#but the advertising and the commercial seeming nature of it was so gross

[ishootthelightsout]

Seeing all the shit about lore fm trying to commercialize fanfics and being super passive aggressive even when shutting down… like people have been using free realistic tts like Microsoft Edge read aloud for a while now be real

[chestharrington]

For A Good Time Call! || Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 14.6k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Phone Sex Hotline Operator!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (phone sex, m & f masturbation (including pillow humping & sex toys), f!receiving oral sex, p in v sex), language, idiots in love, mutual pining, porn WITH plot

Summary: In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.

Steve Harrington wasn’t the kind of guy who did this. He repeated it in his head as he scribbled down the phone number— fed straight to him from a local late-night advertisement. For a good time call!

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant. And he wasn’t exactly able to ignore the way his dick twitched in his boxers as the commercial showed pretty girls twirling phone lines around manicured fingers, pretty smiles on their faces, eyes sultry and staring right through him. 

Plus, he wasn’t actually going to call. He was just… keeping the number for his records. He’d just put it in his Rolodex and forget about it. 

A week later, and he decidedly hadn’t forgotten about it. In fact, with the house empty and playboys not cutting it, it’s all he could think about. 

For a good time call. He wanted to have a good time. It had been a while since he had a good time— his stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform wasn’t exactly bolstering his natural charm. Robin could say what she wanted, but he was charming and fun and everything people usually want in a boyfriend. He was just… going through a rough patch. 

He retrieved his Rolodex and hurriedly flipped through, trying to remember where he’d hidden the number. Definitely not around his boss. And not around Nancy either. Tucked between Tommy and a past hookup, he found it. 

He set up his pillows behind his back and got comfortable before dialing the number with uncharacteristically sweaty hands. He was cooler than this was all making him seem. He was the playboy of Hawkins High— of Hawkins in general. Phone sex was nothing. 

As he dialed the number, he prepared to turn on his charm. Instead, he was led to a generic call-center script, which, after being carefully followed based on his wants and desires, took him to billing. 

“It’s a flat rate of twenty for your first ten minutes. If you finish before then, it’s still twenty, alright?”

He swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“After that, it’s fifty cents per minute. An hour session will run you about $55.” Oh. It certainly wasn’t cheap. He’d spent less on dates before. “Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, his mind taking a while to catch up. “Do you need my credit card?”

By the time billing was over, his anticipation had tangled his stomach into knots. He glanced at the clock, wondering if those ten minutes would fly past him as fast as he thought they would. The line trilled as he waited to be connected to his partner for the night. Jenny. Like the song.

That song was gross, anyway. But how could he say anything about it now?

The ringing stopped, and he could hear the crackle of a quiet line on the other side, the rustle of movement. Did he need to say hi first? Was trying to start a conversation weird?

“Hi,” he said, and he wondered how he could make one word sound so utterly stupid. “Jenny, right?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed. He could picture you so clearly, despite knowing nothing— one of those pretty girls in the commercials, laying on your belly on a frilly pink bed, fingernails and toenails painted a shiny red, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “What should I call you?”

He swallowed. “Do people usually give you fake names?”

“Sometimes,” you replied. “It’s not about what other people do, baby. It’s about what you want. Do you want me to call you by a fake name?”

He wrinkled his nose. What was the worst thing that could come from a stranger knowing his first name? “No, that sounds awful. No offense.” You laughed, and he felt himself relax. “I’m Steve H—“ He cleared his throat. “Just Steve.”

“Well, I’m glad that I get to talk to you tonight Steve,” you said, and just the sultry timbre of your voice made his stomach do flips. “I’m guessing this is your first time?”

He furrowed his brows. “I’m not a virgin.”

“No, baby. I mean it seems like it’s your first time calling a hotline like this.” His face burned hot as he fumbled his way through answering, oh, yeah, I guess that’s right. “So, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Uh…” he paused, trying to think of a more polite way of saying to cum while a pretty girl talks to me. “I guess I’ve just been lonely.”

“Poor baby,” you said, and he was shocked that you didn’t have even a hint of amusement or mirth when you said it. “You want me to take care of you? Help you forget?”

His breath caught in his throat, stealing his response. His dick twitched, already half-hard and sensitive. All he could manage was a tiny whimper of, “Mhmm.”

“What do you usually think about when you’re touching yourself?” You asked, and the lack of shame in your voice made heat flare in his cheeks. He’d had some shameless hookups, but most of the girls he slept with didn’t like to talk about it. “Like, what’s your favorite fantasy, Steve?”

It was embarrassing. Mortifying, actually. It was basically the plot of a bad porno or a letter to Penthouse. 

Usually, it started by his pool. And a girl was there, wearing a cute, but ultimately tiny, bikini. The girl didn’t really matter. Well, she did, but it wasn’t about who she was. She could have been a Playmate of the Month, or a movie star, or a girl he was crushing on and wanted to ask out. All that mattered for the sake of the fantasy, was that she was pretty, had nice tits, and wanted him. 

“Does that make me awful?” He asked, pausing mid-description to gauge your perception of him. You laughed on the other end of the line. 

“God, Steve,” you said with thinly veiled amusement. “You think I give a personality and backstory to all of the people I fantasize about fucking?”

It made him feel a little better.

Anyways, there was something about summertime that just made sense to him. Skin all but steaming in the heat, the oiled up glow that came from sweaty skin. Wearing as few clothes as possible so you didn’t overheat. 

You gave a nervous laugh— breathy and sweet— on the other end of the line. “You’re really good at setting the scene, Steve.” He liked to be specific. He wanted to think about tiny details like the salty taste of skin or hair that smelled like chlorine and salt. “What’s next?”

She always started by laying on her stomach, the ties of her bikini undone so she didn’t get unsightly tan lines. She would peer at him over her shoulder with wide, innocent eyes while she asked if he could apply a bit more sunscreen on her back where she couldn’t reach. 

So he straddled her thighs, her skin burning up under his hands as he rubbed in the freezing cold sunscreen. Goosebumps would break out along her arms, and she’d have to arch away from the sensation, pushing her ass against him. 

“Are you hard already?” You asked, and his cheeks burned hot. 

“Like…” He glanced at his lap, where his cock was already straining against the fabric of his boxers. “In the fantasy or right now?”

“Is the answer the same for both?”

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Keep going.”

He was already impatient. Skipped right to the kissing and cut out the context and actions that led to it. Did it matter? The bikini top fell onto the ground, and she was on top of him, tits pressed into his sun-warmed chest, tongue licking into his mouth. 

God, he fucking loved kissing. He’d missed it so much since he’d graduated and his social clout had depleted to fuck all. There had been dates, and messy, slow makeouts in the back of his car since walking the stage, but not one since his first shift at Scoops Ahoy. It was killing him.

She felt so good in his lap— so warm and heavy. He could have stayed like that forever— trapped beneath a pretty girl with her tongue down his throat. But he wanted more— he always wanted more. 

He wanted more then. As he relayed his fantasy to this stranger in painstaking detail, he ached for more. His hand was flat on his tummy, and he shivered as he slipped it beneath the band of his boxers to take his cock into his hand. He groaned, the back of his head knocking against the wall.

“God, you’re cute,” your voice was so pretty. He throbbed in his grip, making him exhale a shuddering breath. “It’s okay, Steve. You can keep touching yourself while you talk to me. I want you to.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice broken by a tiny whimper. “I don’t have to.”

“I’m sure, baby,” you insisted. “What do you do next, hm? I’m on top of you, kissing you nice and slow, grinding my hips against yours because I just can’t help myself. Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

“I’d—“ He swallows hard, eyes shut tight. “I’d want to taste you.”

In the fantasy, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, moving you up his body so you were just above his mouth. He was suave and sexy. He’d pull the bow at your hip with his teeth so your swim bottoms fell off like they were nothing. 

And it would feel so comfortable beneath you— so natural for him. He’d just barely have to lean forward to have his mouth on you, already wet so he could taste you on his tongue. He’d moan at your taste— he fucking loved the way pussy tasted, even if he got shit for it in the locker room when he admitted it— and pull you down onto his mouth so he could get impossibly closer. 

It would be messy— a mix of spit and slick on his mouth and chin, making the tip of his nose shine. He’d spend as long as he wanted beneath you, pulling every noise he could from your lips, trapped between your thighs. He wouldn’t stop until you came— once at a minimum, more if he was feeling greedy.

“All this attention on little old me,” you teased. “Would you let me take care of you? I could slip off those swim trunks of yours and make you feel good.”

He had set a steady pace— hand gliding up and down his length as his fantasy continued to evolve. “Yeah,” he managed, but his voice came out strangled and desperate. “You’d put your hand down my shorts and tease me. Your hand would feel so good. Warm and soft. You’d, uh, tell me how big I am, how you wanted to feel me stretch your uh— your—.”

“My what, baby?” Your voice dripped with amusement and mirth. “My pussy?”

“Fuck.” It came out with an exhale, his heart hammering.

“You like it when girls say dirty things to you, Steve?” You asked, and he could hear your smirk. “You want me to beg for your cock so deep inside of me that I feel you in my stomach? Or tell you how warm and wet and tight I feel around my fingers?”

Steve groaned, throbbing in his grip as he worked himself faster. “Fuck, are you really?”

“Mhmm,” you replied. “Think about how good I’d feel when you finally let yourself fuck me. You were such a gentleman first, but you don’t have to be with me. I want to make this all about you.”

But he was a gentleman. Of course he wanted to get his dick wet and et cetera, but that wasn’t really why he liked sex. He liked making people feel good all because of him— hearing the pretty noises they made, watching their initial shyness melt away into unabashed desire. 

A lot of the time (most of the time), he felt like a huge fuck-up. Abysmal grades (well, more around average), not good enough for sports scholarships, basically every bit the son that his parents didn’t want to have. Who could really blame him for relishing in the times when he could be good and impressive to someone other than himself?

Whatever. If he thought about that train of thought for more than, like, ten seconds, he’d lose his hard-on and probably start crying into the receiver and spilling all of his life’s worst moments. He really couldn’t imagine anything more pathetic than that. 

So he thought about something else. 

He thought about how he’d lay you down on a beach towel, warmed in the sun, cradled by plush grass beneath it. He’d feel awkward about shucking off his swim trunks— he always hated undressing because it felt so awkward. But you’d look at him like he was the most attractive guy in the whole world. 

He was a sap, what could he say? He would hold your hand too, squeezing it with his as he lined up with your entrance. You’d be so wet that it felt slick and he’d feel proud just knowing he did that to you.

When he finally pushed into you, your eyes would be locked on his, warm with emotion, like the entire world just melted away. And how could he not kiss you? When everything felt so good and your legs were wrapped around his waist and each breath was punctuated by soft, desperate sounds? 

It would feel special. With your foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. He just wants to be as close to you as possible— needs to feel every inch of your skin, sweaty and sun-warmed, against his. He’d just… bury himself deep inside of you and grind into you. It felt more intimate that way.

He could feel himself getting close. A furrow formed between his brows as he chased his high. Moans broke up his words as he brought himself closer and closer. 

“I’d— fuck— I’d rub your clit. Make you cum before I got there. It’d feel so— so fucking good too. It always feels so good. Oh god. Fuck, I’m close.”

“Go ahead, baby. I want to hear you.”

His entire body shuddered as he came, spilling messily onto his belly and chest. It felt like it lasted forever— that warm, perfect feeling of reaching his peak. He was panting as he came down, stroking himself until overstimulation made him whimper. 

“Fuck… maybe I should pay you for that,” you said after a beat. “Did it feel good, Steve?  Feel a little less lonely?”

“Mhmm,” he replied. He was spent— already feeling languid and heavy. “That was… Really perfect.”

“I’m glad.” You paused again,  and he spent that time trying to catch his breath. “I’m on every night around this time. Like, from around ten to two. I’d like to hear more of your fantasies, maybe even act one out with you, if you’d want that?”

His heart hammered, and he felt incredibly stupid as a blush crept up his neck and cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll call you again soon.”

When you said your good nights, he laid back against his pillows. The dial tone played over the speakers as he stared up at his ceiling, spend cooling on his tummy. Leave it to King Steve to fall for someone he had to pay to talk to.

Your eyelids drooped as you manned the checkout counter at Waldenbooks, one of few stores at the mall that could actually be found vacant during a busy summer day. Last night had been a late one— it didn’t help that you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, your mystery caller. 

It felt stupid to get hung up on the type of guy who had to call a hotline to get his rocks off, especially when you knew precious little about him. You had his name, his general location, that he had a pool, and he had a nice voice. 

Your bangs lifted as you blew a puff of air out the side of your lips, slowly going insane to the sound of Muzak playing softly through the speakers. 

Steve… Did you know any Steve’s? Steve Crandall got into a motorcycle wreck the year after graduation and died. Then there was Steve Odell who moved off to California on some crazy tech idea he swore was going to change the world. Steven Ferris? He seemed like the type, but there was no way he owned a pool since you were pretty sure he lived in the basement of some old couple’s house. That wiped out your graduating class, at least. 

From your perspective on the second floor, you had a perfect view of the fine piece of ass working the ice cream parlor. He was cute— definitely younger than you by a couple of years— and the stupid costume they had him in surprisingly did it for you. You could watch him mop up spilled sorbet all day and it’d be jerk-off material for the next week. 

  He had nice biceps. And thighs. Fucking hell, the things you’d do to get between those and —

“New releases?” You snap your gaze to the other side of the counter, where a woman with pink lipstick on her teeth looks at you impatiently. 

You plastered on a winning smile and pointed a manicured finger to the other side of the store. “That big shelf on the left-hand wall over there,” you said with saccharine sweetness. “Anything else that I can help you with, ma’am?” 

She frowned and you fought a grin. There was nothing that women pushing forty hated more than being called ma’am. You might as well have been telling them they had a foot in the grave. 

The day passed by with minimal hiccups. You convinced someone to buy your favorite book, so that was a win. And you’d gotten to restock the fun pencils. You clocked out and shrugged off the vest you wore on top of your normal clothes and took your hair down from its ponytail to hang loose on your shoulders. Your perm was kind of killing you. It never sat just how you wanted, almost like it had a mind of its own. 

You made your way out of the mall with a brief glance towards Scoops Ahoy, which was notably missing the hot guy you’d been lusting after since your first day on the job. With a dejected sigh, you escaped the crowded, piercingly loud mall and stepped into the hot summer air. 

Most people (or, more accurately, children) were heading for the busses that would shuttle people back into the town square or their respective neighborhoods, but your car waited for you in the exclusive Employees Only lot in the shade. As you turned to head that way, you bumped straight into a tall, firm figure. 

Huh, you thought. He smells like hot fudge and maraschino cherries. I like those things.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I thought you were headed for the bus like everyone else.”

You looked up, squinting against the sun, and felt heat flood your cheeks when you realized that it was the hot ice cream scooper. “Oh, it’s, uh—“ you stammered nervously. It was never as easy as the phone line. “I was too.” You wanted to hit yourself. What the hell were you even talking about?

His brows furrowed. “You were what?“

Fuck. “I… uh— don’t know,” you finally said, ready for the conversation to end forever. “I’ll see you around.” And you were gone. You almost missed him calling after you.

You will?

But you pretended you’d never heard it. 

——

Steve called at midnight, just as you brewed your second cup of coffee of the night. You took a quick sip as the call was directed your way, already feeling much more awake in anticipation of what lay ahead. 

“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, adjusting your voice to that casual, sexy cadence that you had perfected. “I was thinking about you all day today.”

Steve responded with a dismissive psh. “I’m going to pretend that’s true, because I was thinking of you too,” he said, and you could hear his grin. “I kept screwing up at work because I’d get distracted thinking about you.”

You felt heat creep into your cheeks. “Baby, you’ll make me blush.” You paused, chewing on your lip briefly. “So… what’s in the cards for tonight, Steve? What do you want to do with me?”

He paused so long that you almost thought the call had dropped, but eventually he worked up the nerve to continue. “Well, you heard my fantasy last time. This time I want to hear yours.”

You snorted a laugh. “Steve, baby, that’s so incredibly sweet, but you could hate it, or think it’s boring, and then I’ll feel guilty for wasting your money.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “C’mon, it’ll help us get to know each other better.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose, your tummy already fluttering with thoughts of the hot sailor shelling out dollar ice cream cones with extra sprinkles on top. 

Fuck. 

“Alright, but if you hate it, you’ve gotta promise me that you’ll tell me to shut up and we’ll do something else.” He hummed in affirmation and you laid back against your pillows, sighing as you closed your eyes and fell into your newfound, perfect little fantasy. 

“So… when I’m not doing sexy phone calls, I work a menial job,” you begin. “And normally, I’d be, like, wearing an ugly polo or vest or something with our logo on it, but for the sake of sexiness, let’s say that I’m wearing a cute little dress and my hair looks, like, perfect.”

“What does your hair look like normally?” Steve asked, hung up on the one detail that was specifically for your sake. God, you wanted to burn your local salon to the ground. 

“Uh,” you paused, wondering if you should tell the truth. “So I told my hairstylist to go for Kelly LeBrock and she… you know… tried. It looks so cute sometimes, and then other times it has a total mind of its own.”

“Oh, Kelly LeBrock! She’s such a babe. I saw the trailer for that movie she’s gonna be in. Total fox. Great hair.”

You tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t. “Do you wanna talk hair routines, or do you want me to keep going?”

Steve paused like he was genuinely considering it. “We’ll come back to the hair. I could probably help you figure it out, you know. I’ve got great hair.”

You smirked. “Oh, yeah? Where?”

“Use your imagination.”

You grinned. Oh, I am.

You were stocking shelves, as usual— except this time you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, the hemline of your skirt inching up and up and up. And suddenly there was a presence behind you, reaching up to stock the shelf for you. He smelled really nice, felt warm pressed up against your back.

“Am I the handsome stranger in this scenario?”

You said yes, even though you were mostly thinking about your mystery sailor from the mall. God, even the stupid uniform did it for you. Maybe it was the short shorts.

In the fantasy, the two of you didn’t even talk— really, your fantasies were typically pretty straight to the point, unlike Steve’s. The plot and dialogue would get skipped, and then suddenly, your back was pressed against the ridges of the shelves and the handsome stranger was on his knees in front of you, kissing sloppily up your thighs. 

Usually, you’d have some sense of control— keep your hands above the belt. It was better for you that way. It gave you a sense of separation from what was real and what was happening on the phone. And, really, you never really had a particular need to touch yourself while you were handling the calls anyway. 

And yet… Your hand slipped past the elastic hand of your panties, between your thighs where you were already wet and needy from just your own imagination. You gasped into the phone, bucking your hips into your own touch. 

Steve made a choked sound, crackly through the phone’s speakers. He knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Getting all worked up thinking about it, huh?” He asked, and you could hear a slight rustling and movement as he got himself undressed. It was honestly puzzling that it took that long, or that he didn’t call already ready to go. “Sound so pretty.”

You weren’t even aware that you were making a significant amount of noise, but Steve had keyed into it easily, hanging onto every sigh and whimper. 

In your fantasy, his mouth was absolutely fucking sinful. He would moan against your cunt, nuzzling against your clit with his nose as he lapped up your slick. It was sloppy, and the sounds he made could have made the devil himself blush a burning red. His chin and mouth would drip with the combination of your juices and his spit— his fingernails leaving crescents in your thighs from where he held you tight. 

When he looked up at you from between your thighs, his gaze would be equal parts hungry and sweet. He wanted it to feel good for you because the more you get off, the better it felt for him too. When he felt you getting closer and closer, he moved his fingertip to your entrance, teasing you with featherlight grazes that gathered your essence. He pressed in, just to his first knuckle, and relished in the way you would clench around him at the smallest intrusion before he gave it to you entirely.

Despite the shitty quality of the phone, which was probably your fault, since you had owned it since at least ‘78, you could hear the slick sounds of him stroking himself to your words. And, for once, you relished in that noise across the line. 

You pushed a finger inside of yourself, then a second. Most guys you’d been with got that far then jammed them in and out at a wrist-killing speed until you faked it. Your thing was always just keeping them still, pressing against the sweet spot just barely a few inches inside. Paired with the dizzying pleasure of attention to your clit, the sensation was electric and all-consuming. 

It felt too good to stop, and yet you knew you needed to make it through your fantasy before you came and that precious euphoria rushed over you. Because after the euphoria came that strange sense of disgust, and you couldn’t really afford to spend the rest of the call grossed out by what you were doing. 

“Fuck, anyways,” you began, your breath coming in short pants. “He— you— would take off your shorts.” Stupid, tiny, tight shorts. “And, fuck, you’d already be so hard and needy. You just wanted me so bad. You would press me against the shelf and when you push into me it’d be so easy and slick and I’d feel so full.”

Your cunt pulsed around your fingers, so close to the edge that you could almost swear you were already over it. The precipice was so nice you almost didn’t mind waiting for it. You would hear Steve fucking his hand, pretty moans and grunts passing his lips as he brought himself closer. It wasn’t really fair to leave either one of you hanging much longer. 

“You’d kiss me. And it would be a little messy, but we wouldn’t care. You’d taste good, and you’d feel good. Fuck, Steve. I need to cum so bad.”

He panted into the phone and you practically mewled. God, he sounded so much better than the gross old men you usually had to deal with. “Fuck, I’m right here with you,” he managed, his voice breathy and desperate. “Let me hear you.”

Your ears rang as you came, making the world go a bit fuzzy. Distantly, you could hear how pretty Steve sounded as he came. Honestly, you’d never been one to relish in that type of thing— most guys you’d hooked up with kind of grossed you out. But, god, you’d give anything to watch him get off. Your chest heaved, rising and falling with a shiny sheen of sweat.

“So…” Steve began, sounding a little more languid and a lot more blissed out. There was a sweet, carefree quality to his voice. “Your fantasy is having sex at work?”

You rolled your eyes and fought a grin. “Hey, I didn’t judge your hot, sweaty poolside fuck session.”

”That was about making love,” He insisted. Your heart stuttered a bit. You had to admit that was sweet. “And I’m not knocking your fantasy— I just can’t even imagine someone wanting to have sex with me in my uniform.”

You grinned. “Aw, you have a uniform? I bet you look really sexy in it.”

He huffed, an annoyed groan escaping his lips. “No, I hate my uniform and I’m counting the days until I can rip it off and throw it in, like, a bonfire.”

“I can help with the ripping it off part, y’know,” you teased. 

“No,” he said firmly. “No, we’re not going there, because, one, I came so much I can’t even think about getting hard again or my dick will hurt, and two, if I start having workplace fantasies about you and my uniform I’ll get hard on the job and end up on a registry somewhere.”

“Alright, alright,” you said with a laugh. “I had fun tonight, Steve. I, uh, don’t really get a lot of people asking what I like. I don’t get anyone asking what I like, actually.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m just a pleaser, I guess.” 

He said his goodnights just before hanging up, promising to call again soon. You didn’t have a clear idea of when soon was. You’d had long-term customers promise a call soon that just dropped off the face of the earth. You laid there listening to the dial tone until it started to hurt your ears, then put the phone back on the receiver.

The bed creaked on its ancient springs as you got up, padding out into the hallway. Outside the big window at the end of the hall, you saw a lamp switch off across the street, making the house go dark. It felt a little comforting to know that boring old Hawkins was awake just like you were. 

In the bathroom, you washed your hands with cotton candy-scented soap and tugged at your misbehaving curls. Maybe you would take up Steve on his hair tips. Before you could think about Steve any longer, your phone rang again. And though part of you wished it would be Steve, you knew that there was such a thing as too soon to be ‘soon.’

There wasn’t really a point in pouting. It was decent money. You answered the phone, put on your fake voice, and got to work. 

Steve called nearly nightly for the next month. If having a backyard school wasn’t proof enough he was loaded, his ability to pay your rates nightly sealed the deal. 

It wasn’t always sexual. Well, to be fair, it was mostly sexual. No matter how much you looked forward to phone sex with Steve, you enjoyed talking to him just as much. You learned about his childhood dog, Walter, and his allegedly prodigy-like swimming skills. He was CPR certified, could say his ABCs in French (and nothing else), and loved the colors red, yellow, and blue.

You told him what you could without giving too much away. That Jenny, obviously, wasn’t your real name. Your favorite color, favorite book, favorite flower. You told him that you were in college, going back in the fall. That you only started doing this gig because textbooks were expensive and you wanted to be able to feed yourself while at school. 

Without meaning to, you started to care about Steve. It was probably stupid, and definitely against everything you thought you stood for. But somehow, he managed to squeeze into the recesses of your brain and set up camp there. Try as you might, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. 

“Alright, little Stevie, that’s your fifth wistful sigh of the day,” Robin said, marking a tally on her palm. It struck him as weird that she was counting, but it wasn’t exactly anything new. “You’ve gotta stop or I might actually start feeling bad for you.”

His chin rested in his hand, and he looked over at her with wide puppy dog eyes. “Can you love someone you’ve never met?”

Robin shrugged. “I dunno. Probably not, why?”

He sighed again, his shoulders sagging. “What if my dream girl isn’t exactly accessible? Like… she’s impossible to find and might not even live in Hawkins. She might live in, like, Indianapolis.”

Robin’s expression— the slight squint of her eyes and downturn to her lips— told him she didn’t particularly care. But the store was dead on a boring Tuesday, so digging into Steve’s life was about the only interesting thing to do on the job. 

“That sucks,” she said slowly. “How do you know this mystery soulmate?”

Steve blanched, picking at his nails as he tried to consider a reasonable excuse. “Uh… Blind setup. Very blind setup.” Robin raised an eyebrow. “I only know her number, nothing else.”

“Name?” Steve shook his head glumly. “Damn. But you think you love this girl?” Steve nodded again, but felt a little dumb. He never did things in half-measures. Never felt things that way either, so it made sense to him, but maybe it was a little crazy. 

He just couldn’t stop thinking about you. He wanted to help you with your bad perm and give you advice about how to take care of it. He wanted to surprise you at your boring job with lunch and flowers. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited about someone. 

A tinny beeping sound made him jolt, nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor. Finally. He didn’t hesitate to tear off his work shirt, leaving him in the shorts and the white tee shirt he kept beneath it for this very reason— not having to walk out in public in full uniform.

He offered a quick bye to Robin and clocked out as quickly as he could. It had been only a week since Jenny had told him her favorite book, and he’d been saving up tips to pay for a copy at Waldenbooks. 

There was a girl behind the counter with a messy ponytail that had half-fallen-out, music blaring from her headphones. It must’ve been a mixtape because it went from some Hall and Oates song to an older Queen one. A little disjointed, but not in bad taste. She was completely immersed in the novel in her hand, so much so that she didn’t notice his presence.

“Excuse me?” He asked, putting on a winning smile. 

“What?” The girl in front of him blinked in surprise and tugged the headphones down around her neck. The music continued— saxophone and a dance beat. Staying Power. He liked that one. Once she’d paused it abruptly, she looked at him again, and he saw a glint of something in her eyes, like she recognized him.

“I’m looking for this book—“ He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, where he had scribbled the title down as Jenny told him about it. “Do you know if it’s in stock?”

She looked at the note, then chewed on her lip anxiously. “Mhmm.” She watched him again, like she was expecting something. It took a moment, but it clicked. 

She’s the girl who bumped into him outside a month ago and said weird stuff! “Oh! You were right, I guess. About seeing me around.” He squinted, reading her name tag aloud. 

“Hm?” She blinked a few times, like she was taken out of a daydream. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about all of that. I just had a long day and my brain was fried.”

He nodded. “I get that,” he replied. “Next thing I know I’ll wake up from scooping ice cream in my sleep.” She laughed at that, a smile splitting across her features. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Her expression faltered, just the tiniest bit. Almost enough that he wouldn’t notice, especially since she corrected it just as quickly. “I’ll go grab that book for you, ‘Kay? Just… stay here.”

She disappeared into the shelves, leaving him standing awkwardly at the counter. The store was oddly empty— he would’ve at least expected some nerdy kids like Dustin to be rooting around. When she returned, she seemed more nervous than before.

“Here, just take it—“ She said, shoving a beat-up-looking copy at him. His brows furrowed as he looked down at the copy in his hands. The cover was bent and torn in places. Corners of pages were dog eared, sticky note tabs stuck out from pages, and he could see glimpses of pen and highlighter. Noticing his confusion, she elaborated. “We’re out, but I had an old copy in my bag. I’ve already read it, so you can borrow it.”

He furrowed his brows. “Is that, like… allowed?”

“Probably!” She said with a startling lack of confidence. She swallowed, giving him an awkward smile. “Just bring it back when you’re done.”

He hesitated. “Uh… okay. Thanks.” He turned to walk away when she called out after him. 

 “Bye, Steve.” 

He wondered why that sounded so familiar. 

Fuck. 

“I mean… what are the odds?” You spoke aloud as you paced your room. When your reflection caught your attention, you felt, and looked, like a madwoman. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and I’m not going to worry about it.”

Five minutes later, you sat up in bed, unable to focus on the book you were reading. It was going to keep bothering you unless you did at least a little digging. But, Jesus, where did you even start with something like this?

“Hey, Rhonda?” You called, popping your head out of your room. “Do you remember any hot underclassmen named Steve from high school?”

Rhonda Finley was the prettiest girl from the class of ‘83. And it wasn’t an exaggeration either, seeing as she was voted Most Beautiful and Miss Hawkins within the same school year. The fact that you were even friends felt like a strange coincidence, but there you both were regardless. 

She carried all of her yearbooks into your room, settling onto the fluffy rug beside your bed. 

“You said his name is Steve?” She asked from her spot on the floor. She flipped through the old yearbook with reverence— pausing to look at photos of herself on other pages. “Steve… stevestevesteve. What about Stephen Cranston? He did the morning announcements, he was decent.”

You glanced at his picture briefly and shook your head. “No, not him,” you replied. “He’s cuter. Uh… boyish is a good word to describe him. Sharp nose and warm eyes.”

Rhonda snorted, flipping another page. “Okay, Shakespeare.” 

You chewed on your lip, watching her tab through until you made a squeak of recognition. The faintest glimpse of a younger Steve in a picture of a home economics class. “Ronnie, flip back,” you said, tapping her shoulder insistently. She did as you said and you pointed. “That’s him. Younger, but it’s him.”

She squinted, reading the small caption. “Sophomore Steve Harrington cooks up trouble in Mrs. Destefano’s Home Ec class!’” She laughed and flipped until she found the sophomore class portraits. “Yep. Steven Harrington.”

You sat back on your heels. “Huh.”

She closed the yearbook and glanced back at you. “I think I went to a pool party of his once,” Ronnie said, brows furrowed as she tried to find the memory. “He was friends with that freckle-y kid that my asshole ex was friends with. God, that was the night when we got into that screaming match and we broke up for like a month before he was begging for another chance.”

Pool party? You felt a knot in your stomach that you weren’t even sure you could have untangled at that point. Was it even possible that your mystery cute phone guy was the unbelievably attractive ice cream scooper at the mall?

No chance. You weren’t that lucky. And yet… maybe a seed of hope took root in your chest. And maybe… maybe you could get him to spill enough details to prove it. 

——

Steve called you around midnight. Your heart leapt into your throat as you answered, thrumming and threatening to burst from nerves. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft, a little tired. “I, uh, thought about you today.”

You could picture him so clearly— his soft hair, long legs, boyish charm. “Hope I wasn’t too distracting. Were you working today? What do you do?” You dug a little deeper with the question, trying to suss out any information you could. 

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh. “I work in food service at a mall I live near. It’s nothing to write home about, I guess, but it’s temporary until I start applying for the spring semester.”

Okay, so there’s no doubt about it anymore. It was Steve Harrington, the hot ice cream scooper in the sailor suit, who was calling your line every night. The same Steve Harrington who you’d bumped into twice after your shift. 

You tried to push that aside and focus on the reason for the call. 

“So I was a welcome distraction, then?”

He laughed. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t.” He paused. “Did you, uh… think about me?”

The hope in his voice made your heart swell. “Of course I thought about you, baby. You’re my favorite caller.” You paused, debating your next move. “I’ve been thinking about getting you all needy and desperate for me all day. About hearing your pretty sounds.”

He fucking whimpered. “I’ve spent the entire night hard just waiting to call you.” You could hear him shuffle around on the other end of the call, presumably stripping off his remaining layers. “Didn’t want to be too desperate and call too fast.”

“Poor baby,” you cooed. “Can you do something for me? It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

“Mhmm.”

“Grab a pillow and lay on your stomach for me,” you instructed. Without hesitation, you could hear the staticky sound of movement on his end as he shifted. “This might sound weird, but—“

“You want me to… to like—“ he stammered nervously. “Hump it?”

You blanched, wondering if your perverse fantasies of the hot mall guy getting off had perhaps pushed him a bit too far. “I mean…. Only if you’re into it. We can do something else.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I’ve… I mean— I’ve done it before.”

Oh. Butterflies buzzed around your tummy as you let yourself indulge in the mental image. “Yeah? Did it feel good?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. You could hear rustling on the phone, like he was trying to situate himself comfortably. “Just made a mess is all.”

Fucking hell. “You gonna make a mess for me tonight, then?” You asked, twirling the phone cord around your finger. He moaned in response, and you grinned. “Aw, did you already get started, sweetheart?”

He moaned out a confirmation and you grinned, letting your free hand trail down your belly and beneath the waistband of your panties. “You already sound so pretty, Steve. So good for me, doing exactly what I say.”

The breathy sounds of his pants and moans made slickness gather between your thighs. Sounded like he hadn’t been lying about being hard and desperate all night just anticipating the call. “We’re not gonna talk tonight, we’re just gonna listen to each other,” you told him. 

Maybe it was unfair to him that you had the perfect mental image of him in your head since you already knew what he looked like. You relished in that knowledge as you coated your fingers in your wetness and rubbed small circles around your clit. 

Steve was loud, which made you wonder if his neighbors hated him. If you had to live next door to Steve Harrington and his pornstar moans, you’d probably go crazy. You were going crazy just from being on the other end of the phone. You were louder than usual too— it was a miracle that Rhonda worked nights.

It wasn’t long before you both finished— gasping and moaning into the phone’s receiver. You sighed as you laid back against your pillows, completely sated and content as you listened to Steve’s shaky breaths. 

“How’re you feeling?” You asked, fighting the desire to twirl your hair around your fingers. 

“Good,” he said finally. “Gonna have to do laundry, wash my sheets. I probably needed to anyway.” He paused. “I picked up a copy of that book you were talking about. It’s actually funny, ‘cause they were out of copies apparently, but the girl behind the counter let me have hers. Like it was meant to be, or something.”

Your heart hammered. “That’s really sweet, Steve,” you said softly. “I’m sorry in advance if you hate it.”

“I won’t!” He insisted. “I read the first couple of pages while I waited to call. I’m not the best reader, though. Might take me a while to finish it, but I do like it so far.”

You were partially convinced that you were in love with Steve Harrington, despite the fact that he wouldn’t even recognize you on the street. “This might be… I mean, maybe it’s crossing a line, and I could totally get fired for even suggesting… but—“ You hesitated. Fuck it. “I want to give you my personal line. So you don’t have to pay to talk to me. It’s not fair if we’re both enjoying the conversations but only one of us is paying, you know?”

He was quiet, almost too quiet. Nerves stirred in your belly. “Is that… you know, okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said quickly. “Let me just grab a pen.”

You couldn’t help but stare longingly down into the atrium of the mall, where Steve Harrington was sweeping crumbs off of one of the booths inside Scoops Ahoy.

“Hello?” A kid snapped his fingers a few times and you swallowed down your annoyance as you turned. “We called earlier about Ender’s Game. The guy on the phone said he’d hold three copies. It’s under Mike.”

You glanced behind you, where the books clearly weren’t. Fuck Greg for making your menial job even worse. “It must’ve slipped his mind. I can grab those for you.” The kid made a bitchy face as you stepped away from the counter and you bit your tongue to keep from saying something rude. Fucking latchkey kids.

When you returned with three copies of the book, you looked at the kids skeptically. “By the way, if you stole any of the pencils or bookmarks, my boss is going to take it out of my paycheck and I won’t be able to feed my kids.”

“It costs thirty cents to feed your kids?”

You sighed and rang them up, but they continued to loiter in the shelves while you pretended to be busy. 

“There’s nothing to do,” one of them said after picking up a copy of Sports Illustrated briefly. “We should just go back to my house and play Atari.”

A red-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Lucas, we’re not playing Pong again.” She paused and glanced down towards the food court. “We could go see Steve.”

It took all your willpower not to react. 

“Why do you always want to go see Steve?” Lucas asked. “It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything.”

“She just wants to see him because she’s got some weird crush on him,” the bitchy one said. Mike? The red-haired girl blushed nearly as fiery as her hair and shoved Mike hard. “What? We all know it. You and El are always drooling over him. It’s weird.”

“He’s nice, okay? Way nicer than you are, asshole.” She shoved past the group and left on her own, leaving the other two guys to scramble after her. One kid was left behind, the one with the unfortunate bowl cut. He offered a wave before he followed after them. 

When they got downstairs, you watched him greet the redhead with a smile and a ruffle of her hair. Lucas and the bowl-cut kid got a slap on the back, and the bitchy one got a half-smile that wasn’t returned. 

Then he shelled out free ice cream, which was evident because none of them made a move to pay. 

After they left, you watched him reach into his own wallet and cover the cost, placing the bills carefully into the cash register. 

The rest of your shift was spent fawning over Steve and flipping through issues of the magazines you had on display. You felt idiotic gazing at Steve Harrington with puppy dog eyes while reading Top Ten Ways to Know if He’s Really Into You! Of course he wasn’t into you— he didn’t even know who you were, not really. 

Around two in the afternoon, you were snapped out of your reverie by the sight of Steve walking through the threshold of the shop, looking around the shop before his gaze settled on you and lit up in recognition. 

“Hi!” He said, nearly knocking over a carefully displayed unofficial biography of Reagan on his way over. You smiled, straightening your posture as he approached. “I wanted to thank you for the book.”

Your heart thumped. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me,” you insisted. “I just wanted to help.”

He reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out two coupons to Scoops Ahoy with a flourish. They advertised free ice cream in the nautical scrawl. “Does this change your mind?” He raised his brows and smiled smugly. 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed them, reading the fine print. Valid only at the Starcourt Mall location on weekdays between 8am and 11am. Offer not valid in conjunction with any other deals. Offer excludes banana splits, sundaes, and the U.S.S. Butterscotch.

“Maybe,” you replied. “Is free ice cream your thing or something? I saw you give that group of kids free sundaes earlier.”

He furrowed his brows, considering it, then grinned. “Are you watching me?”

Fuck. You spluttered, shaking your head as you fumbled through a response. “No. They were here first, then talked about going to see you, and then I just…” He laughed and leaned over the desk slightly, as if testing the view. 

“Oh, yeah. Perfect view from here.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat burning in your cheeks. “So you come here to thank me with shitty coupons, and then you accuse me of spying on you?”

He shook his head as he leaned back. “Hey, it’s not accusing you if it’s true.” He was so smug. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. See you around?” He looked at you expectantly until you nodded, face burning hot. He smiled, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked out casually like he hadn’t just totally caught you creeping on him. 

God, you were going to make him pay for that later. 

——

Steve paced around his room as he tried to gain the courage to call you. He would have liked to say that he needed to get your number from his Rolodex, but he’d memorized it nearly the moment he put it down on paper. 

He was thinking of you, but he was also thinking about the girl from the mall who seemed to keep popping up. There was something about her, the way he was drawn to her, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. It was all so familiar and easy, like they’d known each other forever. 

He didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Finally, he settled on his bed, dressed only in a thin white tank top and boxers that were a size too big since he stopped working out as much. With nerves buzzing in his ears, he dialed your number and waited. 

And waited. And waited. He swallowed hard, wondering if you’d given him a fake number just to be rid of him. The number went to the answering machine, and his mouth went dry. 

“Hi! You’ve reached Y/N Y/L/N. I’m out right now, but leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” A beep sounded and Steve hung up suddenly. His stomach sank. 

He wasn’t supposed to know your real name like that. It felt like some gross intrusion. And yet, he repeated it over and over again in his mind. Why did it seem so familiar?

On his nightstand, the beat up paperback he had borrowed stood out like a sore thumb. Oh. The book, the same book you, Jenny, had told him about. And the girl who worked there… Y/N. 

It was too much, far too much to be a coincidence. He grabbed the book and opened it to look at the inside cover, where your name, Jenny’s name was scrawled inside. Because you and Jenny were the same person. 

Every single conversation leading up to that point played over in his mind. The messy perm, the shitty job with the ugly polo, the fantasy about being pushed against the shelves and fucked. Oh, God. And you were totally spying on him. 

It should’ve been an absolute win for him, but his stomach turned as he glanced over at the phone on the receiver. You were gorgeous and funny and smart and so sexy. Why would you want to be with someone who needed to call a sex hotline?

He could just picture the look on your face when you discovered that the guy who worked in the stupid uniform at Scoops was so pathetic that he needed to call someone to get attention. 

He swallowed hard, guilt and doubt settling icy in his stomach. He put the book down, and didn’t call back.

——

Steve was sulking during his shift. Probably biting the heads off of a few too many kids who asked for a few too many samples. 

“Jesus, how many times do you need to try cotton candy?” He snapped as he dug out a tiny spoonful of the pink and blue ice cream. The kid furrowed his brows up at him, puzzled by the sudden outburst. 

“Uh, can I try Cherries Jubilee next?” He asked hesitantly. 

Steve exhaled slowly through his nose. “No, you’re done. Out.”

The kid rolled his eyes, swore under his breath, and stomped out of Scoops Ahoy. 

Robin was staring at him funny when he turned around, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You’re totally PMSing today.”

He couldn’t manage more than a scowl in response. “Shut up.”

Robin laughed and tossed a cherry at him, which he managed to catch before it splattered against the glass of the ice cream case. He hated maraschino cherries— the artificial sweetness and unnatural color. But, hey, he could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue.

He hadn’t called you for three days, which felt like the longest stretch of time in his life. And he hadn’t even seen you around Starcourt, which was both a good thing and absolutely unbearable. 

Part of him wanted to just jump on the escalator and see if you were sitting behind the counter at Waldenbooks, but he knew it was better to just have a clean break. Maybe in a few months, you’d forget about that Steve guy who’d called you and he could make his move then.

The shift change hit around lunchtime, and Steve prepared for the influx of people who were getting off work on empty stomachs. As he suspected, the line stretched out the door and he was practically up to his elbows in ice cream, mindlessly scooping flavor combinations that should’ve been illegal. Until—

“Hey, Steve,” you said, standing in front of him in your ugly work polo with messy hair half-fallen out of your ponytail. “Staying busy?”

He stammered nervously and mumbled out an unintelligible response. “Ice cream?” Was all that he could manage to ask, which made him want to throw himself into the fountain right in the middle of the food court. 

But you just smiled. “A shake, actually. Chocolate banana if that’s possible.” He nodded and got to work, thankful for the distraction. Your eyes followed his every movement as he made your shake, but he couldn’t let himself look at you.

Because if he did really look at you, all he’d be able to think about were the phone calls you’d had— the calls where he’d heard you cum with breathy gasps and pants and soft whimpers. And— Jesus Christ— he was thinking about it and it made him feel dizzy. 

He used a little bit too much whipped cream and put rainbow sprinkles on top for God knows why, but he handed it to you with a weak smile. 

“Three bucks, right?” You asked, nodding to the menu.

“Uh, you can just have it,” he said without even thinking. “On the house.”

You furrowed your brows for a moment,  but smiled brightly. “Really? Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.” You took a sip and gave a soft moan at the flavor that made a full-body chill run through him. “See you around?”

“Yeah. See you.” You gave a small wave before you disappeared into the food court. He watched you the whole way, like you were the only person in the room.

Fuck. He was hard. Like, rock hard and the stupid apron on the uniform only made it more obvious. He’d fucking pavloved himself to get turned on just by your voice. 

“Robin, I’m taking my fifteen,” he said, darting into the back before she could protest. He stepped inside the walk-in freezer and propped the door with a crate of waffle cones. After about five minutes, he felt like he could actually think again.

“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. He had to call you again.

You were sincerely considering quitting the hotline. After Steve, just listening to the other guys panting and blowing their loads on the phone was nauseating. They didn’t care to learn more about you, not the way he did. They just wanted to get their rocks off to an anonymous, sexy voice. 

Then again, Steve had disappeared too. Maybe giving him your real number had crossed a line. Maybe it freaked him out that you were taking it beyond a transaction. You sighed and wrapped yourself tighter in your house coat. Rhonda always kept the AC on overdrive in the summer, which meant you needed at least two blankets to be comfortable. 

When the phone rang, you picked it up without thinking, half expecting it to be Rhonda calling you to check in during her break. 

“Hey,” you said absentmindedly, leaning back against your pillows. 

“This is, uh— this is the right number, right? It’s Steve.”

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hey, yeah, it’s the right number,” you assured. You wriggled out of your housecoat and tossed it to the side so you could get more comfortable. “How are you? It’s been a few days.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I, uh,” he paused. “I think I psyched myself out of calling you.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Well, I’m glad you did call. I really missed you.”

“You did?”

You laughed, letting yourself get more comfortable. “Mhmm,” you replied. “I mean, we’ve been talking everyday for a while, you know?”

“I missed you too, couldn’t stop thinking about you, even at work.” You smiled, remembering how absentminded he had seemed when you showed up in the ice cream parlor. And he was thinking about you. Not you, but still you. “I— uh— had to walk into our deep freezer to cool myself off.”

“How long has it been for you?” You asked suddenly. “Like, since you’ve had sex.”

Steve chuckled nervously. “I dunno… two months?” He paused. “Is that lame?”

“Nuh-uh, baby,” you assured. “Think it’s sweet. No wonder you’re all needy all the time. You need a nice, tight, wet pussy to sink into, hm?”

A low moan escaped his lips. “God—“

“Better than your hand, isn’t it?” You teased. “I bet you’re so desperate that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time, even before you called me. Isn’t that right?”

The closest thing you got in response was another pretty moan. “You’re big too, aren’t you?” You mused aloud, not even waiting for a response. “I know you are, you’ve basically told me in not so many words. Most girls can’t handle that, baby. It’s not your fault. That’s okay, we could take it slow, you could get me all nice and stretched for you, take your time like the gentleman you are.”

“Fuck— fuck—“ His words came out choked and desperate. You could almost picture it— the way he’d be fucking up into his hand, needing more and more.

“I bet you always have to take it real slow, huh? Gotta be careful so you don’t hurt someone. But that just means you can feel everything better, doesn’t it? Inch by inch by inch, every flutter and squeeze. And you can see on their faces how good it feels, can’t you? You can watch their eyes roll back and their mouths fall open while they cry out for you. I mean, Jesus, Steve, I bet most girls come before you’re even all the way inside.”

His hand sped up, desperate and needy, just as you’d said. You could hear it with each wet slap of skin against skin. His moans were constant, a stream of yesahgodfuckohshitahyesahfuckfuckfuck— until the prettiest moan escaped his lips, all low and deep, and you knew he’d made a pretty mess of himself. 

“Bet that felt really nice,” you said while he panted on the other end of the line. 

He made a weak noise, then finally managed a, “Uh-huh. Fuck.”

You laughed softly. “That’s gotta be the fastest I’ve gotten you off,” you said finally. “I like having that much power over you. It turns me on so much.”

He groaned. “Fuck, give me five— no— ten minutes. I can barely breathe right now.”

You grinned, relishing in your ability to torture him a bit after he’d teased you at work. Unknowingly, of course, but still. “I dunno if I can wait that long, Steve… I’m so wet that my thighs are all sticky.”

“God, you’re killing me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Why don’t you lay there and listen to me? Be good and keep your hands off, alright? You already came, so don’t get greedy.”

He made a nearly pained noise. “Fine. Fine.”

A smirk spread across your lips as you let your hand move between your thighs. Really, you weren’t exaggerating that much— you found yourself slick and needy when you finally slid your panties down your thighs. Actually, you thought you’d probably have to be a statue to hear Steve Harrington panting and cumming over the phone and stay unaffected.

You could hear his breath catch with every soft moan and whimper, and maybe you got mean and held the phone near your tummy, so he could hear just how wet and messy you’d gotten as you steadily fucked yourself with your fingers. When you got desperate enough, you held the phone against your ear once more. 

“I dunno, Steve… I don’t think my fingers can cut it,” you said, exaggerating the pouty tone of your voice. “I wish you were here to take care of me.”

He groaned, low and muffled. You had a feeling he’d thrown an arm over his face. “You’re so unfair.”

A smile spread across your lips at his words. “No, baby. What’s unfair is that I’m laying here all alone, feeling so empty and needy, and you’re not here to make it all better.” You reached into your nightstand, pulling out the dildo you’d bought for your twentieth birthday. “‘S okay, I can take care of myself just fine. You ever been to a sex shop?”

It got quiet on the line, and you could nearly hear the gears turning. 

“N-no.”

You raised a brow. “Really? But you know what they sell, don’t you?” You paused until he hummed a soft uh-huh. “It’s only fair that I get to use a toy to fill myself up since you can’t do it for me, right?”

“Y-yeah, wanna hear you do it.”

You grinned. “Patience, baby. Gotta get it wet first so it glides in nice and easy.”

Blowing a rubber dick wasn’t how you’d envisioned ending your day, but— what can you say?— spontaneity is the spice of life. You made sure he heard every wet pass of it between your lips, every exaggerated gag as you took it into your throat, the messy smack of your lips. It tasted like a tire and dish soap, but the desperate, restrained sounds he was making made it all worth it. 

Your eyes were watery when you finally pulled the toy from your mouth, certain you’d adequately worked him up for the time being. Plus, you were worked up just as much, if not more— you wanted to just fuck yourself into oblivion already. 

Instinctively, your thighs fell farther apart as you moved the toy between your legs. You let the tip tease your entrance, only a little, before you began to push it inside. A soft moan fell from your lips as you finally got the nice, full feeling you’d been dreaming of. 

You laid there for a moment, letting your body adjust to it, reveling in it. With your free hand, you slowly circled your clit until your cunt fluttered around the intrusion. 

“Feels so nice,” you sighed, lips brushing against the mouthpiece of the phone. You felt drunk and hazy with desire. “Like I’m so close already that I can taste it.”

“Make yourself come for me,” he practically begged. “Wanna hear it.”

You moaned at his words, but shook your head. “Can’t yet. I wanna make this last.”

Time felt a little hazy as you kept working the toy in and out, slow and deep. Occasionally, you’d brush against your clit just right, or the toy would find a nice spot inside of you, and your entire body would tremble with need. 

Steve’s breath came in pants over the phone, but you couldn’t tell if he had broken and actually started to touch himself. You kind of hoped he did, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Eventually, you came without warning— the build-up of it all made it impossible to avoid. Once you started over that edge, you couldn’t crawl back even if you’d wanted to. Moans fell from your lips as you succumbed to your orgasm; every nerve was like a live wire. When it finally came to be too much, you slipped the toy out and relaxed onto your bed with a contented sigh. 

“Are you still alive?” You asked, quiet crackling over the phone. 

“Uh… yeah,” he replied, a little distracted. “Have you ever come without having to touch yourself?”

You laughed softly. “Once. I read in Cosmo that some girls can get off just from playing with their tits. Took a while, but I eventually got there. Why?”

“I just, uh… listening to you, all the noises and hearing how wet you were… I guess that was all it took.” He sounded so embarrassed, but it was the cutest fucking thing you’d ever heard. You could imagine it so clearly, his cock pulsing against his twitching stomach, cum making puddles around his navel. 

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said with a smile. “You’re probably exhausted, huh?”

He laughed a bit. “A little, but I can stay up and talk, if you’re free.”

Ever the gentleman, Steve stayed up another hour to talk about whatever you could think of to keep the conversation running. The new collection at The Gap, whether or not he planned to see Back to the Future, his favorite music got him talking for half an hour at least. Finally, you were yawning and beat. 

“Steve, baby, I should go to sleep,” you said, almost apologetically. 

“That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You froze, brows furrowing. “What?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated, sleepily. “At the mall.”

“Um… night,” you said quickly, panicking slightly as you hung up the phone.

Steve had mopped the same spot on the floor five times during his shift, all while sparing fleeting glances towards Waldenbooks, where you were immersed in a magazine or a book. Always doing anything but looking down at him. 

Which was good… maybe? He couldn’t quite decide.

He hadn’t been thinking when he said that on the phone. But he was sleepy, and his brain was a little foggy, and then he’d gone and doubled down. 

As soon as he hung up the phone, he remembered that he had given his real name, and you knew he worked in food service, and you knew he wore a stupid uniform. That narrowed it down really easily. 

So he spent his shift in a constant state of dread and panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

By the time the mall was closing, he had occupied himself with wiping down tables. He let Robin head home and pulled out his Walkman to keep him company. Since working at Starcourt, he made a pretty sick collection of tapes that wound up in the lost and found. This one was a metal mix, which typically wasn’t his thing, but was growing on him. 

He didn’t realize you were standing over him until you rapped twice on the table, drawing his eyes up, up, up until they were locked with yours. He scrambled to pause the tape and stand up, adjusting his stupid uniform as an embarrassed blush grew on his cheeks. 

“Hi,” you greeted. Your Waldenbooks vest hung loosely on your form, right on top of a pink polo. 

“Hi,” he echoed. It was quiet for a second, as he tried to think of what to say, and as you scrambled for the words you’d been practicing all day. “I’ve known it was you for a while.” The words escaped him before he could stop himself, and then he just stared at you, completely mortified. 

You laughed, covering your face for a moment as heat flooded your cheeks. “You knew? I didn’t even— I mean, I didn’t realize. Because I knew it was you calling. For a while, actually. 

He grinned, leaning forward. “So… the guy you said you wanted to… against the shelves…?” When you ducked your head and looked away, he smiled like the cat who got the cream. “No way. You were totally perving on me, even before!”

“You had to walk into a deep freezer to cool off because you were thinking about me, perv.” He laughed, and you wanted to kiss him so badly it freaked you out a little. “So… What do we do now? I mean, now that you know who I am, and I know who you are, and we’re going to keep running into each other.”

Your poor cuticles were going through the wringer— red and stinging where you picked at them due to nerves. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to just sweep you into his arms like some kind of fairytale and promise his undying devotion. Or just say he wanted to date you. Whichever.

“I could take you on a date,” he said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, if your type is total pervs who spend most of the week in sailor uniforms.”

Oh, you had plans for that sailor uniform. You stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I think you just might be in luck.” He turned his head, just slightly, so he could capture your mouth with his. 

The kiss was sweet, at first. Slow brushes of his lips against yours. They tasted sweet, like he’d been wearing lip smackers or something. Or maybe he’d been sneaking samples of the ice cream. He pulled you closer and you gasped, offering him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned softly at the feeling of your tongue licking against his. 

He picked you up easily, sitting you down on the table he should’ve been cleaning. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. It was easy to lose yourself in the hungry, desperate way Steve kissed. You could’ve stayed right there in the middle of Scoops making out with him until the mall opened in the morning, and still not have found the motivation to stop. 

A bright light startled you back into reality, shining directly in your faces. You and Steve squinted in the general direction, as Starcourt security stomped your way. 

“Hey! Get the fuck home,” He shouted, with equal amounts of exasperation and annoyance. He clicked off the flashlight and walked away with a huff and an eye roll, leaving you and Steve alone.

Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment as he stepped back, but he still wore a dopey grin on his lips. You hopped off the table and adjusted your skirt with a light laugh. 

“That was nice,” You said as you tucked a loose curl behind your ear. “I should leave you to it, I guess. Before we both end up in mall jail.” 

He shook his head quickly. “No! I mean, you could hang out here until I’m done. I just have a few more tables to clean and chairs to stack, if you want to—” He trailed off, looking at you expectantly. 

A sly grin spread across your features. “What? Are you trying to go home with me or something?” He stammered nervously, that same, cute blush growing on his cheeks. Before he could say anything, you took a step closer and peered up at him. “Because if you are, I might tell you that my roommate works nights at Hawkins General, and we’d have it conveniently all to ourselves.”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

You sat in the booth nearest to the entrance of the parlor, flipping through a magazine you’d grabbed from work. Occasionally, you’d sneak tiny peeks of Steve bent over a table to wipe it down, uniform stretched tight over his ass, and grin behind the pages. 

He got everything locked up in what he claimed was record time, flashing a smile as he closed up shop behind the two of you.

”Do you work tomorrow?” You asked, as casually as possible as the two of you approached your cars in the employee lot. 

“Yep. Afternoon shift,” he explained.

“I’ll drive you. We’ll carpool tonight.”

The car ride was relatively tame, a few stolen glances at stoplights at most. When you brought him inside the house, your phone was ringing off the hook. You apologized and ushered him into your room, where, true enough, the spare phone you used for the hotline was ringing nonstop. 

“Sorry, let me just…” You grabbed the phone and hung it up once, before taking it off the receiver completely. “There. No interruptions.”

Steve grinned, surveying your room carefully. The set of pom-poms from high school on a shelf, a stack of Cosmopolitan magazines, the chair full of your laundry— fuck, you should’ve definitely taken a moment to speed clean before letting him inside. 

“So… what do you say we pick up where we left off?” You stood on your tiptoes and pecked his lips chastely before guiding him towards your bed. As soon as he sat down, you wasted no time in crawling into his lap and kissing him with all of the pent-up frustration of weeks of phone calls. 

You kissed him for so long you’d have to come up panting for air, before diving right back in. His hands— Jesus, you’d never noticed how big his hands were— were splayed out over your hips at first, but had moved down to grab your ass, encouraging each movement as you rocked against him. 

Without breaking the kiss, you shrugged off your work vest, so it fell into a heap over the side of your bed. He pulled back, chest heaving slightly as he caught his breath. His lips were swollen from use and spit-slick. His eyes moved from the vest on the ground, then back to your eyes. A tiny laugh escaped you before you pulled off your top, then your bra. 

“This still okay?” You asked, as you stood briefly and tugged down your denim skirt. The sound of your voice felt almost foreign in the quiet room, while he took in the sight of you in nothing but a pair of panties.

“God, more than okay,” he assured, before pulling you onto his lap for another heated kiss. This kiss was needier— you could feel it in the hungry way he licked into your mouth, and the feel of him hard beneath you. Tiny gasps pushed past your lips as you rocked against him just right. 

He moved his hands from you only to pull off his work shirt, and the white shirt he wore beneath it. Your hands immediately went to his chest, running through the chest hair he’d hidden beneath the uniform. How the fuck did he manage to walk out of his house without being immediately pounced on by every woman in a five-mile radius?

 He placed one final kiss on your lips before pulling back and meeting your gaze. As earnestly as you’d ever, he asked, “Can I go down on you?”

Yes. Fuck, yes. Oh my god, yes. “Sure, if you want to.”

He smiled wide. “Yeah? Just relax for me, alright?” He shifted the two of you, so you were lying on the bed and he was on top of you. He planted a chaste peck on your nose, and you wrinkled it in reaction. 

You kissed him one, fleetingly, before letting him kiss down your chest and tummy. He parted your thighs and carefully positioned himself between them. You met his gaze and felt your stomach somersault. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the damp fabric of your panties.,

“Fuck,” he mumbled against you. “You’re soaking for me, huh?” And there was that cocky grin you’d seen at the mall before. You had to lie back and put a hand over your eyes, because if you thought about that fucking smug expression for too long, you’d cum untouched. 

He ran his tongue over the fabric of your panties, tasting you through the saturated satin once, twice before he pulled them down your legs. And he fucking moaned like a man starved at the sight of you. 

Heat burned in your cheeks as you felt him spreading you open, and at the slick, wet sounds of your own arousal. “You’re so pretty.” And then his tongue was on you, lapping up your juices, savoring all of you. 

“O-oh, fuck—“ Your moan came out like a sob as his nose brushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble. He moaned against your cunt, nuzzling deeper like he couldn’t get enough. 

In retrospect, he had brought up how much he loved eating pussy a lot on that first call. Your hips bucked slightly, torn between chasing the feeling and overstimulation. His lips would wrap around your clit and suck softly before he would go back to lapping at you, his tongue parting your folds and teasing your entrance. 

“St-Steve!” You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair. The slightest tug on his locks made him moan against you, which made your toes curl. 

Your moans became pitchy and breathless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. All of your muscles were wound up tight, itching for release. 

All it took was a little bit of eye contact and you were done for. You sobbed out a moan as he lapped up your release— each lap of his tongue sending electricity up your nerves. When he finally relented, you were shaking with aftershocks and giggling. 

“Something funny?” He asked with a grin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You sighed and spared a glance over at him. “I’ve been dreaming of that happening since our first call.” He grinned as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. 

“Did it meet your expectations?” He asked, swallowing nervously as you shifted to accommodate your hand between the two of you. His eyes fluttered shut as your hand slipped beneath his work shorts and boxers to grasp his cock in your hand. 

You gave a slow, experimental stroke of your hand and nodded. “Two thumbs up.”

He swallowed hard as you removed your hand to completely undress him, leaving you both completely naked. You spit into your hand and wrapped it back around his length, holding eye contact as you jerked him off.

There was something so surreal about the entire situation— having him beneath you, warm and pulsing and slick in your hand. Each time your thumb brushed along the head of his cock, he cried out with the prettiest moan.

“W-wait—“ he said quickly, a look of panic in his eyes. You stilled your hand as he looked at you, a pretty blush painting his cheeks. “I’m not gonna last.”

You bit your to keep from grinning like an idiot. “That’s okay,” you said with a smile. You reached into your bedside table and retrieved a condom. “Do you want to, uh, go all the way?” 

He nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, please.”

You tore open the packet and rolled the condom on. “How’s that feel? Alright?” He gave a dorky thumbs up, which made you laugh. You leaned down to kiss him once more and wondered if you’d ever get tired of that feeling. 

You reached between the two of you and guided his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal until you grew too needy and lined him up with your entrance. It was a stretch, even though he’d gotten you plenty worked up with his mouth. You sank down slowly, one hand splayed against his chest to keep you steady as you took in inch after inch. 

The sounds that escaped him as you lowered yourself onto him were so pornographic you thought he should be the one working the hotline instead. Desperate panting moans slipped past his full lips as his hands clawed at your hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “That’s it. You can take it.”

The mouth on him. You moaned softly as you finally settled onto his lap and he was fully sheathed within you. You stayed still, letting your body adjust to and relish in how full you felt. 

“You look so pretty right now,” he said, reaching up to brush a messy hair from your face. You laughed softly as your cheeks warmed, and a funny fluttering in your chest nearly stole your breath.

“Says you,” was all you could manage to say back. You were hyper-aware of the feeling of him within you, of each flutter of your walls around him.

You gave an experimental roll of your hips and his head fell back, against the pillows, exposing the column of his throat. You relished in the way he looked beneath you— debauched and needy. 

It was easy and slow at first. Each time you moved, you would lower yourself back down slowly, letting him savor the feeling of you, warm and wet and needy. He groaned each time you settled back on his lap, eyes hooded with lust as he looked up at you.

You gave a lazy smile as you looked down at him, moaning each time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Can I go a little faster?”

He nodded, eager for whatever you could give him. Your nails raked against his chest as you began to ride him in earnest, the back of your thighs slapping against his as you bounced on his cock. 

Your head fell back as you rubbed at your clit with your free hand. Soft moans spilled from your lips as you relished in the culmination of all of your fantasies. Because he was there, splayed out beneath you like a fucking pornstar, and you had him all to yourself. 

His fingers dug into the plush of your hips as he began meeting your thrusts halfway, fucking into the heaven between your thighs. 

Your eyes rolled back as he fucked himself deeper and deeper, stealing your breath with each thrust. “Close,” you practically squeaked out. Red marks stood out against the freckles skin of his chest where you searched desperately for purchase. 

Steve’s hair was stuck to his forehead, tacky from exertion. “Need you to cum for me,” he managed between pretty moans. “Wanna feel you cumming around me.”

You whimpered at his words, riding him harder as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. A fucked-out moan escaped you as you collapsed against his chest, hips weakly stuttering as Steve continued fucking up into you. With your pussy gripping him like a vise, he could only manage a few good thrusts before he came with a groan. 

You laid there on top of him as you caught your breath, wearing a stupid, giddy smile as he traced mindless shapes onto your back. His face was buried in your neck, where he left sweet, wet kisses. After a while, you slid off of him and sighed, missing the way it felt when he was still buried inside of you. You did your best to clean yourself off with the towel hanging from your bedpost as Steve tied off the condom and tossed it in the bin. 

“We’re not just…” Steve began once you were both comfortable in your bed. He let the words linger for a moment before he shook his head. “Never mind.”

You turned on your side to face him, adjusting your blankets for a bit of modesty. “We’re not just fucking? That’s what you’re asking, right?” He nodded quietly. “It was nice, but no, that’s not all I want.”

He grinned. “Yeah? You wanna be my girlfriend? I totally pulled a cougar.” His stupid grin made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t keep a matching smile off of yours. 

“You’re so annoying,” you said, not giving him a second to react before your lips were on his again. You pulled back and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. 

In the morning, you woke up in his arms as sunlight crept through the window. You squinted at the sun, then back at him. “Still want me to drive you to work?”

“No way,” he said, muffled against the column of your throat. Soft kisses peppered against your skin, making you giggle and arch into him. “I’m calling in.”

[mamun258]

Top ten predictions for the video account ecosystem!

In the WeChat open class the day before yesterday, I talked about several key points about video accounts. Where are the dividends  HE Tuber  of video accounts? Where are the growth opportunities for the brand? This article will continue to summarize the top ten predictions for video accounts in 2024, let’s take a look.

The day before yesterday was the WeChat open class, and the video account was still the well-deserved protagonist.

I was shocked: first, the enthusiasm for making money in the South, and second, the potential of the video account. Judging from the huge crowds at the conference, it looks like a large-scale Spring Festival travel festival. The picture below is the most powerful interpretation of the video account bonus.

Last year, in our article "Top Ten Predictions for the Video Account Ecosystem in 2023", we predicted that the commercialized closed-loop infrastructure facilities, the advertising algorithm emphasizing the back link, more and more ToBs choose to deepen their cultivation, and the main battlefield of the clue industry have all been accomplish.

Of course, there are a few slaps in the face. For example, we believe that cultural live broadcasts have become a feature, and anchors are no longer signboards but brand owners. This seems to be too advanced and will take time to be realized.

Comfort yourself, courage is the most valuable! Continuing the top ten predictions of the video account in 2024, this time we strive for a higher reliability factor.

01 The “account making party” has fully poured into the video account

Possibility index: 95%

Why does this rank first? Because content is the absolute cornerstone.

In various reviews over the past year, the biggest feature of video account content is "growth". There are often dark horses with new accounts on the list, which is almost impossible on other platforms.

The main reason is that the social nature of video accounts is so powerful. If one person likes it, a group of people will like it. Kantar’s research data shows that when encountering high-quality content, 77% of users will choose to like it, 60% of users will choose to forward it, and 53% of users will choose to click the thumbs-up button. The current video accounts are very similar to the public accounts around 2015, and they are very worthy of being cultivated by the account-making party.

Especially after the second half of 2023, we found that many content creators will no longer transfer content from other platforms, but will make specially customized content, and may even form "hot content memes for video accounts".

Based on this, we predict that in 2024, the number-making parties that are truly deeply involved in different industries will have another opportunity to start from scratch.

02 The surge in investment players

Possibility index: 85%

Also starting from the second half of 2023, various training camps began to teach you how to invest in video accounts. This trend shows that more and more brands/individuals who want to grow are interested in investing in video accounts.

For each platform, there are two types of gameplay: underwater (relying on operations and free traffic) and above water (paying traffic to obtain traffic). Generally, they are matched with each other, and the natural flow starts and the traffic amplifies.

Why do we think 2024 is the key year for streaming players? This is determined by the current ecological competition.

On the one hand, there are indeed universal cyclical dividends for video accounts in various sub-categories; on the other hand, with the integration and improvement of the platform data system, streaming has become more and more accurate; there is another point worth mentioning Unfortunately, competition across the entire network has intensified, traffic on many platforms has peaked, gross profits and net profits have generally declined, and streaming costs have been overwhelmed. In order to maintain stable growth, they began to shift their streaming volume to video accounts.

In the video account ecosystem, the consumption habits of high-priced users have begun to be continuously cultivated.

Different from the live broadcast e-commerce strategy of 9.9 yuan to capture users, most groups immersed in video accounts are less sensitive to price than other platforms, which pushes up the overall customer unit price of video account e-commerce. . According to Cass data, the return rate of video accounts is between 20% and 40%. Taking clothing as an example, the return rate is within 30%, which is much lower than other platforms.

Some brands even believe that the understanding and trust of regular private customers in the brand makes the repurchase rate higher and the return rate lower than other platforms. Only then can they have the confidence to sell genuine-priced products on the video account, and the price cannot be lower than that of other platforms. 10% off the tag price." Having the confidence to carry out this kind of operation is unique among e-commerce companies that mainly focus on low-price strategies, which further illustrates the "high customer order" and brand stickiness of video account users.

The relevant person in charge of Jingrun Pearl once shared such a set of data: "On other platforms, the unit price per customer is 600 to 800 yuan, but on the video account, the unit price can reach 1,000 to 1,200 yuan or even higher, and there are some orphan products. Everything will be sold.”

There is a certain cost profit margin, and the paid streaming methodology is mature.

Therefore, in 2024, streaming players will take advantage of the time when WeChat streaming is still not expensive and the competition is not big to fully enter, plan in advance, familiarize themselves with the platform algorithm, draw accurate user portraits, secure a stable base of regular customers, and find leverage Leverage for new customers.

03 Mutual selection becomes a marketing component, and the master’s income increases by 300%

Possibility index: 70%

Brands that have contacted public accounts will regard "mutual selection" as a talisman to prevent advertisements from being restricted, but mutual selection in video accounts carries a more important commercial mission.

Especially when a major brand event breaks out, you can use the mutual selection platform to conduct a second interpretation of the brand event, so that every audience can understand the advertisement and achieve long-term brand mental penetration.

At the same time, it can be combined with the video account heating tool to greatly improve the marketing effect of the brand; and after mutual selection, the link products and data capabilities will also have the opportunity to further iterate in 2024, for the brand's subsequent investment retention, direct monetization, private domain retention, etc. Choice offers possibilities.

Based on the various gameplay and traffic subsidies of mutual selection of video accounts in 2024, it is predicted that the number of brands that cooperate through mutual selection will double compared with 2023, and the overall income of video account mutual selection masters can increase by 300%.

04 E-commerce GMV increased by 200%

70% probability

The "upper limit" of video accounts is getting higher and higher.

In 2021, the GMV of video accounts’ live broadcast of goods will increase by more than 15 times; in 2022, the GMV of video accounts’ live broadcast of goods will increase by more than 8 times year-on-year.

According to fresh data from yesterday's WeChat open class, in 2023, the GMV of live broadcasts of video accounts will continue to grow rapidly, with the supply quantity increasing by 300%, the number of orders increasing by 244%, and the GPM (transaction amount per thousand views) exceeding 900+.

Because the base is already very high, in 2024, we predict that the video account e-commerce market will grow by 200%.

[papermoonloveslucy]

MODELING INTO THE MOVIES

August 8, 1936

By Jeannette Meehan, HOLLYWOOD 

From the women’s angle, there are simply too many gorgeous newcomers in Hollywood. That fact is plain. 

From the gentlemen’s angle, Hollywood is pleasantly crowded with the most alluring bits of femininity ever to delight the bald-headed row. This fact is even plainer. Oh, say it isn’t so, but there a new day dawning in the west for the Stage Door Johnnies. 

Whence comes this influx of Eves? Who are these girls of such attractive physical make-up? 

Well, sir, most of them are ex-models. 

The highway and by-ways to Moviedom are past counting. Those most traveled have been the extra route, the beauty contest route or the I-have-a-relative route. Yesterday our newcomers were night club crooners, radio personalities and million-dollar heiresses. Today the majority of candidates for stardom are no longer being recruited from these avenues. It now quite obvious that any girl who has been a model approaches the casting office with an asset that permits her to pass up the waiting list. 

Oh, phooey, what’s a model got that the others haven’t? 

Well, when Radio Picture wanted five beauties for the fashion show sequence in “Roberta” they tested 30 girls, and then sent out an S.O.S. to the ranks of professional models. That was a year ago. Those five models so delighted the camera that they’re still under contract. (1)

Just a few months ago, when M-G-M went scouting for 22 modern Venuses for “The Great Ziegfeld”, they discovered that the ex-models had a lot more poise and personality than the kids who were merely movie struck. Eighteen of those 22 “Ziegfeld Girls” were former models. Fourteen of the 18 were given contracts. You just can’t argue with “figures” like that, or should I say with “figures like theirs"? (2)

“Model your way to the movies” isn’t just a catchy phrase. Models come to Hollywood already equipped with the elementary essentials which studios spend a great deal of time and money trying to hammer into inexperienced youngsters. Models have already served their apprenticeship to the art of carriage, grace and charm. They’ve already passed a certain type of beauty contest. The girl whose picture helps to sell beauty preparations has to have a face that leads you to believe that the product is worth trying. A pair of silk stockings modeled on muscle-bound or "spindle” legs would scarcely lure you to the hosiery department. 

You never see a good model stumble over her train. She remains regal and sure-footed in the most confusing draperies. 

Figuratively speaking, these girls are above reproach. Most fashion houses require that their models be above medium height, broad through the shoulders, slim through the hips, and that their proportions be symmetrically arranged. Thus, they’ve long since graduated from the routine of diets, masseurs, and classes for corrective posture that faces tire average beginner. 

In other words, movie producers are finding out that modeling is a natural complement to screen work. Film executives are discovering that the girls who come to them from portrait and artists studios and from fashion salons are far ahead of those who approach Hollywood's pot of gold with no training. 

Not only that, but these ex-models seem to be well-mannered, well-educated girls whose off-screen poise and chic rivals that of their screen betters. 

Oh, dear are they gorgeous? They're enough to make us ordinary girls forget to look before we leap. Just for instance, take Pauline Craig [above] (3), an auburn-haired, statuesque beauty from Cleveland, O. She’s five feet six and one-half inches tall, weighs 118 pounds, and has a figure that only Jean Harlow (4) could be unconcerned about.  

Miss Craig was a “Ziegfeld” girl - now she’s under contract. She skipped the first grade in motion picture training, and I guess we all know why. She was a model. Her glorious smile has appeared in hundreds of advertisements. As a fashion model she worked for I. Magnins. (5)

Are you wondering if these girls observe any general rules for the maintenance of health and beauty? Miss Craig will tell you that most of them prefer fresh air to smoky drawing rooms, and that they substitute milk for alcoholic beverages.

Incidentally, her hobby is collecting pictures of the Dionne quintuplets. (6)

Another girl recruited from the model ranks for “The Great Ziegfeld" was Wanda Perry (7), a vivacious brunet from Brooklyn. She's five feet five and one-half inches tall, weighs 120 pounds, and has brown eyes. 

With her classic features and her superb figure, there was a great demand for her in New York’s portrait galleries and exclusive clothing establishments. She has posed and modeled for Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, McFadden Publications and for tooth paste ads. 

With an already perfect camera presence, she is not to be enrolled in the studio's kindergarten for beginners. 

Over at Paramount there’s a queenly blond named Elizabeth Russell (8), probably the best known of former New York models. A favorite of such distinguished illustrators as Russell Patterson, James Montgomery Flagg, McClelland Barclay, Dean Cornwell, Paul Hesse, and Steichen, the photographer. Miss Russell is now in possession of a flattering long-term contract.

Artists agree that her features are photographically perfect. Artist or no artist, they’ll look perfect to you! She has modeled hose, nightgowns, and coiffures. Her blonde beauty has helped to sell cigarettes, jewels, soap, sheets, automobiles and first-aid kits. Very soon she'll be helping Paramount sell “Girl of the Ozarks,” her first picture (9). Miss Russell is five feet eight inches tall, weighs 118 pounds, has blue eyes and naturally blond hair. 

Another beautiful blonde who modeled her way to the movies is Louise Stuart (10), a former Chicago debutante. After graduating from Miss Mason's Castle (11) she went to New York to visit former school chums. It was during one of these visits that she was persuaded to pose for cigarette ads. One good look at her flawless countenance, and modeling jobs were her for the asking. With plenty of time on her hands, and nothing to do with it, she went to work. 

Miss Stuart attributes most of her success with the test director to her experience as a model. Posing for artists and photographers, she says, gave her a self-assurance which she has never lost. You'll see her first in “Lady Be Careful." (12)

A third Paramount prize is Veda Ann Borg (13), a stunning, red headed girl from New York. Before the studio signed her to a long-term contract, her divine proportions and sparkling personality had created a sensation in the modeling field. 

One of the most exquisite of Hollywood's newcomers is brunette Anita Colby (14) who stands five feet seven inches tall without her high-heeled shoes. Her face has smiled at you from magazine covers, commercial advertisements and from the pages of the nation's smartest fashion periodicals. Her beauty is attractively framed in poise, wit and charm. She is conversant with world affairs, music, art and literature. Pictorially speaking, she’s a model of perfection. Radio proudly points to her name on its contract list. 

Radio has two other "model" charmers in the persons of Maxine Jennings (five feet eight inches tall), and Lucille Ball (five feet six and one-half inches tall). Miss Jennings (15), a former model for the famous couturier, Jean Patou, is a stately redhead as handsome a creature as you ever laid your eyes on. You'll soon be seeing her in featured leads. 

Miss Ball (above), a blue-eyed blonde from Montana (16) and former model for Hattie Carnegie, is considered an important trump in the studio's hand. Her bosses have thus far cast her in wise-cracking roles, hoping to develop her into a counterpart of the late Lilyan Tashman (17) - but Lucille doesn't seem to need much help along those lines. Her poise, her suave delivery and her flair for clothes have already added to the gaiety of nations and have cannoned her well along the road to stardom. 

One of the most beautiful of the "model" brunettes is Hester Deane (18) who is doing much to enhance M-G-M productions. Her likeness on the backs of magazines has caused many a gentleman to change his brand of cigarettes, and she posed for automobile body advertisements long before the studio discovered that her presence on screen would “up” the grosses. 

She was born in Oklahoma City. Her education included art and music. Now, when she isn’t modeling or working in pictures, she designs clothes, takes piano lessons, and studies philosophy. 

A good look at Mary Jane Halsey (19) will have different reactions on you, depending on your sex. If you’re a woman, you’d just as soon she broke her neck.

Miss Halsey was born in Milwaukee. After her family moved to Los Angeles she became a model for a famous cosmetician. She is five feet six inches tall and weighs 120 pounds. She has blue eyes, and ‘shhhhhh’, she writes poetry. 

If these "model" newcomers get any taller, a few of our leading men will have to wear stilts. Extreme height, which has sounded the gong for many a beginners’ career, doesn't seem to be a handicap for the ex-models. When these lovely girls began to invade Hollywood, apparently the enthusiastic producers forgot all about the traditional physical specifications for screen heroines. There was a time when all actresses had to be extremely petite and slim, like Gloria Swanson and Colleen Moore, and, more recently, like Claudette Colbert and Margaret Sullavan (20). Unless you were a diminutive little trick about five feet two inches tall, and weighed less than 100 pounds, you might just as well have stayed on the farm. Greta Garbo and Kay Francis (21) were overlooked for a long time because of their height. 

But the restrictions seem to have been called off. It appears that models can grow as tall as they like without the danger of facing dismissal from the casting office. Margaret Lyman (22), one of the prettiest of the model group to win a picture contract, stands five feet nine inches in her stocking feet, and weighs 129 pounds. 

One of the most photographed models of the country, Miss Lyman has posed for Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, The New Yorker and for cigarette and soft drink ads. She has brown hair and brown eyes. She wears a larger shoe than Garbo. 

And no less charming is pretty Jane Hamilton [below] (23), another popular girl who found her way into pictures through the route of her professional success as a model.

#   #   # FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) “Roberta” was released by RKO on March 8, 1935. It was Lucille Ball’s 21st film.  Models were needed for the fashion sequences. The film also employed models Virginia Carroll, Diane Cook, Lynne Carver, Lorraine DeSart, Betty Dumbries, Myrna Low, Margaret McChrystal, Marie Osborne, Wanda Perry, Donna Mae Roberts, and Kay Sutton.  In addition to Lucille Ball, Wanda Perry, Maxine Jennings, and Jane Hamilton were in the film and profiled in this article.

(2) “The Great Ziegfeld” was MGM’s 1936 biopic of Florenz Ziegfeld, the showman who glorified female beauty on stage. Lucille Ball was not in this film, but was later part of the cast of “Ziegfeld Follies” (1951). This film employed dozens of showgirls and models to play the Ziegfeld Girls. Those profiled in this article include Pauline Craig, Wanda Perry, Hester Dean, Mary Halsey, and Margaret Lyman. 

(3) Pauline Craig (1914-97) made her screen debut in “The Great Ziegfeld” but only did five more films, leaving the business in 1939. 

(4) Jean Harlow (1911-37) likely did not know or care about Pauline Craig, even if Craig’s figure did give Harlow a run for her money. She was known as the original platinum blonde sex symbol. She died at age 26, at the peak of her popularity. MGM closed for her funeral. 

(5) I. Magnin & Company was a San Francisco, California-based high fashion and specialty goods luxury department store. It expanded across the West into Southern California and the adjoining states of Arizona, Oregon, and later to Chicago, Illinois, and Washington, DC, metropolitan areas. Mary Ann Magnin founded the company in 1876 and named the chain after her husband, Isaac. The chain was bought out by Macy’s in 1994. 

(6) The Dionne quintuplets (born May 28, 1934) are the first quintuplets known to have survived their infancy. The identical girls were born just in Ontario. All five survived to adulthood. The Dionne girls were born two months premature. The Ontario government and those around them began to profit by making them a significant tourist attraction. As of this writing, two of the girls are still living. 

(7) Wanda Perry was born Helen Beuscher in Brooklyn, New York, on July 24, 1917. When she was sixteen, she was named Miss New York City, and was offered a movie contract by Earl Carroll. Helen moved to Hollywood and took her mother's maiden name, Wanda Perry, appearing in films as a showgirl, an Earl Carroll Girl, a Goldwyn Girl, a dancer in "George White's 1935 Scandals," a fashion model, an extra, a bit player and a stand-in for Lucille Ball! Her final film was as an extra in Lucy’s Mame (1974). 

(8) Elizabeth Russell (1916-2002) was the sister-in-law of Rosalind Russell. She started doing films in 1936 and finished her career in 1960. (9) “Girl of the Ozarks” (1936) was a Paramount film also starring Virginia Weidler, Henrietta Crossman, and Leif Erickson. 

(10) Louise Stuart did two pictures for Paramount back-to-back in 1936. That was the extent of her film career.

(11) Miss Mason’s Castle is a reference to Miss C.E. Mason’s Suburban School for Girls in Tarrytown-on-Hudson, New York. It was open from the late 1880s to 1934. The castle was razed in 1944. 

(12) “Lady Be Careful” (1936) did not feature Louise Stuart as is said here, although records could be incorrect. The film did feature Elizabeth Russell, however. 

(13) Veda Ann Borg (1915-73) did her first film for Paramount in 1936, and was continually employed in Hollywood until 1963. She was the first actress cast as Honeybee Gillis in “The Life of Riley” TV series, replaced a short time later by Marie Brown, then Gloria Blondell. 

(14) Anita Colby (1914-92) was born Anita Counihan. Early in her career, at $50 an hour, she was the highest paid model at the time. She was nicknamed "The Face" and appeared on numerous billboards and ads, many of them for cigarette advertisers. She did three films in 1936 alone, the same year she appeared on 15 magazine covers in a single month. In subsequent years she only acted in three more films, returning to modeling. 

(15) Maxine Jennings (1909-91) did 10 films with Lucille Ball between 1935 and 1937.  After 1938, her film appearances were sporadic.  She made her final screen appearance on a 1968 episode of “Hawaii 5-O”. 

(16) Lucille Ball (1911-89) is stated as being a blonde from Montana. She was actually a brunette from Upstate New York.  

(17) Lucille is once again compared with Lilyan Tashman (1896-1934) a stage and screen actress known for her skill at verbal wit as well as her throaty delivery. She died at age 37, just one year after Lucille Ball arrived in Hollywood. 

(18) Hester Dean became known as 'The Girl with the Fisher Body' after modeling for the Fisher Automobile Company. Her only film was “The Great Ziegfeld” (1936). 

(19) Mary Jane Halsey (1913-89) was also in “The Great Ziegfeld” (1936) but by that time had done nearly a dozen films. She continued to act on screen until 1945. 

(20) Gloria Swanson was 4′11″, Colleen Moore was 5′3″, Claudette Colbert was 5′5″, and Margaret Sullavan was 5′3″. 

(21) Greta Garbo was 5′7″ (same as Lucille Ball), and Kay Francis was 5′9″. 

(22) Margaret Lyman (1915-2002) was one of the models hired for “The Great Ziegfeld” in 1936. She did two more pictures before leaving screen acting behind. 

(23) Jane Hamilton (1915-2004) was a Goldwyn Girl in “Roman Scandals” (1933) just like Lucille Ball. Hamilton, however, had done one previous film as a Goldwyn Girl, “Gold Diggers of 1933″.  She did seven other films with Lucille Ball. Her final screen role was in 1949. 

[warsofasoiaf]

I'd love to hear your thoughts about Cyberpunk 2077 when you are ready/have finished the game. Maybe besides the game itself you have an opinion about the crunch, bugs and general feeling of disappointment in a good portion of the fans

Sure thing. It’s going to be a long write-up and there are going to be spoilers, so you better believe that this is going to have a cut. Reader beware. For context, I have beat the game, and I played it on PC and only on PC.

I’ve been a fan of the cyberpunk genre for a long time. Transhuman and techno-utopian sci-fi always struck me the wrong way; that it was too optimistic and ignored a less savory element of human nature that simply would not go away with the advent of new technologies. While I only briefly dipped my toes in the water of the Cyberpunk tabletop game (I was always a bigger fan of Shadowrun), I did enjoy the genre and was eager to see a AAA cyberpunk game. I also really liked CD Projekt Red with what they did with RPG’s like the Witcher 3. Particularly when it came to the smaller sidequests, they really found a way to bring a lot of noir elements and hard-hitting character moments to the game, and I believed that it could translate very well into a cyberpunk game. After all, noir was a similar response to detective fiction to what the cyberpunk genre was to earlier elements of sci-fi. So I was quite optimistic when it came out. What we got was...well, it didn’t quite meet up with expectations.

There are some good things about the game. Assuming you have a beefy rig, PC cyberpunk looks pretty good. Not only does it look good, but it looks like the dismal 1980′s inspired future that had defined the genre, with its neon lights, omnipresent advertising to the point of satire (amphetamines are available from vending machines in a variety of flavors and commercials are completely ridiculous). The fixers are great examples of different cyberpunk archetypes like Regina Jones being a media or the Padre being an underclass civic leader looking to protect his community with a bit of a violent streak. Plenty of the characters had great personality, the nomads and Panam were enjoyable, Judy had a great questline that detailed optimism and bitter disappointment (and the character looks cool and is a bit of a cinnamon roll), River’s quest was a perfectly serviceable cop questline with enough horror elements, they were all fine. Keanu wasn’t a great voice actor, but he did serviceably and was apparently just wonderful with the staff, so I’m willing to cut him a pass. The level design can encourage a variety of different play styles, with attribute points opening up certain pathways. Given that it’s an open-world sandbox game, the goal should be to immerse yourself in the world, and touch on elements of cyberpunk as you go through the various quests, and you do see some of that. You see the gross exploitations of dolls in the sex trade when you go to Clouds, the bizarre elements of self-expression that new technologies can offer such as the twins in Kabuki, Pacifica is an abandoned recreation ground for the rich with the nice image of rotting Ferris wheels and abandoned malls, and you can see the divide between the have’s and have-not’s on full display both in the opening (compare and contrast the Street Kid with the Corpo beginnings) or take a look at the Peralez’s penthouse apartment versus Judy’s cramped digs. Honestly, one of my favorite things in the game were just the consumables to highlight the different food and drink available to the people of Night City. The heavy population means that foods like fried ants or locust pepperoni are common, amphetamines are available in a variety of flavors, and there are no less than 20 burrito vending machines on every street (the future is not all bad it seems). I like little worldbuilding moments like this in video games because it does give a sense of completion and immersion within the world. I honestly felt bad for Johnny Silverhand, because by the end of the game I had to be a bloated man-ball of Holobites Peach Pie and Cirrus Cola. 

The game even took a few things that had aged poorly in the cyberpunk genre and improved them. The Mox is a gang specifically meant to stop the Disposable Sex Worker trope, it’s small and part of the reason it survives is that it’s small, but it offers a chance of improvement over the exploitation that the Tyger Claws offer. The cyberpyscho quest is probably the best one of this. Earlier Cyberpunk had cyberpsychosis as a serious concern directly correlated with how many implants you got. The Solo archetype even spoke about how you risk losing your humanity with your implants as you became stronger, better, faster. Even later iterations had depersonalization/derealization disorders as people who could see in the dark lost connection to those who couldn’t. A quick thought in our present though, changes this. My eyesight and hearing is just fine, but I don’t lose connection or common empathy with individuals who are blind or deaf. I have two arms and two legs and I have not lost empathy for amputees. Why then, would I lose empathy and connection with someone with average human eyesight after I get my eyes replaced and now I have the ability to see in the dark or have telescopic sight? The cyberpsycho quest actually took this concept to task; cyberpsychos around the city are seen as horrifying threats that need the high-threat response of MaxTac to deal with, but Regina is looking to see if she can cure cyberpsychosis. Mechanically, the cyberpsychos are boss-fights with elements of puzzle gameplay (how to handle the different skillsets that they have) and a bonus reward for non-lethal damage which rewards certain playstyle archetypes or prepwork for those who ensure that they have a non-lethal option. The information you find around each cyberpyscho showcase different problems in the target’s life, no real common thread or inciting incident that you can trace the onset of cyberpsychosis toward and identify a culprit. After you complete the quest, you learn the twist: there is no such thing as cyberpsychosis. Each of the targets were actually just experiencing different stressors within their lives, such as PTSD, losing their job, drug abuse, etc. and the breakdown is made much worse because these individuals have the ability to toss dumpsters like they were baseballs or pick the wings off a fly with a cybernetically enhanced brain with a .50 cal. Some of these individuals had terrible implant surgery done by bargain-basement ripperdocs and temporarily lost the ability to discern reality from fantasy, something that could easily be seen as a science fiction adaptation of temporary insanity brought on by a poor reaction to medicine. It’s backed up by the game too. V can fill every slot in their cyberware deck but never once experiences cyberpsychosis. Oda has ultra-legs and flaming-hot mantis blades and is in perfect control at every point in the game, even when he’s trying to jab those mantis blade through your sternum. Cyberpyschosis isn’t real, the irresponsible media just ran with it because fear sells. For all the flaws of the game, I respect the game for taking cyberpsychosis in that direction.

But for all those good things, the game couldn’t help but feel shallower than the Witcher 3. The side-gigs were formulaic to the point where they even led with a category. There were few twists and very little that was surprising. Exposition for these quests was limited to a short text dump and a minute voice-over. Night City was big but it was relatively sparse. NCPD never seemed to intervene in any crimes (giving the character the chance to do so) but every so often they were around a taped-off crime scene, giving a sense of inconsistency that hampered the world. While it was a bustling city, it felt empty, most of the people I saw on the street were meaningless, just NPC’s walking around to give a sense of activity. There was little in the way of things to see and experience that was unique or different about these NPC’s. They weren’t crowds I could hide in like Hitman, they didn’t have ambient dialogue that showcased something like the Witcher 3. Much like other open-world games, this sense of shallowness pervaded much of the empty space of the world; it was incredibly *big* but there was little in it. Much of the time I was driving or running through empty space that was completely worthless to me. Normal for city living, but all of that is wasted time going from point A to point B, and unlike the Witcher 3, there were no small in-game beats to help flesh it out or build it. I never had Millie from “Where the Wolf and Cat Play” give me a little picture, I never had people from a liberated village say “hey, look, it’s that guy Geralt, thanks for killing those harpies.” These were things that made the Witcher 3′s world really come alive. I didn’t have that, and I was left

Of course, we also have to handle the elephant in the room, and that was CDPR’s conduct both during production and after release. Crunch has become an increasingly common part of video game development and it’s not healthy to developers. CDPR had been called out on it once before, but it seemed there was little change in how that happens. I’m not quite sure if there’s anything we can do, and I’m sympathetic to the need to hit target deadlines to actually deliver a finished product, but there’s got to be a better way, whether that’s a change to the incentive structure, or something, because it’s hurting folks. I like games like Witcher 3 and Red Dead Redemption 2, but I understand that there was a real human cost to these masterpieces, and I wonder if there’s something we can do about that. 

Similarly, what happened after launch was beyond terrible. The last-gen console version were simply not ready for release and shouldn’t have been released to the public. CDPR openly covered up this, by only previewing the PC version, they hid the fact that the game wasn’t ready, and they avoided delaying the last-gen console version because they were looking to capitalize on holiday sales. I’m sympathetic for the need to generate sales, but the flip of this is that you have to deliver the product you advertise, and for last-gen consoles, they didn’t do so. Bugs are one thing, these games are massive undertakings of interacting systems and bugs are inevitable; some of my favorite games were buggy at release, notably Fallout: New Vegas, Witcher 3, and so on. But this went past bugs and into malpractice and deception, and that’s something that’s less forgivable. I personally had few bugs that were out-and-out game breaking but things not loading, quests bugging out, floating bags and other physics wonkiness, all of that hurt the immersion. I’d be more willing to forgive the game without the deception; I can laugh at bugs but not at ignoring quality control to get holiday sales instead of delivering a quality product. Consumers are angry at CDPR and have every reason to be, and I’m one of them. I can express my disappointment and I will do so, we need developers to stop these practices and the only way we can do that is through our wallets and words. I’m not going to tell anyone not to buy CDPR games, that’s entirely your decision because I’m a radical individualist. But I am going to say that they’ve burned a lot of their good karma with me; credibility is a hard beast to gain back. Much like other big name developers, CDPR has hurt their standing in my eyes. Whether that means I need to resort to going to indie games for a little bit or something else, I don’t know, but it’s rough. I liked CDPR and wanted to believe it’d be different, but it seems to not be the case.

Overall, I think it’s another AAA open-world game only made better by my love of the genre, and that stings. I enjoyed some aspects of it, and I hope that through Free DLC, patching, and other good deeds, the game can redeem itself and stimulate new love of the genre. But CDPR needs to do a lot more than that to win back my affection. If anyone has anything specifically that they want to know about the game, such as talk about the main story, individual characters, or so on, just ask.

Thanks for the question, Khef.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[crushzone]

Haikyuu!! Characters As A Film Crew (Pt. 1: Pharmacy Commercial for Gardening Tools

NO ONE asked for this, but I felt a strong urge to bring it to existence. 😂

Will probably be a multi-series because I breath, eat, and sleep on film sets, and even if they are the same crew positions, they all got different styles and reactions based off the premises.

Also, not all positions will be included. I’m only typing the specific ones where Haikyuu!! characters occupy.

So consider each of these headcanons as one film shoot. And the next part as a different shoot. Some characters might get called back to be on future shoots, so expect some reappearances.

And if you have a goofy idea for our next premise, we might be able to open a lil brainstorm pool.

———————

Premise:

The crew gathers, bright and early, on a commercial shoot for a pharmacy store. They’re trying to promote their newly stocked Spring gardening products where a shopper browses through the aisles, then a group of dancers and a leaf mascot emerges and begins dancing.

———————

1st Assistant Director - Sugawara Koshi

He’s so happy to be here. When he hears that there will be dancing involved, he gets SO excited.

When the shot is rolling and people are dancing, he will be right by the director, swaying happily to the songs that they are dancing to. By the end of the first day of filming, he’s already remembered all the dance moves.

Because he enjoyed the fun dancing so much, he gets too distracted to...you know....actually do his job.

Is the main reason why the film shoot goes overtime; because he forgets to keep the director’s and cinematographer’s time in check.

He’s also not very harsh when it comes to putting his foot down and telling the cinematographer that this HAS to be the last shot before they  move on.

When the cinematographer kinda brushes him off, he will pout a lil, and mentally settle on allowing them 2 mores shots just cuz the dance is so fun in this. And same goes for the other shot, then the other...holy crap we have to be out in 15 minutes?! Where did the time go.

If they need more extras to dance, he low key wishes that he could hop in and help out. And when they let him, he is freaking happy.

Is very kind to any production assistants who may be new to the gig.

Makes every instruction sound like a very polite request.

All production assistant interns have a crush on him, and they keep trying to bring him fruit snacks from crafty.

Cinematographer - Tsukishima Kei

The wrong man for this particular shoot

He’s low-key a little embarrassed that he is going to be filming a bunch of people dancing and being happy.

While everyone is happily dancing along, he just glowers by the camera when some dancers can’t seem to hit their mark right. They’re not going to get the perfect spotlight he’s designed for them, dammit!

Gets a little annoyed by how Suga is so excited about the dance.

Also hates the fact that there are so many actors, it’s making him a little anxious about any background actors knocking on his lighting or camera equipments. 

Needs to sip on some Caprisun to calm his nerves, asap.

Will never tell his brother, Akiteru, how his shoot went when he gets home. That, or he’ll make it up, that he actually shot a horror film or something less “lame”.

Will eat the catering meals that are provided, but will silently judge how stiff the chicken is, or how overcooked the pastas are.

The kind of cinematographer who always remains by the camera, and doesn’t really help lighting and grips much when they need it. (It’s a very small crew, so some people are doubling duties.)

Will also leave most of the work to his camera assistants, treats this commercial shoot with the standards of a feature film, and will get kind of annoyed when his expectations are not met. However, if someone asks him if he’s okay, he’ll just smile and say that it is all dandy.

Wouldn’t even accept fruit snacks that his assistant camera brought for him, in an attempt to lighten his mood.

Sodium levels are very high.

Lighting - Wakatoshi Ushijima

Just general really quiet and stoic

No one really notices him, but even before the cinematographer can figure out how to describe the way they want the shot lit, he’s already had a massive light set up on stand by and is ready to go.

Also freaking strong, while the other electrics are figuring out a way to carry this lighting contraption across the pharmacy, and up the stairs wit no elevator, he’ll just say “Let me try”, picks it up, then walks out there alone like he’s holding a feather.

Him and his big lights lol

Somehow, his hands are heat resistant? He tends to lose his leather gloves when he lends it out to someone who needs it. So he just uses those cheap, thin gloves from expendables to adjust some hot lights, and he never flinches. We will never know if it actually hurts him or if he just doesn’t react, even when we can clearly see the smoke coming from his melting gloves.

Doesn’t know anything about voltages though, if there is an outlet, he will plug. Keeps blowing the fuse, and while some people are afraid to mess with the pharmacy’s breaker, it doesn’t bother him. Flips EVERY switch till it works, without reading the labels. definitely gave locations a heart attack.

Never complains about poor catering, but he will bring his own healthy lunch and breakfast.

Though he’ll occasionally snack on fruit snacks from crafty. However, if he got the last packet of fruit snacks available on crafty and someone wants it, he will give it to them in a heartbeat.

Makeup - Satori Tendou

There will be people dressed as leaves and trees? Some farmer-themed costume? DANCING?! He’s DOWN.

He probably had no makeup experience, but he found a way to fake his resume, so that he can put in all of his acrylic finger painting “experiments” as his experience.

When he gets there, his eyes sparkles at ALLLL of the people who are waiting for him to turn them into something.

Doesn’t really listen to what he was instructed to do, so some of the customers who were suppose to have some natural makeup, got turned into a tree as well. Fortunately, the director was able to work around this error, but now they are very short on human-looking actors.

Surprisingly not as awful with his body painting as he could’ve been? Not the best, but he’s not too shabby.

Started off doing the actor’s makeup with one of his original random humming, but when he steps outside to see some of the dancers practicing their moves, the song instantly got stuck in his head, and he CANNOT stop singing it. It’s beginning to drive some people insane.

He will be by the monitor, wiggling his lil hips and humming to the song. He had to be hushed by the Assistant Director Suga a few times, but he can’t help it, music just kind of rumbles out of him like breathing. Also, it’s not like Suga is so harsh about his hushing to begin with, but it did annoy Tendou for a hot sec, before he disregards him since he also notices him dancing next to the director.

Terrible at sanitizing his brushes. Will use the same brushes on different actors (gross). When an actor complains about sanitization, he just pretends like it had JUST occurred to him that they are right. Then he would set the brushes down and go at it with his freaking fingers.

Tilts his head like an owl and steps 10 steps back to study how his makeup job looks, before coming back to examine up close. Just really not subtle about it.

Grip - Keiji Akaashi

This man is a grip i would HIRE in a heartbeat.

Just like Ushijima, people don’t really notice him, per say, but in a way, you also can’t help but notice how he’s always shadowing the cinematographer so he can get a head start on instructions and problem solving.

However, he is very methodical though. Never just asks his team to grab a gear until he is sure it will be used. He just understands that most equipments are freaking heavy, and he never wants to overwork his crew.

Always hella crafty; need a dolly shot, but you couldn’t rent one? Here’s a shopping cart lol. Sound department misplaced their dead cat? (It’s a fluffy thing that you put over the microphone to prevent wind sounds), just let me buy a teddy bear from the kids section and make one for you. His rigs definitely makes it to shittyrigs Instagram page often.

But you have to admit that his shittyrigs are pretty impressive AND actually secure.

Ended up getting pulled into the commercial to be one of the costumers, since they were short on actors (Since Makeup Artist Tendou kept turning actors into trees). He barely reacts to anything so they had to pull him back out.

Because his roommate, Bokuto, is taking the role of the main leaf mascot, he cannot wander off to rest between takes because Bokuto keeps looking to him for approval haha.

Really quiet, but when anybody comes up to him for some advice, he never hesitates to share what he’s learnt from his experience.

Lead Actor (Mascot) - Kotaro Bokuto

Is Akaashi’s roommate.

One day when Bokuto returns home, all pouty, because he decided to quit his job, Akaashi tries to think of a way to get this man a job that he would enjoy.

Then when he tells Bokuto that he’s hired for a commercial shoot as a Grip, Bokuto basically threw him a little ice cream party (he probably throws Akaashi a little celebratory party every time he gets a gig, and he is an experienced regular who gets gigs ALL the time.) but he did sensed something wrong: As happy as Bo is for one of his many grip gigs, there’s an underlying atmosphere of sadness that he can’t brush off.

“How do you feel about potentially dancing in a leaf mascot costume for a commercial shoot?” And at that question, Bo’s eyes sparkle ✨

Seeing as Akaashi had worked with this advertising company as a freelancer for a while, he put in a good word for his friend.

When Bokuto shows up for audition, the casting directors LOVE him. Gets the role right away, and from that day on, this company keeps re-hiring him as their different mascots.

The crew loves him, the client loves him, and the casts love him. This man is THRIVING.

Not the best dancer, but he’s energetic enough that it’s just endearing in his own way.

When he gets handed the leaf costume, he’ll accepts it as if someone’s handing him a sword.

Just stomps around the pharmacy as a lil leaf, the heat of the suit doesn’t even bother him when he could look this cool. However, he’ll trip on his costume A LOT, but he’s fine because it’s actually pretty cushiony.

In one of the shots, he tripped on his costume, and simply stands back up to continue dancing like nothing’s happened, cuz the show must go on. That was the shot that made it to the final commercial.

The choreographer actually tried to teach him a dance, but because he’s pretty bad at learning dances, they just let him do his thing.

Boom Operator - Lev Haiba

This tall boi is BORN to be a boom operator.

Due to his naturally friendly demeanor, a lot of background and dancers thought that he is flirting with them. However they later realize that he’s just friendly when they figured out they were all swooning over the same person.

Can hold boom poles very high, like he can hold it over the aisles without a ladder sometimes.

This is his first gig, so he doesn’t really know tricks to hold the boom pole for an extended amount of time.

So his arms will probably tire out real fast. And sometimes you can turn around mid dance to see that he has his eyes closed and his arms are TREMBLING. (Poor boi, but please keep your eyes open when the camera is rolling lol.)

And when the shot is cut, he will bring his arms back down and smile SO big cuz he gets to relax. But will cry when they have to go again.When will this shot cut omg. The dance sequence is so long.

Because he keeps his eyes closed, he always accidentally dips the microphone in frame. I can assure you that you will hear “BOOM IN FRAME” about a 100 times on this shoot.

When the director views their favorite shot, they realize the microphone is in frame, Lev would smile VERY innocently when the director groans.

Trips on his own microphone cable. Akaashi had to come up with a contraption to save him from tripping.

No idea how to coil cables, so it’s always just a big spaghetti mess.

Always eats SO much during lunch.

Always bumping into shelves, counters, fridges. If you hear the sound of 30 cans falling from a distant aisle, it’s probably Lev and his boom pole. Will also give locations a heart attack.

Same goes for if you hear “OW!!” it’s probably him too, but this time he is tripping on his cable, before the pole lands on someone’s head.

Just overall a very chaotic and dangerous boom operator.

Transportation - Hinata Shoyo

Honestly has no idea what he is doing. JUST learnt how to drive recently, so he figured, he’d make some money.

Can’t even follow the GPS so well. GPS: turn left at Baker St. Hinata: BUT WHEN?! Is it this street? Whoa, this car is coming out of the street...oh...that was Baker St. uhh, I’ll do another loop. Actor: this is your 4th loop!!

Gets kind of overwhelmed by how many actors he had to pick up. This is a pharmacy commercial shoot right? Why are there so many actors?!

Just gets really awkward when there is no one to transport though. Like what else is he suppose to do now?

Would just hang out around crafty and stress snack. Then he’d have to run to the bathroom often cuz he ate too much.

Because of that, you can’t really find him when you need him, sometimes. He’ll have to keep responding to his radio while in the restroom.

Totally thinks that the distortion of the radio will mask his flushing. But he is WRONG.

Dancer - Terushima Yuuji

Is actually a pretty great dancer. He gets to be one of the dancers who get the most screen time.

The choreographer loves him, he even asked if he can please add his own flair to it, and when he attempts some free styling, the whole team is impressed, some even swooned.

Found a way to convince the director to have him wink at the camera, and that may or may not be why the pharmacy’s gardening products were nearly all sold out the moment the commercial aired. Never knew gardening could be this sexy, did’cha? *winks*

Playboy af. At the end of the shoot, he’s got 10 new numbers from cuties on set, can’t even decide who he should hit up first. Some of these numbers, he got them from crew/cast members who genuinely thought his cocky behavior’s pretty hot, but a good half of it also came from his persistence.

Demands some fancy snacks for crafty, but when the crafty person leaves to go find that snack for him, he quickly shoves a handful of some junky candy and cheetos in his pockets. 

And those snacks will probably be his dinner tonight.

Is a little bit of a jerk to “newer” actors. Like bruh, this is not even a film shoot for a movie, it’s just a commercial. 🤷🏻‍♀️

REFUSES to be turned into a tree. He will maintain his sexy human form, please, and thank you. But sexy farmer is fine, I guess.

Background Actor (who dances too) - Kageyama Tobio

Shows up thinking that all he has do is to just push shopping carts around in the background.

Wrong

He didn’t know he had to dance too. And suddenly all blood drains from him.

What is he going to do?! He was already in 2 of the shots, he can���t back out now.

When it comes to the dancing part, he is as stiff about it as you can expect.

Why are there no yogurt or milk at crafty? :( He needs it now more than ever, to calm his nerves.

But when he did get it, and drank it, it didn’t seem to sit too well in his tummy when he dances. He’s confused.

Freaking transportation guy keeps occupying the bathroom. His name is Hinata? He knows because he can hear Hinata’s name being called through the walkie while he is in the restroom.

-----------------

A/N This is my first headcanon, so please let me know if there are things I can improve on! 🥰

——————

Taglist (open): @shhhlikeme @ceo-of-daichi @karasu-hoes @super-noya @nonexistent-social-life

[marketgeneratorbusiness-blog]

4 Reasons Why Generac Is The Best Business Generator Line Available On The Market

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[hellorickturner-blog]

Daniel Carpenter Taking Things to a New Level

Daniel Carpenter is far from your average senior. He doesn’t take life slow or easy, in fact when most people his age begin to become less active, Daniel Carpenter speeds his life up. So what makes this 64 year old, retired army captain, licensed private investigator, and former professor with a PH.D. in Drama do for fun? The answer may surprise you. Currently, Carpenter is learning MMA and pursuing a career in Rap! Rap Music to be precise and like everything Daniel had ever applied himself to he’s giving it 110%.

Carpenter was born on November 5th 1955 in the back of a farm truck on route 315 in Simsbury, Connecticut (a suburb of Hartford) on the way to the hospital, in a thunderstorm. Already an unusual start to this extraordinary man’s life, at the age of five, he was already showing incredible abilities. Carpenter wrote and performed a cello concerto featured in a local town’s christmas pageant. He was also known to be incredibly athletic, competing against boys much older then he in the annual township’s swim competition. “I was about five or six around that time and the high school swim coach noticed me swimming laps in the pool one summer, he said that I swam faster and better than most of his varsity swim team members. Even at that age, I found his remarks to be humorous because I has practically taught myself to swim” Carpenter remarked. Carpenter was known for his confident and competitive nature throughout his early school years and that reputation continued throughout his highschool career. Voted most likely to succeed in his senior yearbook, Carpenter was a force to be reckoned with. He was the varsity wrestling team captain, school newspaper editor, the star of the debate team and the class president. “I never wanted to have a reason to look back and regret not trying something” Carpenter reflected, “I wanted to make sure I had gave everything a shot.”

In December 1973, Carpenter enlisted in the army to fight in Vietnam. He had just turned 18 and answered to call for young men to join the fight. “I didn’t particularly agree with the war, but I felt a deep sense of patriotism and I could not ignore it.” Over the next three years, Carpenter excelled through the army ranks starting as a private and leaving Vietnam as Master Sergeant. Carpenter did not wish to elaborate much on his experiences in Vietnam, stating “I never speak about it with anyone except for the men who were there… they are the only ones who understand.”

After the Fall of Saigon, Carpenter was airlifted out of Vietnam with the remaining troops in the spring of 1975. He returned home to Hartford, Connecticut just before his 20th birthday. While home, Daniel met a woman by the name of Nancy Slater while eating breakfast at a local diner. They began dating. “I knew when I met her that she was something special and I had to marry her,” said Carpenter. Unfortunately after only a few months home Carpenter was called to duty. He left for West Berlin in February of 1976 and his plans to marry Nancy Slater were put on hold. Despite the distance between Carpenter and Slater he kept true to her and wrote her almost every day. “I was in love, and it hurt to be away from her but I knew the oath I took and that this sacrifice was for the good of my country.”

Over the next 3 years Carpenter was stationed in West Berlin at the doorstep of the Soviet Union during the height of the Cold War. He once again refused to give details about his time abroad, however his reason this time was different, claiming that details of his service during that time is still to this day classified. “I was stationed in West Berlin for almost 3 years, and it was not pretty, let’s just leave it at that,” said Carpenter with a careful chuckle.

Carpenter returned home in 1978 around Christmas. While in West Germany he had bought an engagement ring for his girlfriend Nancy Slater. Carpenter having risen to the rank of Captain decided to leave the army to get married. He proposed to Nancy on New Years Eve of that year and by May of 1979 they were married. “I was so happy, however my appetite for accomplishment was a problem, I couldn’t sit still.” Around this time Carpenter began working at a local factory which built plumbing parts. “Nancy could see that I was not happy working at a factory, however we had a baby on the way and we were saving for a house.” Over the next several years the Carpenters would have 4 children. Daniel would change jobs three times and eventually become a licenced private investigator. Opening an office in on 42nd Street in Manhattan in 1981. “I loved being a gumshoe… meeting all the interesting people and all the adventures and at that time the city was a much seedier and gritty place.”

When cases were slow Carpenter, an avid chess player would search the city for chess players to fulfill his need for competition. Carpenter became a known chess player in the army. He played all sorts of people and allegedly defeated a famous East German Chess Master while on a diplomatic assignment east of the wall. “I would tell Nancy I was working late and would scour the city for best chess opponents I could find. It sounds crazy but it kept me sharp. I loved playing the bums around the port authority. Those guys sometimes we’re better and smarter than some of the professional players. Some of those fellas were undercover savants.” “I sat on the sidewalk of 43rd and Broadway once for 3 hours playing this one guy by a dumpster, over and over again… and I could not beat him.” “I would sometimes have an epiphany during a match and run back to the office after the game to work on the case.”

In 1986 a client of Carpenter’s was unable to pay in full for his investigator services and offered him two tickets to see CATS. The wildly popular Broadway show had been out since 1981 and was still the highest grossing show in New York. Carpenter accepted the tickets and brought his wife to see the show. “I was immediately enthralled and had to have more, I started taking Nancy to all the Broadway shows… La Cage Aux Folles, 42nd Street, Drood, Sweet Charity… she loved them and so did I. So much so I stopped chasing down chess players and started studying theatre.”

Over the next few years Daniel Carpenter would earn a PH.D. in Drama and become a performing art professor at the local college in Nashua, New Hampshire. It would be here that Carpenter would stay as a professor for many years before retiring in 2014. “My four children have given me 11 grandchildren so I wanted to spend more time with them.”

If you think that in the last 5 Years of retirement that Daniel Carpenter has slowed down, you have another thing coming. Daniel Carpenter has already earned a blackbelt in Kempo, won the county chilli cookoff two years in a row, hosts the annual christmas tree lighting ceremony at his church, directs the community theatre troupe and has taken a stab at philanthropy. Daniel Carpenter started a non-profit foundation that funds theater programs in underprivileged school districts. He has even brought famous retired stage actors to guest teach theater. However Carpenter didn’t stop there, this upcoming year Daniel intends to begin competing as an amateur MMA Fighter in a local circuit. “People often remark about how young I look although I’m in my mid-60s and despite all I do. I tell them it’s a gift and a curse, sometimes I wish I could just sit still and enjoy retirement like most people my age, but I can’t. It drives my wife crazy.”

Now Daniel Carpenter is attempting to enter the rap game, but not for the fame but for his charity work. “I was driving down three-o-five right where I was born in Simsbury and heard this advertisement for a Rap battle in Hartford for a prize of twelve-thousand dollars… and I thought to myself about how that money could be used for good.” Unfortunately for Carpenter he was too late to register for last years tournament however he is hopeful he will win the 2020 competition. “My kids think I’m crazy and I don’t blame them, everyone has thought I was crazy at one point or another.” When asked about how his progress in rap Carpenter declined to elaborate stating “I can’t give you the secret to my sauce before the taste testing,” and carpenter knows a thing or two about taste testing, his busy wall of trophies and awards features his “Annual Chilli Cook-Off — 1st Place” awards for 2014 and 2015. “The way I see it is… this is a mix of everything I know. Music, Drama and Chess.” When asked why chess Carpenter remarked “Chess is pure strategy and rhythm, knowing your opponent and exposing their weaknesses… and knowing the right moment to strike… like martial arts too I suppose… it’s a discipline.”

Carpenter has sure been active in retirement and it seems anything that this 64 year old husband, father, teacher, soldier, detective, chess player and philanthropist puts his mind to he accomplishes. Carpenter shares that the secret to his life of success and accomplishments is having dreams. “Never forget how to have you imagination, never forget that your only limitations are what you let limit you, working hard at something you like… isn’t hard.” Carpenter hopes his wacky and eclectic life story will inspire others to take the first step. commercial interior design california

[stevecanmakeanythingnerdy]

Battle #29

Icicle Works: S/T ( Side 1 )

Vs.

Chicago : 17 ( Side 1 )

Icicle Works: S/T ( Side 1 )

The Icicle Works are an English alternative rock band and were named after the 1960 short story "The Day the Icicle Works Closed" by science fiction author Frederik Pohl. The band was founded in Liverpool in 1980 when bassist Chris Layhe answered an advertisement for a musical collaborator placed by 20-year-old Ian McNabb. The two got together and started writing. They quickly added drummer Chris Sharrock and began playing live shows as "The Icicle Works". The distinctive nature of this band versus others of the time is all in the percussion. Later albums are more straightforward rock or even punk in nature, but this album seems very tribal. Celtic you could say. Think New Model Army meets Big Country. There is a goth meets punk theme. It all starts off with “Whisper to a Scream (Birds Fly)”. One of the more obscure 80s tunes but recently it was featured in the credits scene of Stranger Things, so maybe that gives it some street cred. It’s a good tune. Catchy and energetic without being a burden. Also, pretty sure there is a monk chanting in the background...I could be wrong. None of my description will do it justice, just listen to the dang tune. “In The Cauldron of Love” follows and honestly how many songs do you know that dare to sing about cauldrons? Exactly. They go a little Screaming Trees on this one. Dark, and with more rock than you would expect. Downward spiraling riffs that stir you up in their cauldron. I just wanted to say that word one more time. It doesn’t even make sense anymore. Cauldron. Yeah...so “Nirvana” is next and it’s about the grunge band by the same name. Just kidding. But there is more chanting and bad ass drum fills. The structure does a good job of feeling peaceful then building up to frantic and blissful payoffs. Certainly some psychological elements. Trippy at times. “Lover’s Day” is a slower tune, but again with some awesome and amazing fills. Flute toots to boot. Nothing says love like a flute. “A Factory in the Desert” is not only a bizarre title, but a bizarrely rocking song as well. In fact, I think that’s the single most surprising thing about this group is their big rock sound for being only a three piece. The jangle guitar aside, there are elements of Echo and the Bunnymen with an Irish coffee aspect. Cultural rock. Very nature and religious themes and inspiration. I feel more peaceful after listening.

Chicago : 17 ( Side 1 )

Chicago is an American rock band formed in 1967 in Chicago, Illinois. Ironic I know. They originally started calling themselves the Chicago Transit Authority in 1968 before shortening the name in 1969. The self-described “rock and roll band with horns” began writing politically charged rock music, and later moved to a softer sound, generating several hit ballads. Also right on trend with other bands naming themselves after their home city. (Looking at you, Boston). The band technically began in California under the name, The Big Thing, but opted to relocate to the Windy City and renamed themselves in doing so. They achieved a fair amount of success before moving so in a somewhat unusual move their debut album was a double LP. The label had big hopes and were not disappointed. Let’s just say it did well enough that their second and third albums were ALSO double LPs. A lot of those early hits sustained the band, but let’s be honest, a lot of that came from the frontman Peter Cetera. The band continued to have great success, pretty much up to his departure in the mid 80s. In fact, if I recall correctly, this album (17...a numbered theme/gimmick they kept in tact most of their career) was his last with the group. Probably because he realized that they kind of suck. “Stay the Night” was a big hit for the boys. Too bad they don’t rock (like the chorus suggests) all the time. It does have a decent hook though. “We can’t Stop Hurtin’” is ...another song ... with some big old keys sound. But then ruined by those jangle guitar riffs. GTFO disco Stu!!! Aaargh, plus those god awful crap horns. As if it’s not evident, I’m really not a big fan of this garbage. This is exactly why this band can go straight to hell. My ears are offended. Another lame hit for these d-bags was “Hard Habit To Break”. You might remember the video where Peter tries to be cool and wears a Bauhaus shirt...? Yeah, well that basically summarizes this whole experience. Ballad junk. Gross bloat rock. F*#@ THESE GUYS. Even the futile attempts to 80s-ify the band can’t save them. “Only You” is next and I literally have no good words to say. I think it’s a different singer on this one? I hate this record. I’m staring at the stylus with daggers waiting for the agony to end! WHY WON’T IT END ALREADY!!???! “Remember The Feeling” is next. I feel like only jerks like this band. Like, if you actually enjoy this ear vomit, then...you are a person that gives up a pet dog because it peed on your bed or something. You are a fowl, wretched human who hates yourself and is constantly cutting people off in traffic. Yeah, THAT kind of jerk listens to this trash. Even Peter Cetera was smart enough to get off the bus, man. He went solo. I may also still be bitter as I was forced to see these guys in concert when I was 5. My parents took me and I only remember falling asleep. Let me repeat that: Chicago, live on stage, PUT ME TO SLEEP they were so boring. Years later, my parents won tickets to see them but couldn’t go. I was given the tickets and only decided to go because Earth, Wind, and Fire were the opener. Well again, the show sucked because it was a torrential downpour (outside venue) and Chicago is just terrible. I’m sorry but this band is horrifying.

(*ahem) So in today’s challenge The Icicle Works worked not only icicles, but body fat. They burned 159 calories over 21 minutes and 5 songs. That is 31.80 calories burned per song and 7.57 calories burned per minute. They also earned 11 out of 15 possible stars. Chicago, on the other hand decided 17 was their number. Here are some other numbers though... 22 which is the minutes, 158 which is the number of calories burned, and 5 which is the number of songs. They burned 31.60 calories per song and 7.18 calories per minute. They earned a (pathetic) 5 out of 15 possible stars. Looks like they may be cold, but those Icicle(s) works today!

Icicle Works: “Whisper To A Scream (Birds Fly)”

Recently featured in an episode of Stranger Things, so if it sounds familiar that could be why...or maybe that one financial commercial.

#Randomrecordworkoutseasonsix

#Randomrecordworkout

[midwestmontessori]

Montessori Gift Ideas for 2018

There are dozens of Montessori gift guides out there in blogland, so if you’re finding yourself here, I’m sure I’m not your first stop. After all even I have my own gift idea lists from the past several years (2015, 2016, 2017). I’ve also made an ultimate gift-guide for 1-year-olds, a list of newborn essentials, and recommendations for puzzles and fine motor toys for infants up to 3-year-olds. 

Not everything is going to resonate with every person. Children are different, families are different, so I know this won’t be the end-all list for any of you. Gather inspiration, take what is helpful, leave the rest. 

When starting this year’s gift list I thought, “What new do I have to offer you all?” Each year my children get older they have new developmental needs and new interests, so it isn’t terribly difficult to come up with a few ideas to share. However, this year, I’d love to offer not only some material gift suggestions, but also some gift-giving fundamentals that have helped guide our family for the past few years.

Ever heard of the 4 gift Christmas rule? It goes like this: “Something they want, something they need, something to wear, something to read.” We haven’t adopted this, but the idea inspired our own gift “template” as I’ll call it.

Here’s how it goes.

“Big” gift

Smaller gifts (~2 to 4 gifts)

A game for the family

Books, typically 1 each and then 1 for both

Music - CDs, 1 each

Socking stuffers

But before I begin, I want to say that first and foremost, we don’t have our children make wish lists. 

Since the very beginning, we have reject the notion that children should create their own expectation of what their Christmas gifts should be. We know that eventually they will grow to have expectations and wishes, which we will acknowledge. 

Additionally, we don’t take our kids shopping at toys stores or take toy catalogs. We stay away from commercial advertising. Our children don’t watch television other than Mr. Rogers and Mighty Machines so they not only don’t see advertisements, nor do they have the character consumerism influence. Of course we aren’t impervious to consumer culture. Our children still see things in public and the toys their friends and grandparents have. They can recognize Disney princesses and super heroes. We just choose to not let it be a part of our family culture at their ages (3 and 5).

So instead of having our children come up with a list of what the expect, we take what we know about them and what we have observed and choose gifts based on that. This is what parents have to do for infants and young toddlers, we just choose to hold onto that for as long as we can. 

I curate the gifts we plan to give our children as well as an Amazon wishlist which is meant to offer suggestions and ideas, not expectations, of gifts for our families. Our families know us pretty well and have been excellent at respecting some of our family’s pickiness when it comes to the toys that come into our home. For example, we don’t do electronic toys, commercial characters/brands, etc. at this age.

The “big” gift. 

This is something we plan for each of them not based on dollar amount, but on emphasis or magnitude. This is where a doll, pair of roller skates, bike, etc. (for example) come into play. This is the gift that they’ll be most excited about. We pay attention not to give them multiple items that could constitute a “big gift.” We feel that if they receive 2 or more gifts great in magnitude, they begin to expect grandness and things lose their appeal. 

The beauty of going by magnitude instead of dollar amount is that you set the expectation of what constitutes a big gift from a young age, that is, you determine the magnitude. Giving less means each gift means more. A set of spinning tops can be a gift that is front and center, or if they are mixed in with 15 other things they could be the footnote. 

We also often like to build them something to use together. This is sometimes something of greater magnitude but also more practical that we have planned to make them anyway. Christmas just ends up being a decent time to give it to them. It isn’t something we do every year. In the past we have done a table and chairs and gross motor items. These kinds of things I think of as part of their prepared environment. They certainly constitute a gift, but we do get them other gifts.

This year we decided to build the woodworking bench we have been planning to make for them for a while. The one pictured below is from the Lord Company and is sold on their website as well as Montessori Services, who also sells lots of great hand-picked child-sized tools. The bench from Lord is very expensive - made for schools so it is very high quality, probably more than one would need at home. We plan to build our own for much less, though we will use this photo as somewhat of a guide. 

Our kids already have quite a few tools but we will fill in with a few that we don’t. Among those are a hammer, saw, vise, level, safety glasses, hand drill, tape measure, sanding block, work gloves, and containers for nails, screws, drill bits, and other hardware.

Individually we plan to get Charlotte a doll, and Simon a larger vehicle.

Charlotte has enjoyed playing with dolls like this at her grandparent’s homes and also is getting to an age where she is outgrowing quite a bit of the younger open-ended toys we have. She has been exposed to American Girl dolls as well as Barbies (not something I will be offering in our home). I decided on a WellieWishers doll (Willa) from American Girl. It is a smaller doll than the 18″ AG dolls. The books are very sweet: a group of friends who spend a lot of time in nature and work through typical friendship scenarios. The books are simple chapter books - something she will be able to catch onto reading herself in the next year or two - with lovely, simple illustrations. They also have a TV show on Amazon Prime that I have begun watching with her. They are short 10-minute episodes that are essentially short stories similar to those told in the books. The animation is simple and mimics the illustrations from the books. 

I went back and forth about whether to begin such a “grown-up” girly thing to be involved in, I ultimately decided that she will very much enjoy and identify with these characters. She is learning to navigate friendships and could benefit from some problem-solving examples, acting things out, etc. Plus she will be able to relate with the other girls who have dolls, though hers may not be the same kind as theirs. I am pleased with my choice and I feel as though if nothing else it is benign and won’t be anything harmful. We won’t be subscribing to the catalog and we won’t be buying many accessories. We plan to keep it simple.

We decided on a Bruder semi-truck with flatbed trailer and backhoe for Simon. He loves vehicles and plays with his larger ones more often, so we decided something like this would be something he would enjoy. We opted for something high quality because we know it will get a ton of use and also because Bruder seems to have the most true-to-life vehicles out there.

Smaller gifts

Aside from the main gift, we also get them a few smaller gifts. They are often accessories for the main gift, or just little things. This is also where we categorize clothing. We choose 2 or 3 items from this list to give them and the rest we put on their Amazon wishlist to send to grandparents and aunts and uncles. 

This category is also where sibling gifts come in. They each get each other one small gift, which, up to this point I have had a strong hand in deciding what that gift is. Starting this year I’d like to give them more of a choice, though I won’t be taking them into a toy store to choose just anything. We will talk about what their sibling would like and come up with an idea before we shop.

Below are some ideas based on things our own children are enjoying now and a few choices we have made for their gifts this year. 

Umbrella

AG WellieWisher doll accessories: pajama set, outdoor adventure set, & doll stand; We also included a couple other outfits on Charlotte’s wishlist for family members to get for her if they choose. We aren’t going to be getting any more of the AG accessories than this little adventure set. At some point we may build a bed or make a quilt, but we won’t be going crazy with the accessories.

Paper embroidery kit

Denim woodworking aprons 

Classic Lego set - We love these sets with miscellaneous parts and a few building ideas but no specific theme or agenda

Tractor set

Hammer

Broom

Discovery window boxes

Pentatonic-diatonic glockenspiel - removable bars; I strongly recommend looking up the benefits of using a pentatonic xylophone - it is so beneficial

12-piece puzzle set

Alphabet puzzle

Silk playscape (giant playsilk) - used to make tents, etc.

Books & Music

We have a book tradition at Christmas which I share every year. Basically,  instead of putting their books (1 each and 1 to share) under the tree where they may be overshadowed by other presents, we wrap them up and slide them under their doors after they are asleep. When they wake up they see them and can open right away. My husband and I hear them when they wake but we have a moment to get ourselves together before we join them, when we get to spend a few minutes together as a family reading before we get into opening presents. I cherish that time with them on Christmas morning. They are SO excited to get their book and I love to see their joy from something so simple and meaningful, that is reading. 

We also value music and so we get them each a CD each year. We do CDs as they are tangible and give that physical representation of the music. Though it is still fairly abstract it is much less so than digital music. They do still listen to music from our phones or on the radio but we like to have some way of tangibly representing the concept of musicians creating albums.

Below are some of our current favorites as well as some on our wishlist. We get them each a book and one to share and the rest go on their Amazon wishlist. 

Mog the Forgetful Cat by Judith Kerr

Abbey Road by The Beatles

The Story Orchestra by Jessica Courtney-Tickle

Strong Girls gift set (Ordinary People Change the World) by Brad Meltzer

My Big Wimmelbook - At the Construction Site by Max Walther

Slinky Malinky by Lynley Dodd

The Riddle of the Robin by Valerie Tripp - WellieWishers American Girl book

Natural History (Smithsonian) by DK Publishing

Rosie Revere Engineer by Andrea Beaty (also Iggy Peck Architect and Ada Twist Scientist and the new Questioneers chapter books)

My Basketball Book by Gail Gibbons, see also baseball, football, soccer in the same series

Poem for Every Day of the Year by Esiri Ali (I may give this book on NYE)

100 Classic Stories by Rosalind McGuire

The Dinosaur Book (Smithsonian) by DK Publishing

The Beach Boys Greatest Hits

Awesome Science Experiments for Kids by Crystal Chatterton

Maria Montessori (Little People Big Dreams) by Isabel Sanchez Vegara

Spinning Spiders by Melvin Berger - I love the Read & Learn About series

Flicka Ricka & Dicka and the Three Kittens by Maj Lindman

The Red Letter Alphabet Book and The Blue Number Counting Book by Ellen C. Gould

10 More Ten-Minute Stories from Usborne

Games

Every year we get a game for our family to play together. Often I will do one board game and then a smaller card game. This year we are doing Operation and Slamwich. The others are some of our favorites. 

Last year we started the family tradition of celebrating the New Year on New Year’s Eve with a new family game, party decorations and music, sparkling grape juice for the kids, and champagne for us. It was such a fun little party. I am still deciding on a game for that. Send me your ideas!

Shopping List - our all-time favorite first memory game

Rhyming cards - We use these like a memory game

Kerplunk - take turns pulling out the sticks without letting marbles drop

Flower Families - a variation of Go Fish

Zitternix by HABA - take turns drawing as many sticks as you can before it falls

Creature Matching Game

Sonix Music - a musical instrument sound matching game

Go Togethers - We use these cards like a memory or matching game

Orchard by HABA - This is similar to Hi Ho Cherry-O though it is made of very high quality materials and is just beautiful. There are four types of fruit to pick, all before the raven gets them first. There is a version for younger children as well. We have both and love them equally.

Outfoxed - finding clues, identifying suspects, remembering details, taking turns, rolling die - such a fun game

Uno - classic card game, requires number and color recognition/matching

Candyland - also requires color matching

Aggravation - marble race game, requires counting traditional 6-sided dice

First Words Magnetic Poetry - not technically a game but these word magnets are fun to play with words on the refrigerator

Animal Soundtracks - matching animal sounds

Operation - lots of dexterity and pincer grip practice

Slamwich - a child-friendly version of Egyptian Ratslap or Slapjack; take turns playing cards and thus creating a stack of sandwich toppings; slap doubles to collect as many cards as possible

Stocking Stuffers

Finally, we fill their stockings with a few small things. They fill up fast so they don’t need much.

Walkie talkies

Toe socks

Earrings

Safety glasses

Work gloves

Hat & mittens from Primary.com

WellieWishers socks (the socks look like the boots of each of the WellieWisher girls in the books)

Fort clips (to be used with the silk playscape above)

Christmas ornament (not pictured)

There you have it! Our Christmas gifting in a nutshell. I hope this was helpful. Happy shopping. :)