#cruise enthusiasts

[techdriveplay]

Best Cruise Line for an Alaskan Cruise for Every Type of Traveler

Taking an Alaskan cruise is on most cruise enthusiasts’ bucket lists, and for good reason. Alaska is one of the most ruggedly beautiful, unspoiled locations I have ever visited. However, due to its remote location and large size, exploring Alaska can be a daunting and expensive feat. This is where cruising can help. You don’t want to just book any cruise, of course. They definitely aren’t all the…

[mexicanistnet]

Get ready for Puerto Vallarta's 2024 Carnival extravaganza, boasting 10 stages of diverse music. The Ceviche Festival tempts taste buds with 60 varieties, while the city shines with 83.2% hotel occupancy. Cruise enthusiasts spend big, but a recent incident adds a note of caution.

[saltedmess]

tom cruise - who's afraid of little old me

[pussymasterdooku]

💃🔪👨🏻

👨🏻🔨👩🏻‍🔧

🏃‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏢

[simplyghosting]

I have a very high chance of a critical roll in the game of my life. That includes both critical successes and critical failures.

[neverendingford]

.

[esperderek]

I have to have a chuckle at the Screenrant article posted recently about the Galactic Starcruiser, which totally wasn't about Jenny Nicholson's video honest.

In part, because early in Nicholson's video, she talks about how unnatural it is to have your influencers speak in adcopy and copyright rather than the more colloquial nicknames, and how it makes the people speaking about the product seem very insincere and, well, paid off. Because normal humans don't speak that way, but advertising does.

What's the first two lines in this article?

"As a life-long fan of Star Wars, there was nothing quite as exciting as finding out that I would be working on the immersive Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser experience. Located at the Walt Disney World Resort, the Galactic Starcruiser opened on March 1, 2022, and welcomed passengers to board a two-day, two-night cruise through the stars, during which they could live out their own Star Wars adventure."

No one talks like this naturally. No one writes like this naturally.

This is supposed to be your passioned defense of the place you worked at, the people you worked with, and the memories you made along the way. C'mon! Why don't you open with a story, perhaps an anecdote about the best moment you had working there, or the devastation of the day you lost your dream job. We need to feel your humanity! But there's nothing of that here, to the point where you can just hear the TM behind Galactic Starcruiser.

The first half of this article continues in this vein, reading like a press release Disney marketing put out, just with past tense rather than present or future tense:

"Essentially, the Starcruiser experience was a 48-hour movie that passengers were actually a part of. It was all facilitated through the "datapad," which was accessed through the Play Disney Parks app."

"To facilitate the overarching immersive experience and storytelling, the Starcruiser built a jam-packed itinerary for each and every guest that would consist of a variety of important activities: the captain's toast at muster, a bridge training exercise, lightsaber training, and more. These types of events were essential to understanding what was happening, as they would give passengers the chance to interact with characters and build their story. This is why the Starcruiser could never be just a hotel; every part of it was designed for enthusiastic interaction."

Like, c'mon. I used to work in television. I've seen and used adcopy in my former job, and this is some serious adcopy. It honestly wouldn't shock me if the author dredged up some old adcopy they had lying around about the topic and just transferred it over, changing the tense. You're not here to sell us this product, because there is no product to sell. It's gone, it's been gone for a year, you don't have to sell us on IT. Speak about your experiences.

The next part is yet another topic that Jenny Nicholson pointed out, the bad faith excuses that influencers and advertisers made for the extreme price point:

"What many people don't know, however, is that the price included much more than just a room. The passengers' food, park tickets, recreation activities on board, non-alcoholic drinks, and more were all included - with merchandise being one of the few additional costs on board."

Which is absolute bad faith reasoning, especially when there are plenty of other vacation options that are ALSO all-inclusive, but are MUCH cheaper and offer MORE amenities than the Galactic Starcruiser did! Including Disney Cruises, owned by the same company! Seriously, you can go on a halfway decent sounding cruise or all-inclusive resort somewhere warm for, like, a week or two and spend far less than GSC cost.

Then the last part is essentially: "All the workers liked working there and the bad reviews afterwards make the workers who worked on it feel sad. :("

Which, like, companies have been hiding behind that reasoning for ages. Curiously, the author never offers....any reasons or stories. WHY did working on it impact you so much? What set it apart, what were the people like, what did you like about working there, why are you so passionate about it even a year later? There's nothing, just a generic sort of "We worked hard." and "We're sad it's gone." Why? How? What happened? The video you're obviously writing this in response to is filled with personal anecdotes and stories, it's the backbone of the video! Again, you need to give us something to show your humanity!

Especially when you consider that Nicholson repeatedly points out that the only highlight about her experience, the only thing that kept the damn thing going was the workers.

She had nothing but praise for them, and nothing but contempt for the higher ups who wasted and abused that enthusiasm, to the point where one of her last points was "Hey, Disney is basically exploiting labor."

Much like Jenny, I'm also not condemning anyone who had a good time working there. Good! If you were having a good time at work, that's great. If you have good memories about the people, awesome. But I'll note two things:

a) That doesn't meant you weren't being exploited, and

b) That doesn't mean you have to be a useful idiot for the corporation you worked for afterwards.

I'm not conspiracy brained enough to go "Oh, Disney TOTALLY forced this article into being.", because a cursory examination of the author's prior works and such suggests a lifelong passion for Star Wars, she did work at the hotel, and she's a Star Wars Editor (whatever THAT means in this day and age) for Screen Rant. Apparently one of the heads of Screen Rant says that Disney had no hand in it either.

Though, I can see why people would think that way. It READS like a press release, not something a normal human being would write about an experience they feel passionate about.

[mildew-dread-mold]

bee at the next therapy session: hey guys, what’s new :)

andrew: aaron thought that st. james place on the classic monopoly board was purple. like a fucking loser. so we lost to ruth and doris and didn’t get free nachos.

aaron: SHUT UP

a fucking groundbreaking thought...twinyards trivia night...

andrew has eidetic memory and aaron is a fucking nerd who seems like he would write "as a person with an unquenchable appetite for knowledge,," on his college application and wouldn't even need to lie about it.

so every tuesday evening they go downtown and find restaurants with trivia events and then they fucking dominate.

edit: i bet they're also friends with some of the old ladies who are regulars at certain restaurants they also frequently go to. the old ladies think they're very smart and handsome young men and ask for pictures of their boyfriend/girlfriend.

[millersfinest]

pluto and charon | e.w

astrophysicist!ellie & aerospace engineer!reader

wc: 4k

blurb: there’s a new planet that formed in the milky way galaxy—and it’s dr. ellie williams’ (and a few research assistant’s) job to prove that life can exist on it. oh, and you’re the second opinion there to back her up and steer the ship (whether she likes you or not). but, when a sector of the shuttle malfunctions, locking the two of you inside… what will two analytical scientist do to fix it? was it a dignified sign from the cosmos?

warnings: nothing much, vulgar language, enemies to lovers (?)

note: ellie loves space, so i wanted to write her as an astronaut—please, enjoy! i haven’t written anything in awhile so…. had to get this off my mind.

��·˚ ༘ *

The thick sound of silence and machinery crowded the ears of everyone on board. It had been approximately one hundred and twenty-five earth hours since you have taken off from the ground—to and through the stratosphere. The ship was in autopilot, cruising through the nothingness of the milky way; passing whirling planets and asteroids that shied away from prying eyes.

This wasn’t your first time estranged from earth. It was your second. But there was no feeling like floating in metal that you concocted—stitched together with wires, buttons, and joysticks. You marveled at the large windows that displayed your universe just as enthusiastically as the research assistants on board.

Jackson’s planet was where you were headed. Previously named, J-74.

Through many study sessions and research assignments, it has been theorized that it could withstand human life. Earth’s depletion of resources has been making it difficult to live—for average people. With the atmosphere rapidly thinning, livestock, farming, and health sustainability has been dramatically decreasing.

There needed to be an intervention—and Dr. Williams was the one to jump start it.

You have been working off and on with her since your early years at NASA. Initially, the two of you came in as forthright interns who were too smart for their own good—arguing every chance you got because you both wanted the same thing; to see what space looked like from space. Not from a camera or laptop or extreme telescope.

Eventually, you split into separate fields and concentrations. It was engineering that began to pique your interest. You worked hard to curate materials that could withstand dramatic changes in temperatures and weather. Still studying planets and galaxies, but with a distinct perspective.

The space shuttle was made for damage—only certifying the safety of the mission. There was very little risk traveling to Jackson’s planet.

You couldn’t decipher if it was morning, noon, or night, but you just couldn’t stay asleep. Checking the watch on your wrist you have only been asleep for three hours. How puzzling. Typically, you sleep well in silence and whirring, but it was different this time. The sounds prickled under your skin, pulling you from the absorbing mattress in your sleeping quarters.

Finding your way toward the center of the shuttle, you used a key card to enter each sector. A ziplock of dried fruit was pinched between your fingers—reaching inside every few minutes for a bite. Wanting to estimate time of arrival, you navigated toward the flight deck. A pair of dark sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose to dim the fluorescent lights.

Shuffling your feet against the floor, you slipped into chair of the pilot seat. There were many screens and buttons before you. All bright in different colors and hues—blinking. However, you focused on the screen that determined the path of the shuttle. It showed the ship following a dotted green line, with the time in the far-right corner. Six hours.

Time of arrival was only a few hours out. You were almost at the very planet you’ve been studying for the past two years. A tired smile stretched onto your lips, leaning back in the cushioned chair.

In the comfort of silence, you watch the celestial bodies minding their own through the three panel windows. Legs folded up, comfortably. You were currently passing Pluto and Charon. There were four other moons of Pluto, but Charon was the largest. And even bigger up close.

The coolest thing about the pair was that they always shared a face. There wasn’t a time where they weren’t looking at each other—scientifically, it was called mutual tidal locking.

“I didn’t think you’d be up…” A raspy voice muttered from behind your chair. She must’ve heard you crunching on your dried raspberries.

Turning around, you noticed her walking toward the co-pilot chair with a yellow notepad in her hands. Her gray NASA jumpsuit was tied around her waist, exposing the white, ribbed tank top she had on. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d kill some time up here.” You responded, watching as she sat down.

“What’s our ETA?” Her green eyes focus on the destination screen.

“Oh-eight hundred— we have six hours left of travel.” You pushed the glasses above your head, eyes glancing at the screen. “Raspberries?” Holding the ziplock toward her, you offered.

Ellie shook her head, clicking the pen in her hands. Pressing your lips together, you shrugged, zipping it tight before placing in the crevice of the chair. She quietly scribbled on the yellow pages—her thick eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

The other moons of Pluto came into your line of sight. They weren’t all close on your path, but Hydra and Nix made a clear appearance. Their shapes were not as circular as Charon; they were like any other moon on any other planet.

She hummed to herself, clicking her pen in thought. “Can you check this equation for me? I’ve been thinking about this since we boarded The Firefly…” Ellie hands the notepad to you. “It’s an estimation of sustainable oxygen and energy— if Jackson’s planet doesn’t provide us with enough… How much can we manually create for it to be habitable?”

It was your turn to hum in thought. Dragging your finger along the inked lines of her equation, you sucked your teeth. The numbers appeared to be correct—Ellie was always good at the math part of theory. “This seems about right, but we can only theorize so much.” You begin. “The only way we can thoroughly verify this equation is by settling on Jackson—running physical tests.” You hand the notepad back to her. “We need specificity, not estimation.”

“I’m just making sure that we’re prepared.” She grumbled.

“We are prepared, Ellie. If we have too many hypotheses, it may confuse our students… Overwhelm them.”

She pressed her lips into a line, averting her eyes toward the three panel windows. You could feel her level of irritation rise, as she adjusted in her seat. The ship was slipping past Pluto and Charon, leaving the bodies in your wake. “Do you have to challenge everything that I say?” Ellie muttered, leaning her chin on her fist with a pinched expression.

You deepened your eyebrows. “I don’t challenge everything you say… You asked for my opinion.”

“On the equation!” She whisper-yelled, pinching the bridge of her nose to calm herself. “Not your opinion on how to teach my students.”

“Our students—“ You corrected, but she abruptly cut you off by standing to her feet.

Scoffing, she ran her fingers through her choppy auburn strands. Rolling your eyes, you watched as she threw an adult tantrum. Ellie’s capacity for managing her emotions has never changed; she’s always been angsty and easily frustrated. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him— I should have chosen someone else for this mission.” She tossed her notepad onto a table, shaking her head.

With that, you stand up. Leaning your arm against the back of the pilot seat. “Oh, yeah? Who?” You squinted your eyes, condescendingly. “Jerry the fucking receptionist? So, you can feel intellectually superior enough to feel good about yourself?” Raising an eyebrow, you chortle. “Wow, Dr. Williams… Didn’t know you could stoop so low.”

“Fuck off…” She sucked her teeth, shaking her head, dismissively.

“Gladly!” You snatched the bag of dried fruit from your chair, before stomping toward the sliding mechanical door. Before raising your key card to the receiver, turned toward her one last time. “This isn’t just about your findings. It takes a team's effort for a mission like this to succeed. Challenges foster discovery— even if I’m the one doing it.” You wave your card over the receiver, the door releasing air as it slid open. “See you in few hours…” And back to your sleeping quarters you went.

It was difficult, but you managed to get four extra hours of sleep after that little argument. Typically, bickering with Ellie lasted more than just a few minutes, but you’ve matured—you’d like to think. Times have changed, and you were in space; you were working. There was no time for petty, egotistical arguments. Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder why you ground her gears so bad. Yet, somehow, she was always around you—orbiting you like the beautiful celestial bodies you know and love. Was she stuck in a gravitational pull—unable to flee? Or was she fully conscious?

Two hours until Jackson’s planet arrival!

The automated voice announced over the intercom. Which pulled everyone on board from their own devices—whether that was sleeping or exercising. The classes you and Ellie taught were basically conjoined; two in one. So, each of you had your own research assistant that tagged along on this mission. But they both worked for the both of you— you were their supervisors.

However, for some reason, Ellie’s assistant appeared to be distant from yours. Allan was his name. When everyone met at the breakfast table, there was a quietness in the room that felt unfamiliar. Usually, Allan and Sophia, your assistant, would be filling the room with casual chatter. About their personal lives. This morning was drastically different. Scraping your plastic fork against the plate, playing with your powdered eggs, you glared at Ellie. “Dr. Williams, how old are you again?”

“Dr. Jones, isn’t it disrespectful to ask a woman her age—?”

“Thirty-one, right?” The legs of your chair screeched against floor as you stood up. Taking your plate, you toss the food into the trash bin. Scoffing, you use your key card to leave the eating area. You navigated toward the flight deck to guide the ship the rest of the way. Flicking off the autopilot switch and taking ahold of the joystick. For as long as you’ve known her, you never thought she’d stoop as low as admitting to choosing another for the job.

You’ve never done anything to Ellie for her to be so adamant about being a pain in the ass. Academically, you rivaled each other, but that was it. At least, that’s what you thought.

In the distance you could see the blue-green planet ahead. Looking like the long-lost sister of Earth. You mused at the sight, grinning to yourself. That was what you were here for.

The sound of air puffing from the sliding door leading to the flight deck, caught your attention. For a moment, you thought it was Ellie, but a much softer voice called your name. “Dr. J,”

It was Sophia wandering into the room. “Tense morning, huh?” She raised her slender eyebrows, taking a seat in the copilot chair. You jutted your eyebrows in response. “I thought it’d be more enthusiastic considering we’re almost there…” Her light eyes glanced toward the three-panel window, glimmering with excitement.

“You and me both.” You responded, dryly.

A beat passed between the two of you. Sophia awkwardly rocking in the chair. “I can’t help but ask— what’s going on between you and Dr. Williams?” She questioned, softly. “I’ve seen you guys' bicker before but…” She dragged on, hoping you’d respond before she rambled.

You sigh, glancing at her. “We’re just having a disagreement. That’s all.” You swallowed, clenching your jaw. Keeping the relationship between you and your student professional, you change the subject. “We’re nearing Jackson. I suggest you suit up and start taking notes on what you see as we approach. Meaning asteroids, moons— anything.”

“Copy that.” Sophia quickly got up, to leave the flight deck.

Focusing, within the next hour you enter the atmosphere of the planet. The ship shuttering through turbulent clouds and temperatures. The ground resembled the dirt of Mars, just darker and muddier. The ship released stilts to prop itself on the ground of Jackson. With a hopeful sigh, she jumped from her seat. Going to slip into her protective suit and helmet. The whistling of heavy winds sounded against the ship, rocking it slightly.

You met the rest of the group in the airlock. Allan was about to press the button to shut the door into the hall—locking them out with an airtight seal. But Ellie stopped him with a wave of her gloved hand. “Your suits not zipped up all the way. Turn around.” She told you, gesturing with her hand for you to turn. Her voice echoing in your helmet, you do as she says; as it’s a safety concern. But you were still annoyed with her—and you were sure that she was still annoyed with you.

She zipped up the back, latching it with a metal button. Ellie even made sure that your helmet was sealed and secure. You grabbed your pack, swinging it onto your back. Then began locking everything into place with buckles and latches. “Thanks…” You muttered, barely sparing her a glance. “Allan, the door.”

He glanced at Sophia with eyes you couldn’t read, before pressing the button. The airlock sealed, puffs of air releasing from the hinges.

The hatch creaked as it fell open, hitting the ground with a thud. The assistants marveled, stepping toward the threshold. You and Ellie mirroring them, approaching where they stood. The morning sky’s were clear and blue. With the reflection of two, perfectly circular moons in view. Allan turned around, looking at his main supervisor.

“It’s your mission— you should be the first to step foot on it.”

Ellie smiled through her helmet, glancing at you, briefly. You didn’t spare her much of a glance, you just rocked on your feet. She should be lucky she has such supportive students.

“I think its just as much as Dr. Jones’ mission as it is Dr. Williams’.” Sophie spoke up, lifted her eyebrows. “If it weren’t for Dr. J… We wouldn’t have The Firefly; I think they both should go. Together.”

“Holding hands…”

You put your hand up, scrunching your eyebrows. “All right, that’s enough.” Rolling your eyes, you chuckled, dryly. “We can go together… If you don’t mind.”

Ellie shrugged. “It takes a team’s effort to succeed…” She held out her gloved hand.

Sighing, you took her hand. She held onto your gloved hand, gently, pulling you toward the hatch. The wind whistled, nearly blowing the two of you over, but when your feet jumped into the mud—the assistants cheered. “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind!” Ellie exclaimed, swinging your arm, unintentionally.

You meet her eyes, laughing at the reference. “Be original.” You playfully, jested. Turning back to the team. “Let’s begin our testing— shall we?”

The team was out there for hours with test tubes collecting matter of different forms. You grabbed bites of temperature and took notes of the environment. The assistants diligently worked—doing exactly what they were told. Ellie kept her distance from you, but never forgot to spare you a glance every now and then. Pretending not to notice, you kept to your work. Walking in and out of the shuttle, collecting data. Trying not to mind it one bit.

Fatigue began to rain over everyone—including yourself. Despite your incessant need to prove otherwise. It was reaching twenty-one hundred; it was past their bedtime. Allan and Sophia had grabbed the supplies propped outside, bringing them back into the shuttle. They were the last touch the ground for the evening. But, you and Ellie had been hibernating inside the shuttle running chemical tests on the matter collected.

A makeshift dinner was prepared by the leading astrophysicist as a prized delight. She was proud with how hard everyone worked—giving the pep talk of a lifetime. Her influential words were really meant for your students. You even added a few supportive statements to hers. Applauding their work. Then, eating ensued; chowing down on the blandest food known to mankind.

It was not long before half the crew went to bed. You disappeared into the comms room to film the first scientific update of Jackson’s planet. The sliding door shutting with a smooth sss sound. In your hand, you held a personal vial of the dirt you found. With pieces of rocks and, what you could only assume to be, grass stuffed into the top. White scotch tape labeled the small glass: J-74.

There was a small television screen built into the wall. Touch screen. With a little camera at the top center of the shape. You pressed the screen until the recording option came up. Clearing your throat, you started by saying the date and time, then your name. “We just finished day one on Jackson’s planet— it was a busy day.” You held up the vial of dirt, shaking it around. “But it was well worth it.” A grin stretched across your face.

“The team has loads of research ahead— thank God for Allan and Soph; they’ve already made this trip easier— but the odds are looking up.” You nod, continuing. “Jackson just might be everything that we need for our survival. Just like Dr. Williams anticipated.”

Sss!

The door opened, revealing the auburn-haired academic. “Shit-talking me in the comms room?” Ellie raised an eyebrow as she entered. But, upon noticing your filming, she paused in her steps. Cursing to herself. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” She cursed herself, again, for swearing on company file. Her notepad was glued to her hand—as per usual.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear.” You chortle after glancing over your shoulder at the woman. “Dr. J, signing off.” Ceasing the recording, you swiveled around in your rolling stool. Ellie wandered around the room with a nervous aura. Bending the notepad back and forth. “I hope you’re not wanting my opinion on another equation… I’m on too much of a high to bicker tonight.”

Ellie chuckled, dryly. “Not this time. I actually wanted to apologize for this morning.” She inhaled, stiffly. “I was unprofessional— you’re the best this team has; I could never replace you—“

“Okay, I get it. Apology accep—“

“Let me finish!” She held up a hand. You blinked with a slightly surprised expression, pursing your lips. “I could never replace you nor would I want to” Ellie paced the floor before you. “And, yes, it was very childish for me to ask Allan to take a vow of silence when communicating with Sophia and you. That was wrong. But, in his defense, he argued me down about it…” She rambled, messing with her hair, notebook, fingers—everything to busy herself.

This may have been the first time that she has ever thoroughly apologized. Usually, the two of you let the frustration from arguments simmer; then, eventually talk to each other. “Where’s Ellie Williams and what have you done with her?” You joked, standing to your feet. She was a nervous person, but never this nervous. “Seriously, it’s fine. No hard feelings— we do this all the time.”

You move to leave the room, pressing your key card against the receiver. That familiar puffing of air doesn’t sound—the door doesn’t open. The light flashes red. Deepening your eyebrows, you try again. Ellie watches you, intently. Her lips parted, wanting to speak. The focus on you breaks when she realizes she can’t leave either. “Let me try.”

She waves her card, and it flashes red. You swear, stepping backwards, in thought. Was it the high winds? When you built The Firefly, you made sure to consider every possibility externally. Did you really forget about the smaller details—like doors? You weren’t the only one working on this contraption, so this issue couldn’t have been on you. “Have there been any complications in any of the other sectors of the shuttle?” You asked.

“Uhm, not that I know of— I haven’t had any problems.”

“So, it’s just this one… Hm.” You hum, feeling the gears of the door. Bracing your hand on the part of the door that opens, you attempt to pry it open with your hands. Grunting, using most of your strength. Sighing, you look at the woman next to you—gawking. “Are gonna stand there or are you gonna help me?” You exhaled. “You must want to be locked in here with me.”

She jumped to action, tossing her notebook aside to try to pry open the door. “To be honest, I’m not complaining…” Ellie muttered to herself. But she was close enough for you to hear.

Abruptly, you stopped pulling. “What?” Your eyebrows deepened, placing your hands on your hips. “What did you just say?” You questioned, gently. Confusion written along the faint fine lines across your face. Ellie pressed her lips into a line, stepping back from the door as well.

“I have a confession.”

“A confession? Am I being punked?”

She crossed her arms. “Do you seriously think I’m incapable of being nice to you?”

You shrugged, pursing your lips. “For longer than ten minutes… Yeah, I find it a little hard to believe.” Ellie scoffed, dropping her hands at her side. She began to pace, again, but in a different way. Leaving a trail of frustration and irritation in her path. “Ellie, we’ve been butting heads since we met. Excuse me for being a little surprised at the word confession.”

The scientist looked over her shoulder, partially glaring. “Did you ever consider why we bump heads so much?”

You cleared your throat, awkwardly. “Uhm, you hate that I’m smarter than you.” You chortle, but she doesn’t laugh. “Kidding.”

Swiveling around, her freckled cheeks were as red as a tomato. “Ellie, I’m kidding.” You tried, approaching her slowly, remorsefully. You’ve never seen her this way before. Her foresty eyes were glistening and wide like she wanted to cry. Placing a hand on her bare arm, you felt her muscles flinch. “You’re probably the only person at work that actually meets my intellect— maybe even exceeds it at times.”

“Pluto and Charon.” Ellie mumbles, examining your features. Overthinking the feeling of your hand on her bicep.

“What about them?”

“Do you think Pluto always noticed Charon?”

You thoughtfully averted your eyes, but your fingers remained against her warm skin. “She’s so large, I doubt Pluto didn’t always notice Charon. How could she miss her? I mean, they share a face.”

A beat passed between the two of you, leaving room for you to finally understand. Were you that stupid? The most remarkable thing about you was your intellect. So, you wondered, how this could slip by so easily? Ellie had to frame her words in a way that you’d understand. Astronomy.

“Oh.” Your hand drifted up her arm, over her bones shoulder, resting lightly over her trapezius. “Ellie… You have a thing for me?”

She tries to brush your hand off her skin because she was beginning to feel claustrophobic. But, you resist, taking her other hand in yours. Perhaps, you never fully thought about it—drowning yourself in your work. However, when you do think about it, you loved working with her. Even if that meant arguing and bickering every few minutes. At least you got to be around her; seeing her pretty freckled face for hours at a time. Watching her eyebrows twitch in thought as she solved equations.

“Don’t shy away from me now.” Your hand reached to cup her cheek; drawing comforting lines across her skin. Pluto always noticed Charon. It was natural for them to be in each others orbit—stuck like glue.

Despite her nerves, Ellie’s hands found solace at your hips before she leaned in for your lips. You pushed your body against hers, wrapping your arms around her neck; somehow wanting her closer. Her lips were soft and slow moving against yours—melting with passion and warmth. You could tell that she yearned for you, unlocking a part of you that yearned for her. Slowly, the kiss intensified. Ellie’s hands clenched at your tank top, slipping her fingers under the hem.

While your skin was being set aflame by her touch, you pulled away. Eyeing her with glimmers of lust in your irises. “This is great, uhm, but we’re still stuck in the comms room…” Your brushed hair from her face. “I don’t want the entirety of Houston to see or hear what we’re doing.”

“We’re not doing anything…” She smirked, keeping your hips flush to hers.

“Right.” You grin. “Let’s wake the assistants.”

The two of you separated, hesitantly. Ellie reached for the intercom button, but when you both heard giggling from the other side of the door—all movements ceased.

“Those little assholes.”

The cosmos.

[techdriveplay]

2023 Toyota GR Yaris Rallye - TDP Review

The 2023 Toyota GR Yaris Rallye stands out as a remarkable blend of rally heritage and modern engineering. Developed with the same technology and precision that powers Toyota’s World Rally Championship (WRC) contenders, this hatchback brings a piece of motorsport magic to everyday driving. With a reputation for robust performance and advanced features, the GR Yaris Rallye aims to offer an…

[hotvintagepoll]

What are some screwball comedy pairings you wish had been a thing? Can definitely be gay ones :)

Okay finally!

One of the reasons I made this blog in the first place is that few things bring me as much blinding rage as imagining the movies we could have gotten, if old Hollywood had stopped being racist/homophobic/anti-everyone for ten fucking seconds. There were so many talented hotties working through our tournament era who only got cameo spots or no-budget movies! for no reason beyond white supremacy! there were so many stories that didn't get told because heaven forbid we acknowledge gay people! If this blog has a mission statement, a big chunk of it would be about highlighting all the amazing hotties who never got what they deserved in their heyday.

So! Let's tear Louis B. Mayer a new one and make some better movies.

Diamond Eyes (1946)

Harold Nicholas, the bored but fabulous son of a Manhattan millionaire, decides to take himself off on a transatlantic cruise to recover from the boredoms of socialites, constant martinis, and west side glamor. When working girl Rita Hayworth snags him into a fake dating scheme to throw off a jealous ex (Cesar Romero), he doesn't mean to fall in love with his false fiancé—or to set the ex up with his scheming accountant (Tyrone Power).

To the Tune of Millions (1945)

Ann Miller and Lena Horne are conwomen besties who use a fake dance act to get into casinos, which they then promptly rob. Unfortunately, an over-enthusiastic talent agent (Gene Kelly) sees the act and thinks they're legitimate, hiring them on the spot as the lead number in a newly opened but already failing musicale review. Who can they hustle at a theater that's barely bringing in a dime? The two ex-cons fall in love with show business, Kelly and Horne smooch at the grand finale, and Miller has an intense will-they-or-won't-they sparring relationship with the hot stage manager (Ethel Waters—and they will).

Untitled Three's-a-Crowd Film (1942)

Cary Grant, Jean Arthur, and Ronald Colman are running interference on a corrupt justice system while trying to keep up the act that they are all simply cohabitating in a shared AirBnB and definitely not falling in love with each other. Wait. This is actually The Talk of the Town. This movie actually exists and does veer this hard into polyamorous romance.

Tomatoes and Toast (1928)

Anna May Wong and Greta Garbo eat sandwiches for three hours. It's riveting.

One Soul, Two Bodies (1948)

Farley Granger and Vincent Price star as Alexander the Great and Hephaestion in this sword-and-sandals period piece. Though clearly made on a studio backlot with a budget of $3, the dashing romance grounds the chariot races and cardboard sword battle sequences.

Grand Central Station (1931)

Interconnected narratives of Josephine Baker, Joan Blondell, Dolores del Río, and Fredric March all vying for the last seat on the 5:45 train out to Poughkeepsie. When they realize they're jostling to sit next to the same sugar daddy who's been stringing all of them along, the four decide to unionize. Pre-code thrills; the four-in-a-bunk Pullman car scene remains notable for a reason.

I have more but I think I've gone a bit delirious.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1979 Pontiac Firebird

The 1979 Pontiac Firebird stands as a symbol of the late 1970s American muscle car era, a time when bold styling and performance were key selling points. The Firebird, produced by Pontiac from 1967 to 2002, had evolved significantly by the time it reached its 1979 iteration, marking one of its most memorable and iconic versions.

The 1979 Firebird came in several models, including the base Firebird, the luxurious Esprit, the sporty Formula, and the high-performance Trans Am. Each model had its unique appeal, but the Trans Am was undoubtedly the star of the lineup. Known for its aggressive styling, the Trans Am featured a distinctive "screaming chicken" hood decal, a hallmark that became synonymous with the Firebird brand. This large, flamboyant decal stretched across the hood, making an unmistakable statement about the car’s performance pedigree.

Under the hood, the 1979 Firebird offered a range of engine options. The base models came with a 3.8-liter V6 or a 4.9-liter V8, while the more performance-oriented Trans Am could be equipped with a 6.6-liter V8 engine, known as the "403" for its cubic inch displacement. This engine produced 185 horsepower, a respectable figure for the era, and provided the Trans Am with a powerful and throaty exhaust note that thrilled enthusiasts.

The interior of the 1979 Firebird was designed with both comfort and style in mind. The cockpit-style dashboard was driver-focused, with gauges and controls angled towards the driver for ease of use. Bucket seats, often upholstered in vinyl or optional cloth, provided a sporty feel, while the T-top roof, available on the Trans Am, allowed for an open-air driving experience that was perfect for cruising on sunny days.

In addition to its performance and styling, the 1979 Firebird also benefited from the popularity it gained through pop culture. The Firebird Trans Am was famously featured in the 1977 film "Smokey and the Bandit," starring Burt Reynolds. This movie immortalized the Trans Am as a symbol of rebellious spirit and high-speed chases, further cementing its status as a cultural icon.

Despite the challenges of the late 1970s, including increasing emissions regulations and the oil crisis, the 1979 Pontiac Firebird managed to uphold the spirit of the muscle car. Its blend of striking design, performance capabilities, and cultural significance make it a beloved classic among car enthusiasts. Today, well-preserved and restored Firebirds from 1979 are highly sought after by collectors, serving as a reminder of a bygone era of American automotive history where style and performance reigned supreme.

The legacy of the 1979 Pontiac Firebird continues to inspire car lovers, and its presence in the automotive world remains strong, a testament to its enduring appeal and the indelible mark it left on the muscle car landscape.

[sebscore]

Omg LL idea!!! Him bringing her up on the podium with him in his karting days🤭 He is in like the teenage “inchident” years, and he wins a race that LL attended with the family, and he beckons her over and onto it with him in her cute little summer dress, adorable!!

A DAY AT THE RACES

pairing: leclerc family x leclerc!reader (+ gasly fam cameo)

warnings: toddler tantrum. crying. 

author's note: toddler leclerc is back!! huge shoutout to @champomiel for making me obsessed with a baby little leclerc :))) and also thank you to each person who send in a request regarding baby leclerc!! 

masterlist 

• • • • • • •

''When Charles drives by, you have to yell his name very loudly, okay?'' Pascale told the toddler in Lorenzo's arms, smiling as she saw her daughter respond enthusiastically. 

Her older brother nodded to their mother's words. ''Yeah, you have to scream ''Go Charles!'' so he can hear you.'' He added. 

The young girl nodded to their words, all her attention back on the track in front of them. It was her first time at Charles' karting race- or at least the first time she was consciously experiencing it. 

Y/N was still only a toddler so everything is still quite sensitive to her, like the loud sounds of the kart engines. Pascale had taken several ear-protective gear with her, hoping her youngest wouldn't throw a tantrum like Arthur and Charles used to do at the F1 races when they were her age. 

''There he is!'' Herv�� exclaimed, grabbing his family's attention. ''Allez, Charles! Keep going! Come on, Charles!'' The man cheered his son on from behind the fences. 

The young teenagers cruise by in their karts, the place drowned in applause and noises from their family and friends as they pass the crowd. The sudden booming voices caused Y/N to get distracted and glance around her instead of screaming for her brother, who was running in first place. 

The toddler whimpered as she glanced back at the track and saw that all the small cars were gone. ''I missed Charlie.'' She sniffled, which rapidly turned into bawling. 

The Leclerc family's focus turned from Charles' P1 to the youngest's sobbing. ''What's wrong, bébé? Do your ears hurt?'' Pascale's impression was that the combination of the loud cheers and engines were too much for the little one's ears. 

Y/N frantically shook her head, making Lorenzo tighten his hold on her. ''I missed Charlie! I didn't say ''Go Charles'', Maman!'' She whined to her mother, calming Pascale's worries that her daughter wasn't in physical pain. 

''It's okay, it's okay! Don't worry about it, chérie.'' Hervé attempted to comfort her, endeared by the girl's concern for not cheering her older brother on. 

Her father's words didn't seem to have any effect on her and she kept crying her eyes out. She reached for the headphones on her head, trying to get them off her head- too much stimulation around her at the moment. 

''Wow! Be careful, you have to keep those on.'' Lorenzo gently scolded her, with Hervé stopping her and keeping the headphones on her head. 

''No! They're too heavy!'' Y/N continued whining, struggling to take them off. 

Pascale watched on, navigating on what she should do as her daughter carried on with her  adorable yet frustrating temper tantrum. ''Chérie, take her with you to the finish line.'' She instructed her husband, pointing to where the person with the chequered flag was waiting. 

Hervé nodded at her, releasing her from Lorenzo's arms. The small girl continued shedding tears, but nestled in her father's arms. ''We're gonna see Charles, okay?'' He asked her, smiling down at her as he walked away from their family members. 

Y/N timidly shook her head up and down, loudly sniffing her stuffy nose. ''Is Cha gonna be angry at me, Papa?'' 

Her father frowned at her question. ''Why would he be angry with you, bébé?'' 

''Because I didn't yell for him, and Lolo and Maman told me to yell for him when he passed us.'' In her mind, her older brother would be upset that she didn't cheer him on. 

The man chuckled, the innocence of his daughter's explanation warming his heart. ''Charles is not angry with you. He knows you're his biggest supporter! We're gonna wait for him at the finish line so you can be the first one to give him a hug.'' Her father told her. 

His assurance that her brother wasn't cross with her, making her stop crying and let out a small smile on her lips. ''Did he win?'' 

''He is currently in first place and Pierre is right behind him so we'll see when he finishes the race.'' Hervé responded to her, giving the side of her head a kiss. 

The pair arrived at the busy part of the track, somehow making it to the front of the fence so they could watch Charles take the chequered flag. ''Make sure you keep your headphones on, bébé- we don't want your ears to hurt.'' He adjusted the gear on her head. 

''Okay, Papa.'' Y/N politely answered, not having a problem with the headphones anymore. ''When does Charles stop driving?'' She asked him, not seeming to have much patience. 

''A few more laps around the track and he's done.'' They had only brought her to the side of the track towards the end of the race, her parents knowing she would otherwise be sleeping through the whole thing and be upset that she missed it. 

The sounds of the engines became slowly louder and louder, indicating the drivers were passing by again. ''He's coming again, Y/N- make sure to yell for him.'' Her father signalled to her. 

This time, the toddler only held her focus on the track, screaming her brother's name as soon as he came into her sight. Hervé and the people around them laughed at the little girl's small voice, finding it adorable as she was the only one screaming for a few seconds. 

''Go, Charles!'' Y/N and her father chorused, cheering on Charles who was still in first position. She rested her face in his neck, having grown shy by her own yelling. 

A few laps later, her brother was the first one to cross the finish line and win the race, with Pierre coming in second behind him. 

Y/N started fussing in her father's arms, wanting to go to Charles and give him a hug. Hervé chuckled at her excitement, but told her to wait until he got out of his kart, and took off his helmet. Pierre's father, Jean-Jacques, joined them, pinching the little girl's cheeks and giving Hervé a handshake. ''Good race.'' He concluded, giving them a nod. 

''A nice battle between them today.'' Hervé confirmed, satisfied with the results and the performances of the two young boys. 

The toddler tugged on his shirt. ''Papa, can I go to Charles now?'' She whined, not a fan of how long it seemed to be taking. 

The two men chuckled at her impatience. Her father glanced at his son and saw that Charles had already climbed out of his kart, and was in the process of removing the helmet off his head. 

''Charles!'' Hervé called for the young boy, waving his free arm at him. The winner of the day spotted his father and sister, his smile becoming wider at the sight of his family. 

Charles tapped Pierre's arm, pointing to his own father. The two boys made their way over still in full adrenaline from the race and their podium finishes. Once they were close enough, Hervé put his daughter down and gave her a light push towards them. 

Y/N jumped over to her brother, her arms already spread. Charles got the message and took a big extra step, embracing his sister and easily picking her up. ''Cha, I yelled for you! Did you hear me?'' She asked him, her arms firmly around him. 

''Yeah, you were very loud!'' He replied, pretending that he had heard her through all the noise even though he hadn't. 

''You were super fast! You went like zoom~'' The little girl imitated the sound of the karts, making both Charles and Pierre laugh. 

''We are supposed to go zoom~'' The French boy impersonated her. 

''Good job, boys! Nicely done, Charles!'' Hervé praised them as they made their way back to where they had been waiting. The rest of their families had also found them and gathered together. 

Charles put his sister down so he could give everyone a hug of his own. After Pascale embraced her son and gave him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, she motioned for Y/N to come to her. ''You gave your brother a hug?'' She said to her daughter as she lifted the girl up. 

''Yes, I was the first one.'' She proudly told her mother, hugging her neck. 

Pascale grinned, relieved her husband was able to calm the girl down. ''Wow! The first one? That's great, chérie.'' 

A tap on Pascale's leg brought her attention from her daughter to her youngest son. ''Maman, can I have ice-cream now?'' Arthur asked her, a pout present on his face. 

''I want ice-cream too!'' Y/N exclaimed upon hearing her brother's question. 

The woman put her daughter down, next to Arthur. ''We're going to eat with Pierre's family after the boys get their trophies. You can get ice-cream as dessert.'' She explained to them. 

''But I want it now!'' Arthur continued. 

''You're gonna have to wait, Tutur.'' Lorenzo told his little brother, chuckling at his impatience. 

The young man noticed the Gasly family, his father and Charles moving to where the trophy ceremony would take place. He glanced at his little siblings. ''Cha is getting his trophy, come on!'' 

Arthur listened to his older brother's words and grabbed his sister's small hand, guiding her to the podium as they walked next to Pascale and Lorenzo. The mother and son duo swooned at the sight of Arthur acting like an older sibling to the young girl. 

''Why do you walk so slow, Y/N? You have to go faster.'' The boy complained, having to reduce his speed so his sister could catch up. 

Lorenzo chuckled. ''She has small legs, Tutur! Go at her pace.'' He reminded his little brother. 

''That's not my fault.'' Arthur answered, matter-of-factly. He kept walking at his pace, ignoring his sister practically running to stay next to him. 

''Thur!'' Lorenzo stopped him, grabbing his shoulders. The older one then focused on the toddler and picked her up, not wanting her to grow tired from simply walking. ''Alright, let's go.'' 

The podium ceremony wasn't something too extravagant. They called out the names of the top three and handed the winners their trophies, often with some flowers as well. 

As the families waited for the presentations to start, Charles grabbed his dad's attention. ''What is it, Cha?'' He asked his son. 

''Can I bring Y/N with me on the podium?'' 

Charles had done it countless times when Arthur was younger and he had seen many other winners bring their siblings up on the podium with them- he wanted to include his little sister somehow. 

Hervé smiled, touched by his son's sentiment. ''That's okay with me, but ask your mother to be sure.'' He knew Pascale wouldn't have a problem with it, but he didn't want to surprise his wife with Charles suddenly taking their daughter with him. 

Upon hearing his father's answer, Charles walked over to his mother. ''Maman,'' he tapped her waist, having her bow down to be on the same level as him, ''can I bring Y/N with me on the podium? Papa says it's okay.'' 

Pascale glanced at her daughter for a few seconds, checking if she still had energy left. ''Of course, but be careful, okay? She's small.'' She agreed, nodding at Hervé who was looking at them. 

''Thank you.'' Charles thanked her, skipping back to his father. 

The mother of the family approached her oldest and youngest child, gently grabbing his shoulder. ''Ma petite, Cha wants to take you on the podium with him. Isn't that fun?'' 

The youngest's mouth made an o-shape, bewildered by the news. ''Really? Wow!'' 

''Yes! So let's put you down.'' Lorenzo kneeled, letting his little sister stand on her own two feet. As soon as she was stable on the ground, she ran off to Charles. 

''Cha Cha!'' Y/N exclaimed, catching her brother's attention. ''I'm going on podium with you.'' 

''I know! Just follow me, okay? I'll help you.'' He told her, not wanting her to get distracted and do something she shouldn't do. 

''Okay!'' She gave her brother a thumbs up with a bright smile. 

It didn't take long for the various ceremonies to start, but the Leclerc Family had to wait until the end since Charles participated in the oldest age category at the competition. 

''In second place, we have Pierre Gasly of France! Well done, Pierre!'' The presenter said into the microphone, inviting the French boy onto the podium. 

The family clapped for him as he strutted over to the second step, accepting the trophy and flowers he was handed. 

''And our winner of the day is Charles Leclerc of Monaco! Congratulations, Charles!'' 

The race winner grabbed his sister's hand, and unlike Arthur, walked on her pace to the podium so she wouldn't have to run next to him. He momentarily let go of her hand as the presenter handed over his trophy and flowers. Charles gave the trophy to Y/N, being less heavy than the bouquet of flowers. 

Charles stepped onto the top step with ease, meanwhile his baby sister struggled with her small legs to even get onto the third step. 

Pierre immediately noticed. He placed his trophy and flowers on the ground, and signalled to the girl to walk over to him. He picked her up and placed her next to Charles, who thanked his friend for helping his sister out. 

The Monégasque crouched down. ''Y/N, look at Maman.'' Charles pointed at their mother, who had a big smile on her face as she held her camera. Upon seeing Pascale smile, Little Leclerc mirrored her mother's expression- proud of the trophy she was holding, despite it being her brother's. 

The rest of the family watched on fondly, the sight of the small girl swooning everyone. ''She's going to steal that trophy from his room.'' Lorenzo told Hervé, chuckling at the way his baby sibling was holding onto the plastic prize. 

''Charles will let her.'' The patriarch grinned, knowing his son would take the trophy away from her. 

After a few minutes of posing for pictures, the ceremony was done and they made their way back to their families. 

''Pierre, you are a gentleman.'' Pascale complimented the young boy, ruffling his hair. 

He shyly glanced down at the praise. ''No problem.'' Pierre brushed off, his mother pinching his reddened cheek. 

The giddy toddler jumped in Lorenzo's arms, still a strong hold on Charles's trophy. ''Look what Cha gave me, Lolo.'' She showed the prize off to her brother. 

''Wow! You have a trophy? How cool!'' Lorenzo told her, excitedly. 

''Can we get ice-cream now, please?'' Arthur whined, having everyone look at the young boy. There was an adorable, impatient tone to his voice, making both families smile at him. 

The parents all glanced at one another, nodding in silent agreement that they should start packing up, and go have dinner. 

''I'm going to get 5 scoops!'' Arthur declared. 

''I'm going to get 6 then!'' His sister one-upped him, mischief written all over her face. 

''Y/N gets 2. Arthur gets 3, and Charles and Pierre will get to choose since they got a podium together.'' Hervé stated, chuckling at his two youngest's disappointed faces. 

The little girl huffed. ''But Papa, I want 6!'' 

''You're like 6 scoops tall, how are you gonna eat all of that?'' 

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[dadvans]

chick flick moments (bucktommy)

[i can’t stop thinking about tommy’s favorite movie being Love, Actually.]

Tommy hasn’t really talked or seen his family in roughly twenty years. His firefighting career has never been enough, if they were ever keeping tabs, to make up for his dishonorable discharge. And honestly, it’s been fine with him. His family has always been the suffocating kind of conservative and earning their love stopped being a hill he would choose to die on for longer than they’ve been radio silent.

Someone is keeping tabs though, or maybe the news of his recent heroics have a broader reach than he thought, because a few months after getting a medal for the cruise liner disaster response, someone reaches out. Tommy is hesitant to engage because he’s pretty happy without them in his life, but maybe at first it was a cousin or uncle, but that’s followed by one of his sisters trying to get into contact, followed by his mom, followed by his dad. And they’re persistent. Maybe they do want to make amends. And maybe he doesn’t need his blood family but there’s that tiniest part of him left that still wants that connection.

This is how he gets suckered into the most miserable Christmas dinner of his life. It’s not actually Christmas, it’s a few days before when the whole clan can get together, and it’s just as claustrophobic and awful as ever, every word spoken saturated in judgment and triple meanings that Tommy long since has lost the muscle to withstand.

Evan had wanted to come with him, said a whole bunch of shit about how they were PARTNERS, and how it could not be nearly as bad as his own parents were, but Tommy’s extended family holiday dinners are like a Los Angeles Miserable People convention crowded between the dining room and kitchen tables, and Evan’s still licking some wounds after surviving Gerrard’s brief yet nightmarish tenure back at the 118, maybe next time. This first round Tommy needs to do solo. So, Evan drops him off around the corner in the afternoon with a promise to come pick him up later that night.

Evan checks in with him pretty frequently, sending him stupid videos and things he finds on the internet, but Tommy gets hit immediately by some pretty barbed comments about being a grown man on his phone who doesn’t give a shit about the olive branch he’s being offered, so he stops checking so much.

Finally, halfway through too many glasses of wine and an early evening roast that make his memories of MREs seem like a pleasant dream, his phone starts going off pretty insistently. It’s Evan.

The doorbell is about to ring and i need you to be the one to answer it.

Well, that’s worrisome. He’s pretty close to the hallway though, so he types back: ok.

The doorbell rings. He shoves away from the table, waving everyone else back down. “I’ll get it.”

Evan is at the door. He has his phone out with a little plug-in speaker, and oh God, a stack of cue cards—

Unbelievable. “What are you doing.”

Evan enthusiastically hits play on his phone and as tinny Christmas music starts to play, holds up the first card: TELL THEM IT’S CAROLERS

He shakes his head. “Evan, even if they believed me, they would probably love that and would come check it out.”

“Tommy, who’s at the door?” His uncle calls from the dining room.

Tommy rolls his eyes and shouts back, “Planned Parenthood asking for donations!”

“Tell ‘em were eating dinner and to get the fuck out of here!”

Tommy looks at Evan pointedly, eyebrows raised, hands in pockets as if to say: well?

Evan flips to the next few cue cards:

I NEVER SAW THIS MOVIE BEFORE YOU MADE ME WATCH IT flip AND HONESTLY IT WASNT THAT GOOD flip BUT TO ME YOU ARE WORTH IT

“Evan,” Tommy says, softening.

AND I KNOW YOU THINK YOU ARE PROTECTING ME BY TELLING ME TO STAY HOME flip AND THOUGH WHATEVER IS GOING ON CAN’T BE AS BAD AS WATCHING LOVE, ACTUALLY flip OR HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS flip OR THE WEDDING PLANNER flip OR 50 FIRST DATES flip (I ACTUALLY LIKED FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL) flip I WANTED TO CHECK IN

Evan fumbles the cards to the hand holding his phone to pull something out of his back pocket, a piece of paper he gives Tommy, before flipping to the next card: I MADE THIS RANSOM NOTE IF YOU NEED TO BE KIDNAPPED flip AND WE CAN GET OUT OF HERE

It’s easily the stupidest grand gesture anyone’s ever directed at Tommy. He looks over the piece of paper, words threateningly put together cut out from Evan’s copies of Food & Wine and Men’s Health. He nods to himself, smiling, then looks up at Evan who is cheesing back.

“Yeah,” he says, feels for his phone and wallet in his pocket, before dropping the paper to the welcome mat and stepping outside, ready to escape back home to the only family he needs.

[techreviewdaily]

Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme SX 1971

A true automotive legend that gracefully mastered the realms of muscle cars, stock car racing, sport coupe elegance, and everyday cruising. Its iconic status as a symbol of power, dominance, elegance, and timeless appeal remains etched in the hearts of car enthusiasts worldwide.

[justice4billiam]

I had this little thought.

Billy always calls you pet names and that’s just the norm because he’s a flirt and then there’s you who never calls him a single cute pet name ever. But one particular day you were like talking to the cat or dog or something and call it a cute nickname only to look up at Billy and see him red in the face because he thought you were talking to him for a second. So you go in for the kill with it and it practically does kill him. So now you only call him that nickname when you truly want to see him squirm

Billy Hargrove x Fem!reader

Word count: 4,152

Warnings: Nothing too bad. Just Billy being Billy. Maybe even a little less of himself actually.

Author’s Note: OMG. I am SO sorry about how long it took me to get this out. I'm such a perfectionist, and for some reason, even as I post this, it doesn't feel all that great, but I hope you like it all the same.

Oh Baby

Billy Hargrove made a splash from the start.

He came cruising into the small town straight from the sunny shores of California, his cocky attitude and smirking face challenging anyone who crossed his path.

Everyone knew he was too big for a town like this, attracting stares and whispers as naturally as he breathed.

Billy had quickly become known for his flirty nature with the women of Hawkins, his inventory of pet names given with devilish grins and gazes that lingered just a second too long.

Handing them out like candy on Halloween with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

But you?

You were the exception.

You were the challenge he couldn’t quite figure out.

Oh, how he wanted to.

The one girl who didn’t fall, the mystery that kept his mind racing.

You had always kept Billy at a distance, a boundary he seemed determined to cross. His invitations to hang out were met with polite declines, his attempts at conversation answered with noncommittal hums.

It wasn’t that you disliked him, in fact you were very aware of just how attractive he was; you just weren’t interested in being another name on his list.

But Billy was nothing if not persistent, acting like he didn’t even hear you most of the time, taking your rejections as a challenge.

It was on a day when the sky was a clear blue that opportunity knocked on Billy’s door—or rather, your car broke down.

Your car gave up on your way home from work right when you needed it the most, leaving you stranded with the hood open, staring at the engine.

As spring neared its end, the heat had become unbearable already causing sweat to drip down your face as you stood on the side of the road.

And what a coincidence that Billy would drive by, his Camaro growling like a hungry beast.

His car slowed to a stop in the lane, right beside you. Leaning over, he rolls down the passenger window, and peers out with raised brows.

“Need some help, sweetheart?” he enthusiastically calls out, his voice laced with amusement, clearly savoring the unexpected opportunity before him.

The urge to decline was immediate, yet you found yourself hesitating.

Accepting his help meant opening a door you’d fought to keep closed, and you weren’t sure you could take the consequences of letting him in.

But the sun was unforgiving, and your knowledge on cars was practically nonexistent.

That left you with two other choices: a long, lonely ten mile walk home or risk waiting for a stranger’s help, which, given the obvious, seemed like a stupid option.

Billy’s offer, which seemed honest enough, suddenly felt like the lesser evil here.

You gave an exasperated sigh and nodded your head.

“Alright, fine.” You grumbled under your breath.

The sight of Billy's smug grin made you instantly regret your decision as he pulled over a little distance up, and as usual, he looked like a model; his blonde curls blew in the wind as he got out of his car.

He kept his gaze on you, the same cocky look on his face as he boldly adjusted the front of his jeans before approaching.

"Hi." He greets cutely, stopping right in front of you, a little too close for your comfort.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you meet his gaze with an even look.

“Billy,” you acknowledge, your tone flat.

You could already tell he was going to be insufferable.

Billy’s grin was all charm as he leaned in.

“Having a bit of a day, are we?” he teased, casually flicking away a strand of hair that clung to your sweaty forehead.

The eye roll was involuntary this time, and without a second thought, you swatted his hand away.

“Are you going to help or are you just going to stand there?” you challenged, taking a step back.

Normally, you wouldn’t let anyone get to you so easily, but he was right—you were indeed having a rough day, and Billy had a knack for being an infuriatingly good pest.

He matched your retreat with a step forward, maintaining the intimate distance.

His gaze was unwavering, a hint of amusement revealing his enjoyment of your obvious annoyance.

Billy inched closer, the trace of a grin on his lips.

“Easy there, sugar,” he hummed, his words a soft whisper against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

As he moved past you, his body grazed yours just enough to leave a faint but unmistakable scent of his cologne—a secret tingle that you tucked away, never to be spoken of.

It was a sensation that you'd have never felt before, one you’d vehemently deny if ever questioned.

“I’ll take a look,” he stated simply, his attention already on the engine.

You paused, taking a deep breath to brace yourself against Billy’s bullshit. You knew he thrived on getting reactions, and you were determined not to give him the satisfaction. Ever.

With a measured step, you leaned in, your gaze fixed over his shoulder. You tried to follow along with his movements but they were a mystery to you.

However, the concern that suddenly showed on Billy’s face was clear.

A sharp breath caught in his throat, his hand freezing mid-motion. It was clear from his expression—whatever he saw, it wasn’t encouraging.

Billy stepped back from the car, and you reached into the backseat, rummaging through the clutter until your fingers found the familiar fabric of an old T-shirt.

“Here,” you offered, holding it out to him. He took it with a nod, wiping the oil from his hands.

“The bad news?” Billy’s started. “Your car’s distributor cap is cracked, and the timing belt’s snapped,” he stated plainly. “It’s not going to start without some work.”

You let out a weary groan, hands instinctively covering your eyes.

Why was the day just getting worse and worse?

This is what you get for leaving work early when they clearly needed you.

Karma really was a bitch.

Billys fingers tried to gently pry yours from your face, but you pulled away, fixing him with a dull glare.

His chuckle was barely there, and the boyish smile that followed was a detail that, despite your better judgment, you found quite charming—even if he was a heartbreaking jerk.

“Look at it this way,” Billy began, a hint of mischief in his voice as he shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m pretty good with my hands. We’ll take my ride to the closest phone, call for a tow, and get your car sorted out quick.”

Taking a step toward Billy, your suspicion was clear.

“But why?” you asked, eyes narrowed as you frowned in his direction.

You know what he was like.

He’s in your gym class, usually tough on people, and he doesn’t do special favors. Billy isn’t the type to help out without an angle, and you guessed he might be trying to get on your good side.

But you have never been the type to fall for his bullshit and he knew that.

Billy’s irritation was evident.

He exhaled a deep sigh, his eyes briefly darting to the side before locking onto you with a fiery intensity.

 “Do I need a reason?” he challenged, his tone sharp. “You need the help or not? Because I’m not sticking around if you don’t want it.”

With that, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a practiced flick of his lighter, and quickly pocketed it again.

You rolled your eyes, a combination of frustration and nerves as you clasped your hands together tightly.

 “Uhm—no—I mean, yes!” The words tumbled out in a hurried stutter.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be rude. Yes, thank you, I could really use the help,” you said, the genuine gratitude finally surfacing despite the awkward exchange.

The hardness in Billy’s eyes seemed to dissolve, replaced by a hint of warmth as he gazed at you. He took a drag from his cigarette, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders.

“Alright,” he sniffed, a trace of his usual flirtatiousness returning. “I’ll get your car fixed. And who knows? Maybe you’ll owe me a drink after this.”

You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Keep dreaming,” you said, the doubt in your voice barely hidden.

He nonchalantly shrugged, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he pushed the hood down with a clunk.

Frowning, you watched him—it was clear that this was his plan all along. It was almost funny how obvious his intentions were.

But you felt like denying his help was a bad choice.

The thought of walking for miles was not at all appealing, and you were actually thankful for his offer to fix the car, knowing it would save you a significant amount on mechanic fees.

You offered a slight nod to Billy’s when his eyes found yours again.

You then walked over to your car, locking it with a deliberate push that made a sharp clicking sound. After ensuring everything was secure, you turned and hesitantly began to walk towards his car.

Billy strides were confident and unhurried, reaching the passenger door of his Camaro before you.

He opened it with a casual flick, the gesture almost too practiced.

You eyed him, the suspicion in your gaze clear as day, but you held your tongue to avoid sparking another tiff.

Instead, you communicated your question with a simple arch of your eyebrow as you took your seat.

As you settled into the passenger seat, Billy’s voice broke the slightly awkward silence, his tone laced with playful arrogance.

“You know, dreams are just plans waiting to happen,” he quipped, the cigarette bobbing with his words.

He flashed a quick, roguish grin as he shut the door, the sound punctuating his words.

You rolled your eyes so far back, you half-expected them to get stuck.

"You're aware of how annoying you are, right?" You couldn't help but remark as you watched him slide into the driver's seat, your eyes unintentionally diverting to his crotch as he adjusted himself.

Billy’s voice was low, a teasing edge to it. “Eyes up here, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you quickly lifted your gaze to his face, feeling your cheeks warm when you’re greeted by that infuriating smirk of his.

"And sure, I might be annoying," he conceded, smirking as he cupped himself through his jeans.

"But deep down, you're into it," he declared with certainty.

You gasped as the heat in your cheeks grew.

Quickly, you averted your gaze to the windshield, the outside world suddenly way more interesting.

He added, "even if you're not willing to admit that yet," his laugh was a low rumble as he capped off his comment by starting the car, the engine rumbling to life assertively.

He was infuriating, no doubt about it. Each smirk, each nonchalant shrug sent waves of annoyance crashing through you. Yet, there was something else, a whisper of a feeling you refused to examine too closely.

But deep down, you were pretty sure it was all a game to him. He didn’t actually like you; he was just chasing a thrill.

And even if you entertained the idea for a second, it would end as soon as you let him in—literally.

The moment he got what he wanted, the momentary excitement would fizzle out, leaving nothing but the echo of your own doubt and a raw, exposed part of you that you really didn’t want to deal with.

Choosing to ignore his advances was the safest bet, even if there was a small, secret part of you that wanted to knock him down a peg.

_______

Billy had kept his word.

The search for a payphone ended at the nearest gas station.

He stepped up to the phone, dialed the tow service, and with a casual strut, he said, “Yeah, I need a tow for my girl’s car. It’s over at Fifth and Lexington.”

You scoffed, your eyes wide with disbelief. His girl’s car? 

The words striking you bizarrely. 

Since when did you become ‘his girl’?

The thought was foolish, and yet, it unsettled you in a way you—again—didn’t want to explore.

But the fact that he knew your address without asking was even more disconcerting. How does he know where you live? 

That question nagged at you, adding to the mystery that was Billy.

He continued to speak into the phone, giving directions with a knowledge that bordered on intimate.

It was strange, yet there was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel a flicker of… something.

At the auto shop, Billy handled the costs with a casual ease, and you were left with a blend of emotions—surprise, a touch of gratitude, and a stubborn refusal to fully acknowledge either.

“It’s all taken care of,” he said, brushing off your attempts to pay him back.

So, as the tow truck pulled up at your house, you were ready this time.

You caught Billy’s eye, giving him a dull glare that said you knew exactly what he was about to do—and you weren’t having it.

With a swift motion, you handed the cash to the driver before Billy could even reach for his wallet.

His attempt to pay was unsuccessful, and the slight raise of your eyebrow made it clear you were the one calling the shots this time.

As the driver and Billy maneuvered the car into your garage, your gaze softened just a fraction, acknowledging his willingness to help, even if his insistence was irritating.

When the tow truck faded into the distance, you spun around to face Billy.

“I told you I could have helped you push it into the garage,” you said, exasperation seeping your words.

Your brows knitted together in a frown, a clear challenge in your eyes.

Billy’s response was a dismissive shrug, his smile unfazed.

“It’s fine,” he said as he shrugged out of his jean jacket and placed it in his front seat, his grin took on a teasing quality.

“Honestly, we’d still be out there on the side of the road if I waited for your help,” he joked, his voice light but edged with a playful tone.

Your gasp was reflexive, but the giggle that followed was more girlish than you expected, a sound that surprised you as much as the gentle smack you landed on his arm.

“I could’ve managed just fine on my own,” you countered, the roll of your eyes softening into something that felt dangerously close to affection.

He gave you a look that said he didn’t believe a word, but his nod was indulgent.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, his smile broadening in a way that made your heart do an unexpected somersault.

Billy carried his tools from his trunk, his smirk sarcastic.

“Gonna watch me work, cutie?” he quipped, the playful edge in his voice clear. “I sure don’t mind an audience.”

You rolled your eyes, a response that had become all too common throughout the day and trailed after him into the garage.

“You’re insufferable, honestly, Hargrove,” you grumbled, though the annoyance was starting to wear thin.

He tossed a look back, his grin unwavering.

“But you wouldn’t have it any other way,” he teased, setting down his tools with a positive thud that resonated in the quiet garage.

Dragging a crate from the cluttered corner of the garage, you made yourself a makeshift seat. From this new vantage point, slightly off to the side, you watched Billy work.

The day was turning out to be pretty different.

Billy’s usual flirty jokes had a new feel to them, like he was actually trying to connect with you.

And seeing him with his hands in the car’s engine, he seemed to fit right in. It was strange to see him as more than just the guy who’s always either making a rude comment or trying too hard to charm you. Now, he was actually being helpful and knew his stuff. It was nice to see him like this, more real and down-to-earth.

As you kept an eye on him, you felt your annoyance start to slip away, and you began to see him in a fresh way.

It wasn’t a dramatic change, but it was real.

Billy was still Billy, but the good parts were starting to stand out more.

You just hoped that this nicer side of him wasn’t just an act.

With a dramatic sigh, you shoved your thoughts aside and stood up.

Despite your best efforts to avoid it all day, you found yourself heading straight into the very thing you had been trying to dodge.

“You want a drink?” The words came out softer than you intended, as you walked toward the door in the garage that led to the house.

Billy’s grunt drifted up from under the hood, his hands surely doing something important. Timing belt, maybe you mused, though your knowledge of car parts was very much limited to where the gas goes.

Heading into the kitchen, you actually felt thankful for your mom’s hospital shift this time.

It saved you from having to explain the boy in the garage.

The house was quiet, just the way you liked it. You weren’t lonely; you enjoyed your own company.

Sure, you hung out with school friends occasionally, but the calm of being on your own was something you cherished, even with your mom’s frequent work hours.

You took two Cokes from the fridge, their cans chilling your fingers.

As you returned to the garage, you paused to watch Billy.

Without his usual guarded demeanor, he seemed more genuine, almost endearing. 

He’s actually pretty decent like this, you thought, a quiet hum escaped your lips as you turned on the radio, filling the space with soft rock melodies.

Billy’s look caught you off guard, and warmth flooded your cheeks.

“What?” you asked, turning just enough to keep your blush from view.

His smile was soft, uncharacteristic.

“Nothing. You just have a nice voice, doll,” he said, his tone carrying a note of authenticity as he turned back to his work.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, placing his Coke by his tools, and sat down on your crate.

A small smile lingered on your face, enjoying the surprisingly comfortable presence between Billy and you.

You just sat there for a bit, humming along with the radio.

You tried not to make it obvious that you were watching Billy work, but he’s probably caught you staring. 

Every now and then, you’d catch him looking your way too. You didn’t say anything about it, though.

It was kind of nice, just being there together without needing to fill the space with chatter.

Your gaze drifted to the street when you felt a gentle pressure against your leg.

Startled at first, you quickly relaxed when you saw it was Pepper, your cat. The door must not have closed all the way behind you.

She rubbed against your leg once more, seeking attention.

“Come here, my baaaby,” you drawled, the word stretching out affectionately.

You picked her up and she immediately began to purr, content in your arms.

Billy’s movements paused, and he looked up, the late afternoon sun highlighting the surprise in his eyes.

The nickname had clearly caught him off guard, and a blush—a deep, rich shade you’d never seen—bloomed across his cheeks.

THE Billy Hargrove, always so sure of himself, now blushing and speechless.

He must have thought you were talking to him.

You couldn’t help but savor the moment, seeing the unshakeable Billy at a rare loss for words, all because of you.

With Pepper cradled in your arms, you rose to your feet, a newfound confidence lifting your stance.

You took a step toward Billy, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

“What’s wrong, Baby? Never had a girl talk sweet to you before?”

The nickname now felt like a playful taunt, a subtle shift in power as you watched him grapple with the unexpected role reversal.

Billy’s answer was a fumble, his words tripping over each other in a way you’d never heard before.

“I—uh, that’s not… I mean…” he faltered, his cheeks a deeper shade of red.

Witnessing Billy, always so sure and smug, searching for words was a delight you didn’t know you needed.

The smirk that spread across your face was instinctive, almost predatory.

“Don’t worry, baby,” you cooed, your head nodding slowly in feigned understanding. “I think I get it now.” The words hung in the air, heavy with implication and sweet victory.

Billy shook his head, his smile genuine and a bit surprised.

“Now that’s just not fair, doll,” he finally said, the words tinged with a hint of admiration.

He turned back to the car, his hands resuming their work under the hood.

You leaned in, a playful edge to your voice.

“Now you know how it feels for the rest of the female population.”

The sound of his laughter was unexpected, something you don’t think you’ve ever actually heard before, but you liked the sound of it.

A lot.

Billy’s voice was muffled by the engine.

“Wow, you’re actually fun,” he said, a note of surprise in his tone.

That drew a scoff from you.

“What made you think I wasn’t?” you retorted, setting Pepper inside and ensuring the door was firmly shut this time.

He looked up, giving you a look that was both accusing and playful.

“Well, it’s not like you talk to me, sweetheart. You usually act like I don’t exist,” he shrugged.

He had a point.

“Well—yeah…” you conceded, feeling a bit awkward as you rubbed your arm.

“I’m sorry for that. I just thought you were being nice because… well…” You trailed off, your eyes darting away as you felt your face heat up.

Billy exhaled, a note of understanding in his voice. “That’s fair.”

The casual admission made your eyebrows shoot up.

He continued, wiping his hands on a rag, “But I actually wanted to get to know you. Still do.” His words, simple and unexpected.

You took a moment to process his words. Could he be serious? After today, you found yourself hoping so.

This side of Billy was… different, likable even.

Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, you ventured, “I think I might want that too.”

Then, hastily, you added, “But I’m not sleeping with you!” just to set the record straight.

Billy’s smirk was anything but innocent as he nodded.

You shoved your hands into your back pockets, and for a moment, you both just stood there, silently assessing each other.

Then, his smile grew.

“I’m done here. Wanna try starting it up?” he asked, gesturing to the car.

“Oh! Yeah,” you said, a bit startled by the sudden change of topic.

You fished out your keys and climbed into the driver’s seat.

The key turned, the engine purred to life, and a rush of happiness bubbled up inside you.

You hopped out and, without thinking, wrapped Billy in a spontaneous hug.

“Woo, thank you, baby!” you shouted, the excitement making you bold.

Billy froze for a split second, the nickname catching him off guard, but then he relaxed and returned the hug, a chuckle escaping him.

Your own reaction caught up with you, and you pulled back, a blush coloring your cheeks.

“Oh—Billy—I meant Billy,” you corrected, but the moment had already passed.

Billy’s hands lingered on your waist, his smile soft but playful.

“I don’t know. I think I like ‘baby’ better,” he teased, his eyebrows lifting in a challenge and his eyes twinkling as they swept across your face.

You lowered your head, hiding from his intense stare.

“Oh, whatever,” you muttered, stepping back until his arms fell away.

You sighed, eyeing him again.

“But really, thank you,” you said with a nod. “I was this close to attacking the engine with a bat before you showed up.”

Billy chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Ah, it’s no big deal, princess,” he said, trying to act nonchalant. “Plus, I got to spend the day with the prettiest girl around. So, yeah, worth it.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you saw his smile turn a shade more devilish at the sight of your blush.

Billy lingered there for a moment before he picked up his toolbox.

“Well, I should go,” he said, a note of hesitation in his voice.

You nodded, a quiet “Bye” escaping your lips, but as he neared his Camaro, a thought struck you.

“Wait, Billy!” you called out hastily.

He turned, a question in his eyes.

“What about that drink, baby?” you added, the last word emphasized with a mix of challenge and playfulness.

He paused, the blush on his cheeks visible even from a distance, but his smirk was undiminished.

“Eight it is, baby,” he replied, his voice carrying back to you with a hint of laughter.

As he got into his car and drove off, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

Maybe Billy wasn’t so bad after all.