#germ free adolescent fucks actually

[giacofmanytrades]

Man Me A Slime (Reprise)

Fuck it, gonna keep posting chapters from my book Obnoxious for giggles. I’m in a body horror mood and honestly enjoying knowing my work exists outside my Google Drive for its own sake.

Do you like slime? Do you like science? Do you like soap??? Consequences of a guy getting slutched below:

So here we are again, in the van with the radio at max volume and Alan’s knuckles white against the steering wheel.

His foot covers the brake. No one can know what happened tonight. Hell, Alan doesn’t even understand what happened himself. The facts he does have are these: Nick fell, and when Alan scrambled down to the factory floor to find an opening he burned his hand on the metal siding. Alan had no way to get Nick out. His best friend of twenty years had fallen into a vat of boiling hot cleaning fluid and had to be dead.

Alan couldn’t believe it. He ran back up to the catwalk, to go and see if anyone could help from the office building, when he caught a glimpse of the fluid in the vat. It had changed color. Something shifted on the fluid’s surface.

And then Nick emerged from it, and Alan froze in his tracks. His friend, alive, but floating and so covered in the stuff from the vat that Alan couldn’t see a trace of the man underneath. Nick, talking and laughing like this accident was nothing more than stubbing his toe on a chair.

The guard taking his attention was a relief, really. It got Nick from his line of sight and allowed him to make small talk with Ronny Vizzini’s father. Not that they’re more than acquaintances, but it let Alan forget what happened long enough to construct some story to deny it, scabbing the memory clean over.

Until Nick reappeared and ripped it clean off. Now he’s got to drive because Nick can’t, unsure of where to go. His first thought is home, to Cleary Street. With Mary-Anne and his nice quiet job and his nice quiet house, where his nice quiet life fits together like a puzzle. Maybe a tedious puzzle some days, but something that ultimately makes sense when he lays it all out and puts it together.

Headlights pass again. What if they get pulled over? He’ll be recognized as Mary-Anne’s husband immediately. There go any dinner plans with Sheriff Harrington and his wife for however long his sentence lasts. What charges are passed for trespassing in a soap factory and falling in a vat of toxic waste after hours?

Okay, it sounds silly when he puts it like that. He didn’t do anything wrong. But he was seen alone in the factory, by a guard he talked to who definitely knew who he was. They could be in trouble for tampering with private property. What if Nick gets fired?

He can’t think clearly with the audio bombast. “Nick, you need to turn it down,” Alan says.

The bounce of Come On Eileen quakes Nick’s toy collection on the dash. “It’s gonna be fine, Mo,” he says, and holds up his hand to the speaker. The slime on his skin wriggles with the vibrations from the music.

“Fine? We need to get you to a hospital,” Alan says. But they can’t. The nearest hospital is out in Baker City. Mary-Anne can see Nick here in town, but she’s hardly a specialist in chemical burns or mysterious anti-gravity goop. The longer Alan waits to find an answer, the worse Nick’s condition could become, though. “How are we going to fix this?”

Nick mumble-sings the next verse, then goes all out in the chorus. “I’m fine!” he says when he gets to the next part he doesn’t know. Then he goes right back to too-rye-aying.

Alan shivers. His adrenaline’s coursing like there’s a gun to his temple, except it’s Nick’s head instead of his own on the chopping block. “What if this got inside you?” he asks. “You could be burned under all this. You could be poisoned even if you feel fine now, Nick. We have to get you to Mary-Anne. You need a doctor.”

“I am a doctor.”

“In biochemistry!”

Nick shimmies to the music. “I’m gonna be fine.”

Alan turns the radio down. “You need help! We have to fix this before it gets worse.”

The radio’s turned right back up. “Just take me to my lab,” Nick says, arms crossed. It looks like they’re oozing together when Alan sees it, but he blinks his focus back onto the road.

“What are you talking about?” Alan asked. “Do you see yourself? I don’t know if an MD can help you with this. There has to be someone who knows how to get this stuff off of you safely. Maybe we should turn around. We could talk to whoever designed this. An expert.”

The too-rah-loo-rye-ays get louder, thunderous in the small cab. Whatever Nick says is lost in it and Alan turns it down.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I’m an expert! Take me to my lab and I can analyze it there. We good?”

Nick dials up the music. Alan dials it down. They tousle a second before the wheel jerks and Alan’s grabbing at it again with slippery hands.

“We are not good! This is not good. There has to be a way to get this stuff off of you.” Alan’s all for hosing Nick down if it gets his skin out from whatever this is. Just the sample alone seems to have burned him on the catwalk. What if leaving it on so long makes the damage it’s doing permanent?

“This stuff is me,” Nick says. He reaches for the volume but Alan bats at his hand again.

“Stop that! Nick, you can’t actually think this floating thing is permanent. If we don’t do something about this, you could die.”

“I already died!”

Alan stomps the brake.

Nick’s thrown forward. Yellowish fluid makes a sickening splat across the windshield and dash, the majority of it pooling into the floorboard.

Alan looks at the floorboard. He looks at the empty seat. He can’t breathe.

The goo wiggles. Nick’s yell bubbles out if it. The puddle on the floor sloughs back into the seat in a Nickish shape. His hands pat over his body, but nothing seems to be missing other than a thin layer of clear soap.

“I am okay!” he announces. Nick gives a thumbs up. It’s like watching a flattened cartoon character peel off the pavement after an anvil.

Alan twitches. Maybe there’s a laugh in him somewhere, but it’s buried deep right now. He puts the van in park. He leans back, knotting his fingers and forcing himself not to strangle his sweater vest. That’s. That’s a lot to look at.

Nick examines his hands. “Sorry, babies,” he croons to his stuffed animals, all dripping with a thin layer of slime. “D’you think we can wash this off ‘em alright?”

“You don’t mean that. What you said,” Alan says. He couldn’t have. Nick had come out of that vat laughing. Excited. Ghosts don’t bounce back from death and throw a party.

Well, Nick’s ghost might. Alan sits back.

Nick’s booped the nose on a frog. The slime on the frog absorbs back to his finger with the touch. He grins. Looking at him, really looking at him, Alan can see the details he missed. The eyes, and Nick’s mouth, and how the opaque goo he’s made of has a jello-like translucence if you look too hard.

What looked skin deep at a glance is too strange to ignore now. Nick catches him looking. He winces.

“My body fuckin’ dissolved back there. Poof. Gone, Mo.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nick collects the rest of the slime from the dashboard, then the windshield. The big splat sucks back to his hand. He’s avoiding Alan’s eyes. He’s known this whole time, and let Alan go on talking like he has. “Nick,” he says.

Nick shuts his eyes. “Shit. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way,” he cries. “I just want you to know I can’t just. Take this off. It’s not so bad, I promise! If you just wanna drop me off, I can figure it out myself.”

Alan shifts back into drive. The radio fuzzes back to life. Nick turns it off.

Alan lets out a rattled sigh. He sets his hands at ten and two. Somehow, horribly, the reality sinking in is a relief. He’s not going to stop worrying about Nick. But having even this impossible certainty is a lot better than before. He can handle what he knows.

He takes a deep breath. “So. Where’s your lab?”

***

Nick’s “lab” is easy to find. It’s an old diner off the downtown strip, abandoned as the Flour Pour factory once was. Geena’s came up in the fifties, before the weight of the A&W and other, better burger joints sank it. Alan had never been inside when the place was open, but he’s familiar with the whitewashed stone box and its neon red, yellow, and blue facade above double doors. Nick has him pull around to the back, where a door waits beside a dumpster full of old fixtures and signage.

Nick’s got to be let out of the car and into the building, not that he doesn’t make an attempt with his sudsy hands. He’s delighted to find he can flip the light switch on his own. “Sorry about the mess,” he says, floating into a small hallway. On his left is the door to a darkened kitchen, on his right the door to a bathroom. Then they’re in a spacious dining lobby. The L-counter and its rows of upholstered stools are intact, along with one of the dining booths right off the door. Grimy chrome, yellowed linoleum, and checkered tiles glint in the bright tube lights. Where one of the dining booths used to be rooted now holds a tower of boxes and a red couch.

Alan takes it in with a smile. He can see how benches could be made from the counter, where equipment can be stored if they reuse some of the old shelves he saw out back. The thought of the place restored through his tidying calms him.

Nick tests the plastic wrap still coating his couch. He flops down against it. “So what do ya think? It’s a dive, but I think it’s groovy.”

Alan shrugs. Now that he’s exhausted his ability to be physically anxious, all he can think about is what he’ll tell his wife. He takes a seat at Nick’s side, avoiding the translucent ooze now stuck to the plastic. He rubs his eye on his forearm, since there’s still some soap on his hands.

“I should call Mary-Anne,” he says. “Got a phone?”

“By the soda fountain,” Nick says.

Alan moves behind the counter. The soda machine against the wall has Coke logos on its taps. He fiddles with a Dr. Pepper tap while he dials the clinic.

“Perkins Primary Care?”

His relief almost knocks him off his feet. It’s a wave so palpable he grips the tap and steadies his feet. “Mary-Anne? Christ, you will not believe the night I’m having. I love you.”

“Al, it’s only six. Where are you? The house?”

“No, I just,” Alan says, and squeezes his eyes shut. That opener hardly inspired confidence and calm. “I’m just not going to be home tonight. I’m staying over at Nick’s.”

“Yeah, he dropped by. Is everything okay? I told him you needed a night out, but if you two got into anything too-”

“No. Mary-Anne, we’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“You only say that when things aren’t fine, Al.”

“I do not!” Alan cries. Nick flinches. “I’m with him right now. He’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’ll be home in the morning but he,” he says, and falters. Telling her Nick died is the exact opposite of fine. “He just needs me right now.”

She yawns. “Do whatever you got to, sweetheart. Just be careful, whatever you’re doing. I better not catch either of you in here on a gurney.”

Alan smiles, despite everything. “I’m fine. That part’s true.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“See you. I love you.”

Her chuckle’s like an oasis. “You said that already. Love you, too.”

Alan hesitates putting the receiver down. He just stands there with the phone beeping in both hands. He presses the speaker to his forehead with his eyes closed. Mary-Anne at the nurse’s station, bedecked in solid print scrubs and slouching while Rhoda does up the last of the paperwork so they can all go home. Only getting one real rest every few hours and having to spend it on him.

“Is everything, uh, okay?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“Eh,” Alan says, with emphasis, and presses the phone until it makes a dotted mark on his brow. His mouth twists before he puts the receiver back up. The silence left behind is deafening, widening the distance between the two men trapped inside it.

“I love you, Mo.” Small and quiet.

“Nick.”

“I do. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I am so sorry this happened.”

“Nick, it’s okay. It’s just going to be hard to explain this. I don’t know what we’re going to do. But I’m not leaving you. Okay?”

“You don’t have to stay.” Nick’s curled up into himself on the couch. “You got me home. I can do the rest from here.”

Alan smirks. “Huh. Might end up with biased results, studying yourself all alone. You can’t drive, Nick. I’m going to stay and help you.”

Nick’s dripping shape sharpens up and glows bright orange like when he’d come out of the vat. Seems to be his happy color. “Can’t argue there. What do you want to do?” Nick asks.

Alan yawns. He’s got no energy for unloading the van or unpacking Nick’s boxes, as much as he wants to organize their resources. His head still spins like he’s the one dissolving, or maybe like his body’s still there but he’s stepped out to the side for a second.

Finally, he comes back to his senses. “It’s your lab,” he says. “Do you need anything? Are you…” He glances at the hand-off window looking into the kitchen. “Hungry?” Oh god, what if he is? Alan doesn’t even know where he would begin with that.

Nick brightens. His slime does a little dance across his body, flushing orange again. “I don’t know yet! Maybe I don’t have to eat anymore. I mean, I don’t exactly have the plumbing for it.” He opens his mouth and points inside. “See in there?” he says, even as his mouth doesn’t move. The sound just radiates out of him, like a speaker. “No hole! Nowhere for food to go!”

Alan sees what he means. He takes a deep breath as he stares. “Right.”

“My eyes don’t look like my old eyes, either. But I still need glasses for some reason? How’s that even work? I don’t got retinas to be myopic.”

“I don’t know,” Alan says. “Who says you don’t? There looks like two layers of this stuff. Soap’s not supposed to separate like this does, so why do you?”

“I don’t know!” Nick says. “Huh. If there’s two layers, they’re gonna need different names. We need names for this.”

“Yeah.” It’s going to get confusing if they don’t develop a taxonomy. Alan’s brain would also love to stop snagging like a belt loop on a fence when he calls these materials Nick. Naming all this strangeness makes it less strange, or he can hope it might.

“Can we do that?” Nick asks, squishing his fingers into his belly. His fingers go through the translucent layer into the next, absorbing into his inner one. Alan’s mouth tests out a number of responses to this, but none of them quite capture how he feels beyond another ‘eh’.

“It’s your you,” he decides, voice chipping instead of fully cracking. “You name yourself.”

“True!” Nick says, and pulls his hands from his own guts without trouble. The holes from his fingers fill in. “I think I’m goo- the me stuff that moves and talks- and then this drippy stuff on the outside is gunk. Not sure what it’s for just yet. Oh, and my eyes are my eyes.”

Alan leans against the counter. “And your glasses are your glasses.”

“That, too! Those are in one of my boxes.” Nick floats to the stack for his backup pair. Alan rips open the one he indicates. Among what looks like the contents of an old desk is a pair of glasses with a cracked lens.

Nick places them on what’s left of his nose. He blinks. “Whoa.”

“Same prescription?” Alan asks. “Maybe the vat copied human you, and that’s why these eyes are like your old ones.” There’s a sentence Alan never thought he’d say.

“Maybe! If it copied my eyes, I dunno what made it copy those and not everything else, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Nick waves sharply downward with both hands, mouth in the closest thing to a frown that Alan’s seen from him all day. Alan’s ready to go into one subject, before Nick narrows his brows and pulls his feet up, sitting in midair. “I don’t got toes, Mo,” he says.

“Yes.”

“And I’m smooth as a Ken doll now. So we’ve got that. But, come on, I got fingers but my other digits didn’t get copied? What was that vat thinking? I’m gonna look like I’m wearing socks forever now.”

Alan takes stock as Nick mourns the loss of his toes. Aside from the obvious missing parts- skin, bones, teeth, organs, and most other human components- Nick looks the same in build and proportion. It’s like the goo was poured into a Nick-shaped mold and he popped right out, unless he melts to a puddle like he did in the van.

Which he agrees not to do again, for Alan’s sanity. Nick says splatting on impact doesn’t hurt, but Alan isn’t spiritually prepared to see his friend as a stain tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. It’s not like they can’t learn a lot from Nick just floating from room to room. There’s technically four, including the storage room in the kitchen. Said kitchen contains a stovetop, several dishes including a stockpot, a fridge, and a three compartment sink. The fryer’s ripped from the wall, but the prep tables and other fixtures are in good repair.

Exploring the storage room is where Alan has to draw the line on melting. The room is locked, and before Alan can get Nick’s keys from the dining room, Nick’s already on the floor like a spill and creeping under the door itself. Alan rattles the handle. Then he hears behind the door, “I’m good! Not much to see in here! Just junk.”

Alan yelps. He’s about to run for the keys, but he hears a sizzle.

Under the knob fizzes. Orange fingers push through the metal like wet clay. Then the whole hand makes it through, giving Alan a cheery wave.

“Check it out! I’m corrosive! That’s cool.”

The door falls open. Nick’s on the other side, grinning at his fingers.

“I don’t think you should make a habit of that,” Alan says.

“Wonder what else I can corrode.”

“Nick, no.”

“What’s my pH then?” Nick asks, smearing his hand down his belly. How his glasses aren’t fizzling is a mystery, too. “Probably super basic, knowing detergents, but most detergents don’t do that kinda corrosion. What if it’s selective?”

“Who knows?” Alan says.

The storage room is stacked with trash and boxes of offal. Not much of it is usable, but Alan thanks his lucky stars none of it’s perished food. At least they know they have the dumpster out back to get rid of it.

They go from the storage room to check out the bathroom. Alan washes up, then they try to rinse the gunk from Nick’s goo so they can get a sample. They’ve already collected some gunk in a tupperware for study, but getting underneath Nick’s outer layer proved tough. Nick sticks his hand under the tap to test it out.

It burns him at the touch, even if it’s set to ice cold. “Turn it off, turn it off!” he cries. He fumbles at the knob before Alan shuts the water off. Can’t help but wonder why he didn’t pull his hand out the moment he was burned, but Alan shivers at his idea of hosing the goo off him earlier.

“I don’t think water likes me anymore,” Nick mumbles, eying his fingers slowly reforming from the goo pooled in the sink.

Alan drags him from the bathroom from then on. Nick avoids the sinks like the plague, which the bathroom’s might have if it’s been abandoned this long. There’s not much mold to be found in the building, but it’s still been at least a decade since it was in regular use. Begs the question of if the goo can contract illness, but because Alan definitely can he makes a note to scour it later.

It’s two in the morning when they finally throw in the towel. Alan pulls off the plastic wrap and crashes on the couch with a Hudson Bay blanket, Nick on the floor with his mattress from his van. It’s oddly cozy in the quiet of the diner. Headlights flicker through the windows overlooking the street, still painted over from the original closure. It’s not the worst place to wait out this weirdness.

[andromerot]

whats ur fav album and whyyyy

uuuuummmm so for the last six months ive had an embarrassingly increasing fixation on the velvet underground so i am gonna say the debut (though wl/wh is also highly Up There). to me its the combination between actual fucking danceable bops (anyone who says VU, particularly this album, is "pretentious" music is misinformed (not really a bad thing though if you don't gloat)) and a really rich and complex sound. the album is really cohesive in that sense, i think reed's voice is at its best (not much to say but he sounds good here) and his both lyrical and rythmic writing shines though nico and cale steal the show in every sense. theres also a factor playing into my love for this that is this albums cult mystique, the ridiculous stories surrounding it, how many people cite it as an inspiration. my favorite track might be european son, but if you want to know whether you'd enjoy this, check out heroin first. it's my life and it's my wife ah ah

other all time and recent favorites include patti smith's wave, hole's live through this, locura + superficies de placer by virus, strange angels by laurie anderson, germ-free adolescents by xray spex, la grasa de las capitales by serú, talking heads' fear of music + little creatures, carrie&lowell, new skin for the old ceremony, transangelic exodus, sounds of silence, pussy whipped, and so on

[not-sport-martial-art]

@gatherer-schafer tagged me to post my top 9 favourite album artworks, thanks

The Feelies - Crazy Rhythms (actually the only good album cover)

The Beach Boys - Smile (I've had a poster of this in my room since I was 13 and it just makes me a bit happy to see it)

This Heat - Deceit (yeah that looks like how the album sounds)

Sly and the Family Stone - There's A Riot Goin On (stark imagery for a stark album, America on the brink)

XTC - Skylarking (so inviting you'd forget the album is half miserable)

Steely Dan - Aja (holy fucking shit)

X-ray Spex - Germ Free Adolescents (help I'm trapped in a test tube)

Chumbawamba - Pictures Of Starving Children Sell Records (fucking hell yes just say your shit on the front cover)

Minor Threat - Minor Threat (album cover has been staring at me for years and years and years and it's so iconic to me that I don't even have words)

Tagging Joe Strummer and Jerry Garcia, cheers.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

but when it heals, it beats for you

summary: my fic for @thoughtfullyyoungduck for the Writers Revolution Valentine’s Exchange. words: 3,314 rating: T a/n: I made a new taglist as it has been a year! If anyone wants on it, please just let me know! <3

* * * * * 

Eddie hated parties, he always had. Even when he was younger and his friends would have birthday parties in their backyards, Eddie hated them. Maybe it was the loud screaming of the children, or the germs as they shoved their fingers into all the food that had been laid out in the open air, Eddie couldn’t tell, just knew that he didn’t like it. Even when he went to college, his hatred for parties never changed as soda was replaced with alcohol, and screaming children were replaced with screaming adolescents.

Those parties though were still a little bit more bearable than these parties. These parties being ‘work social gatherings’, a sorry excuse for all the boring office people he worked with to come together and gossip in a place with alcohol instead of at their desks. These gatherings were also a way for co-workers to cosy up to the Heads of Departments with the hopes of securing a promotion or even a pay rise. The whole thing made Eddie want to barf, and the worst thing about it was that he was obligated to be there as a new member of the staff.

Fresh out of college, Eddie had secured a job as an admin assistant at a lawyer’s firm in New York City. It wasn’t anywhere near his dream job, but when you were poor any job would suffice just to be able to pay the bills. Eddie didn’t have any other option, and he would just have to grin and bear it until a better opportunity came along. With that thought in mind, he stepped up to the bar and ordered a beer, taking full advantage of the free open bar.

“Kaspbrak, I wasn’t expecting you to actually show up. You’ve surprised me!” A voice practically yelled from right next to Eddie. He winced and turned to greet his co-worker, Josh, with a forced smile. “You should come over here, meet some people. Important people, if you get what I mean?”

Meeting people was the last thing Eddie wanted to do, in fact he had hoped to get through the evening without speaking to anyone. However, the look on Josh’s face told him that he wasn’t getting out of this one, and with a sigh he nodded, gripping the neck of the beer bottle and slipping from the stool.

“Sure, lead the way.”

Josh ran his mouth as they made their way through the crowds to whatever table they were heading to. Eddie drowned out his voice, even though it was rather difficult given how loud he was, but it suddenly became a whole lot easier when another voice drowned out Josh’s annoying tone. A voice that Eddie would recognise anywhere. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes locking onto the back of someone he thought he’d never see again.

He was engaged in a conversation with Eddie’s boss and another co-worker, Janet, who was fake smiling and making ridiculous attempts at flirting. Even though Eddie had no right to, a feeling of jealousy built up in his stomach.

Richie.

Eddie stopped walking, freezing in the spot as his brain started providing him with escape routes. Out of all the people that had to be at the function that night, why did it have to be Richie? What did Eddie deserve to be faced with such bad luck?

Sensing that Eddie had stopped following him, Josh turned around with a frown on his face, before grabbing Eddie by the wrist and tugging him forward into the group. The force of the jolt forward sent Eddie flying, knocking him into Richie himself, who also jolted forward, causing Janet’s drink to spill on her fancy blouse.

Serves you right, Janet.

“Woah, easy there-” Richie started at the same time Janet snapped in her high pitched voice, “Fuck sake, Eddie, watch where you’re going!” Which caused Richie to freeze and look down at who exactly had knocked him sideways. Their eyes locked, and just for a second, no-one else at the work gathering mattered but the two of them. Eddie had forgotten just how easy he could get lost in Richie’s eyes.

The moment didn’t last long, thanks to Janet, who pushed Eddie away just a little to fuss over Richie, making sure none of her drink spilled over his fancy three piece suit. “Eddie is new, please don’t let his clumsiness affect anything we were talking about,” she fussed, and Eddie had to roll his eyes at the dramatics of it all.

“Calm down Janet, it was just an accident,” Eddie muttered, taking a much needed step back from Richie, putting distance between them. No matter how far he moved though, the scent of his cologne was stuck in his nostrils. He swallowed, feeling Richie’s eyes on him and Eddie knew if he looked up, he’d see the same confusion and questioning in his eyes that was there the last time they saw one another.

Eddie wasn’t ready to deal with that issue yet. Nope, no way.

Luck was never on his side though, as Josh took that moment to speak up, addressing why he brought Eddie over there in the first place. “Yes, Eddie is our new co-worker, but he should have an equal chance of meeting important people like the rest of us. Eddie, this is one of our companies interested investors, Richie Tozier.”

There was a pregnant pause before Richie smiled and extended his hand for him to take, which Eddie did. A jolt of electricity shot up his arm and he almost pulled back before he remembered everyone watching them. According to all of Eddie’s coworkers, this was the first time he was meeting Richie Tozier, they had no idea just how well the two knew each other.

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie offered, not sure if Richie wanted the group to know they had history.

Just at that moment, the music changed from an upbeat tune to a much slower one and Janet lurched forward, breaking the trance the two of them were under. “Mr Tozier, I love this song. Would you dance with me?” Eddie had to hold back a scoff at how obvious she was being. The company, of course, had chosen her to charm Richie intp signing a contract with them and she was, no doubt, going all out with her given task. It was a little pathetic, really.

Hoping to make a quick exit back to the bar for one last drink before slipping out the back door, Eddie stepped back, only for a hand to be wrapped around his wrist, tugging him back. It was Richie’s hand, of course it was, and there was a look in his eyes that Eddie couldn’t quite place. “Actually, I was hoping Eddie would dance with me, if that’s alright with you?” He asked, eyes never leaving Eddie’s shocked one’s for a second.

Eddie should say no, he should shake his head and tell Richie to dance with Janet, it was her role in all this after all. God, if he said yes Janet would shoot daggers into his back for the next month, at least. The thing was, Eddie didn’t want to say no. Call him selfish all you want, but Eddie wanted to be alone with Richie, even if it was just for a three minute dance. With his mind made up, Eddie nodded his head, allowing Richie to take his hand and lead him to the dance floor.

It wasn’t until Eddie felt Richie’s hand on the small of his back as he pulled him closer for the dance, that he realised his chest was all compressed in panic. The second that Richie’s hand touched him, all the panic faded and it was as though a bubble had formed around the two of them.

“A lawyer’s firm, eh?” Richie broke the silence, his chin settling on top of Eddie’s head. They had only been in each other's presence for ten minutes and they were already falling into their old habits. “I swear, I didn’t know you worked here.”

That caught Eddie off guard and he pulled back to look up at Richie with a confused frown on his face. “What do you mean? I never- I didn’t think you knew I worked here. Why would I think that?”

Richie shrugged a little, looking bashful as he glanced up at the ceiling for a brief moment, “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t...look you up or anything. I didn’t follow you or check up on what you were doing. Even if I wanted to.” He let out a breath. “You made your decision and I respected it.”

Another lump formed in Eddie’s throat and Richie’s words only seemed to add to the confusion. Yes, he had made the decision to end their relationship, but only because Richie was going to end it first. “I don’t understand. Why would you want to check up on me? Or follow me or whatever? You- I did you a favour by ending things first. I knew you were struggling to find a way to do it, so I did it first.”

The look on Richie’s face was nothing less than pure pain as he registered Eddie’s words. He shook his head, “What are you talking about? I wasn’t- who told you I was going to break up with you?”

Eddie froze up a little and he forced himself to think back, way back to when he had overheard the conversation Richie was having with a friend of his. The words were still bitter to think about and his heart hurt. “No-one told me. I heard you. On the phone. You were talking to someone about finding it hard to change your relationship status, and that you had to be really careful. I don’t know about you, Richie, but that screamed of wanting to break up with me. I just- I don’t know why you didn’t just tell me when things stopped working for you. I’d have understood. We weren’t...it wasn’t like we were public or anything.”

Richie blinked a few times and Eddie could see the moment when it all clicked for him. The confused look turned to one of understanding, but instead of looking guilty, Richie looked...overwhelmed.

“Eddie...holy shit...Eds, no. Fuck.” He stopped moving to the music and instead moved the hand that was on the small of Eddie’s back to his hand and took it in his own. “This is too public a place for this conversation. Five minutes, that’s all I need.”

Even if Eddie hadn’t wanted to follow Richie before then, the pleading look in his eyes was all it took for him to nod. He let Richie lead him off  the dancefloor, out a door and into a hallway.

“How do you know where you’re going?” Eddie asked softly, letting Richie lead the way through the corridors of the hotel.

“I had a function here myself a while back, got a bit overwhelming so I went to explore,” Richie replied almost immediately, turning one more corner and opening a door that led to a balcony overlooking the city. “Found this place.” He closed the doors behind them, allowing total privacy, and Richie ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t going to break up with you.”

Out of all the things Eddie thought Richie was going to say, that was not even in the top ten. He blinked in confusion, looking a RIchie a little skeptically. “Alright, say you weren’t going to break up with me then. What did that statement really mean?”

Richie moved a little closer to Eddie, but not too close that he’d feel trapped. He reached down to take Eddie’s hand in his once more.

“I wanted to ask you to go public with me, Eds.”

Eddie suddenly felt sick to his stomach, as the look in Richie’s eyes, the sincerity, meant that he was telling the truth.

“I was just nervous because we were, as you pointed out earlier, not exclusive. I was technically your sugar daddy and we had sort of made that unspoken agreement that what we had was just...well what we had.” He squeezed Eddie’s hand, just a little bit, a soothing gesture. “Maybe it was just that at first, but then we started hanging out without the sex, we had movie nights and you’d spend the night just...chilling. We’d laugh and tease each other like it was a real relationship and suddenly that was all I wanted it to be. I wanted it to be real, but I was scared that maybe you didn’t want that. Then you broke it off with me and that sort of just...sealed it.”

The silence let Eddie know Richie was done speaking, letting him know it was his turn. His cheeks were burning red with embarrassment and he let out a frustrated groan at his own stupidity.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.” Eddie tried to step back, but Richie still had hold of his hand, keeping him grounded. “I’m such a fucking idiot, I was so caught up in thinking that you didn’t want to be with me anymore that I didn’t see the signs that maybe it was the total opposite. I can’t believe that I was that much of an idiot that I ruined the best thing I had in my life.” He looked up at Richie then, his eyes filling with tears, “Because you were, you were the best thing I had in my life. Nothing ever compared to the way you made me feel- make me feel- because I’m still crazy in love with you-”

Eddie didn’t get to finish his declaration of love as Richie swooped in fast, his arms securing themselves around Eddie’s waist as he hauled him forward, bringing their lips together in a long overdue kiss. A squeak of surprise left Eddie’s lips before it was replaced with a soft moan, his hands reaching up from where they were handing by his sides and weaving into Richie’s hair. It was just like the dreams Eddie had been having for months, except this time it wasn’t.

They pulled away after a few moments, the need to breathe too much to ignore and Eddie fell back onto his heels. Damn Richie and his height. Richie was grinning, tears clear in his eyes from behind his glasses. “I love you, too. I always have. You’re my perfect match and these six months without you? They’ve been torture.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie breathed, his fingers clutching at the curls on the back of Richie’s neck. “I’m sorry for fucking up so badly and jumping to conclusions. I’m sorry for not just talking to you about it instead of...you know.”

Richie just shook his head and leaned down to press another, more gentle, kiss to Eddie’s lips.

“We can talk about it, over dinner maybe?” Richie suggested, a hand moving to cup Eddie’s cheek, thumb running over the skin under his eye. “We can discuss everything, lay all our cards on the table. What do you think?”

It was a good idea for them to talk it out before jumping into something with one another again, yet Eddie didn’t want to wait until the next night after dinner for Richie to take him to bed. He’d been without him for six months and now he knew Richie didn’t want to end their relationship and that he loved him, Eddie didn’t want to wait any longer. “I think it’s a great idea,” he breathed, moving his head up to Richie’s ear. “But...I also really want you to take me home,” he whispered and then added, just for clarification. “To your home.”

* * * * *

Richie’s apartment was just like Eddie remembered it, open space and filled with life. He hadn’t had the chance to properly look around the night before, his mind...and body both otherwise preoccupied. Now he was awake though, the bed next to him empty but still warm, which meant Richie hadn’t long since woke up.

Eddie sat up, stretching and groaning as his bones cracked before he climbed out of bed. He grabbed his underwear from the bedroom floor before pulling out one of Richie’s shirts from his drawer. As Eddie stepped out of the room, he could hear Richie’s voice filtering in from the kitchen area, clearly speaking to someone on the phone. He edged closer, peeking his head around the corner, and right enough Richie was on his phone, pacing back and forth.

“Something came up, but I’d be happy to meet with you on Monday morning, at the office,” Richie spoke. “We can talk business and sign contracts.” He looked up then, eyes meeting Eddie’s from across the room and he broke into a smile. “Mhm, yes that makes sense,” he spoke into his phone whilst beckoning Eddie closer with his finger.

With his own, equally large grin on his face, Eddie moved closer and stepped between Richie’s legs as he continued his call. The body heat was welcome and Eddie curled back into Richie’s embrace, taking a piece of toast from the plate in front of them and taking a bite.

“I have to go, I have other business to attend to. I’ll be at the office on Monday morning, 9am sharp and we can talk.” Richie hummed and the voice on the other end, muffled back before the call ended and the phone was shoved into Richie’s pocket. “Stealing my breakfast?”

“If you’re not fast, you’re last,” Eddie shrugged, dramatically taking another bite of the toast. “Was that my boss?” He asked.

Richie nodded, running a hand through his curls, curls that Eddie had messed up the night before. He shuddered and the memory. “Your boss is quite...forward. He wasn’t happy I ditched the party last night.” Richie shoved more toast into the toaster and set the timer, turning back to Eddie. “Do you have somewhere to be today?”

“Not unless you do,” Eddie hummed, wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist, seeking more of his body heat. “Anyway, aren’t we going out for dinner? To talk and stuff?” He looked up just as Richie looked down, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before Richie closed the distance with a soft kiss. “Mhm, morning.”

“Morning,” Richie breathed back, spinning Eddie around so he was pressed up against the counter. “Fuck I missed you, I missed you so much.”

Eddie’s stomach clenched, his eyes softening almost immediately as he glanced towards the floor in embarrassment. It was his fault after all, his fault that Richie had to miss him in the first place. He felt Richie’s fingers under his chin, tilting his head up so their eyes locked.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Richie spoke softly. “Please stop?” His head tilted to the side, curls falling loose and into his face. Eddie thought he was the most handsome man he’d even laid his eyes on. “Come back to bed?”

Richie stepped back and held out his hand, allowing Eddie to turn him down if he wanted to, always giving him that choice. Instead of Eddie’s stomach clenching in a bad way, this time it clenched in anticipation with what was to come.

Yes, they had to talk, sit down and have a conversation about their relationship and what they both wanted. Eddie was going to have to communicate with Richie, tell him everything about his past and why he had thought he was going to break up with him in the first place. The thought was terrifying, but Eddie wanted nothing more than to let Richie get to know him completely.

All that could wait though, until later.

Eddie smiled, reaching his hand out to take Richie’s, letting him lead him back to the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.

* * * * * 

taglist

@s-s-georgie @richietoaster @jessiohhh @gazebobullshit @eds-trashmouth @thingsilike-08 @thoughtfullyyoungduck @stellar-alley @yallreddieforthis @lgbtqmads @ambitiousskychild @reddieonwheels @moonlightrichie @that-damn-clown-movie @ghostnebula @care-bear13 @madidraw @pieofepicness @transbuckaroo @vanillaredvelvet @toziertool @femmereddie @itchytoaster @eddiesasspbrak @eduardo-andale-lets-go @pinkmedusa6 @kmcarras @bowtiescarves @greetingsfromderrymaine @eduardoandale @waterflowrr @jojobeaner @mahanawhonahan @dinolaur @viciousmaukeries @sunshines-fabulous-legs @reddie-forever @sophiac356 @are-you-reddie-for-it @liilaac @no-she-wasnt-reddie @gaymoonfan @selma318697 @reddie-4-more @ratbird0917 @adhdtozier @tozierpunks 

[lickstynine]

For the emeto shipping meme, Kit/Ellery and Cody/Russ

wiseinnerwhispers said: Odd for Ellery and Kit from the shipping meme?

Kit and Ellery

1.Who gets sick more easily, and who has the impenetrable immune system?Kit has an immune deficiency, he’ll get sick if he fuckin sees someone with a cold on TV. Ellery is pretty hardy after spending years working with sick people.

2. Who tries to hide their illness, and who tells everyone how miserable they feel?Kit tends to whine more. Ellery will do his best to tough it out.

3. Who pukes all over their shoes/car/date and who makes it to a trash can/toilet?Kit might make a mess if he was super sick/drunk, but neither of them are usually that sloppy.

4.Who is careful about containing their germs, and who spreads them to everyone else?Elle is pretty good about containing/sanitizing/etc, cause y’know nurse. Kit isn’t as cautious, he usually just takes a swig of whiskey and is like “well now I’m sterilized right”

5. Who collapses into bed as the first feverish shiver, and who stubbornly ignores the illness until they truly can’t any more?Kit will only power through if he has obligations. If he’s free (which he usually is) he’ll just curl up in bed and chill. Ellery will try to ignore it, unless he thinks he’s contagious, cause him going to work sick would be bad for everyone involved.

6. Who gets clingy when they’re sick, and who can’t stand to be touched?Kit is for sure clingier. He’s a bit needy in that regard, mostly cause he was super deprived of affection for most of his adolescence, so now he seeks it in droves whenever someone actually cares about him. Ellery would rather just be left to wallow in his misery.

7. Who pukes when they see/smell something gross, and who has an iron stomach?Kit is way more squeamish. Ellery helps deliver babies and has seen people die. Not much could really faze him anymore.

8. Who gets nauseous on amusement park rides, and who hops on the biggest rollercoaster in the park?Elle gets really bad motion sickness. Kit likes the thrill. 

9. Who gets sick when they’re anxious, and who’s the chill one?Ellery is way more anxious.

10. Who’s the better caretaker, and who won’t go anywhere near the sickie?I’d say the actual nurse is probably better. Not that Kit is awful, but he’s like,,, amateurish?

Russ and Cody

1.Who gets sick more easily, and who has the impenetrable immune system?Cody gets sick easier, he doesn’t take care of himself at all. He binge drinks and eats all sorts of garbage and pulls all-nighters. Russ is pretty health-conscious and his immune system is pretty strong as a result.

2. Who tries to hide their illness, and who tells everyone how miserable they feel?Cody will complain if he’s with friends, but he’ll tough it up around people who he thinks would judge him. Russ is always too shy to complain, and thinks people have better stuff to worry about than his health.

3. Who pukes all over their shoes/car/date and who makes it to a trash can/toilet?Cody tends to make an awful fucking mess. He overestimates himself and he’ll be like “nah I’m not gonna puke yet” and then he does. Russ is more aware of his own limits.

4.Who is careful about containing their germs, and who spreads them to everyone else?Neither of them are too good at keeping it contained, but Russ is for sure way cleaner than Cody so,,,

5. Who collapses into bed as the first feverish shiver, and who stubbornly ignores the illness until they truly can’t any more ?They’re both more the latter tbh.

6. Who gets clingy when they’re sick, and who can’t stand to be touched?Cody is clingy. Russ would like attention, but is too shy to ask for it.

7. Who pukes when they see/smell something gross, and who has an iron stomach?Russ is way squeamish. Cody is pretty much impossible to gross out.

8. Who gets nauseous on amusement park rides, and who hops on the biggest rollercoaster in the park?Russ would be more likely to get sick, partly from the motion, and partly just anxiety about “oh shit this is too high and too fast and oh god I’m gonna die”. Cody will ride all the rides. He’ll also eat all the trashy park food, though, and might get sick as a result of that.

9. Who gets sick when they’re anxious, and who’s the chill one?Russ has horrible anxiety and will def puke if his nerves get too bad. Cody is probably too laid-back about most things.

10. Who’s the better caretaker, and who won’t go anywhere near the sickie?Russ is a better caretaker, cause he’s just generally more empathetic and gentle. Cody is a little too lazy and dumb to be the best, but he tries.

[destiny-smasher]

So I did the “get to know me” meme on Twitter but because of how Twitter functions now it’s a hard to follow mess of a thread. Decided to post it all here -- and hey, if any of ya’ll are curious, feel free to read.

1) When I was 10 my abusive stepdad threw a spray at me. I ducked -- it scraped my head. Sent to school bleeding b/c he was too stoned to realize it'd get noticed and I'd get pulled out of that environment immediately. This moment changed my life, left a scar on head.

If I hadn't ducked, would've hit my stomach. No cut. Whole childhood would've been different. My first Butterfly Effect Moment.

2) I started writing fiction about Pokémon. First-person, from the Mons perspective. Rotating point of view each scene.

3) I moved on to crazy crossover fanfic where I constructed an entire war, personal and political motivations, so many ideas I still like?

4) Part of this involved detailed drawings of Mario-themed Keyblades I wish I still had.

5) Paper Mario 1&2 are some of my most influential inspirations. expanded such a simple world so much so fluidly. (Harder than it looks)

6) When I was a kid my sister would wake me st like 6am to watch dubbed Sailor Moon. Bothered me they all sounded like same person.

7) I can recognize voices very well and even specific sounds and songs. Couple years back my roommate ran a test - playlist of 100 NES tracks, he'd play the first NOTE, singular, and I could recognize exactly where it was from if I'd played the game.

8) My first computer was a PC I bought w/$ saved up during an entire summer of custodial work in HS. Had no Internet.

So I'd use the public library's very slow connection to download things to floppy disk and copy them over.

Eventually, I was able to graduate to a USB. Obtaining music was hellish so I treasured each song I could download -- most from OC Remix.

9) We had this tiny rabbit ears TV that could get WB and Fox sometimes if it was set up in a specific corner of my sister's room

And so I would desperately use it to try and stay up to date on Pokémon and Digimon, it was so bad

10) Teen Titans was arguably the most influential piece of media for my teenage mind. It formed the base of so much I care about re:stories

Fleshed out, varied protags who grew together and each had their times to step up and step down. Action w/character dev context.

Fantastic themes important for growing humans; awesome moments "between the panels" instead of all comic book melodrama and action.

Then everything changed when TT GO attacked and pissed on everything smart and thoughtful because MONEYYYYY

11) Cowboy Bebop was the first "good" anime I ever saw and blew my mind open about what animated stories could do -- i.e. Not just kid stuff

I don't like "anime" in general because most of its common tropes but the shit out of me even worse than most western toon tropes

And yet like 50-75% of my most favorite shows ARE anime because thoughtful animated storytelling has so much potential.

11) I predicted months before Last of Us came out that you'd play as Ellie but when it happened I had to stop, cry happy tears.

I predicted the second I saw the Left Behind trailer what was going on w/those two and again, still had to stop and cry happy tears.

(I seem to have pretty good gaydar now but I also don't like, ship everyone together all the time)

It just hits me so hard when actual canon queerness happens in mass media and is done well, but we're still so bad at following through.

12) Favorite m/m ship: Troy and Abed in the Morning. Favorite w/w ship: Max and Chloe BFF Pirates 2008.

ATLA ships: Tokka the most, also Katang, also Smellershot. ATLA makes me more open to shipping than any other series?

Like, Zutara makes me feel kinda gross and some of the crack ships like Sokka/Azula scare me but otherwise I'm pretty chill w/ATLA ships?

13) When I was a kid, and we'd role play, I always wanted to play the girl characters. I was surrounded by boys so they always were weirded.

It was weird to me, too, honestly.

Now it makes perfect goddamn sense.

14) Apparently I was kidnapped as a baby by some mobster or something but it's hard to tell with my mom what's real or not.

15) Smash Bros. Melee was the first game I ever got genuinely hype over before launch. I still remember being startled to discover it --

-- existed via E3 trailer on GameTrailers back on my goddamn dialup connection in 2001. I had to wait all fuckin' day for that thing to load

And when it did, it was GLORIOUS (and had FZero music, which at the time I did not recognize) and I was FLOORED.

The screenshots made the game look too good to be real, and I was instantly sold on the GameCube, the first time I NEEDED new hardware Day 1

I got SSBM as an Xmas gift before my grandpa's GCN present arrived, so for a week or two all I could do was stare at the box/manual/disc

That game kind of changed my life -- SSB64 was the first time I'd gotten so invested in a multiplayer game, and SSBM crushed it.

A fire was born in me -- competition, something I'd never been much interested in w/games before, not against actual humans.

Those months between E3 2001 and finally getting to play SSBM felt like forever. And thus did I post online fiction for the first time.

That's actually how I met @SDiDuro , my first 'Internet friend' and what I'd consider to be my first proper 'reader.'

16) After college, I ended up working at a call center because it was  the only job I could find and I needed to support my disabled wife.

DURING college, I gave up on writing fiction and had focused on gaming editorial through a site where I'd engaged with an online community

But that empty space between phone calls eventually got filled in by writing fiction on a notepad, with a pen, inspired by Street Fighter 4.

Eventually, this evolved and radically changed into what is now (still in dev) DownRight Fierce.

Back then, I had no idea I'd be motivated to DO this, though -- write original fiction -- but the fire had been re-lit.

I wanted to write.

I was sickened by my "naive" adolescence crossover fics and wiped them from my http://FF.net  profile and started anew.

Having just come off of ATLA 1st time, I knew I wanted to explore that world/characters more, so I wrote a story about Toph & puberty.

That serving as "practice," I then went on to write SRU, and...well, that...changed EVERYTHING.

17) My biological dad (who I have never met) has OCD, to the point where he apparently washed his skin raw trying to avoid germs?

So as soon as I showed enthusiasm in gaming, my parents FREAKED and worried I was exhibiting OCD and they brought the hammer down.

They made me feel BAD for writing about video games when I wasn't playing them, but they never READ anything I fucking wrote.

Even now, my mom tries to comment on what a good writer I supposedly am, yet when I ask for her thoughts, I ask what she's read?

Silence.

I wasn't writing fiction based on games because I was THAT addicted to games.

I did it because a storyteller was awakening within me --

-- and I told stories through the worlds and characters I was familiar with.

(And my first genuinely "serious" fic was Teen Titans, anyway)

But even now, it really hurts that my parents will sometimes try to guilt me over not calling or whatever the fuck, when they never READ

never supported, and actively DISCOURAGED my writing, my storytelling, refused to understanding why I loved games.

18) I never watched Avatar until after college (years after it had finished), and I watched it because of the live action movie.

I watched halfway through the season 1 of the cartoon to get "read up" on it. Then the movie. Which was horrible. Then the rest of season 1.

At that point, the movie utterly baffled me. My wife and I proceeded to marathon the rest of the series. And it became my fav story ever.

But I ironically owe it to that terrible live action movie. ^_^;;

19) My taste in music is really weird. I couldn't tell you what my favorite genres are, and even fav musicians is hard.

Like, every year my top three fav musicians "change" because I just add more to the pile and spend the year focused on their music.

But music inspires my storytelling more than any other medium, I'd say -- in terms of me actually planning and growing ideas.

I didn't just give Nishiko and Seiko last names of my two fav game composers as tongue-in-cheek. In fact, that's not why I did it at all.

I gave them those names because I wanted some element of their very design to express how Japanese composers inspired me in my teen years.