions of cheating (parents, Carol; not Steve or Reader). Pairing: Steve Harrington x rich girl!Reader (briefly mentioned but important, off-screen Eddie Munson x rich girl!Reader) Word Count: 5.6k

Steve Harrington was kind of an asshole.

For as long as you’d known him, he’d been a bit of a dick. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, depending on who you asked, you’d known him your entire life. You grew up together, neighbors, with parents who, in their own way, were best friends - if either of your parents were capable of such a thing as friendship. And because of that, you saw a side of Steve that few others had ever witnessed.

There were moments where you saw the softness, the honeyed sweetness, that shimmered through the cracks in the facade he crafted for himself - beneath the hair and the smirk and the snarky quips. Moments where the real Steve, a tender-hearted, well-intentioned sweetheart who was always on the verge of getting it right but never quite managed to make it, lurked beneath the heavy crown he wore.

Just as there were moments when he saw beneath your own carefully crafted persona. He was the only only person who had ever seen the worry, the sadness, the deep-rooted yearning for something more that was buried beneath your walls of ice. He saw every impossibly strong, deeply felt emotion that lingered beneath your careful composure, your even stoicism. He saw the real you, not just the Ice Queen cloaked in department store dresses and expensive perfume.

Only, neither of you acknowledged those moments.

It was an unspoken pact, one you’ve honored since thirteen when you both realized that being popular meant more than being nice. You both pretended that you were still the same vapid rich kids you’d always been, unburdened by a world built to cater to you.

Even if that was no longer true. Even if it hadn’t been true in a very long time.

Either way, you didn’t mention his newfound soft spot for a strange, ragtag group of children and he didn’t mention the fact that he knew the hickey just beneath your jaw was from none other than Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson.

Just as you had nearly every weekend for the past six months, the pair of you sat in the backseat of his BMW after yet another party that neither of you particularly wanted to attend. It had long ago gotten old, pretending to enjoy the self-involved prattling of your former classmates - their bragging about taking on the family business or which colleges they’d be attending in the fall, snide remarks about Steve’s lack of direction while conveniently ignoring the fact that you were the only one with an Ivy acceptance - and you couldn’t help yourself as you huffed.

“Tommy and Carol are the worst. I swear, if I have to hear her bitch about his inability to make her come or him make another stupid fucking dick joke, I’m gonna scream.”

For as long as you could remember, you’d wanted to tell them both to fuck off, to disappear back into whatever hole they’d managed to claw their way out of, but Steve reveled in their following, once upon a time, anyway. Now, he looked almost resigned to their existence in your lives as he frowned.

“She told you that?”

“Won’t stop telling me that,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as his hand fell to your thigh, fingers idly tracing the bare skin just beneath the hem of your skirt. “I would tell her to break up with him but, honestly, they totally deserve each other. May they spend the rest of their lives making each other completely fucking miserable.”

It was only in these moments, hidden away in the thick of the trees near Lover’s Lake, that any glimpse of your real selves began to emerge. Your annoyed huffing, directed at the awful people you found yourself surrounded by, and Steve’s tender touch as he shifted closer and carefully brushed a lock of hair from your neck. Neither of you mentioned it, too lost in your own little world, but it never escaped either of your notice.

Still, Steve hummed dutifully. “Totally,” he agreed, “told him she cheated on him with Billy but he called me a liar.” He paused for a moment, shifted just a touch closer - his jean covered leg pressing into yours, body warm even in the cool air conditioning - before he changed the subject by asking, “New perfume?”

“Everyone knows about her and Billy. But, like, who hasn’t Billy fucked at this point.” Steve leaned in, nosed at the curve of your jaw, and you hummed. “Mom brought it back from that last conference they went to. Said I needed something more mature before I leave for school.” You left out the part of the conversation where she went on for nearly an hour about how much of a waste it was for you to even consider college in the first place when you were meant to marry someone of status - someone like Steve - and tilted your head to allow him more room.

“Smells good,” he complimented. “Like oranges or something.”

“Or something,” you mumbled agreeably, shifting against the seat to make yourself more comfortable as he began to press his mouth to the sensitive skin of your throat. “What’re you doin’, Stevie?”

“Giving you the attention you deserve,” he answered, never missing a beat and only pausing to nip at the pulse point. “Can’t have you unfucked in this skirt. That’d be criminal.”

As if he sought to make a point, Steve’s hand began to drift higher up your thigh, fingers traveling a well-worn path and ghosting over bruises left in his wake after last Saturday’s party at his own home. Again, he decidedly avoided the few extra spots that lined your thighs - the bite mark he would see when you parted your legs, in the shape of a certain metalhead’s teeth, and the hickey you’d been left with at the juncture of your thighs - as you laughed.

“Should call Hawkins’s finest,” you teased, grinning when Steve huffed a laugh.

“They’d send Callahan,” he mused as his fingers dug into the plush of your thigh and pulled you closer, encouraging you to climb onto his lap. “Would love to see him try to figure out what to do with you.”

“And you know what to do with me?”

Steve’s smirk was obvious, clear even as he nipped at your skin. “‘Course I do,” he assured you, settling back against the plush of the seat as you shifted in the small space and settled on his lap. “I know exactly what to do with you.”

“Prove it.”

The challenge hung in the air for a moment, thick even in the cool interior of his car, and gave you the briefest respite to study him. Soft brown eyes were blown black with lust, a darkness that you sometimes found yourself grateful for the chance to witness, and his hair had begun falling in his eyes. His cheeks were tinged pink and you knew that his lips would follow soon. 

Steve was beautiful, a work of art in the dim moonlight, and your heart beat just a touch too fast for something that was supposed to be casual as you waited for him to take the bait.

Before you could tease, attempt to bring some levity back into the moment that suddenly seemed too intense, Steve’s large hand found the back of your head. He pulled you in with a practiced ease, a touch that betrayed just how comfortable you were with one another, and pressed his mouth to yours.

Whereas Steve’s facade was all flash, easy confidence with nothing to prove, his kiss was almost desperate. There was the knowledge that he was good - he’d earned it, sought to learn exactly what you liked and adapted quickly - but beneath that, there was a desire to make the moment everything you could want. He kissed you with an urgency you could never quite understand, almost as if he wanted to savor the moment because he feared it may never happen again, but you knew that couldn’t be true.

As reticent as you both were to delve into your true selves - into your true feelings - you knew that this would happen time and again. It would happen until one of you inevitably broke the other’s heart, and maybe even after.

Still, Steve kissed your with more passion than you ever could’ve expected.

From your position on his lap, skirt bunched around your waist and hands falling into his hair, you could feel the growing bulge in his jeans. There was a slight rocking of his hips, something you might’ve dismissed as an attempt to get comfortable if you didn’t know him so well, and you still managed to find yourself surprised by just how much the little things turned him on.

“Girls like you,” he rasped, breaking the kiss before you could even think to, “just need to be fucked dumb. Be all pretty and cock drunk. Made into that pretty little trophy wife you swear you’d hate to be.”

The way he spoke was so casually condescending, a little mean in the way he’d discovered you liked, and you felt your cheeks heat as you squirmed on his lap. He knew - knew that your mother hated your ambition, swore you were purposely sabotaging her attempts to marry you off, including the few attempts she’d made with him - and smirked when you shot him a half-hearted glare.

“You can pout all you want, but that’s what you need, right?” His hands fell to your thighs, raking up the soft skin as your own tangled in his hair and tugged. “To be taken care of, to be fucked like you deserve.”

“Don’t think some hotshot husband would care enough to fuck me like that,” you countered, swallowing hard in an attempt to maintain your composure as his fingers trailed higher. “Would never come. He’d be too focused on fucking the secretary ‘cause she won’t be upset when he gets off and she doesn’t. But that’s why the trophy wives fuck the pool boys and tennis coaches, I guess.”

Steve hummed his understanding - had his own firsthand knowledge of both your father’s affairs, knew just what kind of men he was surrounded by now that he was old enough - before tipping his chin to glance up at you. “Guess you’ll have to look harder to find someone worth your time, then. ‘Cause this pussy’s too good to be wasted on some dickhead who won’t appreciate it.”

“Steve.” His name came out softer than you intended, a near breathless sort of whine that betrayed you - more than the growing patch of slick clearly visible against the light pink fabric of your panties - and he hummed.

“Don’t worry, babe. You know I’ll take care of you.” Though Steve could be an asshole when he wanted, he was nothing but a giver when he settled between your thighs. There were moments where you worried, secretly feared this might be the moment he decided to be selfish and leave you hanging, but more often than not, you were the one to tap out first. And any argument you could’ve formed died on your lips as he ordered, “Just shut up and sit pretty for me, yeah?”

Despite yourself - despite the part of your brain that wanted you to argue, to fight back and tell him to go fuck himself - you melted into his touch as his fingers ghosted over the fabric between your thighs. You heard him sigh, felt the warmth of his breath fanning over your mouth as he refused to put more space than necessary between you, as his gaze met yours.

“Next time, I’m fucking you in my bed,” he decided, gaze flicking back to where his fingers hooked into the soft material and dragged it to the side. “Can’t taste you the way I want in here.”

“Can’t keep saying shit like that,” you mumbled, nails biting into his skin as you gripped his shoulder to keep yourself upright. “Gonna make me think you actually like eating pussy.”

“I do,” he admitted, grinning when you rolled your eyes. “Like eating yours the best, though.”

With that, Steve’s fingers swiped through the slick gathered between your thighs. His thumb caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves and his mouth returned to yours, eagerly swallowing the soft noise of surprised pleasure you released.

Each swipe of his fingers was easy, almost lazy. There was a practiced ease there, a lover’s knowledge of your body - absent any of the almost nervous exploration of the first time - and you forced yourself not to think too hard about that fact as his tongue swiped at the seam of your lips.

The small space was cramped, not the easiest to maneuver, but it was familiar.

Though sometimes familiarity equated to boredom, routine, Steve’s touch was anything but. Every swipe of his fingers through your folds, every brush of his thumb over the aching bundle of nerves, was electrifying. He had you teetering on the verge of begging, eager for him in a way you’d never been for anyone else - almost anyone else - and you knew he could tell as he finally gave you something more.

Two thick fingers, skilled and steady, pressed into you. They stretched you - never quite enough to fully prepare you for the impressive length hidden beneath the denim you knew you were soaking through - in a way that had your breath catching in your throat and your heart hammering in your chest. Steve knew exactly where to press, fingers finding that one spot that made you see stars, and you could feel the twitch of his mouth as he refused to allow you to pull away from the kiss entirely.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, tone so smug it made you realize why so many were eager to brand him an asshole. “C’mon, babe, the sooner you let go, the sooner I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Despite your conflicting emotions - the desire to hit him, to call him an asshole and tell him to just get on with it; the desire to kiss him, to tell him that you only wanted this, him for the rest of your life - you settled for the middle ground and allowed yourself to sink into his touch.

Those murmurs of encouragement, almost reverent in a way that you hoped no one else had ever heard, had your mind blanking and your chest heaving as you focused solely on the press of his fingers. His pace was perfect, steady and even and never too much - always too much, always enough to make you wonder how you ever thought you could be fine with losing this someday - and you would’ve told him as much if you were capable of speaking without admitting that you were afraid you could love him for the rest of your life.

Instead, you settled for sinking your nails into his shoulder, for tugging at the soft strands of his hair, as he nipped at your skin. He sucked a mark just beneath the one you knew he’d seen, despite your attempt at concealing it, and that was enough to throw you over the edge.

Steve once admitted to loving the noises you made, promised they turned him on rather than weirded him out - something you only admitted when he asked why you were so quiet, refused to let you come until you explained yourself - and you knew you wouldn’t have been able to quiet yourself even if you’d tried as his fingers worked you through the first orgasm of the night.

Knowing him, Steve wouldn’t stop until he had you desperate - he liked to see your tears, watery eyes and mascara running as you finally let down the walls he’d only glimpsed behind - and that seemed to be the case as he resumed his pace the moment your breathing began to even.

“Steve,” you huffed, your best attempt at something resembling normal, though you could hear the whining edge to your tone. “Fuck me,” you demanded, or at least attempted to. “Fill me up. So big, always feel so full when you’re inside.”

It was a low blow, an attempt to appeal to his ego - exaggerated, though it was true; he was the biggest you’d ever had - and he rolled his eyes as he nipped at your bottom lip.

“So fucking impatient,” he huffed, though he gave in, just as he always did. “Such a spoiled brat.”

With a tap to your thigh, you shifted. You held yourself upright, knees digging into the soft cushions of the seat, long enough for him to unbutton his jeans and shift his hips. As you had every time you found yourself in this situation, which was more often than not lately, you watched with wide eyes and bated breath as he freed himself from the confines of too-tight denim.

For years, you wondered why so many girls flocked to Steve when they knew how things would end. You wondered why anyone gave him a chance, why anyone came back when he forgot to call or blew them off for someone else, but you understood now. The look of him, the weight and feel of his cock in your hand as you reached out and swiped at the pearl of precum beading at the tip, was almost answer enough. The effort he put in to make you feel as if you were the only person that mattered, as if your pleasure were more important than his, quelled the rest of your doubt.

When you lifted your hand to your mouth, lapped the bead from your thumb and hummed, Steve groaned.

“Fucking tease.” There was no bite, no venom, to the words, but you still bit back your grin as he reached for your hip with one hand and held the base of his cock with the other. He dragged you closer, settled you firmly on his lap and swiped the tip of his cock through your folds, as he tipped his chin in a silent request for you to return your mouth to his.

As you pressed your lips to his, he used the grip on your hip to drag your hips down. It was swift, faster than he’d ever gone and almost desperate in the way he pulled you in, but you reveled in the slight pinch as he stretched you open.

There was something so overwhelming about feeling Steve so close, about having him in the way you dreamt of when you first realized how you felt about him, but you did your best to swallow the sudden lump in your throat as your eyes fell shut and your lips parted.

The pace always varied with Steve. Some nights were hard and fast, usually when you were both wound up after a particularly rough night; others were soft and slow, when the emotion began to overwhelm you, when the desperate need to be close outweighed the potential damage a confession might bring. And others still were somewhere in between, teasing and playful; an alternation between soft and hard, slow and quick - a way for him to make you beg, to bring you out of your head and into the moment.

Tonight was no different.

Though you sat atop him, Steve did all the work. His hips snapped, cock pressing into you with every movement, as his hands dragged you down. He controlled the pace, controlled the moment, and you allowed yourself to be fully present.

There was no facade in these moments, no pretending to be anything other than you were, and you imagined that was why you both returned time and again. This was Steve - giving, eager, desperate to be good enough. And you were just as present, just as honest; soft, pliant, warm and overjoyed that he still wanted you despite the surface ice that froze most others out. 

Neither of you could pretend here, with nothing between you but a few pesky articles of clothing. Neither of you wanted to.

And you knew, as your mouth returned to his, that despite the rough snap of his hips and the bruising grip he held on your hip, that your kiss betrayed you. Each swipe of your tongue, each breathless gasp you allowed him to swallow, told him exactly what he needed to know.

When his hand fell between your thighs, thumb pressing to the aching bundle of nerves, your mind went blank and your thoughts revolved solely around the beautiful brunette beneath you.

The curve of his jaw, the warmth of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the plush of his lips; Steve, Steve, Steve, was all that existed in your mind. The drag of his cock, filling you so perfectly that it almost seemed as if he were a missing piece, designed especially for you, was all that existed. And just as he wanted, it left you pliant in his hands.

“There we go,” he groaned, voice softer than you imagined he intended, as a hand lifted to your cheek. “Look at that, givin’ you what you need, hm?” When you moaned your agreement, lips pursing in a silent request for him to kiss you, Steve smiled. “Look pretty like this. Soft and fucked out for me. I’m the only one that can make you feel like this, yeah?”

It was the first confirmation that he knew, that he cared more than you thought he might, about the other man in your life. And though you wanted to tease him, to poke and prod and be a bit of a bitch about it, you could only moan your agreement.

Eddie was good, was more than enough, but there was something about Steve.

“Prove it,” he demanded, voice only just beginning to show his exertion as his hips snapped a little harder. “Come for me, babe. Show me how good I make you feel.”

As was beginning to become a habit, you gave in to him without so much as an attempt otherwise. The press of his fingers to your aching clit, the rough snap of his hips, the warmth of his breath fanning over your sweat slick skin; all of it was too much, just enough, to send you barreling over the edge for a second time.

With a cry of his name, keening and louder than you intended, you came and Steve followed shortly after. You could feel the warmth of his spend, the twitch of his cock, as you settled for a long moment, and felt the tears stinging at the backs of your eyes.

Without so much as a second though, Steve lifted a hand to brush at your cheeks, careful not to press too hard, and swiped away the few that had fallen before he pressed a kiss to your cheek and shot you a teasing wink.

“Love it when you cry for me, babe,” he teased, though you wondered if he’d have the same reaction if he knew the tears were, at least in part, caused by the overwhelming flurry of emotion that had you questioning everything you knew. “Seeing the Ice Queen melt never gets old.”

“You’re such a dick, Stevie.” The huff was as playful as you could manage with your breath still coming in short pants and your stomach churning with emotion but he grinned just the same as he helped you off his lap.

“Think you mean, ‘you have such a great dick, Stevie’.” When you rolled your eyes, straightening out your clothes and attempting to smooth your hair, he laughed. “Oh, c’mon, not gonna say thank you for the incredible orgasms? Your parents raised you better than that, babe.”

“They raised me better than to fuck some rich asshole in the backseat of his car, but, here we are.” Steve followed your lead and began to straighten himself out, zipped his jeans and at least pretended not to stare as you settled your panties back into place, the fabric immediately darkening with his spend. “Speaking of, you should probably get me home, Romeo. It’s past curfew.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Steve simply tugged you back into his side, hand cradling your jaw as you both attempted to catch your breath.

The lie was obvious - your parents didn’t care very much how late you stayed out, even less when you were with Steve - and you knew that he knew who would be waiting for you to return home. However, you didn’t expect him to ask.

Steve’s touch was soft, though you could see the distaste in the set of his mouth as his fingers brushed the two marks beneath your jaw - one fresh and one fading. “What’re you doin’ with the freak, anyway?” He’d never asked, neither of you made it a habit to pry into the other’s personal life, but he seemed unable to help himself as he continued. “You know you could just buy weed, right? You don’t have to fuck him for it.”

“I don’t smoke,” you reminded him, rolling your eyes even as you leaned into his touch. “Dunno,” you shrugged, avoiding his gaze as your hands worried with the hem of your skirt. “He’s exciting. Well, not really,” you amended because he wasn’t, “but he’s different. He’s just… Eddie. Doesn’t try to be something he’s not.” The slight was unintentional but you caught Steve’s slight wince, even as you barreled on. “And, I mean, it totally pisses off my dad every time he sees Eddie sneaking out because the guy’s a total fucking klutz and can’t leave without waking up half the neighborhood.” Steve scoffed, though you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it as he quickly covered the sound with a clearing of his throat before you added, as an afterthought, “And he listens to me. Not, like, pretends to.”

“I listen to you.”

While it wasn’t a lie - Steve listened, retained whatever you told him - neither of you were ever particularly honest with one another. Your conversations were never as serious as the ones you shared with Eddie, never as deep. For someone you considered your best friend, Steve barely knew anything about the real you. Though, that was as much your fault as it was his.

There was always a fear, deep and unfounded, that he might not like the real you. That if you were honest, that if you allowed him to see you for who you really were, that he might hate you. That he might leave. With Eddie, that didn’t matter very much. He was fun, a distraction, a taste of something forbidden and a glimpse into another life, but he was temporary. He could leave at any time, decide he didn’t like the real you and it might hurt for a moment but you would get over it quick. 

With Steve, it was your biggest fear.

Thinking that he might not like the real you, that he might suddenly change his mind and decide the real you wasn’t worth his time, was a fear that felt almost paralyzing. Steve’s opinion mattered, more than anyone else’s, so you held tight to the person you’d always been - the one he’d always at least tolerated - and never breathed so much as a word to the contrary.

Regardless, you humored him. “You do,” you agreed, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from his eyes. “But you kinda have to. And you also moaned Nancy’s name the first time we fucked so, like, that sorta cancels out some of the good stuff.” Steve flustered, cheeks flashing neon pink as he recalled the moment - a drunken hookup soon after his breakup, the first of what would become a regular occurrence - but before he could defend himself, you asked, “How’s that going, by the way? You figure out how to get her back from the creep?”

Steve shook his head, then, and sighed as he admitted, “Don’t think I even want to, anymore. Think I was just… She was right, maybe. We were kind of bullshit.”

The resigned misery in his voice was obvious, still upset by the hurtful declaration of a girl you knew he’d loved - in his own way, anyway - and you sighed as you rested your head against the seat cushion. “All of this is bullshit,” you shrugged. “High school, Hawkins, Indiana; none of it means anything.”

“We don’t mean anything?” Despite his best attempt at nonchalance, Steve sounded almost heartbroken - devastated to hear yet another person who meant something to him declare that he meant nothing - and you sighed as you grabbed the hand that rested on your thigh.

“You know I hate sentimentality,” you mumbled, unable to look him in the eye, “but you’re the only thing worth anything in my whole life. You could never be bullshit. Annoying, totally, but not bullshit. Never bullshit.”

There was a brief pause, a moment in which you both felt the weight of you admission pressing on your chests - stealing what little air seemed to remain in the car, windows still fogged and radio still playing too softly to really hear - before Steve swallowed. “You know I…” He cut himself off, paused and seemed to think better of voicing the thought aloud, before he asked, “You know, right?”

‘I love you,’ went unspoken, as it always had. It lingered, just beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to crack the ice and set it free. You knew, just as Steve did, that you were in something like love. Maybe not a love that would last forever, maybe not even a love that was ever meant to be, but it was there.

Warm, shiny and bright, and just waiting for you to stop pretending that things between you had ever been casual.

So, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you assured him, reaching for his hand to squeeze it gently. “I know. Me, too.”

Silence fell, then, thick and suffocating. It filled the interior of his car with a bitter chill and it struck you just how new that feeling was. It made you wonder what a future might be like, if you had one at all, and you found yourself mildly horrified at the idea that you could end up as either set of your parents. There was no world in which you could see a future without Steve at least somewhere in your life but there was no happiness in a world in which you both continued to pretend.

Either way, you were both stuck - caught up in a never-ending performance, an act for an audience that only existed in your minds.

What began as something effortless, something casual, had become so complicated that you no longer felt certain of much beyond the understanding that you loved Steve. How -  if you could love the real him, if you only loved the idea of him, if you loved the safety of him - was a question you had no answer to but before you could begin to even fathom it, the moment ended.

Steve pressed a final kiss to your mouth, bruising in a way that made your chest ache and your eyes sting with unshod tears, before he made his way to the driver’s seat.

And then, just as he had every night since he got his license, Steve drove you home. He pulled up to the door to let you out and didn’t mention the van he saw parked down the street. He squeezed your hand before you could step out into the night, three times in rapid succession, and lit a cigarette the moment you stepped out of the car. 

King Steve wasn’t one to fall in love easily, neither was the Ice Queen. But Steve Harrington wore his heart on his sleeve and that heart beat for you. Despite the distractions, the desperate attempts at finding something so disconnected from the cushioned prison of his gilded cage, he knew that it had been you all along. And just as neither of you mentioned the real people beneath the personas, neither of you mentioned just how real the love you shared had grown.

Loving one another, allowing yourselves to be vulnerable - to reveal the deepest, darkest secrets - was terrifying. Both of you feared what the other might think of the truth that lay beneath the crown so you agreed, silently, that to pretend was better than to face rejection.

So, Steve drove the few streets that separated your neighborhood from his and let himself into the empty house that meant nothing when his true home was likely sliding open a window to allow the only person he’d ever seen as true competition inside. And he wondered when the love of his life became a casual fling, when you both resigned yourselves to pretending that neither of you deserved something real - something true, something happy. He wondered why he carried on with it, knowing that in a few short weeks you would be in Boston, knee-deep in a life you hated, while he was stuck in Hawkins, wishing he’d had the courage to be himself and that he’d asked for something more than casual.

There was no satisfactory answer, not if he really thought about it, so he decided not to. 

The rest of the summer would be spent in the same way the last six months had. Steve would pretend to enjoy the parties and the attention of girls who only wanted him for his reputation. You would continue pretending that nothing fazed you, not even him. And things between you would remain casual. 

And he supposed that was just the way it was meant to be.

_________________________________________________

Author's Note: Did you know there's a chance black beans will catch on fire in the microwave? 'Cause I didn't. Anyway. This was my first time writing 'King Steve' and I had so much fun. This was loosely inspired by Chappell Roan's Casual. And my love of both Steve and Eddie. :)

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff​, @valthevalkyrie-main​, @crying-caro​, @inglourious-imagines​

#stranger things smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #v's fics

[fiona-fififi]

Can we talk about—

"So you said before that you don't think I'm ready. And the truth is I don't know what I'm ready for. But I am ready for something. And I think maybe that something could be with you."

Because I am SO proud of him.

Because yes, Tommy was trying not to pressure him, and he had the best of intentions, and also, maybe he just didn't want to have to be Buck's guide through these new experiences he's likely going to fumble with, and that's okay, too.

But by choosing to end the date, and by leaving Buck with just "I don't think you're ready" and no other communication, Tommy was taking away Buck's agency to make that choice for himself. He didn't even finish the date—that he knew full well was Buck's first with another man.

And I don't mean this to be a criticism of Tommy. Tommy making the choice that Buck isn't where Tommy needs him to be in order to be comfortable pursuing a relationship is perfectly valid.

But by taking away that line of communication, he didn't even give Buck the chance to figure out what he was feeling or if wanted to pursue a second date or if Buck felt he was ready.

So to have Buck say, outright, that he doesn't know. That he messed up, and he shouldn't have been pretending on their first date, but that it stemmed from just not knowing yet what he feels? That felt really important.

Because Buck does have this tendency to hide parts of himself and to just let things happen to him.

But this time, he took a breath, and he spoke his truth. And that truth was that he doesn't yet know what he's ready for, but he wants to try.

And I think that's a really beautiful sentiment for him to claim.

Because he deserves his chance, and he deserves to take his time, as long as he's honest and ready to communicate about that, and I think the fact that he does here shows so much growth in him.

(And also, honorable mention to Maddie and to Eddie for giving him such a soft, safe place to land, and for making sure he knows that what he feels matters, and he deserves to take his time, but also he deserves to ask for the things he wants, even if he's still figuring them out.)

#i'm having a breakdown over this #911 spoilers #evan buckley #tommy kinard #random 911 thoughts #911 meta #i guess

[moonlight-prose]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I have spent several days drafting this post because there's so much I want to say. 2023 was filled with some big moments for me. I graduated college, met my friend group, went on night time adventures, and actually acted like my age for once. I was chaotic and fun and carefree for the first time since I turned 19. But things have also gone wrong in many ways.

Which is why I write this to you guys. The incredible people on this site. Whether you follow me, are my mutuals, or have seen my blog in passing (or in your notes), I want to wish you a Happy New Year.

While this year might have sucked for a majority of it, the light I found in this community - on this site - is unmatched. I have met some of my greatest friends here. I've cried to fics, lost my mind over characters, and written so much more than I actually expected. It's been a hell of a year and an absolute honor getting to thirst with y'all.

So here's to getting sluttier in 2024! I'm toasting my champagne glass to you guys.

I also wanted to simply shout out some very important people to me. They've made 2023 bearable and I couldn't have been happier to know them through this place. A big massive fucking THANK YOU to my darlings. You're the greatest people I know.

@soulores my queen, my babe, my bestie. it is hard to believe we didn't start officially talking till summer of this year, because i genuinely feel like we've known each other for years. from our sunday morning phone conversations, to our screaming in the dms about these fictional men, and movie days with you. i couldn't have asked for a better friend to meet this year. here's to many many more memories in 2024 (and to finally meeting in person!).

@themarcusmoreno what would be a dedication post without mentioning you! my love i am so so fucking happy we met two years ago. all because of pedro pascal. crazy to think i would have found such an incredible person who happened to love all the things i love! you're the greatest friend and i am so grateful for you. thank you for sticking with me.

@sunflowersteves vic the absolute bad bitch. THE PERSON YOU ARE. i am so so so so fucking happy you and i are still mutuals. after meeting through marvel of all things and then pedro and now top gun. there's so many memories with you i cherish. and i can't wait to make more. and a massive thank you for being such a cheerleader for my writing this year. you and ash have managed to keep me going even when times were tough.

@karasong my first EVER mutual on this site. it's so hard to think that if it weren't for you i wouldn't be writing on here. you followed me two years ago and i flipped out and the feeling hasn't changed one bit. i couldn't be happier you're in my life. from starting up the server with you, to yearning for obi-wan, life with you in it is so much better.

@softanon it would not be a proper dedication post if i did not add you babes. dia you are one of my favorite people to exist. you're effortlessly cool, have the best ideas, and i always feel so lucky that i met you. from our talks about the moon knight bois, to tommy miller, to yearning over din djarin, i have loved every single convo with you. they bring me so much joy. you are an incredible person and i am looking forward to SO MANY more convos about our favorite men!

@saradika to one of the greatest people to exist in this fandom i love love love you. your graphics and the love you show to everyone around is so incredible and bright. we seriously don't deserve you, but i am so happy you are here and that you exist. you've made 2024 brighter just by being here.

@tarrenterror25 the spookiest darling ever! when you showed up on the server it was such a good day! and you brought with you so much fun and joy that the server was never the same. i am sending you an infinite amount of love this new years and here's to more chaos with you in 2024!

to my darlings in the dilf nation server:

@arctvrvs thea babes you are iconic, lovely, and are one of the best people to exist. you made 2023 so much better just by being around to yearn over joel with you. i couldn't be happier to know you!

@fluffyprettykitty selene you are the coolest people who has the coolest fics! the love you share on fics is so incredible, it never ceases to bring a smile to my face. also you're just so awesome i couldn't have asked for a better person to join the server.

@rae-gar-targaryen my fanboy lover in crime. i'm sure i've said it countless times, but you are so cool and amazing and beautiful. you are a goddess in real life. the talent you have is so fucking incredible it haunts me. i love each and every one of your creations and i love you as well!

@mostly-megan you are an absolute sweetheart and even though we haven't talked much in 2023, i hope to have so many more conversations with you in the coming new year. sending you my love darling!

@agirllovespancakes iris you lovely human being. i remember when i was first posting hurt you would reblog the greatest comments. and it made me want to continue, because i looked forward to each one. and now that i know you love tommy too! you're so amazing and i dedicate a new years kiss to you.

@inklore you talented insanely incredible person! i could make a whole list of good things about you. i am sending you SO MUCH love for 2024. i hope it's amazing.

@outercrasis birdie my darling i want to tell you all the things that i cherish about you. from the love you showed on black velvet, to the way we screamed about bruce wayne and even frank castle, i live for our conversations. here's to so much more fun in 2024 and infinite convos about saltburn.

tagging those lovely humans who've made 2023 so incredible. please know i love you so much and i am kissing you when the clock strikes midnight. thank you for making this year so incredible!:

@stargazingcarol, @cregan-starks, @lady-of-glass-and-bone, @fushic0re, @targaryenvampireslayer, @pennyserenade, @flightlessangelwings, @stargirlfics, @goldgilzean, @kalllistos, @flordeamatista, @perotovar, @my-secret-shame, @roamwithahungryheart, @galatially, @eloquentmoon, @starryeyedstories, @oscarseyebrow, @iraot, @zinzinina, @thefact0rygirl, @iamskyereads, @navybrat817, @ifimayhaveaword, @the-godparticle

#happy new year my loves! #i am toasting to you tonight #here's to a sluttier and funnier 2024 #i am so sorry if i forgot anyone #i tried to find you all! #witch aunt talks✨

[acewritesfics]

Lost Love | Tommy Shelby

Request: No.

Warnings: Mentions of death, murder, going off to war, grief, guilt. Angst. Italics - Flashbacks.

Word count: 665

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || PEAKY B. TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. YOU CAN FIND THE ORIGINAL POST STILL FLOATING AROUND ON TUMBLR SOMEWHERE. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

"She died two months ago, Tommy," the words echo in his ears as he stands in front of a grave belonging to someone very special to him. "A drunk had been brought into the emergency room. He stabbed her twice, one of which punctured an artery. She died from blood loss before they could get her to the operating theatre." 

Y/N's mother had informed him of the death of her daughter, his first and only love, when he went to visit her two hours ago. In that moment his heart had shattered even more than it was from the war. 

With his head bowed and blue eyes tightly closed trying to stop the tears from forming, he relives the memory of the last time he'd seen and spoken to her in person. 

"Thomas Shelby, don't you ever forget about me," Y/N tells the young man who she loves more than anyone else. She is proud but heartbroken to see him in his uniform, ready to fight for his country. There had been no way for her to stop him from enlisting, his pride and the thought of being labelled a coward if he didn't go weighed heavily on him as well as his eagerness for a fight, a lot of that having to do with how they were raised.  She feared for his safety and his life. Standing on the platform of the train station, saying her goodbyes to him, she gets a sinking feeling that this would be the last time she sees him in person. 

"I'll never forget you, Y/N," he promises her. "After all, you're the one I intend to spend the rest of my life with." 

He takes her left hand in his hand and kisses her on the fingers, right where her engagement ring sits. They were supposed to marry in six months, but then the war was announced, and they couldn't find anybody to marry them in the short time they had left together before he departed for France. All the men who had lovers seemed to be getting married before leaving. 

"I promise, the first thing we'll do when I get back is to get married. Nothing would make me happier than to call you my wife." 

Y/N smiles fondly at her fiancée before delicately kissing him. "Just promise me you'll come home." 

"I promise," he whispers before slamming his lips to hers, pulling her tight against him, savouring every inch of her, also sensing that this was the last time they'll be this close. He eventually steps back and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love you, Y/N." 

"And I love you, Tommy," she says sadly as she kisses him one last time, tasting their salty tears mixed together before he boards the train. 

"I'm sorry, love," Tommy whispers as he opens his eyes, looking down at Y/N's headstone. "I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been here for you, given you everything I promised. I would have made so much money that you would not have needed to work. Maybe you'd still be here if that happened instead.  You deserve more than this." 

He holds the engagement ring he gave her between his fingers. "I kept my word and returned to you. Now it's your turn to assure me that you'll be there to greet me when my time is up." 

Tommy kneels to create a small hole in the ground. He kisses the ring, and then places it inside the hole before covering it up. Standing back up, he looks at her headstone again . "I'll never forget you, Y/N. I love you. That will never end." 

He turns and walks out of the graveyard. As he stands next to his car and raises his head to the sky, he feels a tender kiss land on his cheek. It was Y/N assuring him that she would honor her promise. That one day, when his turn comes, she'll be there waiting for him. 

LINK TO TAG LIST ABOVE.

#acewritesfics repost #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader

[teddy06writes]

Much Ado About Nothing

Alfie Solomons x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking,

Premise: It's a Much Ado About Nothing AU, with Alfie as Benedick and Reader as Beatrice

Useful links: click here for a plot summary of the play, here for access to a version w/David Tennant and Katherine Tate, here for a proshot of a production at the Globe, and here for a wonderful video essay that discusses the plot and has a very insightful tangent about Judaism in Shakespeare.

{I've got a lot going on right now what with the production I'm in being in tech, plus even if I'm doing a simplified version of this, it's still quite a bit of work to go through the script bit by bit, I've decided that I'm going to just release the bit that I have done, and then if people really want more I'll do it in parts}

{Most dialogue is either directly quoted or paraphrased directly from the original text}

It was a beautiful day in the seaside town of Margate, and for the first time in years, you and your family were finally able to enjoy it. The war had been over for months, and with the arrival of spring, it felt like the world was finally alive again.

You were out lounging on the veranda with your cousin Esme, and her friend Ada, enjoying the fresh air when you heard footsteps coming down the gravel driveway. Esme sat up, in her deck chair, "Are we expecting company?"

"I didn't think so." You frowned.

Ada was already at the railing, peering around to try and make out who it was, "I don't recognize him- but he is wearing an army uniform!"

Esme let out a squeal, all but jumping up out of her chair and rushing over to look over Ada's shoulder. You let out a groan, reaching for your drink.

It only took a few moments for your uncle, Johnny Dogs to come bursting out onto the veranda, a letter in hand, and followed closely by Polly and the messenger Ada had seen, "I've learned, in this letter, that Tommy Shelby and his unit are coming to Margate, this very night!"

Esme let out another squeal, quickly chattering away to Ada, filling her in on the events of the Unit's last stop in Margate just before the war.

"He was very near by this," The messenger offered, "They were just getting into town when I left them."

Johnny Dogs nodded, "And how many gentlemen did you lose in this- action?"

"Our unit seems to oppose the rest of the war: we lost few of sort and none of name." The messenger said proudly. This prompted another little burst of excitement from Esme.

"A victory is twice itself when the achievers return home in full number."

Johnny aimed a pointed look at her, reading a bit more from the letter, "It says here, that Tommy has bestowed much honor on his younger brother John."

You chuckled as Esme went bright red, practically glaring back across the veranda with the look of someone caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by the Sergeant Major. He bore himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion. He has indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect me to tell you." The messenger excepted the drink offered to him.

You pulled yourself up out of your chair, "I pray you, has signor Mountanto returned from the war, or no?"

The messenger turned to you with a frown, "I know none by that name, Lady."

"My cousin means that Captain Solomons from Camden town." Esme spoke up, glad the attention was finally gone from her and her crush.

"Oh, he's returned and as pleasant as ever."

You let off a scoff, "I pray you, how many has he killed and eaten in this war? How many has he killed, for I have sworn to eat all his killing."

"Niece, you tax Mr. Solomons too much." Johnny Dogs scolded.

Polly chuckled from where she'd taken up your empty chair, "But he'll meet with you, I have no doubt."

The messenger still focused on you, "He has done good service in the war, lady."

You raised an eyebrow, "You had stale food, and he helped you eat it. He's a very brave eater. He has good stomach for it."

"And a good soldier, too, Lady."

"And a good soldier to a lady," You shot back, "But what is he too a lord?"

"A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuffed with all honorable virtues."

"It is so indeed," You nodded, punctuating your words with a sip from your drink, "He is no less than a stuffed man. but for the stuffing- well, we are all mortal."

"You must not mistake my niece, sir," Johnny Dogs interrupted, quickly explaining, "There is a kind of merry war between Mr. Solomons and her: they never meet but there is a skirmish of wit between them."

You groaned, "He learns nothing by that!"

"It's true enough." Ada teased.

You crossed to the rail of the veranda, leaning back against it, "In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now the whole man is governed with one. So that if he have wit enough to keep him warm, it marks the difference between he and his horse. It is all the wealth he has left, to be known for a reasonable creature."

The messenger let out a laugh, "Truly?"

"Aye," You nodded, "Tell me, who is his companion now? He has a new sworn brother each month."

"Is it possible?"

"Very easily possible, he wears his faith like the fashion of his hat- it always changes with the next block."

"I see, Lady. The gentlemen is not in your books." The messenger nodded as if he finally understood.

"No, and if he were I would burn the whole library." You nodded in a agreement, "But truly, who is his companion? Is there no young man who make voyage to the devil with him?"

"He's mostly in the company of the younger Shelby brother: John." And as he gestured back toward Esme, who blushed again, you had to hand it to the messenger: he was a quick learner.

"Oh lord," You groaned, "He will hang upon him like a disease. Alife is sooner caught than the pestilence and the taker always runs mad. God help young John, if he has caught the Solomons it will cost him much to be cured of it."

The messenger chuckled, "I will hold friends with you lady."

You grinned, reaching out to clink your glass to his, "Do, good friend."

"And you'll never run mad niece?" Your uncle asked.

"No, not till a hot january." You quipped.

Before anyone else could retort, the sound of gravel crunch under tires filled the air, and Johnny Dogs was leading the way off the veranda and around the side of the house to meet the new guests.

There in the driveway, your little party was met with the grimmer one of Mr. Shelby. Thomas himself was leading the way towards the house from the cars, flanked by the others as he called, "Johnny Dogs, you've come to meet your trouble. You know the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, yet you encounter it."

Johnny Dogs let out a barking laugh, "Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of you and your good men. For trouble being gone, comfort remains and when you leave- sorrow abides and happiness leaves with you."

"You brace your charge too willingly." Still, Tommy allowed himself to be dragged into his hug. When they seperated, Tommy caught sight of the rest of the party, "Ah, then this your daughter, Esme."

"Her mother has many times told me so."

Finally disentangling himself from the ruckus being made by the soldiers now that they were out of Tommy's orders, Alfie appear at his side, "Were you in doubt sir, that you asked her?"

"Ah, Mr. Solomons, no, for then you were only a child." Johnny said, slapping him on the back.

"You have it full Alfie, and we can tell what kind of man you are for it," Tommy, turned making his way back to Esme, "Surely the lady fathers herself. Be happy lady, for you are like an honorable father."

"If Johnny Dogs be her father, then she would not have his head on her shoulders for all of Margate!" Alfie laughed, but the group had already moved away, as Tommy caught up with the rest of the household.

From where you had found a perch against the side of the house you sighed, "It's a wonder you will still be talking, Alfie. Nobody marks you."

"What-" Alfie slowly turned on his heel, taking in the sight of you, lounging in the sun, "My dear Lady Disdain- are you yet living?"

You smirked, raising your glass towards him mockingly, "Is it possible disdain should die when she has such food to feed on as Alfie Solomons? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence."

"Then is courtesy a turncoat. But, it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepting," He wagged a finger in your direction, "and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart- for truly, I love none."

"A dear happiness to women!" You cheered, pushing off the wall to stalk closer to him. "They would else have been troubled by a horrid suitor. I thank god and my cold blood that I am of your humor for that, I would rather hear a dog bark at a crow than a man swear that he loves me."

Alfie barked out a laugh, pointing a finger your direction, "God keep your ladyship in that frame of mind! So some gentleman or other can escape a scratched face!"

"Scratching could not make it worse, if it were such a face as yours."

"Well, you are a rare parrot teacher!" Alfie scoffed.

Your face suddenly felt hot, and you scrambled to retort, "Well better a bird of my tongue than a beast of yours!"

"I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so a good continuer. But keep your way, in god's name, I am done." He all but waved you away, turning to follow as the rest of the company began to make their way into the house.

You sat for a long moment, watching him disappear, before shaking your head and making your way back around towards the veranda, muttering, "You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old."

#peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x fem!reader #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x fem!reader #much ado about nothing au #teddy06 writes #teddy06 #teddy 06 #teddy06writes

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part IV

Moonlight Becomes You

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: A quick historical note - President Roosevelt’s fireside chats are mentioned in this chapter. For those who may be unfamiliar with American history, the fireside chats were a series of radio addresses given by FDR between 1933 and 1944. They were designed to keep the American public updated about The Great Depression and the United States’ progress in World War II. If you’re interested, you can actually hear the audio of the fireside chat that Peach references in her letter.

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

The title for this chapter comes from the Bing Crosby song of the same name.

Dedication: This story continues to be dedicated to my sweet friend, @luminousnotmatter​. Her support has meant so much to me in writing this series!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to war and its impact, allusions to childhood death caused by the 1918 Influenza pandemic, references to illness, a lot of fluff.

August 7, 1942

Dear Peach,

It makes me real happy to hear that you like the nickname. I was surprised to learn that you’ve never had a nickname all your own, but I’m doubly happy to be able to give you your first. It’s a real honor, let me tell you. Not to mention the fact that you ARE special, so you certainly deserve to feel that way.

I think when we all get back, we’ll have to be very careful to keep Dottie, Tommy Boy, and Benny from conspiring, you and I. They do sound like they’re very much of one mind, your sister and my friends—though I’m sure Dottie is much lovelier than my lughead buddies. As I write this, in fact, Benny is snoring loud enough to wake the entire carrier. I’m not sure how any of the other fellas are managing to get any sleep. But at least as long as he’s snoring, I know he won’t be reading over my shoulder. We have to take our victories where we can, as we’re all quickly learning.

Now that I think about it, I do believe I made you a promise in my last letter, Peach. I promised I would try to be more organized, and I’m going to stick to that. I’m going to make a list, so that I’m sure to answer each and every part of your letter. I have to admit that I’ve read it five or six times already. The thought that you’d take such precious time out of your day to sit and write to me of all people still seems simply too good to be true, but so long as this dream is my reality, I’m going to make the most of it. I want you to know how much every word you write means to me.

First of all, trust me when I say that your words truly are sweeter than any dessert they could dream up for us here. Sweeter than honey, sweeter than ice cream, sweeter than pie—heck, even sweeter than a Georgia peach. Mail Call IS a wonderful day, and getting a letter from you makes it all the more wonderful.

I appreciate your belief in me, Peach, more than words could say. In all honesty, I’m probably not even a quarter as brave as you think I am. Maybe I shouldn’t admit that in writing. I’m sure the rest of the guys would tell me to play the part of the hero, but the truth is that I don’t feel like one most days. I only want to serve my country and do my part, but I’d be lying if I said there weren’t days when I felt downright terrified to be here. “War is hell” is right, no doubt about it. I hope you don’t think less of me for saying so. But somehow, I know you won’t. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I just know I can trust you with these sorts of things. The thought of getting to lay down my burdens with you, even if only for a moment, is such a gift. Thank you.

Paris, huh? That must have been some honeymoon. Since we’ve arrived, I’ve been able to see [REDACTED], but I’m sure it can’t compare to what your parents saw back then. One day, I hope you do get to make it here, Peach. I hope you get to see all the most beautiful parts of the world. I wouldn’t want you to be here now, not when everything feels the opposite of beautiful, but one day. We’ll make it safe here again so that it’s beautiful for you. I promise.

Listen, if you can convince your mama to hand over the peach tart recipe, I just might be able to convince my mama to share her apple cobbler recipe…

Speaking of which, it made me smile to hear about your Fourth of July. For the record, Paddy was right—getting to hear about the parades and the fireworks and the strawberry pound cake (I’m sorry about the sugar, by the way) made me feel like everything we’re doing over here is worth it. Some days are real hard. Some days, it feels like we’re not making any progress. But when I hear that you and your family are safe and happy back home, it makes me realize that what we’re doing over here every day does matter. So long as you’re all still able to celebrate Independence Day in peace, then we’re doing our job. Some of the other fellas got letters from their families, telling them about their Fourth of July parties and picnics, too. We all sat together and read them out loud, and it made us feel for a moment like we were there. We could taste the hot dogs and the watermelon and the Root Beer Floats. And it made us smile and laugh, Peach. I promise, nothing you could tell me about life back home would feel like salt in a wound. On the contrary, it’s like a balm for our spirits.

I’m sorry to hear about Frankie’s teeth. I hope the little guy is doing alright. I remember watching my brothers go through it growing up, and seeing Clara go through it just a couple years ago. Being her godfather, it felt extra hard to watch her suffer, so I know just how you feel watching your nephew. In her most recent letter, Natasha told Paul that Paul, Jr.’s been cutting some teeth as well, but he’s “soldiering on, just like his daddy.” It seems like such a small thing, but I could hear Paul crying in his bunk that night. I don’t think he’d mind me telling you that, Peach, considering how trustworthy you are. He misses Natasha and Clara and Paul, Jr. something fierce, and I know he can’t wait for the day when he gets to hold them in his arms again. Since your thoughts for us seem to be so powerful, maybe you could spare some for Paul? I know it’d mean a lot to him.

Paddy is a good man, Peach. A great man. I know you know that and you don’t need to be hearing it from me, but it’s true. If ever he’s feeling down about staying stateside, you let him know that none of us could be doing what we’re doing over here if it wasn’t for what he’s doing over there. He’s a smart guy, Paddy is, and we appreciate how hard he’s working. If anyone feels differently, well—quite frankly, their opinion just doesn’t matter.

It is a little tricky to have a conversation on paper, indeed. Oh, I wish more than anything that we could be talking face to face. I think of that night on King Street all the time. Can I be honest with you, Peach? I hope you won’t think this is too forward, but when the days here are long and hard, sometimes I just picture your pretty face and it makes things feel better. And I hope you know that your loveliness is so much more than just skin deep—your heart and your kindness are what make you so beautiful. I’m sorry for being so forthright—I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable—but I just wanted you to know that. Your friendship and your kindness to me that last night stateside mean so much to me, and they always will.

Speaking of friendship, I’m rather starting to think that my friends like you more than they like me. You should have seen Tommy Boy’s and Benny’s faces when I told them you said hello—they lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July and demanded to see your words for themselves. Evidently, my word wasn’t good enough. They say hello in return and want to thank you for all your well wishes. Paul says hello, too. He says of course he remembers you, and that he hopes you’re doing real well. He still hasn’t forgotten about getting Natasha a string of pearls just as pretty as yours.

I’m sorry the heat’s been so oppressive back in Charleston. We’ve had nothing but rain here for weeks, so we’ve been rather wet and miserable. But your letter was a bright spot amidst the clouds, and I’d be happy to take some of that southern sun off your hands  if you’d be willing to take some of our clouds and rain.

Now you’ve really given me something to look forward to, Peach, if you’re really serious about singing something at our next dance. I assure you that it’s easy to promise that I won’t laugh because I KNOW you won’t be terrible at it. Your voice, I know, is just as lovely as you and I can’t wait to hear it.

It’s funny you mention “Chattanooga Choo Choo” because that one just so happens to be one of my mother’s favorites. I think the two of you would get along just swell. I just had a letter from her the other day, and she assured me that all is well at home. It does my heart good to hear that from both her and you.

I do know “Blue Moon,” Peach. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hear it the same way again without thinking of your beautiful words. As I write this letter right now, the moon is shining down, and I’m picturing it shining down on you, too. The last time I got to see you—well, I suppose the only time I got to see you—was in the moonlight, so I think it will always be special to me. And you’re right—when I think of the same moon shining down on you and me, and all my friends and family back home, it makes me think that maybe the world isn’t so big a place after all. Maybe we’re not all as far apart as it seems. Thank you for reminding me of that. I did tell Paul, and he wrote your words down to send to Natasha. So we all owe you a debt of gratitude.

Alright, have I rambled on enough? Goodness, I don’t think I’ve ever written letters so long as the ones I write to you, Peach. But I suppose it’s because I want you to know me. It’s funny, I’ve always been happy to blend into the background. I’m not the sort of guy that most people take notice of—not like Paul and Tommy Boy—and that’s okay. I’ve always been fine with that. But with you—well, I want you to know me. I don’t want to blend into the background where you’re concerned. And I think that maybe you understand that? I felt it that night we met—that you understand. You understand so much, Peach, and I’m so grateful for that.

I won’t bore you with it now, but maybe sometime in the future, I could tell you stories about myself? Stories from when I was growing up, stories from Annapolis—stories that will help you get to know me? I would never want to pry, and you don’t have to tell me anything about yourself that you don’t want to, but I thought that maybe—well, I don’t know what I thought except for the fact that I’d really like to know you, the same as I’d like you to know me.

Okay, I think exhaustion is starting to addle my brain, and I should probably stop writing before I say something that makes me look even more foolish than I probably already have.

You’re in my thoughts, Peach, and I wish you nothing but the best. I hope this letter finds you happy and well.

Sincerely Yours,

Bobby

September 19, 1942

Dear Bobby,

I’m so, so sorry that it’s taken me so long to write you back. I felt that your beautifully heartfelt letter deserved all my attention, and I didn’t want to sit down to write a response until I was able to give it that.

We had a bit of a crisis here in the Sheridan household back in August, around the same time your letter arrived in the mail. We’re not sure how he possibly could have picked it up, but poor, sweet Frankie came down with influenza. He couldn’t keep anything down, and then he started burning up with a terrible fever. Dottie was absolutely frantic, and we rushed him to the hospital. When the doctors confirmed it was the flu, Dottie was beside herself. I know you’ve never met Frankie, but he’s normally such a happy baby, so full of life and joy—to see him so still and lethargic and quiet was quite terrifying. I was scared, too, but I tried to remind Dottie that her son was just as strong as his mother. Dottie was born in 1918, you see, during the Spanish Flu epidemic. She was one of the only babies who survived in the hospital where our mother delivered her. I think that’s all Dottie could picture—all those mothers and fathers who never got to bring their children home. She insisted on bringing Frankie home to care for him—she said she wasn’t going to run the risk of keeping him in the hospital.

Poor baby was terribly sick for over a week. I don’t think Dottie or Paddy slept a wink that whole time. I tried to convince them to take turns staying up with him, so that they could get some rest, but they just stayed by his side all night, every night. It really is quite something, isn’t it? The power of a mother and father’s love? I won’t lie, Bobby, there were some really scary moments when we weren’t sure he was going to pull through. I’ve never been so afraid or cried so many tears in all my life, I think. But then one day, his fever finally broke and we could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve never seen my sister or brother-in-law look more happy or relieved. It felt like we had all been holding our breath without even realizing it, and we were finally able to breathe deeply again.

We’ve all been in recovery mode since then, and have been monitoring Frankie very carefully. Just as he started to get better, Dottie fell a little under the weather, so Paddy and I were taking care of them both. I’m very happy to report that both my sister and my nephew are back to their smiley, happy selves, which has been such a joy. I’ll be very glad to put this whole episode behind us.

I want to thank you for your last letter, Bobby, because it truly helped keep me sane when it felt like the whole world was spinning out of control. Though I didn’t feel able to write back until everyone was feeling better, I did read your letter every night before I went to sleep. You wrote that my stories from home were like a balm to your spirit, and I just want you to know that your words were a balm to mine. You are one of the kindest men I’ve ever known, Bobby. Thank you. Thank you so much.

You would think with so much time to plan this letter in my mind, I would have something brilliant to share, but I’m afraid that I’m still feeling a bit scatter-brained after everything. So here are the words that have been bouncing around in my head and my heart for the past few weeks, in response to yours:

You’ll always be a hero in my eyes, Bobby. The fact that you’re brave enough to admit that you’re terrified just further proves it to me. True heroes don’t think of themselves as heroes. They just do the job that needs being done—like you’re doing. And your country is so proud of you for it. I’m so proud of you for it.

I believe you when you promise that you’re going to make it safe there, wherever you are right now. I’m confident that the world will be a beautiful place again. Maybe one day you can show it to me.

I might just be able to convince my mama to share her peach tart recipe. We’ll see. You sweet talk your mama, and I’ll sweet talk mine.

Thank you for putting my mind at rest about telling you stories from home. If they really do lift your spirits, then I promise to tell you as many stories as you want to hear.

Poor Frankie really can’t catch a break, can he? Between his teeth and the flu, he’s had a rough go of it lately. But I’d say he’s “soldiering on,” same as Paul, Jr. I’m sorry to hear how hard the separation is for Paul. As his best friend, I’m sure it’s hard to watch him struggle with that. Of course I’ll be thinking of Paul and Natasha and the children. I include them in my prayers every night, and I’ll continue to do so until they’re all together again. I keep all of you in my prayers.

Thank you for your kind words about Paddy, Bobby. I didn’t share them with him, because I didn’t want him to be upset that I knew how he’d been feeling, but I have your words tucked away in my heart, and I’ll be sure to pass them onto him when the time is right. He is a good man, and I’m glad to know that other people see it in him, too.

You really are too kind to me, Bobby. I have a feeling you may be remembering me through rose-colored glasses, but I thank you for your sweetness all the same. Your friendship means a lot to me, too, and I’ll always be so thankful for that night we met. I’ll never forget it.

I find it impossible to believe that your friends could ever like me more than you. How could they, when you’re such a wonderful friend? Tell Tommy Boy and Benny that I say they have to take your word as golden because you’re extremely trustworthy. I don’t want to hear about any more of this doubting nonsense. And tell Paul that my family knows a couple jewelers who would be glad to help an American hero. Whenever he’s ready to find those pearls, he can just give a holler.

I’ll gladly give you some sunshine in exchange for some rain! With fall coming, it’s not quite as hot as it’s been, but we’d still gladly take fresh, clean rain to wash away the last of the sticky heat.

What song would you like to hear? I’ll start practicing now, so that by the time you come home, maybe it’ll be halfway as good as you seem to think it’s going to be.

From what you told me, your mother sounds just lovely. I’d love to listen to some Glenn Miller over a nice apple cobbler with her.

Oh, none of you owe me anything. I’m sure I’m not the first person to make such an observation about the moon, and I won’t be the last. But I am glad that it could bring you all a little bit of comfort. And when the moon comes up tonight, I’ll be thinking of you.

Bobby, you could never fade into the background, not to me. But I do understand what you mean. I’ve always felt the same. I’ve never been one that people take notice of. Dottie’s always been good with crowds. My friends Emily and Marilyn—they were volunteering with me that night at the dance—they’re always good at making conversation. I’ve never been that way. And I’ve always accepted that about myself, same as you. But it is nice to feel like someone really sees you, like they really know you. I have that with my family, but it’s good to know there’s someone else out there who understands me. Someone like you, Bobby. I want you to know me, too.

I’d like it if we could share stories with one another. I’d like that very much. I want to hear more about your farm in Iowa, and your family, and all the mischief that you and Paul and Natasha got into when you were growing up. I’m all ears, whatever you’d like to share.

Before I close my letter, I thought you might like to know that President Roosevelt gave one of his fireside chats a couple weeks ago. He hasn’t given one since April, so we were all very eager to hear what he had to say. He spoke a bit about inflation and the cost of things. He promised that he’s working with Congress to try to keep things as reasonable as possible, but we all understand that’s rather difficult with a war on. And we’re happy to make the sacrifices necessary to do our part for the war effort.

He also spoke a bit about the progress of the war. I admit that talk of battles and military strategy goes a bit over my head, but he did say something that stuck out to me and has been in my head ever since. He said—and forgive me if I paraphrase a bit—that battles and wars aren’t won by men who are concerned about themselves, about their own safety and comfort. And it made me think of you, Bobby, and all your friends. It made me think of what you’re sacrificing, especially your safety and comfort. We’re going to win this war. I know it. And it’s because of men like you. Don’t ever doubt that.

I hope that when this letter finds you, you’ve managed to carve out a little bit of safety and comfort for yourself. I hope that you’re doing well, and that you’ll be able to come home soon.

Please stay safe, Bobby.

All my best,

Peach

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #WWII AU #1940s AU

[jesuiscenseedormir]

How long did it take Tommy to realize Eddie wasn't an option? or maybe the opposite. Maybe he knew from the beginning that Eddie had a girlfriend and entered their relationship with purely platonic intentions. Then, along the way realized that their friendly dates could've been romantic ones. But he doesn't feel like missing out because he really likes Eddie as a friend already. (He also realizes that Eddie Diaz deserves to be wooed, so he'll do his part, yeah, they're definitely taking the chopper to vegas.)

Could lead to another Eddie // Tommy parallel.

Later, while Tommy's dating Buck, they're talking about their experience as queer men, and Buck mentions wanting to talk with people who are into men and women like him and doesn't know how to go about it, so Tommy asks if he already talked to Eddie about it. Buck's confused because Eddie doesn't like men..? Wait, Eddie's straight??? Well, yeah. All this times you hung out together you thought he wasn't?? Yeah... but, whatever, I prefer him as a friend anyway so it doesn't change anything. Right. Yeah. Cool.

What if all this happens after Eddie's had his own queer awakening/acceptance journey, but hasn't shared it yet.

Next time Buck and Eddie hang out one on one, Buck mentioned that Hey, funny thing, Tommy thought you weren't straight, isn't that funny, ha ha, right? Eddie takes that as his opportunity and comes out to Buck. It's a heartfelt and vulnerable moment. Buck feels proud and surprised and honored and... awkward? Did Eddie feel awkward when Buck came out? If he did, it didn't show. He made Buck feel safe and loved. Buck want that for Eddie. Oh, and Eddie hugged him, yeah, hug, he can do that. Doesn't feel the same. Why doesn't it???

I ran out of thoughts before I could make it to Eddie's pov of this whole thing. Maybe I'll come back later.

#thinking thoughts #911 thoughts #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 #🌻

[cowgirl078]

Season 7 of 911 if I was a writer/in charge. It's a bit much...

Now I don't know what abc has planned for the rest of the season; however, if I had been pacing the season...

Episodes 1-4 remain the same...loved the pacing and the storyline. That 3 part premiere was amazing. Episode 4 was set up beautifully.

Now on to 5...I think that this should have been just the storyline with Buck x Tommy and Eddie x Marisol. Add in a call that connects to both situations like they used to do in seasons 1 & 2. And have some of the wedding planning happening. Maybe with all the girls, outfit shopping? Situation arises from another wedding party. We also get a mention of Hen's excitement for their new addition to the family and Athena can bring up Harry and how he's doing with his community service. I just want that connection of episode and storyline back.

7x06 I personally think that Henren's storyline should have been pushed to this episode. That would have given them more room to let the audience focus on them. Add in the call we got in 7x05 abt the dog. And to give us a lighter note and breathing room...date montage...Eddie x Marisol and Buck x Tommy. Show both couples learning abt each other and having a great time doing it. Yes I know it will upset some people, but oh well. We also get Maddie x Chimney planning the wedding in that montage.

7x07 Best Man/Maid of Honor...the 118 realizes that neither Maddie nor Chimney have stated who is going to be what in their wedding. Questions and havoc arises...at home, in the station, and on call with them trying to prove who should be what.

7x08 WEDDING and apparently a wild bachelor party gone wrong. Chimney vanishes? All the families need to be there. I have no idea what they have planned, but I do oh so hope that Tommy brings Chim back to the wedding in his helicopter. All couples get a slow dance... Bobby x Athena, Eddie x Marisol, Hen x Karen, Maddie x Chimney, Buck x Tommy

7x09 Honeymoon for Maddie x Chimney...saving a life at some point and then getting right back to the honeymoon. Bobby and Hen talking to Buck abt his relationship. We need to see Hen and Bobby's reaction. And Hen and Tommy I feel deserve a moment as well, so they can have that when Tommy comes to pick Buck up after shift. Talks all around. But it actually turns out to be a double date between Eddie x Marisol and Buck x Tommy. Tommy gets called in... has to leave Buck with a sweet kiss goodbye.

7x10 Finale. Storm/fire or something that Tommy was called in from last episode. Maddie dispatches the 118 to help after his team calls for backup. I'm picturing a cliffside mansion up in flames, probably cause I've been reading some amazing ao3. Either that or a high rise... one way or another the helicopter is going down with Tommy barely escaping and Bobby dispatching the team to both save Tommy, get the people out, and put out the fire. I want to see a full circle... Tommy was with them risking all to save Athena x Bobby. The 118 are going to do whatever it takes to get to him while still doing the rest of their jobs. I want them worried, determined, and all the amazing things they are. 118 officially adopts Tommy into the family even though he stays stationed as a pilot. We get family dinner at Bobby x Athena's with all the beautiful and happy couples.

And that's all I got! Cue end of season 7.

#911 abc #maddie x chimney #eddie x marisol #bobby nash #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #tevan #bucktommy #bobby x athena

[kedsandtubesocks]

bless us with the joel miller + trick or treating idea please and thank you

YOU are a blessing for indulging in this one for me Eri I owe you my LIFE

Joel Miller + Trick or Treat

cw: pain and the apocalypse? they’re not allowed here! canon accurate timelines? No thanks! Just some good old Halloween Miller Family sweetness Joel deserves

Even in the middle of autumn, on the day many believe ghost bring a chill in the air, Austin still simmers with soft heat. As you walk across the street to your neighbor’s home, the clutter and collection of Halloween decorations on the front lawn warm your heart in the best way. The skeleton you walk by playfully laughs as if to give you a reassuring cheer.

Pumpkin lights hang all over the front door. And when Joel opens the door, the autumn tones bathe him so beautifully. Joel is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Now under the amber light he is almost ethereal, like a rugged angel dressed in a black shirt. It highlights his broad shoulders and toned arms that you can't believe how one man can be this handsome.

“Hey pumpkin. You ready for tonight?” he greets with the sweetest crooked smile you want to kiss so badly.

“You bet… Nice shirt.” You grin.

In bold white horror style font his shirt reads You Can’t Scare Me, I’m a Dad.

“Oh yeah,” Joel chuckles a bit bashfully as he rubs the back of his neck. “The girls picked it out for me.”

At just the mention of his daughters, one of them screams out to him.

“Duty calls.” He sighs. “Come on in.”

Following him in, the sound of the Monster Mash fills the house. When you and Joel reach the kitchen you’re greeted by the warmest welcome. Already in their costumes, Ellie and Sarah smile excitedly at your entrance.

“You both look so good!” You genuinely mean your compliment.

Sarah looks adorable dressed as witch. You knew how hard she had been working on the costume, wanting to personalize it with her own DIY touch. She proudly shows you her witch hat and how she added the shimmery spiderwebs and cool spiders.

Then Ellie bounces in beside her sister to proudly exclaim- “Look! Sarah even did my makeup!”

Ellie’s face did indeed have touches of makeup but it made her look like a classic zombie. Splotches of green and splatters of fake blood color her face along with her costume… which is an astronaut outfit.

“Uh Ellie? Wanna explain your costume?” You ask a bit confused.

“Oh here we go.” Joel sighs rolling his eyes as he starts opening candy bags.

“I’m an Astro-zombie!” Ellie declares like it’s the most obvious thing. “I’m an astronaut that went to the moon, saw some freaky shit, and came back wrong!”

“It doesn’t make any sense but we’re humoring her.” Sarah says deadpan with a teasing grin. Ellie cries in annoyance.

The sisters quickly bickering makes you snicker as fondness burst in your chest. You’re grateful, even honored, you get to enjoy these moments with the Miller family. You happily start to help Joel unload more of the bags and tease him if five bags of candy are enough.

“You joke but this is gonna be gone in a hour!” Joel playfully argues back. As if to prove him right Sarah sneakily grabs a handful of candy from behind Joel and scurries off.

“Case in point.” He dryly comments not even having to turn around.

The door to the living room squeaks open and the voice of Tommy floats in the air. He enters into the kitchen in his regular clothes while wearing a clown nose.

“You seriously can’t be wearing that.” Joel coughs through a laugh.

“Hell yeah I am! It’s my costume!” Tommy puffs his chest out proudly.

“It’s genius.” Ellie grins proud while Sarah rolls her eyes and you try not to giggle.

“Alright you lil’ ghouls, let’s head out.” Tommy pats the backs of his nieces. His words however confuse both you and Joel.

“Wait, head out? Where? I thought we were gonna stay here and pass out candy?” Joel asks.

“Uh…yeah…about that.” Sarah begins cautiously.

“We wanna go to the Halloween dance at the school!” Her sister eagerly and readily blurts out the truth.

“We already have everything planned out.” Tommy quickly swoops in with an eased patience. He explains the plan to take the girls, stay and chaperone, then bring them home.

“And y’all waited to spring this on me tonight?” Joel sighs a bit exasperated and now you want to shrink along the walls to escape. You’ve been in the Miller house many times when arguments have sparked. But now you wonder if you should leave.

“We’ll be fine dad.” Sarah promises. “You’ll get to stay here, rest, maybe passing out candy and just…chill.” She says with an eased shrug and sleepy grin.

“Please!” Ellie drags out the ‘e’ with an exaggerated high pitch tone that Tommy joins in on. You can’t help but press your lips tight not to laugh.

Joel sighs again and waves his hand fine. “Fine fine, y’all go. More candy for us then.”

You don’t miss the way he says ‘us,’ how he includes you, how he doesn’t want you to leave even if it might just be you and him. But now as the girls and Tommy head out to leave, you start thinking maybe this was their plan all along. Especially when Ellie and Sarah both hug you tight.

“Don’t let him scare you away, okay?” Sarah reassures.

“I heard that!” Joel yells as he eats through a candy piece.

In the Texan autumn air, you watch as the collective heart of the Miller family drives off while their sturdy patriarch stands by your side. Something close to longing clogs your throat. The taste is slightly bitter and you know why. It’s because you want to experience this every year. You want be apart of them as long as you can.

“Those little troublemakers think they’re so clever.” Joel snorts and it pulls you out of your thoughts. “Leavin’ us alone together.”

“Yeah,” you laugh wearily not knowing what else’s to say. Especially when his large warm calloused hand goes to softly rest against your back. It galanzives your heart, a true exhilarating type of fright. When you turn to Joel, he’s already staring at you with the softest molten eyes. Then your eye can’t help but flicker to his lips.

Under the pale evening sky, Joel leans down and kisses you sweet, hesitant, and tender like you might melt away from him. You even taste the hint of the candy he ate. It’s pure, wonderful, and you sigh leaning into him. Joel doesn’t hesitate to pull you tighter into his arms, kissing you firmer.

“Hey Mr. Miller!” A sudden voice screams.

“Are you gonna pass out trick or treat candy or just make-out in front of your garage all night?!” A kid yells out and the words almost make you scream as you scramble away from Joel. He doesn’t let you move too far and instead keeps an arm around you.

“Just for that, I ain’t giving you any Travis!” Joel yells back fierce and you now laugh leaning against him.

“Fuckin’ ungrateful little shits.” Joel growls under his breath as he kisses your head. All you can do is grin, embarrassed but still blissfully as you enjoy this wonderful treat.

#AHHHHHHHH ERI I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUU #this could be longer and maybe one day I’ll make it a full one shot bcs I love them so much #okay thank you thank you thank you again 😫 #Joel 🤎 #Eri’s tag 🐝✨ #ked’s spooky summer spectacular 👻 #asks and such things 💌 #long post

[schrijverr]

Dropping a Bomb on the Team

Since Felicity has worked out how to disarm the earthquake device, Oliver realizes she can probably also figure out how to disarm the bomb Amanda Waller implanted in him during his time in Hong Kong. He didn’t count on it becoming this emotional for him when he asks.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: threats of violence (bomb), medical proceedure vaguely described

~~~

Team Arrow – though only Felicity calls them that – has been doing well lately. With Oliver back from Lian Yu and the team reunited again, they’ve been doing some good and working like a well oiled machine.

Oliver is feeling better too. Doing something to honor Tommy’s memory, something to help his city, has been good and feels better than rotting on that island again. He’s actually in an okay place.

Sure, there is a lot going on with his mom being on trial and the city still trying to recover from the Undertaking. He still feels responsible too, but he’s actually trying and it’s working. It makes it easier to sleep at night.

The good feeling is what leads him to seek help. He has seen Felicity disarm an entirely new machine and hack into god knows what, he’s pretty sure that she can get to the blueprints and do something with them about the bomb Waller put in his neck during his stint in Hong Kong.

Before now, the bomb in his head felt deserved. He was a monster and Waller had been right to not remove an easy way to take him out. That feeling is gone now and he just wants to rid himself of the threat looming over his head. He’s gotten used to it, but it’s not a pleasant idea that a woman like her, who sees no problem in sacrificing a life for the greater good, has that kind of power over him.

So when they’re in the base collecting intell and training, Oliver suddenly asks: “Felicity, these new systems, will they fry completely if I turn on a signal jammer?”

Felicity spins her chair to face him, frowning. “What are you asking that for?”

“Just curious,” he shrugs. “If we want to take potentially bugged items down here, I wanted to check if we can do it or if that’s a weakness of the system.”

Offended Felicity huffs: “Of course you can turn a signal jammer on here. My systems don’t have weaknesses like that, who do you take me for? A bad amateur electrician DIYer?”

With the confirmation, Oliver pulls out the signal jammer he’d taken with him and puts it on the table, turning it on. He can see Diggle and Felicity both look concerned and curious, but before either can ask anything, he says: “Cool, I actually wanted to ask you a different question.”

“Oliver?” Felicity worries. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, this is just a precaution. I don’t think it has a microphone, but I never saw the design, so this is more to be safe rather than sorry,” he explains.

“What doesn’t have a microphone, Oliver? And why would you need the signal jammed before talking about it?” Diggle asks. “What’s going on, man?”

“Nothing bad- well, nothing new at least,” Oliver says, unsure how to approach the situation now that he’s in it. He never really talked about it, because of said microphone issues and lack of wanting to.

“You’re kind of freaking me out here,” Felicity says, prompting him to try to explain again.

“I wanted to see if you can hack into A.R.G.U.S. to get a look at my files-”

“You have an A.R.G.U.S. file?” Diggle speaks up.

“Yes, I worked with them for a while during the years I was away.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that when we were highjacking their mission to take out Deadshot?” Diggle asks.

Oliver gestures to the signal jammer and says: “Waller doesn’t exactly want me to discuss the missions I did for her.”

“Wait, she could’ve been listening the entire time? Oliver! That means she maybe knows that you’re the vigilante and that we’re working with you. And that we highjacked her mission. Why the hell didn’t you say anything before?” Felicity shrieks.

The realization also dawns on Diggle, who frowns: “What the hell, man. That’s a huge target to put on our backs.”

Oliver is a little taken aback by the reaction. It hadn’t occurred to him that they know very little about his time and relation with Amanda Waller. He wouldn’t classify them as friends, but there is a mutual respect there.

“She knows I’m the vigilante,” he tries to assure them about the situation. “She knew before Starling City even knew I existed.”

“What?”

“I acted as the vigilante in Coast City and she didn’t care until she plucked me away there because she needed me for a mission, and in Russia,” Oliver explains. “She gave me my gear back. She has always known. And Diggle, she gathered the second you approached Lyla during the Deadshot debacle. And Felicity is a known connection to the Arrow. Kind of. She knows.”

“You should’ve let us know,” Diggle seethes. “We deserved to know that.”

“Yes, A.R.G.U.S. scares me, I would’ve liked to know I was on their watch list. Let me tell you, my search history isn’t great,” Felcity agrees. “Not because of sex stuff or anything, but even then, the government doesn’t need to know my porn preferences. Not that I watch… porn. Okay, shutting up now.”

When they say it like that, their anger is kind of understandable, but Oliver isn’t great with apologizing. So, all he can offer is: “It won’t happen again.”

Both Diggle and Felicity study him for a second and he awaits their judgment. After a beat they realize that this is likely the best they’ll get out of him.

“It better not happen again,” Felicity huffs as she crosses arms.

Diggle nods. Before he asks: “So, if Waller knows about all this, what’s the all the dramatics with the signal jammer about? Why can’t she know you wanna look at your files? They’re your files, you already know a lot about what’s in them.”

“What I don’t know is the location or the type of bomb she implanted in my neck. I want to see if we can remove it or disarm it.”

The room suddenly falls deathly quiet, as if the air has been sucked out.

Confused, Oliver watches his friends as horror slowly takes over their features, eyes filled with concern as they look at him. Felicity gapes at him, her mouth open and closing as the thoughts that flash behind her eyes struggle to become verbal. Diggle just looks at him in the same way he does when Oliver comes back heavily injured.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Felicity who finds her voice first. She shrieks: “I’m sorry did you say she implanted a bomb in you?”

“Yes, it’s in my neck somewhere,” Oliver says, unsure why that’s not clear.

“It’s still in there?” she yells.

Oliver frowns, confusion growing as he slowly says: “Yes. That’s why I want to see if we can remove it.”

“Man, do you seriously not hear how incredibly fucked up that is?” Diggle asks, finally finding his words again.

He reflects for a second. The bomb in his head has never been pleasant. When it was just implanted, he thought the world was ending. The thought of Amanda Waller being able to end him at any second if he stepped out of line, was terrifying. But then time passed. Other things happened and his relation with Waller got better. She never removed it, liked the assurance, but he got used to it and it moved down on his list of priorities.

“The fact that you have to think about that says enough,” Diggle tells him, before he sighs: “Oliver, having a bomb in your head for god knows how long, is not a good thing. Or a normal thing.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Felicity asks, her eyes big and tear filled.

“It never seemed like something that anything could be done about,” Oliver shrugs, deciding to not inform them of the fact that for a while there, the presence of the bomb had been comforting. “But then you disarmed that earthquake device based off blueprints and got into all these organizations, and it suddenly didn’t seem so impossible anymore.”

There is surprise in Felicity’s eyes, but flattery too. She hadn’t thought she would have that kind of impact on him. It’s almost weird how oblivious she is to the amount of hope she gives him. Her eyes are wide and her mouth makes a little: “Oh.”

“I’d just like you to try,” he says, unsure of what else to say. “If you can’t find anything, it’ll just continue as normal.”

“Normal?” Felicity shrieks, refinding her voice. She clears her throat and in a quieter yet stern voice she says: “This is not normal, Oliver. You shouldn’t have to live with- with that. I’m going to do whatever I need to rid you of that thing.”

“Thank you,” Oliver says after a moment. He feels all sorts of emotions, but he’s not sure how to verbalize them beyond that thank you.

Despite how he felt about the bomb later, he can still vividly recall the pure terror he felt when Waller informed him of what she had done. She called it a preventative measure, in case threatening the Yamashiro family wasn’t enough to make him stay put.

For months, he felt is as if he could feel that bomb whenever he moved. Scared that it would go off if he moved wrong. Or that Waller would know if he thought about escaping or not listening to her orders.

Later it turned into something that just was. A lot of his life those five years just was. It might not be the best, might even be shit at times, but there was no use being upset about it. Nothing to do but get through. The bomb was one of those things.

However, recently his attitude has shifted again. Instead of a comfort that he can be easily stopped when his darkness takes over, it is a way everything can be taken from him again. He doesn’t think that Waller will just explode his head without any preamble. However, it is leverage she has and she will use it if it suits her needs.

Oliver has only just gotten back, just started actually living instead of just going through the motions so he can complete his mission. He is doing okay with Thea, he has friends, he is happy with what he is doing for the city. He has things to lose.

Waller will use the bomb if she wants something from him that he is not willing to do voluntarily, likely killing or torturing for her again. He doesn’t want to do that anymore. He refuses.

But he can’t.

Oliver wants to live. He doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to give into the darkness, doesn’t want to be the kind of person Tommy believed him to be before he died. He is terrified Waller will turn him back into that kind of person, should she have use of it.

He doesn’t want to voice those fears, doesn’t want to show that kind of vulnerability no matter how much Diggle and Felicity mean to him. So, he acted blasé about it, trying to get himself back in that mindset from before where it didn’t matter that much.

He knows that it might not be possible and doesn’t want to set himself up for disappointment when he already knows hope is dangerous. Yet there Felicity is swearing she’ll do whatever she needs to fix this, to get that damn bomb out of his head.

Both her and Diggle telling him it is fucked up and it’snot normal Waller did this to him, validating him and smothering the small part of his brain that told him he deserved to have it there. That with who he is, he needs a way to be put down.

All these feelings and fears, he keeps to himself, but Diggle and Felicity must know him well enough or hear something in his voice when he thanks them. Because they give him kind smiles and Diggle pats him on his back as Felicity immediately sets to typing.

He looks over her shoulder at the screen seeing code he doesn’t comprehend scroll by. Despite knowing that looking at it won’t make it make sense, he leans over her to look.

Oliver chews his lip for a second, a habit he hasn’t fallen back into since Slade trained it out of him back on Lian Yu. His fingers rub together as he contemplates if he should mention it. Then says: “Uhm, I’d prefer it if you didn’t look at a lot of my file. It’s not pretty.”

Felicity only shoots him a quick glance, then looks again, studying him for a second. “I won’t peak. Well, I’ll try not to peak. I’m a very curious person, hate mysteries. Hate them. It’s what’s gotten me into this mess to begin with. Not that working with you is a mess, I didn’t mean it like that, I really enjoy our time together- Not- Not our time together, but 1… 2… 3.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ll try not to peak.”

“Thank you, Felicity,” Oliver grins, soothed by her rambles.

Then he projects his voice a bit more, both to put an end to the topic and so that Diggle will hear from where he’s gone back to training. “I’m turning off the signal jammer now. Don’t talk about it, until we have confirmation there is no microphone. Okay?”

“Wait!” Felicity says. “I want it on the record – or well, off the record I suppose, but on our record, G-d, this is confusing – anyway, I want it on the record that it’s really weird if she has been listening this whole time. Like, that means you’ve never had a private conversation. In years. I mean, didn’t you have sex? Not that I keep track of your sex habits.”

“I know. Waller isn’t big on privacy, I try not to think about it,” Oliver heads her off, before she digs herself into another hole.

Diggle adds his two cents: “Felicity is right though, man. If any of this ever leaks – or if you want to make a scene – you’ll have one hell of a case against her.”

“If any of this ever leaks, I’ll have a lot of problems fielding questions from everyone wondering why I never mentioned I worked as basically a gun for hire,” Oliver reminds him.

“Fair enough.”

“That is so fucked up. She forced you with a bomb to your head. Literally!” Felicity complains.

“I know,” Oliver says, because he does. There is just nothing he can do about it.

“Also I want it noted that I’m a horrible actress and knowing other people might be listening can throw off all our interactions,” Felicity tells them. “I do better with not knowing these things.”

“Felicity, you’ve been keeping this secret,” Diggle says, gesturing to the base. “You’ll be fine. If it helps, imagine it’s just me listening along on the coms.”

Felicity pulls a thoughtful face for a moment, then nods: “I suppose I can try that. If you hadn’t told me the mystery would’ve bothered me more.”

“You’ll do fine,” Oliver echoes Diggle’s sentiment. “So can I turn the jammer back off?”

After both have nodded that he can, he flips the switch. There are an awkward few silent seconds wherein none of them know what to say now that they have the knowledge might be listening.

Just in case, Oliver says: “I know your system is good, you don’t have to tell me again, Felicity. We checked nothing is fried, now check if everything still works.”

Felicity frowns for a second, before her eyes grow wide with understanding. She nods knowingly, putting a finger to her nose as she attempts what Oliver thinks is supposed to be a wink. “You can just trust me for once, Oliver,” she huffs, a little too over the top, but good enough. She taps on her keyboard and taps her finger as she quietly counts for a few seconds, then she announces: “Works perfectly, just like I said.”

“Like I said, better safe than sorry,” Oliver says, concluding their little make belief. “Want to go a round, Dig?”

“Sure, man,” Diggle replies, getting to the mat as the conversation gets forgotten for now.

In the days after, Oliver hears nothing. He wants to keep asking Felicity if she has anything yet, but he doesn’t want to pressure her or get his hopes up. He needs to be able to go on if it turns out that bomb in his neck truly is his permanent normal. So he works hard on putting it out of his mind.

He is so good at putting it out of his mind that it doesn’t register as this when Felicity informs him over the coms: “Those hard drives appear to be bugged and I can’t access them remotely. Turn on a signal jammer so they won’t be able to track you here. I’ll have one on in the base too, so communications will be cut.”

“Roger that,” Diggle says and Oliver grunts something that sounds like agreement, before turning on the jammer that is a part of his gear.

Back at the base, he puts the hard drives on the table, frowning when Felicity puts them to the side instead of immediately setting to decrypting them. She taps for a bit on her computer, pulling up a file that he doesn’t recognize on first sight, which only confuses him more.

“From what this says, we should be able to cut it out of you. Which is very gross, by the way,” she starts. “Like I went to MIT for data science, not medical school. Dealing with it to keep you alive is one thing, but actually cutting something out of you… Well, Dig can do that part. I’ll hold your hand or something. Not to imply you’d want me to hold your hand. Or that I want to!”

“You got in?” Oliver interrupts, not even sorry about not getting to hear how she’ll dig herself into a hole this time. She did it. She has good news about it.

“Of course I got in,” she sniffs.

“And- and you can get it out?” Oliver asks, almost not daring to do so.

“Well, Dig can. It’s in a place where your spinal cord won’t be at risk, so it should be like digging out a bullet. That is the good news,” Felicity says.

Fuck, good news implies bad news, Oliver thinks, though Diggle is faster in verbalizing it. “And what’s the bad news?”

“As the signal jammers imply, there is some sort of component that could facilitate listening in,” she says. “It’s very experimental and it’s not clear from their reports if it ever worked or if it worked then failed or if it’s still working. Or if someone is even still listening. However, the potential is there, so we should be careful. That’s one.”

“One?” Oliver repeats, the hope in his chest sinking back down to his stomach and changing into despair to form a pit there. He should have never allowed himself to dream he’d be free.

Felicity shoots him an apologetic look. “Yes, I have more bad news. The bomb has a self defense mechanism. AKA it’ll self destruct if it suspects foul play. I can try disarming it, before we remove it, but if my code doesn’t work exactly as I program it, your head might go boom anyway.”

“You will write the code?”

“Yeah, that is the plan if you want to risk-”

“Then it’ll work,” Oliver says firmly.

“Are you sure? I mean that is a lot of faith to put in me, what if it goes wrong?” Felicity checks, blush coloring her cheeks.

He puts a hand on her shoulder and says: “I’m sure. I trust you and your codes every day. If you feel up to it, I’d really like you to try. I’ll even say please.”

Felicity softens slightly at that, probably hearing that stupid vulnerable and hopeful edge he can’t keep out of the bit that was supposed to be a joke. However, she graciously allows it to pass her by, instead joking back: “If I knew this is what it would take to get you to say please.”

Oliver smiles at that, squeezing her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replies.

“If we want to keep up an act, we should turn the jammers back off. No one will believe you’d take this long, not to mention longer, if they’re listening in,” Diggle interrupts, breaking the bubble they had surrounded themselves with. “You can stare at each other later.”

“Shut up,” Felicity blushes, aggressively turning the jammer back off. Oliver isn’t sure he’s glad or pissed Diggle interrupted them, settling on harshly sharpening arrows.

A few weeks later and the day is there. Oliver doesn’t know, since he might be a walking bug, he just arrives at the base to find Diggle prepping the medical corner as Felicity is looking over a code, a turned on signal jammer next to her.

“Is the code ready?” he asks, deciding it is neutral enough in case it’s not turned on or Felicity is working on something else.

She turns to him and smiles brightly, her mood infecting him immediately. “I am like 99.999999% sure I have something, which is as confident as I can get with this. Like I’d love to give you a 100% guarantee, but I feel like you’d appreciate the honesty more.”

“You’re confident in it?” he asks.

“I’m confident in it,” she confirms.

“Then it’s as good as a 100% for me,” he assures her, quickly shifting gears to avoiding any more conversations with feelings. “What do you need me to do?”

“Go lay down where Dig is. We got to assume there is some sort of reboot and we’re on a time crunch, so we prepared a little containment box. Once I disarm it, Dig will… remove it and then we’ll drop it in there and toss it in the harbor at some point if it doesn’t explode,” she explains.

“Sounds good,” Oliver says, making his way to Diggle as he takes off his shirt.

“I got anesthetics, scalpel, tweezers, stitching kit,” Diggle informs him, showing the little disinfecting dish.

“No anesthetics,” Oliver tells him.

“Really? Even for this?” Diggle checks. He knows Oliver doesn’t like them, because they mess with his senses and his survival instinct is usually running on all cylinders, making him not want to risk it.

“I don’t like them.”

“And I still can’t believe you’re okay with that. I can’t even look at it unless I have to to keep you alive and you feel it voluntarily,” Felicity shudders.

Oliver just shrugs, not feeling the need to have the conversation again. As he lies down, Diggle puts the anesthetics away, so it’s not his problem anyway. He knows at some point the chronic pain will become bad enough that he can’t live without pain management, he’d like to not built up a tolerance to it before that point arrives.

Felicity is used to his silence and just moves on, turning back to her monitors. “Okay, once I start uploading, it’ll take a moment, but then we have to move. Is everything ready?” Both Oliver and Diggle confirm, so she taps a few move keys. “Uploading now.”

The next few minutes are nerve wracking. They all watch the little loading bar nervously, Diggle taking a few steps back, just in case it goes wrong and Oliver loses his head. Not the best vote of confidence, but Oliver can’t blame him.

“It’s disarmed!” Felicity practically screams as Diggle jumps into action.

Oliver is glad for the scalpel in his back so he can focus on that instead of the weird twisty emotions inside his chest. It doesn’t feel real that Waller can’t push a button and make him disappear anymore.

Diggle works quickly and efficiently, removing the little bomb and dropping it in the box, before stitching Oliver up. All in all, it doesn’t take more than ten minutes, before Diggle announces: “All done. It’s out.”

Tentatively, Oliver sits up, going over to look into the box. The bomb itself is small, almost unassuming. It’s strange how much fear and anxiety the tiny thing has inspired in him throughout the years. What a relief it is to have it be gone.

The feelings are almost too complex for Oliver to fully feel them and understand what they are. Of course there is relief, gratefulness, but also a weird discomfort, as if his body doesn’t know what to do with this freedom.

“We did it,” Felicity smiles, dragging him out of his head as he watches her high five Diggle.

Later, he’ll claim he doesn’t know what comes over him, but he walks over to them and pulls both of them into a fierce hug. In the moment, he knows very well what he feels: love and affection.

Diggle and Felicity have done so much for him. They have given him so much and he can’t ever repay them or fully show how glad he is to have them in his life. He can only use these weird feelings in his chest to hug them now and hope they understand a fraction of what he feels.

They hug him back tightly, the hug not constricting as it would normally be, but nice, soothing even.

He steps away quickly, clearing his throat and gruffly saying: “Thanks.”

The other two let him get away with it, sending him a knowing look. However, they don’t let the out of character moment linger. Felicity breaks it in her own endearing way, saying: “Let’s get this thing to the harbor to dump it. It’ll be nice to have some privacy with you again. Oh G-d, I absolutely did not mean it like that.”

As she rambles herself into worse place, he and Diggle look at her fondly. Team Arrow has been doing well lately. With this bomb out of Oliver’s neck, a load is off his shoulders and he can work towards a new brighter future with his team by his side.

#rr writing #arrow #green arrow #cw arrow #arrow cw #arrow 2012 #arrowverse #arrowverse fanfiction #arrow fanfic #oliver queen #felicity smoak #john diggle #amanda waller #argus #dc #dc comic #dc comics #detective comics

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Just out of curiosity, who are your top 3 favorite Sebastian Stan characters?

Thank you so much for this ask! It was a bit of a struggle to choose, but I think I made a pretty good selection if I say so myself 🩵

Bucky Barnes

My first love is and will always be Bucky. This character made me fall in love with the MCU and Sebastian. His acting is on point as The Winter Soldier (though they could have done him the justice he deserves, but that's a discussion for a different moment 🫣), and to see him go through his recovery makes me proud of him as far as how far he'd come.

And the long hair. Always the long hair 🫠

Tommy Lee

Tattoos. Nipple piercings. TATTOOS. Have I mentioned nipple piercings yet? Whenever someone says 'sex on legs, ' Sebastian, in his role as Tommy, comes to mind for me! He looks so sexy with these tattoos all over his body (especially the one on his back *whoof!*), and I think he portrayed his side of the story very well.

It will always suck what happened to the real Pam&Tommy of course, but Sebastian did a phenomenal job in this series in my opinion. And I want to tug on his nipple piercings. And lick his tattoos.

Steve Kemp

The character of Steve is so deranged, but Fresh will always be one of my favorite movies of his to watch. The way he can go from sweet and loving to total psychopath in the blink of an eye is such a rollercoaster, and I will always be along for the ride!

I have been on the edge of my seat for most of this movie to see where it was going, and how it would end. If you have not seen this I highly recommend it, though it can be disturbing to some people. This is a movie I'll gladly watch over and over again, just to see Seb play such a sick and weird, yet amazing and intriguing character.

Honorable mention: Lance Tucker

I was trying to decide between Steve Kemp and Lance Tucker, but I simply can't leave him off this list, so he will get an honorable mention from me!

This movie is so bad it's laughable, but I still enjoyed watching it regardless! Sebastian did a good job at his character and he made me laugh the entire time, so I feel like this deserves a spot on here as well!

#sergeantbarnessdoll #sweet asks #thank you for the ask

[spencersagnew]

omg heyyyy bestie. top five smosh members?? - katie @jovenshires <3

ok. so im assuming this is cast not crew + i know they are technically not cast but they are to ME so spencer and tommy will be on here:

spencer - it's the titular role. like cmon! i love Some Guys and he is thee Some Guy of all Some Guys. i think out of everyone @ smosh, his personality (at least from what we've seen) seems the most similar to mine so there's also that sweet sweet parasocial projection. in comedy there's the Straight Man (no pun intended) and while he doesn't serve exactly that role in the cast, his more laidback energy is a good contrast to the rest of em. he IS my number 1 boy but everyone else i'm listing won't be ranked bc i acc haven't thought it through woops

angela - she's everything to me ! not the girlfailure representation that we need, but the girlfailure representation that we DESERVE. i love how much energy she brings and the fact that she lit rally has chemistry with every other cast member also means that no matter the vid she's in, the dynamics are always 🤌 like the fact that she's that naturally charismatic but in addition is also super talented (halftime show, the time when she called the restaurant etc) is kind of fucked up tbh /j

chanse - talented. showstopping. never been done before etc etc. chanse just has this confidence that i don't see in other cast members? like yea everyone is p confident and out there bc they're all actors / internet personalities, but there's something about him that just hits different ya know? him and angela need to do more musical content this year fr ! also, out of all the quotes / jokes / vocal stims the cast do, the only one i've acc picked up on irl is "that's good" which i realized the other day lmao

damien - caveating this with obvi we don't acc know these people + you shouldn't be looking to celebs / internet celebs as models for political opinions, but from what i've seen he seems to be a v empathetic / caring person in his interpersonal relationships which also seems to translate to his morals / ethics ! like he's not mother theresa and it's the bare minimum, but he's been the most vocal about palestine, covid etc. and is also pretty open about his mental health. ofc he's talented, funny, charismatic etc like the other cast i'm listing here but wanted to shout out him for other reasons otherwise this list gets boring bc as you can see i can YAP

tommy - it's wild bc i don't think there's a specific reason i can say why he's one of my favs, but anytime we get him in a vid it's a treat ! imo part of the reasons the funerals became successful was def cause of the will reader character + his humor / personality i resonate with a lot - can't remember what specific vid it was but someone referred to ian as the straight tommy - the vibes of being tired / depressed but just living through it are incredibly Real of him. so happy he decided to create / star in / produce serving cunt so we can see him shine. multi-hyphenate king 👑

honorable mention to MARI - can't believe she invented smosh feminism ! but no fr back in the day when i was in my second smosh era it was cause of her / OGSoG + also i was lowkey a marhinki 🙊

send me top 5 anything

#ask #the way the bullets kept getting longer so i had to go back to spencer and angela to add more dfsf #what can i say i love to YAP #i love to yap

[breadknight-likes-things]

Bread's Game Of The Year Honorable Mention #1: Horizon: Burning Shores

Turns out, talking about video games I like is still fun, who knew? You know what video games are fun? Horizon Zero Dawn, and Horizon Forbidden West. Two games whose general reaction's to and reputations of annoy me deeply, because the annoying repeated memes of them somehow being creative failures because they came out among other unrelated fan favorites drives me mad. You know what doesn't drive me mad though? Playing the Horizon games, and Burning Shores is no different. Serving as the big expansion pack for Forbidden West, much the same way Frozen Wilds was for Zero Dawn, Burning Shores is a very solid, self contained open world experience that fans of the series shouldn't ignore. Not only do you get to explore a cool new area in the ruins of L.A, filled with lava like in the Tommy Lee Jones movie "Volcano" for some reason, but you get a solid chunk of new story for both the universes lore and characters. Hell, not to spoil anything too big, but Aloy even has a possible romantic interest in this expansion. Sort of going against my assumption this entire time that she's been AAA gamings only real Ace representation, but you learn something new every day. The new environment to explore takes a lot of cues from the already extant San Francisco area in the main game, but the tropical beaches still lend a lot of fantastic eye candy while you search around for new quests and activities. The main story is also a little bit of a wrap up situation, but nonetheless a fun one. Featuring a minor villain who escaped the finale of the main game, which I won't really get into details for because the surprise halfway through the base game really deserves to be preserved for new players. So many words to say, Burning Shores is a solid expansion, and an easy recommendation from me, even if doesn't quite break my top five this year. 2023 was so packed with good video games, that's not really an indicator of a problem.

#video games #bread's game journal #pc gaming #game journal #video game #ps5 #playstation five #horizon #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west #aloy #horizon aloy #burning shores #playstation studios #2023 video games #2023

[hellstromknight]

Putting together what would by my favorite programs from the TV that aren't related to comics.

Barry. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Is this show the fucking tits, boy howdy I'll tell ya. I ain't bullshitting you when I say that Bill Hader, yes, the guy from SNL and Superbad and shit, could play a horrific Doctor Doom or Punisher or the next Star Wars villain or whatever terrifying villain from how amazing he is in this show. Beautiful, well-shot, very original, horrific, perfect. If you haven't watched it on HBO/Max, do yourself a favor and pop it on. Words cannot describe how good it is.

Breaking Bad. I... Don't need to explain that any further.

Better Call Saul. In so many ways, it's better than BB, especially fucking Lalo and Nacho, but then in a few other ways...

The Righteous Gemstones. I love comedy, and I'm a big Christian, and combing the two is amazing, as well as how it pokes fun at the prosperity gospel and shits all over them and the people that deserve to be shat on.

Dexter. It... Was tempting to put it in the #4 spot, I really wanted to, but... The fucking ending and so many of the other low points of the show just fucking kills it. Sure, Trinity is one of the greatest fictional villains I've ever seen, but the last season of Dexter and technically the ending of New Blood is the worst I've ever seen.

Shameless.

Stranger Things.

Hannibal.

Burn Notice.

Game of Thrones.

Honorable mentions: Venture Bros, Chuck, Justified, American Horror Story (the first few seasons), Squid Game, Love Death + Robots, Bates Motel, Our Flag Means Death, Pam & Tommy, Monster: Jeffrey Dahmer, Wednesday, Ash vs Evil Dead, and more.

There's a few shows that I've been meaning to watch that might be slapped up there, but... Who knows.

Make your own, tag me in it, don't, I don't really care.

#The Righteous Gemstones #Barry HBO #Barry #Bill Hader #Dexter #Michael C Hall #Better Call Saul

[jwowwsboobs]

going for blood. no. 2

all of motley crue but particularly vince 4 his annoying ass vox; nikki sixx 4 raping a girl at a party, admitting it! n then denying it; tommy lee 4 being annoying as fuck n being awful 2 miss pam

axel rose

phil from pantera idgaf what his name is 

machine gun kelly 4 being in the motley crue movie n also cuz he literally doesn’t deserve 2 be in the presence of megan fox

cory taylor

peter steel idgaf if i spelled his name wrong

euronymous. n everyone else in mayhem but him especially

david disanto but i like his music. aurrhrhghhhhhhh … its fine bc vektor has already made 2 good albums which is plenty 

david ellefson

travis barker 4 not only being in blink182 but also 4 turning that one kardashian “””””””punk””””””””

honorable mention 2 danzig i just feel like itd be fun 2 behead him

contxt

#cliff #tyyyyyy <3 always happy 2 be a hater #asks