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Do you ever look at some of your mutuals and think how do you, follow little old me????

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Our poor Buck misses his pookie patootie honeybutt sweet pea Tommy Kinard😔

(And no, I have nothing more important to do than making this and turning my pain into memes🥰)

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"You just can't handle the fact that these people aren't falling all over themselves to get your attention for once in your life!" Eddie growls, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.

"I don't care about getting their attention, Eddie!" Steve says once again because it feels like they've been arguing in circles forever when it's really only been about half an hour. Steve wishes he could say that he didn't understand how they got here but he does.

Eddie and his new friends. Friends that don't like Steve and go out of their way to make sure he knows that. Friends that throw snide remarks that Eddie chuckles along with. Friends that make Steve feel unwanted in his own home.

It's infuriating and frustrating and hurtful that Eddie just lets them talk about Steve like that, lets them talk to Steve like that.

"Right, so you've said," Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, like Steve's the one being immature.

"Well, since you think I'm fucking lying or something, what do you think this is about?" Steve's says, hands on his hips as he stares down Eddie at the other end of the tiny galley kitchen of their apartment.

Eddie works his jaw, the way Steve's seen him do when he's holding back a comment he thinks is particularly scathing. It's been a while since Steve's been on the receiving end of this.

"Just say it, Eddie! We're never going to end this argument unless you do," Steve goads. If Eddie will just say the thing, they can talk it out. They can work through this. Steve can fix it, but only if Eddie tells him the truth.

"Maybe it's just fucking karma, Steve!" Eddie yells. "Maybe you just can't handle that I have friends who think you're not cool and they aren't going to pretend you are!"

Steve's jaw drops, the infuriating-frustrating-hurt feeling intensifying into what feels like a lead ball in Steve's gut. Karma. Karma? "Karma? Like because I was a self-centered asshole in school that I, what, deserve to be treated like trash by your so-called 'friends'!?" Steve goes as far as to make air quotes around the word friends.

"Yeah, maybe," Eddie says, quick and even like he... like he really believes that.

Like he really believes that this treatment is what Steve deserves.

"This situation is not the same," Steve shouts back.

"Seems the same to me. The group majority against the minority. It's not like you ever stood up for anyone when Hagan was trying to give everyone swirlies, or when Perkins would knock shit out of people's hands and fake laugh an apology. You just can't handle it now that you're the minority."

"That's not the fucking same! I didn't know you in high school!"

"Well, they don't know you, either!"

All the fight drains from Steve at those words. It's like Eddie has flipped the switch in his brain to see what is happening. To see it from Eddie's point of view. Or, if Steve is being kind, the point of view of Eddie's friends who don't know Steve because they refused to get to know him.

"So, what, they're allowed to treat me the way you think I treated you?" Steve asks, voice quiet and matter of fact.

"Yes," Eddie says and then his face pinches as he actually processes what Steve said. "Wait. No. That's not- It's not exactly like that. It's just, like- the guys were saying it was status quo or something."

The guys. Eddie's 'friends'.

It's strange how 'the guys' went from meaning Jeff, Gareth, and Grant to this new group of friends and Jeff, Gareth, and Grant have become The Band. A separate, new category, othering even them from Eddie's new friends.

"I- Are you even hearing yourself right now?" Steve says in disbelief. He can see Eddie getting worked up again, so he barrels on. "I'm not just some jock you don't know. I'm your boyfriend. Your fucking boyfriend, Eddie! If you were my boyfriend in high school, I wouldn't have ever let my friends speak to you the way you let them talk to me!

"And I can't even defend myself because then everything they're saying is fucking true! That I'm a bullshit dumb jock just waiting for a chance to get violent. And I'm not! I'm not a jock anymore. And I'm not dumb! And I'm not bullshit!" Steve's vision gets blurry, and he knows he's crying but he doesn't really register it. The hurt he's feeling is leaving his body and he's just feeling numb now. "Jesus Christ, Eddie, I would never let someone talk to you the way you let your friends talk to me, and about me! Because beyond it just being the goddamn decent thing to do is not let people speak about others like that, but I love you and I can't imagine ever allowing someone to treat you the way your friends treat me. Why do you like them more than you love me!?"

Eddie's face is doing something complicated, like it always does when Steve cries. Like Eddie wants to sooth him but isn't sure how.

And that's all it takes. Something in Steve crumbles but not in the way he wants it to. Steve was hoping that if they talked this out that they could be okay. They could figure out a way forward.

Because here is Eddie's face, showing how much he loves and cares for Steve and wants to help him, but all Steve realizes is that Eddie might love him, but not enough to tell his friends to treat Steve with some basic respect and kindness.

He can't be here anymore. He can't be in this kitchen and see his hurt reflected on Eddie's face. He can't be in this apartment that used to feel so cozy and comforting and now just feels like a prison. He doesn't know if he can even be in this relationship if Eddie doesn't love him the same way as he used it.

How did they get to this point? How did they get to a point where Eddie is just okay with people treating Steve this way? How did Steve let it go this long without addressing it sooner?

When did Eddie decide that the approval of his new friends was more important than his feelings for Steve?

"Steve, I-"

Steve doesn't stick around to hear whatever it is Eddie's going to say. He turns on heel, speed walking to the door where he pauses just long enough to grab his jacket from the coat rack before fleeing the apartment.

-

Inspired by @novacorpsrecruit's fic, It’s lonely at the top. Which has a happy ending, so you should read it.

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Thank you so much @vanitasmorgue for this gorgeous commission of my favourite boys! You should commission her too, just saying! (And there is special promo for February too!) 🥰

LOOK AT THEM 😭 The nose kiss is sending me to space!

The legend goes that Buck is obsessed with Tommy in his flight suit. And also loves to pick his bf up cause Tommy deserves to be picked up all the time ❤️

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one thing about me is I will always enjoy a special and miserable little man

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Part One Two Three Four

“What?” Steve’s on edge, he doesn’t mean to snap, it just comes out that way. Eddie’s gone from never looking at him to...always looking at him. And the scrutiny is...it’s so fucking judgemental. Eddie has a horrible little smirk on his face as he fucking stares, eyeballing the drink Steve is pouring for himself, Steve is on the edge of just...screaming at him, or something.

Eddie huffs, rolls his eyes, but still doesn’t say anything.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep calming breath, and reminds himself that absolutely none of this is Eddie’s fault. They’re alone for the first time in a while, so Steve takes his chance, “I’m really sorry, about what I said, okay? I’m sorry I...tricked you. It was wrong, it was absolutely a dick move, I had no right to know, and I’m sorry.”

Eddie does look away then, deflating a little, Steve’s apology seems to have knocked the wind out of his sails, or something. Diluted the anger a little, at least.

“It’s…” Eddie shrugs, staring the shit out of the kitchen floor, “my Steve didn’t drink.”

Steve scrunches his nose up, surprised, “what, at all?”

Eddie shrugs, “glass of wine with dinner maybe, if we went somewhere just the two of us but...no. Not really,” he keeps picking the label off his own beer.

“But why?” Steve asks, so incredulous at the revelation that he forgets to be pissed off.

Eddie won’t look at him now, though, tinking a ring against the glass bottle. The moments long enough that Steve knows Eddie’s debating if he should tell him at all, but eventually Eddie sighs, “when Ronnie was tiny, she got a cough. She was like...fine, we didn’t think anything of it, just thought she was being grizzly or whatever. And Steve had a drink, and I hadn’t, so it was fine but, I checked on her, and she was fast asleep but like had a raging temperature. And it didn’t matter, we had baby meds in the house, we were prepared but...Steve got so worried. He was like but what if we’d run out of meds or...or they didn’t bring her temperature down and she needed urgent care or whatever. I mean, she was absolutely fine, we changed her out of her footie jammies and the medicine worked just fine so...literally nothing happened but...Steve still got so worried about it. So he decided he needed to always be able to drive just in case and he just...stopped. Drinking.”

Steve wants to open his mouth and dispute it. Wants to tell Eddie he’d never fucking do that, that he isn’t the paragon of perfection Eddie dreamed up while his body was busy beating the crap out of every one. That he can’t possibly compare...but he can see it. He wouldn’t miss it, he knows he wouldn’t, and it’s the logical way to make sure his kid is fine then...yeah. Steve would, the thinks. He thinks he would do that.

“He sounds like a good guy,” Steve answers softly.

And Eddie, Eddie smiles before biting his lips together. He closes his eyes and swallows, thick and slow, his voice breaking when he speaks, and Steve knows that Eddie’s fighting a loosing battle against the tears, “he was.”

“Do you want…” Steve holds his arms out, and Eddie all but falls into them, “I know I’m not him, okay, I know that, but I’m here, if you want me to be here.”

Steve thinks he feels Eddie nod, as he sobs against Steve’s chest, curled up so Steve can hold all of him. And Steve cries too. He can't keep the tears inside. Eddie’s pain is palpable, and this isn’t about Steve, not really, Eddie’s Steve was real to Eddie but...the details. The details of Eddie’s story are gutting to listen to. He had a child, and she grew up, and Eddie...he remembers all these little details of their lives.

“Why are you crying?” Eddie chokes out through a sob.

“The footie pajamas,” Steve manages through his own tears, “you had a little girl Eds, you had a little girl and you-” Steve can’t finish it, it’s just so horrible. So unbelievably cruel. Steve can’t even imagine, not really, “I’m so so sorry you went through this. It’s my fault, if I’d taken you with us, if I’d gotten you out, I didn’t know Eddie I swear I didn’t know-”

“I know. I know. Stop it. I probably...I’d be dead now, if you- although I don’t know if that would be better.”

“Jesus,” Steve drags him close drags him into a rib crushing hug, tries to press Eddie inside him, “don’t say that. Jesus Christ, please don’t say that.”

“I...okay.”

Eddie becomes his shadow, which is...kind of weird but also not. Steve doesn’t mind Eddie being there, not at all. He keeps feeling...strangely guilty, about the whole thing. Like it’s, at least, in some way, Steve’s fault, no matter what Eddie might say. Logically Steve knows Eddie’s right, and isn’t that ridiculous, that Eddie has been reassuring Steve? But Eddie is right, Steve couldn’t have known what would happen, no one could, and...Eddie was dead. There was absolutely no way to predict what could have happened but...Steve wears it anyway.

Not to mention the fact that Vecna must have chosen Steve to be Eddie’s imaginary husband for a reason...he must have...liked Steve, for that to work right? Before everything, it must have been realistic to Eddie’s mind that Steve was the one. At least, the thought must have been present enough for that to...take root. Steve doesn’t know, not really, but it haunts him anyway, a loose tooth that, although is painful, he can’t help fiddling with. Even though it’s nothing to do with him, not really.

Eddie stops drinking. He has his last beer, he in fact makes a point of telling Steve that it’s his last one, and not to buy more. So Steve gets one too, they chink them together, and drink them. Then, without speaking, Steve gathers the remaining seven beers out of the fridge and they stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, pouring them away. It feels kind of poignant, and a little ceremonial. It feels like an important moment, one Steve will look back on, “you still could have had them,” Eddie points out quietly.

“Nah.” And then that’s...kind of it.

Steve can tell when Eddie really wants a drink. He gets antsy, the kind of restlessness that comes out as destruction, and Eddie gets snappy and bitchy and...hard work, to be around. Sometimes. He swears a lot, gets angry over nothing. There’s a lot of slammed doors and angry clanking and music played loud enough that Steve winces and leaves the house for a while, not really caring what the neighbors think.

Steve lets it wash over him, or at least, does his best to, at first. But finding Eddie shredding the pages of a note book, one at a time, and then getting shouted at for simply asking, “you okay?” Steve starts to figure this isn’t sustainable.

He honestly feels like he’d be taking his life into his hands if he dared suggest Eddie go to some sort of therapy – and who could he talk to, anyway? How could Eddie tell someone on the outside that he’s lived a full life, that he’s lost an adult child and been married for like, thirty years by the age of twenty one?

Steve ducks the notebook as it wings passed his head, watching as Eddie stomps out the back door, slamming it behind him.

“Am I...uhm, gonna’ get anything thrown at me?” Steve doesn’t come too close, just in case. A torn up notebook cover might not have hurt, but the beer bottle still stands out in Steve’s memory. He wonders vaguely if he should have called one of the girls to do this, but it feels cowardly.

Eddie shakes his head, gesturing vaguely with his burnt out cigarette. There’s a neat little row of butts and a scrunched up packet next to Eddie’s boot. Steve pulls up a lawn chair next to him, “sorry,” Eddie says quietly, pointedly not looking at him.

“Yeah, it’s okay-”

“No it isn’t.”

“No...probably not but...I get that you’re hurting, is what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, vaguely, “sometimes something just…” Eddie sighs, and after a few minutes Steve realizes he’s given up and isn’t going to say anymore.

“Reminds you?” Steve tries.

“Yeah,” Eddie gestures again vaguely, running his hand through his hair. It’s looking a little greasy, but Steve knows that at least Eddie stood under the water this morning so he will take what he can get. His clothes are clean today, at least, and that’s a little win considering can go days with no interest whatsoever in his own personal hygiene.

“Do you...want to tell me?”

Eddie sighs a big sigh, “I wrote a song for Steve, for like, our seventh anniversary. Something like that. I wrote it out, to check I still remember. I do.”

“Oh. That sounds...really nice.” That is...very romantic. It makes something flutter a little, inside Steve, because no ones ever done anything like that for him, put in work. It doesn’t take much for Steve to see that Eddie is absolutely that kind of guy. The all in kind of guy, “I bet he really appreciated that. I bet he loved it.” Steve knows he would.

“Yeah,” Eddie rasps, “yeah he did.”

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*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

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what if you were GAY and LUTHERAN and your PASTOR said innies have SOULS so you decided to get SEVERED and you FELL IN LOVE and COULD HAVE POTENTIALLY HAD UNPROTECTED SEX with your COWORKER. do you think your innie would go to heaven?

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@118dailydrabble for day 86 prompt advisor ⚙︎ rated: t ⚙︎ pair: buck/tommy ⚙︎ tags: part 8 of android au

Tommy watched EB's final moments.

With his eyes closed, he looked almost peaceful.

He’d disabled all but his most vital synthetic organs to direct his remaining power to his limbs.

When his ventilation system shut down, and his LED flashed once, twice, and then sputtered out, Tommy knew it was over.

Tears finally flooded his vision as his last shred of hope died along with his friend.

...Fuck, this was really it.

EB collapsed into his arms and then—

Silence.

Nothing.

Tommy looked up, holding EB tighter as sudden shakes wracked his body.

Three WK500s in reflective jumpsuits—maintenance androids—had caught the slab.

“Sir, you are in danger," one said, his expression indifferent. "We advise you to leave immediately."

⚙︎

tag list: @brassm @leashybebes @thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish @setmeatopthepyre @bibuckeroo @station18908 @hmg621 @buffaluff @disastardly @figuringitoutaloud @bblouleelou @ambernotember @theredrenard @hyperfocusthusly

just let me know if you want to be added/removed

thank you to everyone who's read so far! c:

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Time in a Bottle

Chapter 12

“Why the hell are you pissed at me?” Tommy asked, stopping Buck dead in his tracks.

Slowly, he turned back around. “I’m not pissed.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You do realize it’s my life, Buck, don’t you? I can do whatever I want.”

Buck crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, Tommy, I realize that.”

“Not everyone is like you. Not everyone needs to be a hero every day of their lives.”

(read on ao3)

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mind you luigi mangione looks like 2 of my cousins there are like 0.32 luigi mangione lookalikes pro capita in italy but the loafers sans socks relaxed crossed ankles like he’s on a bench looking at sailboats on a saturday afternoon? kinda sickening you gotta hand it to him

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"getting laid" is very hot and sexy. "getting off"? great news as well. so you would think "getting laid off" would be wonderful news for your penis. but alas

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daredevil is? catholic

Catholic king of premarital sex can’t smoke a joint?

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OLIVER STARK as Evan 'Buck' Buckley

9-1-1 – 4.06: Jinx

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fuck it friday

not tagged by anyone 'cause I'm being the change I want to see in the world etc etc etc

from pothos | pathos pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5

-

Eddie is on his couch, aimlessly swiping through housing listings, vaguely hoping that the next generic wide-angle picture of a soulless sunny living room will suddenly give him all the answers he needs, when the doorbell rings.

He opens the door without looking. He gets as far as “I’m still all out of flour from last time--" when he realizes it’s not Buck on his doorstep at all. It takes a second because he's not used to seeing the captain of the 122 in anything other than a suit or a set of turnouts. “Deluca?” he says, surprised. “I thought poker night was next week.”

“I ain’t here to clear you out this time, Diaz,” Deluca says.

Eddie huffs. As if. The man barely has a filter and that translates fairly directly to the efficacy of his poker face.

“Are you gonna let me in, or what?”

“Sure. If you tell me to what I owe the visit.” Eddie’s already stepping aside, letting him in.

Deluca strides in like he owns the place, crossing his arms as he takes in the living room. “Is it just you?”

“Yes…?” he says slowly, following him in. He snatches his nearly-empty bottle from the table, lifts it and points from the bottle to Deluca in the universally understood gesture for you want one?

“Yeah, sure,” he says.

Deluca doesn’t offer up an explanation for his presence as Eddie cracks open two bottles of beer, hands one off to the man still standing in his living room like he’s trying to decide if he wants to be there at all, and sinks down onto the couch again for lack of anything better to do.

Deluca doesn’t sit, but he does take a long swig of his beer and narrow his eyes at Eddie. Finally he asks, “You seen Tommy?”

Eddie nods. “Couple of days ago. Why?”

“Any clue what the hell is wrong with him?”

What, this guy, too? Eddie rubs at his eyes. “How about you tell me why you’re asking?”

Deluca glares at him some more, seems to come to some decision, and sinks down on the other side of the couch with a huff. “He skipped out on my little girl’s birthday.”

Eddie blinks. He isn't sure what he’d been expecting, maybe something more akin to Buck’s vague hunches, but not… this.

He does vaguely recall the subject of Deluca’s kids coming up at poker night, though. Racks his brain for a second. “You’ve got three kids, right?”

Deluca eyes him for a second, but it’s less of a glare this time. “Yeah. Two girls and a boy. Oldest just turned ten, youngest is three.”

“Huh,” is all Eddie finds himself saying. Thinks for a moment, again, of Christopher, of the birthday party Eddie only got glimpses of over a video call. He really needs to stop procrastinating and just pick a damn house. Maybe he should just go to El Paso and see from there.

But this isn’t about him.

“And… Tommy usually goes to your kids’ birthday parties?”

“Goddamn right he does. He’s their favorite uncle.”

Uncle? “Hold on, you guys are…?”

“Jesus H. Christ, Diaz,” Deluca says with a roll of his eyes. “Do you want a copy of my family tree? No, we ain’t related, but we might as well be.”

Eddie raises a hand in surrender. The guy’s clearly passionate about this.

“The important thing is,” Deluca continues, eyes intense and jabbing a finger in Eddie’s direction, “The man has showed up to every single goddamn birthday and big event, and now he skips Sophie’s big ten? Something’s goin’ on.”

There’s a simple solution to that, if you ask Eddie. “Did you ask him about it?”

“Who the hell do you think I am? Of course I did. You know what he did?” Eddie gets the feeling he’s not actually expected to answer and Deluca proves him right. “He goddamn apologized.”

He frowns. “I don’t know man, that seems… reasonable?”

Deluca gets to his feet with a grunt of frustration, starts pacing. “Don’t be an idiot, Diaz. You have any clue what Tommy does when he knows he’s fucked up?” It’s another rhetorical question. “One of three things,” Deluca says, raises one finger. “Either he gets defensive and turns into the world’s most sarcastic asshole--” A second finger goes up. “He turns into a pathetic pile of misery and then moves heaven and earth to make things right--" Third finger. “Or he shuts down completely. What he doesn’t do is fuckin' apologize and then pleasantly ask me if Sophie had a nice day. So you better tell me now, what the hell did Buckley do to him?”

“Now hold on,” Eddie sets his bottle down, gets to his feet as well. “Buckley--- Buck didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah? Then why the hell does Tommy tell me they’ve broken up and then turn into a fucking pod person?”

Eddie sighs. He’s pretty sure he’s getting a migraine or something. “You better ask him, because he broke up with Buck, not the other way around.”

Deluca falters, mouth snapping shut from where he’d looked about ready to yell at him some more. “What?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, shrugs.

“That goddamned idiot,” Deluca mutters.

-

tagging @sugarpenchant @beanarie @rcmclachlan @emphasisonthehomo @rimatsu @trombonechurchill @leashybebes @geddyqueer @ambernotember

tag list for those who requested tags for this fic under the cut ↓

@fiyaerrigan @bisexualbrainrots @leashybebes @louuieferrignojr @rubydaiquiri @teabroomsandbooks @crimsonwildcat-blog @sweaters-and-silly @nochance-noway @manifestingchaoticvibes @hyperfocusthusly @frogsinflannel @beanarie @rcmclachlan @sad-girl-hours23 @ambernotember @apartmentsmoke @bidisasterevankinard @agentpeggycartering @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @daughterofscotland

let me know if you wanna be added or removed!

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blows my mind that i have little online friends who mildly care about me. it’s really nice

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Bucktommy AU where Tommy was an extremely famous child star and his dad stole all his money and it was a whole famous tabloid ordeal when he sued his father and was emancipated. He quit showbiz and joined the army to try and disappear. Two decades later, he’s a firefighter and lives a pretty normal life though he still gets recognized sometimes. Every once in a while someone does a human interest story on him a la “did you know David Lee Roth became a paramedic for a while?” stuff. Dating can be weird because he doesn’t advertise his sexuality and eventually everybody realizes that he’s THAT Tommy Kinard. Meeting Evan who doesn’t really know many movies or shows, who doesn’t pay any attention at all to celebrities is refreshing. It literally doesn’t come up for months until one time he takes Evan to karaoke trivia and happens to be the answer to one of the questions.