#tape rewinding machine

[biglisbonnews]

Still rewinding your VHS tapes manually? Our long, national nightmare is over: finally, a IOT solution to rewinding VHS tapes! Enjoy this nifty spoof by Eric Drysdale, a writer, comedian and 3-D photography enthusiast in New York City. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Eric Drysdale (@drysdaledoesit) https://boingboing.net/2023/01/12/still-rewinding-your-vhs-tapes-manually.html

[theendorisit]

apropos of nothing, I made Tape-E

Who is Tape-E?

During one of the TMA livestreams (trying to remember which one), a fan question was asked ‘Is there a mascot (for the Archives or the show itself not sure)?’ One of the team suggested ‘Tape-y?’, to which everyone else responded with ‘Oh no!!’. So I thought, oh yes! So yeah, this is your fault 😘

What is Tape-E?

As Mr Bonzo is a parody of Mr Blobby, Tape-E is a parody of Clippy (these last two names rhyme).

Who is Clippy?

Clippy was a microsoft office assistant, introduced in 1997. He was a little virtual paperclip (officially called Clippit, but that name never caught on) who sat on the bottom right corner of the page, and was programmed to give advice in popup speech bubbles when certain actions were taken. For example, if you wrote out an address and ‘Dear’, Clippy would say ‘Looks like you’re writing a letter. Would you like help?’. The name Tape-E in the livestream seemed to be referring to Clippy, as there are many similarities in the behaviour of Clippy, and the actual tapes/ tape recorders in-universe:

always on by default

appears at inconvenient times

provides help you do not want

hated by (mostly) everyone

watching you with cold dead eyes

enjoyed by nostalgia and retro seekers

Why make Tape-E?

As I am of the same generation as some of the RQ peeps, I unironically loved Clippy and Mr Blobby as a child, and it gives me great joy to imagine, in the TMP universe, Sam getting a little pop up: ‘Looks like you’re trying to code a case file! Would you like some help with that?’ In our world this would be impossible - Windows NT (as the official name) was dropped in 1996, one year before Clippy was born, BUT there is voice recording on TMP’s ancient computers, so it’s not totally impossible! 😅😁

What are cassette tapes?

Just a little recap for those who didn’t grow up with tapes: Cassette Tapes contain information embedded in magnetic tape, wrapped around one spool and attached to a second spool. When played, the spools are turned by the machine and the magnetic tape is wound onto the other spool, the information read out through speakers as the magnetic tape moves through sensors. As the magnetic tape can contain different information depending on the direction of tape movement, you can flip the cassette tape over in the machine, and play the tape again, hearing another load of information. This concept is never utilised in the show, but it does mean that cassette tapes have A-sides, and B-sides (as Vinyl records do). Here, of course, this stands for Archivist-side, and Brutalpipemurder-side. On occasion, the magnetic tapes would become damaged, or bent, and could be pushed out of the cassette, causing a horrible noise, and terror to small children who were only trying to listen to their Just William tapes. When this happened, a pencil (or in my case, my little finger) could be jammed into the spiky spool ‘teeth’, to rewind the magnetic tape back into the cassette. Maybe that’s why the eyes are red? 🩸 I am very glad that the TMA tapes are magic, and record endlessly, never need flipping, and never get chewed up by the hungry machine.

Why is the name Tape-E?

Canon answer: the name stands for Tape-Eyes. Possibly Tape-Entity? Undecided.

Actual answer: Tape-y, Tapey and Tapie spellings look weird to me. I think Tape-E looks best.

Why a tape and not a tape recorder?

if you can crochet a tape recorder, you’re a genius and I love you.

What gender is Tape-E?

I might refer to Tape-E as male sometimes because that’s how people often referred to Clippy. But Tape-E is whatever gender Tape-E feels like being.

Why now?

Why not? also now is a good time because TMP episode 15 is an excellent episode

What’s going to happen to Tape-E?

I’m going to gift it to Jonny sometime, if we get more liveshows or book signings. It’s his fault this exists after all. Plus you can write whatever you like in the speech bubbles! Hopefully I can give it calmly? But maybe Tape-E will be yeeted in his general direction in a fit of ADHD-fuelled social anxiety. Only time will tell.

Tape-E is a pattern and design created entirely by myself. The inspiration and world building from whence it came, is entirely the genius of @jonnywaistcoat Jonny Sims, Rusty Quill @rqbossman and The Magnus Archives, which is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a creative commons attribution, non-commercial share alike 4.0 international license.

Clippy was invented by Microsoft and Kevan Atteberry, who now illustrates children’s books.

Mr Blobby is an adorable abomination, created from a fevered mind.

[andy-wm]

Back to WHO : the MV

This is a continuation of the earlier post that discusses the song WHO, by Jimin. That post was a first impression focused on the lyrics - while this one looks more closely at the MV.

(Remember this is my interpretation, not an official statement by Hybe)

The more times I watched the music video, the more I wanted to yell, because look...

IT'S REALLY STARING US IN THE FACE.

And again, kudos to Jimin's team because it's the most obvious thing in the world ever but only if you ALREADY KNOW what's going on.

Here's a summary:

The music video loosely represents Jimin's attraction/sexuality/love life as a timeline.

New colours - a new spectrum shall we say - filter into his life even though he's trying so hard to 'keep to the program'.

He searches high and low for a girl to love, but alas, nobody makes the fireworks happen for him. Then Billboard Boy crashes into his life, threatening to destroy everything. Jimin has to weather the storm and figure out where his place is because Billboard Boy is a major disruptor - a tornado in fact. In the end, the fireworks are popping and the chaos is happening, and Jimin has to just go with it and finds his place again. His colours have been getting brighter and louder as he goes along and in the end he's prepared to walk away from everything in order to be the spectrum he is.

<<I'm not saying it's literally a count of how many girls or boys or enbys he's kissed. I hope his kissed all of them and then some, frankly, but that's none of my business.>>

A few things to pay special attention to:

Burning cars > cars = masculinity. fire = hot. 1+1=2.

Dancers > people he's interacting with

Rough weather, as represented by the wind-whipped papers and eventually even cars being tossed about the set > His attraction to men (and dare I say it, culminating in a focus on one man in particular)

Colour flares, machine text, and marks on the tape (horizontal lines etc)

Are you ready? Let's go...

Jimin enters the scene looking like sex on legs (no surprises) and strolls casually onto the road. Immediately our view of hm is blocked by a pop-art style poster blowing across the screen. It's immediately followed by a car coming around the corner onto the road. The car is on fire. Jimin watches it pass by and follows it.

He follows the burning car.... and so it begins.

The narrative starts from before BTS even exists. Jimin encounters several female dancers who he has brief and sexy interludes with. In fact i don't think there's a single woman in this MV who he doesn't at least look at. He really does try everything (and everyone) in his efforts to find HER.

BUT WAIT.... rewind...

Let's go back to the poster... it depicts a street scene much like the one we see here, with the words:

WHO IS!! TORNADO OF LOVE

Note: those are exclamation points not question marks.

It's not a question. This is telling us UP FRONT IN BIG LETTERS that 'WHO' is tornado of love.

I could probably stop here and just say 'ok go watch it again' but it's too much fun to go through all the details.

So let's continue...

Jimin has a little more steamy choreo with the female dancers before the lyrics tell us he has so many people to see and places to go, and he leaves them and joins 6 other men in what looks like a work environment....

Hello we are BTS!

Yes you guessed it... like Yoongi did in Haegum, Jimin has his members represented here. (Fan chant going off in my head...) and more delicious choreography follows.

Notice that while Jimin was dancing with the girls, the only signs of rough weather were a few glittery specs floating through the air, barely noticable. Those bits of glitter multiply when he joins the 6 men, and instead of a sprinkling of glitter, it starts looking like a light snowfall.

That's all about to change....

The first moment of reckonning:

At the end of this section of choreo, as Jimin sings 'who is my heart waiting for' and moves into the next phase we have a barely visible flash of light across the screen and rainbow colours bleed into the footage (at 1.14).

This is also the moment the significant rough weather starts. I'd say this is where Jimin starts noticing how he feels, and the turmoil begins, because this is also where he makes eye contact with the camera (1.23).

He sees us watching.

Fuck. I had a moment here. There's a look on his face as he walks past the camera and stares right into it.

AUTO CALLIBRATION...

As another millisecond flash of light and rainbow colours seep into the footage, The machine text 'AUTO CALLIBRATION' appear on the screen and flash there for a couple of seconds.

CALLIBRATE: To standardise... by determinning the deviation from a standard so as to ascertain the proper correction factors (Meriam-Webster definition).

"Get a hold of yourself, Jimin. Reset (your behaviour and desires) to correspond with expectations"

Jimin makes a very determined bee-line for the nearest girl and dances with her, ignoring the burning car in the foreground.

This brings us to the next phase of the narrative, and the next location - the performance space in front of the OASIS cinema.

(Do you see the doors of the cinema - BTS referenced again).

As he dances with this girl, the camera zooms out and we see that a crowd has gathered outside the cinema, watching them, but the crowd does not seem friendly and the dance seems performative - the movements are exagerated and obvious. The girl has Jimin in a headlock at one point and then she pushes him away and leaves. All in all it's an unpleasant event.

At this point the BTS members return (Although now there's one missing) and they dance with and around a number of female dancers. flashes go off in the crowd as the choreo is performed.

As they dance the wind picks up quickly and papers and cans are blown about. Even when Jimin is obviously interacting with female dancers the weather continues to pick up. Dancing with the girls isn't helping.

The camera pulls back and we see the same car as before, still on fire.

This is the moment when the penny (or billboard) drops.

All the other dancers scatter, dissapearing in a matter of seconds as the billboard comes crashing down. The billboard blocks his path. Wherever he had been planning to go - or whatever course of action he had planned to take - this man on the billboard forces a new decision. Jimin has to rethink his plans.

Jimin turns and goes in the opposite direction to everyone else. (A similar scene occured in Like Crazy, Jimin going the other way, rejecting the norm, going against the tide).

The machine text flashes "REWIND ... REWIND" on the screen and we see Jimin heading back to where all this started... where the original car on fire was seen.

He's travelling his own path now, but as he walks, alone in what seems to be the wrong direction, we see the store lights brighter, reflecting off cars and filling the space around him.

He's going through the motions with the girls he passes but the interactions are brief and in one case he actually dodges the girl completetly.

He retraces his steps amidst the chaos, and the weather really goes nuts. Now there are cars being thrown through the air, streetlamps exploding. The storm is almost upon him.

As Jimin steps into that original street again, the one with the neon letters spelling BLISS, the machine text reads PLAY. It's almost ike he's having a redo, where he accepts who he is from the start and allows the chaos to happen. And the chaos DOES happen, because the tornado has arrived.

THE TORNADO OF LOVE.

There's a flash and the whole screen is flooded with colours, blanking out the footage.

Jimin can no longer dance in step with everyone else at this point. He's doubled over, belting those high notes at the climax of the song while the chaos rages in the background. Without the music to give his actions context, it almost looks like hes in agony.

Sparks fly, lights flash, even the film itself is affected...

He eventually gets it together and rejoins the choreography, picking up his life so to speak. But his callibration is forever changed. the colours that bled into his life are there for good now, and and as he walks away after the music stops, we see that those colours are not just for the performance, they exist outside of that.

A note about the light flares we see throughout the MV:

It was really hard to catch these, some of them were literal milliseconds. I had to slow the MV down to play at .25 original speed and even then they were fleeting - well hidden.

Only the one at the very end was really visible.

In this one, the word PAUSE appears, as the MV ends. I wonder if that relates to their military service?

The flares of light and colour, those rainbow flashes, aren't always easy to find. Youvhave to be prepared to seek them out.

We will find them if we look for them, but i think Jimin won't show his true colours until after the lights go down and the performance is over.

I respect his decision (if that's what that is) and i will continue to meet him here his stands. I'll support everything he does knowing what I know and I'll continue to search for and uncover the hidden messages he sends us.

[s1aywalker]

꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ straight to video. ꨄ

↷ ✩ —— video store clerk sam monroe headcanons. (nsfw 18+)

warnings: smutty smutty smutty. minors do not interact or else i'll collect your kneecaps. porn (duh), masturbation.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who lingers and hangs back a little too long in the furthest section of the video store every time he has to put away the lazily disinfected x-rated returns back into their designated slots.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who makes a bad habit out of scoping out the newest releases when he unboxes them before they hit the shelves. it's not usually anything super crazy— the same old titles with "busty" and "hot" in big bold letters. most of the covers are on the classier end, displaying lingerie clad women tantalizing the potential renter with what lies within. but some of them... some of them lacked any subtly at all.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who has to take a sneak peek at all the dirtier titles that occasionally came through their doors. the ones marketed as more "hardcore" that don't bother teasing or leaving the viewer wondering— instead showing blondes with fake tits on the cover, one or two or more cocks shoved into their mouths, full cunts on display and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination before even hitting play.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who doesn't always bother checking the most interesting ones out. they don't even make it out of the fucking store, let alone into the privacy of his own bedroom. he's instead taking his pick and inquisitiveness into the back room at the end of his shift when he should solely be focusing on putting a rewind on the stack of returns. the ones that are being dragged along under his arm with the selected gangbang in brand new condition that he gets to test run first.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who puts his curiosity before his nonexistent work ethic because he's known to be impatient, and immediately feeds the tape into the mouth of an older model vcr that brings the film to life with a mechanical whirr.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe whose impatience in question forces him to press fast forward as he sits on the shitty couch with stained cushions from spilled lunches and dinners. forwarding and forwarding until he finds a scene that makes his whole body react and his dick twitch, and he knows he has to make this quick.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who lets the explicit sounds of pornographic moans and skin against skin fill the space of the small room, and he's about to add to the harmony of it. his fingers are quickly undoing the buckle of his studded belt and letting it fall open just as the film plays at a normal pace, and he can't reach his hand into the confines of those baggy hot topic bought tripp pants fast enough.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who works his wrist at a deliberate and desperate pace that might've left burn marks if he weren't a seasoned, jerking off professional. he's trying to match the rhythm of the video playing out before him of a stretched cunt getting repeatedly fucked and hammered into, while her stuffed throat can't make any sound other than lewd gurgles. he doesn't even know what this chick really looks like, he didn't catch enough of the beginning. but he also doesn't fucking care what she looks like. his eyes are too busy glued elsewhere and he refuses to let them screw shut.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe whose teeth are clicking against the labret pierced through his lower lip as he sucks in harsh breaths in between groans, and bites at the skin while his chest heaves with whimpers. "c'mon please, please, please—" he's not sure what exactly he's begging for... the sweet release, he supposes. every tug and stroke from his fist brought him closer and closer and—

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who doesn't waste much time after cum coats his hand. the mess is lazily wiped on his shirt after he shoved his cock back into his boxers and it's like nothing happened at all. he reaches to rewind the tape back to the beginning until it clicks and the machine spits it back out, and it's shoved back into the pristine sleeve to be put aside before he moves on to the stack of returns.

[ash5monster01]

More Than You Know

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader(Plus-size!)

Warnings: fat shaming, body image issues, swearing, angst, lots of yelling, fluff

Summary: You had liked Steve since the day you met but you never entertained the idea of being with him because you figured a popular guy like him would never date a girl your size. Coming to terms with this didn’t mean you’d stop defending him in a world full of ungrateful girls. So you reach your breaking point when you’re sick and tired of watching girls miss out on something that would be so good for them. Thing was, Steve heard everything you had to say.

word count: 2047

Masterlist

“Looking good today Lola” you could practically see the smirk on Steve’s face from the sound of his voice. Looking up you saw his eyes trained on the blonde beside you, who had yet to put returns you had finished rewinding back on the shelf, her nail file much to important.

Lola Grant was everything you were not. Blonde, primp, perfect. Steve loved her for all of those things including her tiny waist. You on the other hand hated her for all of those things. She wore dresses with flower patterns and you still wore the same tattered converse, ripped and worn in all the best ways. Your jeans and Motley Crue T-shirt didn’t compare. You were not the same.

“Thanks Stevie” you hated the nickname, especially how it brought a smile the shaggy haired boys face.

“I was wondering if you were free Friday night, I’m having a movie night with the kids and was wondering if you wanted to join?” you had lost count of all the attempts Steve had made to ask the girl out. There had to of been a billion by now.

“Sorry Steve but that sounds pathetic spending Friday night with underage kids” she sneered, meanness dripping from her tone. Steves smile faltered only slightly and despite how much you hated him for still trying he was still your friend.

“Then what’s your ideal date Lola?” your tone was sharp, accusatory, and just plain angry that she couldn’t see how great a guy he was. Not that she deserved him anyway.

“A fancy dinner, wine, making out in a movie theater, third base in the back of a BMW. Nothing to do with babysitting” she responded promptly. Steve hummed with satisfaction, a dopey grin on his face. The sentence immediately making him forget how rude she was in the first place. His mind now only in the backseat of a BMW.

“Classy” you quipped, and she offered a forced smile but knew you were judging her. Yet a girl like you didn’t really get under her skin. How could you when you guys weren’t even in the same league of girls.

“We could do something else, maybe a movie?” you didn’t hide the roll of your eyes as Steve tried again.

“Maybe another time Stevie, I’m busy this weekend” a lie and you knew it, and maybe he did too. Finally picking up the stack of tapes you rewinded she moved off to place them on shelves.

“Get real Steve” you snipped, the moment she was out of ear shot.

“What’s your deal?” he asked and you shook your head, amused he couldn’t see how shitty she was.

“My deal is that girl sucks, you’ve got so much more going for you” you said pushing a new tape into the machine and hitting rewind. Steve moved behind the counter, taking Lola’s previous spot.

“She doesn’t suck, she’s cool and hot. Hard to get but I don’t give up” he smirked as he crossed his arms and you groaned, annoyed that he was so blinded by her fake appearance. She was nothing more than a girl who peaked in high school and Steve was so much more.

“She’s not cool nor is she hot. Don’t you ever think? If she actually had anything going for her she wouldn’t still be stuck here working in a video store” your anger caused the words to rattle out and Steves face dropped.

“Wonder what you think of me then?” you instantly realized your mistake and began shaking your head. You wished Robin wasn’t at school and was here to defend you.

“That’s not what I meant Steve-” but he was already shaking his head in offense and pushing himself off the counter.

“It’s exactly what you meant Y/N” he spoke harshly, hurt by his friend and the words you had spoke as he walked into the back room. Sighing you dropped your head on the counter, upset you pissed him off.

“What’s wrong? Did he deny you?” Lola chuckled as she returned to the counter now free of VHS tapes. Lola viewed life as a social ladder. She was on the top, Steve right below her, which is why she never dated him, and you were all the way on the bottom. She was out of Steve’s reach but you were miles away.

“No Lola, thanks for having faith in me” sarcasm laced your tone as you lifted your head.

“How could I have faith in you, you’ve never had a date in your life” she chuckled, annoyed you gave her so much crap when she saw you as absolutely nothing. She didn’t even think Steve should be talking to you.

“Shut up Lola” you spoke, not wanting anymore shit, already angry enough.

“You want to know why you haven’t had a date Y/N?” Lola expression turned menacing as she moved towards you, mean girl genes firing through her bones. “Because you’re fat, and weird, and no guy is attracted to that”

“You know what?” normally Lola would get to you, break your heart and allow tears to pool in your eyes. But today was your breaking point. She could treat you as badly as she wanted but you were done with her treating Steve like that.

“What?” her amused expression didn’t falter as she waited for some lame comeback bound to fall from your mouth.

“You’re a bitch Lola. Nothing more than a washed up high school mean girl. You’re gonna spend the rest of your life in this God forsaken town, running though men like their a God damn marathon, until you end up stuck with some creepy old man who knocked you up, and you’ll never be anything more than that girl from high school absolutely everyone hated” Lola was shocked as you continued to raise your voice at her, alerting Steve from the back room.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about” Lola began to shake her head but you were beyond angry now, laughing as you approached her. Steve moved to the door, listening to everything you both said.

“Yes I do, because everyday you treat Steve like shit when he thinks you’re the best thing on earth. Do you know how crazy that is? Steve is the greatest guy I know. He cares for so many people when he doesn’t even have to, including me, he even drives Robin to school everyday even if he doesn’t have to be up for work, because he’s such a great guy. He’s the kind of guy who would treat you right and every day for no fucking reason you tell him no” Lola opened her mouth to speak but you quickly held up a hand, not done with your spiel.

“Not to say you deserve a guy like that because you don’t, and twenty years from now, while your holding your child on the porch of your trailer home, you’re gonna be wishing you said yes to him. Every day I hope he’s gonna walk through those doors and ask me out instead because I know what he’s worth. He may be way out of both our leagues but at least I appreciate him. The only reason he still asks you is because you are the skinny, pretty girl, and that fucking stings. Yet I guess that’s how this cruel world works. So leave us both the fuck alone from now on” heavy breaths left your mouth as you finished, Steve having heard the whole thing, shocked to hear such passion come from you.

“Okay, I’m sorry” Lola muttered, before rushing from behind the counter. “I’m gonna take off, my shift is up anyway”

“Bye” you snipped, and she wore a guilty expression as she quickly collected her things and fled the building. You dropped your head back on the counter, now worked up from the drama. Steve finally walked out the back room, knowing Lola was gone.

“You think I ask her out because she’s prettier than you?” your shoulders tensed at his voice, not realizing he heard the whole thing. “Because you’re way prettier than her”

“Don’t lie to me right now Steve, guys don’t date big girls like me” you looked up as you shook your head at him. Steve didn’t care the enthuse the idea.

“I never asked you out because I thought you were too good for me” you furrowed your eyebrows as he continued to talk anyway. Steve had always thought you were pretty and on top of that you were also the best person he knew.

“I’m nothing special and you’re kinda the coolest person I know. I ask Lola out because she’s the kinda girl I’m gonna end up with, not because of her looks compared to yours. I’m just not good enough for you” you scoffed, not believing a word because you truly had never heard kind words like this before. It was also hard to believe he could feel like same way you had all this time, used to people avoiding you because of your size.

“I’m not looking for the you’re not fat, you’re beautiful speech. You weren’t supposed to hear what I said. So can we just drop it” you said turning away from him, uninterested in this lame attempt at making you feel better. You had accepted your fate a long time ago.

“You are beautiful Y/N. Fuck, why can’t you see that? I never asked you out because you were the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen and I didn’t want to ruin that” tears pooled in your eyes because if you let yourself believe him and it wasn’t true you weren’t sure you’d ever recover.

“You’re a great guy Steve, you wouldn’t ruin anything. I would” Steve’s heart warmed because he heard how you had defended him like that. Not even he thought he was so great and apparently you noticed him more than he thought you did.

“Thank you for defending me, and it made me realize that I do deserve someone who would defend me like that. So go out with me Y/N, and not just because of this whole thing, because I’ve wanted to date you since the day we met” you shook your head, the tears now falling down your face.

“Steve if you hurt me, I just can’t. I wouldn’t be able to handle it” Steve felt his heart break as he looked at you. Really looked at you and he felt terrible he had never made you realize how amazing you were in the first place. He was selfish staying away because you deserved to be shown you were just as beautiful as any girl Steve had dated.

“Let me prove you wrong” he said gripping your arms and you looked up at him, tear filled eyes, and he felt the wind get knocked out of him from the look in your eyes. The fact he never realized you loved him back before was shocking because he could see it written all over your face.

“Okay” you muttered and before you could even react he tugged your lips against his. Arms gripping you for dear life and your eyes were wide as you realized what he had done. He had kissed you and you had never even expected it. Then you realized how soft his lips were, how he tasted like cherries, and his warm mouth soothed every ache in your heart. Your hands gripped his shirt as you settled into the kiss, relaxation taking over you, eyes fluttering shut as he moved to wrap his arms around you. If you had known yelling at Lola would make Steve Harrington kiss you like this you would’ve done it a lot sooner. You weren’t even fully sure you were supporting yourself anymore, knees weak from the fire he has ignited in your stomach.

“Holy shit” Steve panted as he pulled away, a dopey smile on his face, because he had never felt like that from kissing a girl before.

“I know” you panted right along side him and he let out a giddy chuckle, moving to pull you back into his arms.

“I may not deserve you but after that I’m not going down without a fight”

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Prompt: missing an important phone call

“Tommy!” his mom calls, shouting from downstairs. He can hear her, muffled through his closed door but he can still hear her all the same.

“What?” he calls back, tilting his head towards the door, but not making any motions to move. He’s wearing sweatpants, reading a sports mag, and pretending his family doesn’t exist. Pretending his homework doesn’t exist. He’s fucking chilling.

His mom doesn’t respond. Because of fucking course she doesn’t. If he could hear her, she could absolutely hear him but whatever. She’s the one with selective hearing in this family, no matter what she says about teenage boys and him hearing only what he wants to hear. Whatever. Groaning, he throws his magazine down, heaves himself off of his bed, and leaves his room.

Throws the door open, and shouts down the hall, hoping the sound echoes down the stairs. “What?”

“Get down here!” She hollers back, Tommy stomping down the stairs with a roll of his eyes. He’s barely been home and she’s already nagging him. Dinner’s not ready, is nowhere near it in fact — dad isn’t even home. So what the hell does she want from him?

“Fine,” Tommy grumbles, letting his annoyance radiate off of him. He finds his mom in the kitchen, glass of wine in her hands, pointing at the phone. He raises his eyebrows at her, widening his eyes as if to say I’m here now, what do you want? Because there’s no way she’d let him get away with saying that out loud.

"Message for you,” she says, waving her hands in the general direction of the answering machine, before leaving the kitchen.

“Who the hell’s ringing me?” He asks, speaking aimlessly at her retreating back. She doesn’t answer. Whatever, it’s fine. Probably just Carol, ringing as soon as she got home or something. It’s not like he has anyone else calling him on the regular. He turns the volume nob, rewinds the tape, and presses play.

Tommy sighs as he listens to the clunk of the machine, the gentle whirring of the tape. And then the message starts.

“Hey Tommy, It’s Steve, um, but you probably knew that.” The message starts, and Tommy freezes. Feels himself halting in place, right there in the middle of the kitchen. They hadn’t spoken in months. Not since all that shit with the Wheeler chick last year. When she ruined everything. He forces himself to inhale, to breathe again, and listens to the rest of Steve’s message. “I’m just uh, ringing from the hospital. It’s not bad, I’m mostly under observation.”

Fucking hell. How the hell did Tommy miss this? They didn’t speak at school, not unless Tommy was teasing him. Poking and prodding and aiming for a reaction. To see a hint of the old Steve. His Steve. But Tommy had eyes. He was watching Steve. They were best friends since they were fucking kids, he couldn’t just drop that. Not like Steve dropped him and Carol.

“I probably shouldn’t be calling.” Steve continues, his voice wavering but clear. Almost anxious. Tommy’s breath hitches in his chest again. They used to call all the time, were constantly hanging out, and now Steve shouldn’t be calling him. It’s fine. Tommy’s fine. “I’m uh, in the hall right now, and the nurses don’t want me out of bed. But I wanted to… I just… I missed…”

Steve’s voice trails off. Gets softer, just breathes into the phone. If Tommy listens carefully, he swears he can hear Steve’s voice hitch. In that achingly familiar way when he tries to hold his emotions back. Tommy knows that sound. Steve clears his throat.

“I needed to call you, I think.” Steve continues, and Tommy ignores the way his hands starts shaking. Clenches them into fists, and shoves his hands into his pockets. The only one home is his mom, but he can’t let her see him like this. Fuck, did she listen to the message? She’ll ask him questions, Tommy knows she will and he’s really not ready to hear them. “My parents don’t get home ‘til next week, and my brain feels like mud, and I just, um, yeah. Missed you.”

The beep of the answering machine cuts off any goodbye Steve would have had.

Tommy inhales, lets the air cool his lungs, steady his heart. Scrubs a hand across his nose and turns away from the answering machine. Wipes his hands across his stinging eyes. He’s still shaking, he absently realises, as he lets Steve’s words wash over him. He’s in the hospital, is fucking stuck there alone while his parents travel all over the fucking show and he missed Tommy. Even if he still thinks Tommy is a miserable asshole.

Steeling himself, he snatches his keys off of the bench, shoves his feet into his sneakers, and storms out the front door.

[Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five]

[mingsolo]

pause + play

wonwoo x reader (f) / g: meet cute, 90s au, fluff, strangers to lovers / wc: 4k / warnings: cursing, some nipple action, mingyu being a sl*t, / r: nc17

written for Now, That's 90s! collab, hosted by @beomcoups and I! ngI struggled not because I couldn't write this one, but because life is kicking my ass and I couldn't find the time to really sit and think through it... anyways it turned out pretty cute please read if you can <3

A drop of sweat rolled down from your forehead, you blew some air to your face but of course it was hot and it made you dizzy. “Is this thing even on?.” you shouted from the other corner of the shop, to your co-worker, Mingyu.

You stood under the AC trying to feel if there was actually cool air coming from it but you couldn’t feel but a weak wave of hot air over you. 

“Yeah, that thing is better off.” Mingyu shouted back, where he was lining up tapes in the kids section. “By the way, could you help me check the return box? There’s some tapes missing here, they should be there.” 

You waved out, going to the returns box at the entrance of the store. A few tapes were in, three Toy Story 2, one Tarzan and a copy of 10 Things I Hate About You along with two Armageddon at the bottom. You placed the movies on the counter as Mingyu was approaching you. “We need to rewind them first, all of them!” You say inspecting the tapes, “Geez, why do they never do it?.” 

Mingyu laughs and shakes his head. “The sign even says “Please” on it, right?.” He taps the hardcover of the vhs box, where “Please rewind before returning” signs reads on it.

“And it's so hot to be in the rewind room!.” you nag once more, taking the tapes with both arms and dragging your feet to the back of the store and rewind the tapes before someone comes looking for them. Mingyu returns to his previous spot on the kids section, not without laughing at you first. 

Despite the whole minute that it took you to get there, you are now placing the tapes into the machine, leaving the door open so some of the air could get in, the small and dark room feels suffocating just by being two steps inside it. In the speakers of the store, the faint sound of Genie In a Bottle plays on and you start humming, partly because you have the song stuck in your head thanks to Mingyu playing the cd over and over when he is on shift, and because it somehow helps the task be a little less tedious.

While on it, you hear the bells ringing meaning a customer has come to the store. You peek out to see a familiar tall figure enter, waving his way in walking directly towards the back where Mingyu was at the kids section.

“Hey!” you heard the guy saying until he disappeared from your line of sight. You tried to peek out more but it won’t be possible without you stepping out of the room, so you hurried up the process to get another glance before he’s out.

In the month you have been working there, you have seen this guy come in at least once a week. You were sure he was Mingyu’s friend as he always walked directly towards him or looked for him especially after picking up some tapes. The past times he had come with you on shift without Mingyu, you had the bad luck of always doing something like rewinding tapes or in the bathroom, never getting the chance to even greet him when he entered the store.

One thing for sure, he was cute as hell. Cat like eyes and thin defined lips, huge black frames on his face, making it look smaller. And you noticed only by getting little glimpses of him, as he was always in a rush or something, never staying more than five minutes. You thought of asking Mingyu who he was but decided not to as you were still new in the store and even if you liked and had fun working with him, Mingyu has proven to be the teasing type, and he wouldn’t let you work in peace if you dare asking him about this other guy.

Just as you were cursing at Armageddon for rewinding so slowly, you heard them saying goodbyes and the chiming doorbell announcing he was out. 

With a sigh you rolled your eyes and finished your task without hurry, hoping the cat boy would come back soon and you were luckily enough to be on the counter to greet him. 

.

.

.

Today was a Monday, and the week promised to be a quiet one. Not many new releases came to the store yet so customers wandered a little bit before getting out, or just asking when would you stock Sleepy Hollow or why you had so few copies of The Sixth Sense. You tried your best to give every customer a smile at the beginning but after a month of getting the same questions over and over, you just shrugged and advised people to come back later, and maybe the previous customer had brought it back by then. 

Mingyu was way better with customers, both girls and guys. ‘I’ll get it ready and rewinded this afternoon for you’ he said with a wink to a middle aged lady, who shamelessly smiled and flirted with him while her kid smudged chocolate from the bar he was eating on a copy of Inspector Gadget.

“Great, now I have to clean that.” you glared at Mingyu as he saved the piece of paper with the woman’s number on his back pocket once she and the chocolate kid were gone. “I swear to God I’ve seen her come in with her husband.” you arch your eyebrows at him. 

“That doesn’t seem like a me problem.” He shot gun fingers at you and got back to his task on the counter, where a few other ladies waited for him.

You chuckled and started spraying windex on Mathew Broderick’s face covered in chocolate, laughing at how Mingyu flirted shamelessly with every single one of them, all at once, but they didn’t seem to mind. 

Once good ol’ Mathew’s face was clean you left the tape back on the shelf, when you heard the bell ring. “Y/n, can you help?” Mingyu hurried to tell you, he was now surrounded by the women as he showed them a copy of Between Your Legs animatedly. “This one is from our exclusive foreign section, so exotic! And the plot is fascinating…” He looked at the ceiling and the ladies followed.

You shook your head and got up from where you were squatting, seeing the tall figure of cat-boy coming through the door. He looked at the commotion on the counter and figured out Mingyu was busy at the moment. He hesitated for a second before turning back ready to head out when you sprinted towards him, shouting “HI!! WELCOME IN!” maybe a little too enthusiastically. 

“H-hi,” he said back, a little startled by your shouting. Mingyu also looked up to you for a moment, but he was quickly back to answering curious questions from his little fan club. “Uhm, I’ll be back later when-”

“No! Please, I know Mingyu usually helps you out but please tell me what can I do for you?,” you smiled with pressed lips and your voice two tones higher than how you usually speak, but you couldn’t help it. Seeing him in front of you confirmed your suspicions, he was stupidly handsome, freakingly hot even behind those thick square glasses. His hoodie smells like coffee and the cap he was wearing backwards made the earring on his left ear seem more dangly. 

“I really would prefer to wait for Mingyu…” 

“Nonsense!” you guided him towards a free counter next to where Mingyu and his harem were discussing Between Your Legs, quickly putting some space between you two before you would get inappropriately close and start sniffing his sweater, your eyes shining brightly as you spotted cat hairs on them. 

God he is so hot for a nerd!!!

“So, what can I do for you today, I’m Y/n by the way,” you smiled again and you could swear you creeped him out by the way he started sweating. It was hot as hell inside but still, his ears turned red and the tapes he was carrying under his arm were starting to slip from his grip. He quickly put them in the pocket of his hoodie, smiling awkwardly and glancing at Mingyu behind his frames. 

You glanced at Mingyu too, who began chuckling, losing for a moment his track on the plot of the movie he was explaining. 

“Are you going to return those?” you extended your hand but he stood still, tapes still packed into his hoodie. “No?,” you asked again. He opened his mouth briefly but smacked his lips loudly looking at the ceiling. 

He looked at Mingyu and his expression changed from mortified to annoyed. He bit his cheek and took a deep breath before taking out the tapes and laying them one on top of another before you. 

Night of the Giving Head, A Beautiful Behind, Yank my Doodle! It's a Dandy!, and Throbin Hood laid on the counter before you.

There was a few seconds of silence, only broken up by Mingyu’s suppressed wheeze. You cleared your throat lightly, taking the tapes and checking if they were rewinded. “Oh a rewinder, that’s unusual!” you chuckled dryly not really knowing how to break the wall of ice that suddenly appeared in front of you.

“I didn’t watch them,” He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. “That’s why they are- anyway.” He sighed and stopped, releasing it seemed like he was making up excuses for not one in particular. 

“You don’t have to explain,” You tried to sound friendly and not make a big deal, but you had so many questions and this selection was the last thing you expected to see him with. “We are a judging free video store,” the words coming out mechanically as you remembered the training video Mingyu played for you once on your first day.

“Yeah…It’s not… Can we please get this over with quickly?,” He returned to his mortified expression and you nodded quickly annotating the returns on the logbook. “Thanks,” He smiled awkwardly at you before tapping the counter once, glancing quickly at Mingyu one more time before sprinting out.

“He’s going to murder me, but oh god, it was worth it!”

Mingyu was now smiling ear to ear, waving goodbye to the last girl that visited the shop for the day, her phone number written on his palm. “I got no more sticky notes left,” he said before sticking his hand out to her.

“Yeah that was… I didn’t even know we had these.” you were sweeping the floors as the store was about to close, keeping yourself busy for the rest of the day still thinking about the Night of The Giving Head cover inside your mind. “Wait, he’s your friend, does he only watch porn?.” 

Mingyu laughed loudly, helping you out by taking the trash bags out of the bins and emptied them in one big plastic bag. “Maybe, why do you ask?” he arched his eyebrows at you. 

“No reason, it was just- he doesn’t look like the porn addict type.” 

Mingyu laughed louder. “Wait till I tell him you think he’s a porn addict!” He collected the dust you were sweeping onto the plastic bag, making a knot and throwing it on his shoulders. 

“Wait! Why would you tell him that?!” 

“No reason…” he smirked, walking outside to take out the trash. 

.

.

.

The next week the store got busier than usual, so Mingyu and you barely got to chat with each other about cat-boy or anything really. He had also switched shifts to train a new employee, a younger guy, probably a highschooler, who he spent most of the time in the mornings, leaving you alone to take care of the closing shift. 

Saturday came quickly, and you were alone in the shop. Lights were almost all out, and you were finishing stocking some new tapes that came that afternoon, the last task before officially closing. 

Somehow the humid air was insufferable even by night time, so you were sweating bullets over the thick fabric of your uniform shirt. You couldn’t believe they made you wear this in this hot weather, but alas, you were transpiring and melting under it. 

As you finished putting the tapes on their respective shelfs, you walked towards the bathroom where you had a spare shirt, not before turning the volume of the radio a little, you played music a lot in the shop and the customers seemed to like your taste more like Mingyu’s.

Once there, humming to Bills Bills Bills, you were looking for your spare shirt when you noticed you it wasn’t there. “What the-?” you cursed under your breath, sure you had one hanging on the stall reserved for staff. One glance at the sweaty uniform shirt you just took off and you knew you won’t be wearing that again. “Come on, I already put roll-on….” you whined. Then you remembered there were a couple of uniform shirts in the lockers, maybe too big for you but that would do for today and you will return them tomorrow. 

And so you were signing,

Can you pay my telephone bills?, 

Can you pay my automo’ bills? 

If you did, maybe we could chill…. 

When suddenly the tall figure of cat-boy appeared in front of you right by the counter. He stared. And you stared back. And his eyes stayed on your face for a a few seconds, but they quickly drifted a little down, on your lace see through bra, nonetheless.

“What the fuck?!” you shouted, sprinting towards the locker room. 

“Im sorry! I knocked, and the lights were on…. I thought…” you could hear him speak but there was a high ringing pitch in your ears that made his voice fade away as you took one of the spare uniform shirts and slipped in over your head. “The fuck you needed to wear a see through one today, huh?!” you covered your face with both palms.

“I’m sorry… I better go…”

You heard footsteps and shouted “No!” back but when you were out you could only see his back walk out the door.

You blew raspberries, feeling insufferably hot under the hot fabric of the oversized uniform shirt, that covered you like a circus carp. “Too much for our second encounter, cat-boy.” 

.

.

.

The next day you got to the store a little early, trying to catch Mingyu before he left for the day, and to your surprise, he was waiting for you.

“A nipple piercing!” 

“Good afternoon to you too!” you sighed, walking towards the locker room with Mingyu’s tail wagging at your ankles. “And how could he notice that?! It was dark!” you threw your backpack at your locker, huffing and puffing, ignoring Mingyu’s curious eyes.

“I guess he was really paying attention,” he teased. You shot him a glare and he raised his arms signaling peace. “Hey, don’t be mad that he told me, I’m his best friend and well, he actually came looking for you, how could he know you liked walking around the store naked when you were on shift alone?” 

“I-wasn’t-naked.” you slapped the locker room shut. “Wait… he came looking out for me?”

Mingyu wiggled his eyebrows in response. 

“Tell me everything, or else.”

“He likes you, duh.” Mingyu moved toward his locker, pretending to roam for something but you knew there wasn’t anything there. “He has had his eyes on you, since the first day he saw you working here.”

“But why hasn't he talked to me? He always comes in and it’s gone in a second.” 

Mingyu clicked his tongue. “He had a bad break up two years ago, and honestly he’s pretty shy, maybe that’s why we are such good friends, we balance each other…” you crossed your arms signaling he was deviating from the topic. “... So he wasn’t sure how to approach you, he has been coming here asking me to be a wingman but I refused, I was trying to encourage him so I told him you were going to be alone yesterday.”

You sighed, walking out the locker room with Mingyu behind you, ready to get off.

“Want me to tell W-”

“NOO!” you shouted, making the couple of customers in the store turn their heads at you. “Don’t tell me his name, I want him to tell me when he finally comes and talks to me.”

Mingyu chuckled and nodded, messing your head a little in sign of encouragement. “Get him, tiger. I’ll pass the note out.” He winked and you shrugged as he walked out the store.

Needless to say, all the way to the evening your stomach was swirling inside you. You jumped a little every time the doorbell chimed, and it sank back to your stomach everytime cat-boy wasn’t the one entering.

It was almost seven and you were waving goodbye to the last customer of the day before you changed the sign from open to closed, when you heard the bell one more time. 

The couple of teens walked past cat-boy as he entered the store and they walked out. You could hear loud stomps inside your chest, and you were pretty sure they were so loud he could hear them too. You looked at the mirror wall to your left, and despite being a few feet away you could spot the newest shades of red adorning your face. 

As he walked closer, you smiled shyly, spotting the same color on him too.

“Hey,” he waved so tiny that you felt like your body was becoming butter, cause despite standing up, you felt melted, all over the floor. 

“Hi,” you replied back, not knowing what to say really. Dissociating a little from the awkwardness you focused on him. All of him. His fluffy hair, not hiding under a cap this time. The black thick frames. He was wearing a black sweater, a turtle neck one. Few noticeable white hairs on it. You remembered marshmallow, your cat, and smiled without noticing. 

“Y/n,?” you heard his voice crack, noticing you smiling.

“Sorry! Seeing the cat hair on your sweater reminded me of mine.”

“You have cats?” his eyes became a little bigger. “Me too!”

“Yeah.. I can tell by the cat hair,” you chuckled.

“Right…” he scratched the back of his head. “Well I have a couple.. A few.” 

“I love cats! I only have marshmallow because my landlord doesn’t let me have more, but one day I will!” you were glad you mentioned the cat hair cause this gave you a shot to talk more comfortably. “By the way, did Mingyu tell you my name?”

“I asked him, the first day I saw you here working.”

“Not fair, I didn't let him tell me yours.”

“Huh?” He arched his eyebrows, puzzled. 

“He told me you came looking for me yesterday… Sorry you find me like that, I swear I don’t usually walk around naked when I’m alone here…”

He laughed. “Mingyu told me you probably did.”

You scoffed. “He’s the whore not I.” 

“Can’t defend him from that,” He lowered his head a little, “Sorry I told him about your… well I was frantic after seeing you like that and ran straight to his dorm, I was too shocked I guess, I wasn’t trying to be a creep.”

“And what about the pornos? Night of the Giving Head, seriously?” 

“That was Mingyu! He dropped them at my dorm the night before telling me I should distract myself from being a coward and not talk to you…” He speaked fast and you were trying to follow up. “I swear I didn’t watched them, I tried, but they were too tacky”

“There’s tasteful porn?” you laughed.

“There should be… somewhere” he laughed back. 

“Bet the bastard wanted you to return them so I could catch you myself!” 

“He a hundred percent did.” 

There was a moment of silence after the laugh, and you felt like staring at the floor because looking at him was becoming addicting too quickly. 

“Want me to help you close? I want you to walk out with me for a while, maybe get some coffee?” He suddenly speaks, and you snap out of the mental image of you two sitting on your couch, a few cats around. 

“Uh- well I just need to take out the trash and I’m ready, I- would love that,” He smiles from ear to ear and stands straight, making you notice he’s like, really really tall. 

“I’ll help you with that, be ready when I come back!” He sprinted towards the entrance where the two plastic bags laid one beside the other and took them out. You run towards the bathroom as soon as he’s out, changing your ugly uniform shirt into your spare one, feeling relieved when you notice is there this time. After putting roll on, combing your hair a little and putting some perfume you walk out, finding him waiting for you near the entrance.

He asks if he can wash his hands and once that’s done you close up, and you start walking beside him to nowhere in particular. 

You suggest walking to your recent favorite spot, a part cafe, part flower shop near your apartment. Walking there you talk about your studies, the tedious but fun times at the video store, his job at the library (he was such a nerd!), his and your cat, about everything and nothing in particular, and time just flew by so quickly.

“This is so nice, I didn’t even notice the hour!” you say checking the casio watch on your wrist. And he does the same. 

“Let me walk you home, I would feel bad by letting you take a cab at this hour.”

“It’s not far away…” you object but he insists. “Fine, but just by the door, what if you are indeed a creep or something!” He pouts and gives you the stink eye. You laughed, delighted how quickly you became comfortable with each other.

Once at your door you ask him to give you his palm. “I learned this trick from our dear Gyu,” you say, taking out a sharpie pen from your backpack and writing your number on his palm. “There, call me as soon as you get home, I’m not done talking to you.”

You thanked him for the coffee and sprinted towards your complex door without letting him say anything else. 

A quarter to eleven, your phone starts ringing. 

Grabbing the cordless phone from its base and throwing yourself over your bed you answer. “Hello?,” 

“I was about to tell you my name and ask you on a proper date,” you heard his shaky voice from the other line. He must have literally run or sprinted towards his own apartment. “But you ran away.” 

You smiled, twirling your hair, eyes closed remembering every moment since you closed the video store a few hours ago.

“Y/n?,” 

“Not yet cat-boy, I want you to tell me only after you first kiss me.” A few moments of silence before he speaks again, you can’t see him but you know he’s smiling too.

“Deal, then I won’t be cat-boy much longer.”

@mingsolo please don't repost/translate to any sites.

[seventeenpins]

a little domesticity

pairing: Tess x F!Reader word count: 2.3k summary: You discover it's Tess's birthday. You decide you want to make it special. Tess fingers you while you cook her dinner. Same universe as Drive Me Home if you like?? content/warnings: basically just porn, no implied age gap, this is so domestic!!!!, established but new-ish relationship, lil bit of daddy Tess, fingering, very mild degradation, no outbreak or pre-outbreak AU, pet names (baby, honey), Tess works at a high-powered but undefined job a/n: For @ozarkthedog 🩷 Congrats on your 11k, and happy birthday Ozzie!! You've given us so much with your celebration, but you should be the one getting gifts! I know this is pretty extraordinarily late (sorry, love) but I hope you like it 😚

You are determined not to have to make two trips. Tess's apartment is up five flights, the elevator is on the fritz, and your legs already ache from the gym yesterday. You want to do anything you can to not have to go back and forth.

Three grocery bags hang off your left hand and two on your right, slowly cutting off any remaining circulation. A bottle of wine and a gallon of milk are tucked into your elbows as you heave yourself up the steps. Grocery shopping is a truly Sisyphean task, and the slog up to the apartment only confirms this.

By the time you turn the corner past the fourth landing, you're cursing yourself. It's so much. You know your arms will be aching, but of course you're stubborn enough to overdo it.

Finally, you make it to the fifth floor landing, and Tess's door is the third on the right. It's inelegant, trying to keep the bags steady while shoving your hand into your pocket to dig around for your keys. Your fingers are verging on numbness, and right as you move the key to the lock, you fumble and drop it.

That's the moment you hear the phone ring inside.

It sends you into a rush, and in your haste, you drop half the bags and still don't manage to open the door before the ringing stops.

Instead, you swing the door open right as the beep of the answering machine sounds, a bunch of bananas and a bag of English muffins fallen at your feet.

A man's voice chimes out, tinny and a little distorted.

"Tess! It's Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you well, and Sarah, too. I'll catch you later."

Then you hear the click of a receiver, and the machine stops.

You frown. Leave the groceries where they're sat and rewind the tape a few seconds. Hit play.

"'S Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you--"

You click it off.

He definitely said Tess. And 'happy birthday'.

So why the fuck didn't Tess tell you it was her birthday?

You know it's not really a big deal. Maybe she's just not a birthday person. It wouldn't really surprise you; there's a nonchalance that she exudes that sometimes throws you off .

If you're honest, though, you love birthdays. The gift-giving. Getting to make a fuss over your loved ones. And, you reason, if the Millers can wish her well, then it's probably not a sore spot for her.

More than anything, you've been wanting an excuse to celebrate her. Maybe this can be it?

As you prop the door open and begin to drag the grocery bags in, as you scrubbing the produce and putting everything away, you allow a plan to form.

It's been a long day but a good day. Work was a series of tasks that required some creative problem solving, and Tess felt like a fucking magician the way she'd been kicking ass and putting out fires.

Trekking up the innumerable steps, she felt suddenly lighter when she remembered that you had offered to make dinner.

From the moment she turns the key in the lock, she immediately starts salivating.

"Babe?" she calls, shucking off her shoes and shrugging off her jacket.

"In here-" you call back.

A moment later, soft footfalls are padding into the kitchen, and she's slipping her arms around you. She rests her chin on your shoulder and surveys the scene in front of you both.

"Shit, hon, this smells amazing."

You do a happy wiggle against her and start pointing out everything in turn. "So, we've got garlic tossed broccolini. Parsnip ravioli in that one, only has a minute or so left. I'm just starting the sauce now, so it'll be a few minutes before everything's ready, but you've made it in perfect time."

"Ugh," Tess groans, appreciative, "You spoil me. What's the occasion?"

"OH, don't let me drain the pasta water without saving some."

"I got you," she promises, sliding past you to grab two beers from the fridge. She notices when your eyes linger on her hands as she pops the bottle caps. "Careful, don't burn-- whatever you've got on the flame there."

With a shake of your head, you roll your eyes. "But seriously, is that a real question, or are you testing me?"

She frowns. Hands you a bottle and takes a swig of her own, sliding back behind you. She presses against you and wraps her arms around your waist.

"What are you talking about?"

You grind your ass back a little more and she puts one hand on your hip, but now she's smiling at you, mildly puzzled.

"Do you know what the date is today?"

"Oh shit, did I forget something important?" she detaches. "Did I forget our anniversary?"

"You tell me." You nod your head towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. "I'll help you out, it's a Tuesday today. And we've only been together six months. And you brought me flowers for that, like, a week ago."

She stares at the calendar for a moment and then looks at you. Looks back and forth.

"I--"

She's frozen in an incredulous frown.

"Happy birthday, honey," you tell her.

"I can't believe I fucking forgot. And how did you know?" she laughs.

"Hah," you laugh, "Answering machine went off when I got in. Your friend, Joel, he was calling to wish you well."

She snorts. "Fuckin' Miller saves the day?" Then she looks you up and down. "And you, baby, you've definitely saved the day." She looks over the spread again and notices the counter covered in flour, the kitchenaid with a roller attachment, a piping bag nearly fully emptied, and various pastry cutters. "Shit, did you make all this yourself?"

"The ravioli? Sure did. Just wanted an excuse to spoil you."

Tess plants a kiss on your lips and you moan into her mouth. When you pull apart, you're panting.

"Now," you tell her, suddenly serious, "I prioritized dinner and didn't have a chance to get you a present."

"Oh, hon, you don't have to-"

You cut her off, waggling your eyebrows. "But you do still have someone to unwrap."

"Don't have to tempt me, honey," she grins.

"Just let me finish up with dinner-"

She has a different idea. "I bet you can finish up while I open my present."

You snort. "Be patient."

"I don't have to be patient--it's my birthday."

"Tess, I-"

She ignores you, pressing gentle kisses down the side of your throat.

She know's it's a guaranteed horny button for you, and she exploits that weakness mercilessly. You have to fight not to melt. Even so, you let your eyes flutter closed, bathing in the sensation and not wanting anything to stop or change. She lets you relax into it for a moment, before bumping her hip against you, nudging you forward.

"Go on, baby. Better keep cooking. I'm hungry."

You let out a deep breath and snap yourself back. You spark the cooktop and place down the sauté pan. (You prefer cooking at Tess's apartment. Hers has a gas range. Yours has electric.)

After checking the temperature, you place a stick of butter in the pan. Tess runs her hands up and down your sides at a leisurely pace. Just her touch is enough to make you weak kneed again.

She passes you a slotted wooden spatula and you start to push the stick of butter around, watching it sizzle and melt as Tess makes you melt. You hear the clink of her own belt before you feel her undoing the button of your jeans.

Your pasta timer dings and the moment is broken. You grab the pan and are about to drain it in the colander you have set up in the sink, but before you can tip it out, Tess stops you.

"Hold up, hon, save that pasta water."

"Shit! Yep, nearly forgot it."

You set a liquid measuring jug beneath the colander and let the pasta drain, before taking the pasta water and turning back to the melting butter.

Tess's hands are back on you, pulling down your zipper now. She shimmies your jeans past your hips, kneading your ass with one hand as she trails the other from your belly button lower and lower and lower-

You start to lose focus on dinner and can only pay attention to her.

Tess slips her hand down your front and gasps when she gets to your bare cunt, hot and wanting. You're wearing no underwear, clothed only in the curls between your thighs.

"Naughty girl," she praises, and you swoon as she starts stroking her fingertips along your cunt, collecting your wetness and smearing it on your clit before pressing harsh circles into you that make you shudder and squirm deliciously.

"Don't let the butter burn," Tess chides, and you blink your eyes open, reaching for the utensil and moving the last of the unmelted butter around the pan, watching it start to foam at the edges.

"What else do you need, hon?" she asks, "Got all your ingredients?

You glance around. The sage is there. The pasta water. Garlic. Pepper.

"Uh-huh."

"Good," Tess says, "'Cause I'm gonna need you to stay put and focus."

A surge of heat pulses through you and you feel Tess's breath on your neck, a delicious sigh.

You add sage leaves to the browning butter, savouring the sudden aroma as the sage begins to heat, releasing its fragrance.

Tess resumes her work, slipping your jeans down to your ankles and guiding you to step out, all the while you stir the pan.

As the sage sizzles in the butter, she presses a finger against your folds, finding your opening, and eliciting a gasp from you as she enters you with two long fingers.

Finding a rhythm, she starts pumping the digits, pulling whines and moans from you, pausing only to let you smash the peeled garlic with the palm of your hand against the flat of a chef's knife and mince it a little more. You toss it into the pan and, once the knife is out of your hand, she resumes.

Two fingers become three, and as you splash the pasta water in with the butter and sage and yelp as she picks up the pace.

"Love those lovely little whines you make for me. All those sweet noises, that's all for me, huh?"

"For you," you agree, another whine escaping.

"Messy fuckin' hole, taking my fingers so good. Such a good girl, baby," she praises, and you don't realise she's not referring to you until she says, "Look at her, gettin' all puffy and wrecked."

You let out another sound, this one closer to a growl. You can feel yourself beginning to drip down her hand as she fucks her digits into you, pressing into you so nicely, working you open, making your knees quake.

"Sweet little pussy opening right up for me. Think she can take another?

"Fuck, daddy, please-"

Trying to keep stirring while she works on you is a near impossibility. With a focus that can't be anything less than witchcraft, she smacks your cheek while you're moaning, eyes closed and keening.

"Don't let it burn," she scolds, and your eyes snap back open.

The sauce has started to thicken, and you turn down the flame so you can take a moment to grind yourself deeper onto Tess's hand.

"Wanna put on the strap?" you ask. "Want me to put on the strap?"

"I'd take either," she admits with a laugh, "But the dishwasher's running."

"Fuck."

"Did you just put the cycle on?"

"Yep. Are our dicks in the dishwasher?"

"Our dicks are in the dishwasher."

You let out a whine. She just maintains her pace and rubbing a fingertip in blinding, tight circles around your clit.

"Poor baby," she teases, "I barely have to play with you and your cute lil hole soaks me like a fuckin' whore. You're so fucking easy."

"Hnnnggg-"

"My pretty little slut. Just gotta give me one, baby, just one and I'll let you finish dinner."

Another whine.

"C'mon, honey, I feel you gettin' close. Clenchin' on daddy's fingers. Fuck, cum for me baby, let me feel you-"

She reaches around you and turns off the flame, the fingers of her other hand pumping faster and rougher. You're bent forward, gripping the counter for support, as you feel yourself start to tip over.

"Fuuuuckkk-" you cum with a cry, Tess's fingers working you through it as her other hand wraps around your waist, steadying you. You hear the splash of your release against the laminate floor as she keeps going, pumping her fingers fast and deep, hitting just the right spot, dragging your orgasm out longer than you knew yourself capable of.

It takes a couple of minutes, coming back down. You feel your slick cooling on your thighs and turn around to see Tess leaning against the hallway behind you, grinning wickedly as she licks her fingers one by one.

"You're gonna be the death of me," you tell her, and she slides back behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Not allowed to die. It's my birthday."

"Hmmph," you roll your eyes and begin to plate up.

The groan Tess lets out as she takes her first bite is more than worth it.

"Fucking fuck, honey, I mean- holy shit this is so good."

You grin. "Glad you like it."

"I know what I'm having for dessert," Tess smirks, waggling her eyebrows.

"Yeah," you agree, "I made you a tart."

"You're my tart."

You roll your eyes again. "I am, but I made one special for you. Dessert first, then you can eat me as much as you like."

Tess nods solemnly before breaking into another grin. "Thank you honey."

"Happy birthday, baby."

[desertfangs]

Record and Play - Armand/Daniel - 1564

This is just a short little ficlet for the @vamptember prompt "Tape Recorder."

Daniel set the tape recorder on the table. Armand stared at it warily like it might jump up and bite him. But soon curiosity got the better of him and he snatched it off the table.

It was small, the size of a deck of cards and half the width, a hundred times smaller than the one Daniel had used in the 1970s when he’d interviewed Louis. Hell, this one didn’t even technically have a tape. It was all digital. He would have to plug it into a computer to extract the files when this was finished.

Armand turned it over in his pale hands. He pressed the buttons on its side: record, play, rewind, fast forward, stop. He studied the tiny little digital screen, a black and white read out that would provide a time stamp for the audio. A tiny red light on the black recorder’s corner would illuminate to indicate when it was recording. 

“It’s small,” Armand said. 

“Neat, isn’t it? Imagine just having that in your pocket! It can hold up to thirty hours of audio,” Daniel gushed. He and Benji had gone to Techland a week ago, a store in the East Village, where Daniel had spent hours talking to one of the workers about different recording options. He was amazed how much technology had progressed since he was lugging around his large tape recorder and microphones. 

Armand continued to study the tiny machine, his head bent over it, his long russet curls falling into his face. Tension gathered in the air and Daniel worried he was going to bolt now that they were actually here, equipment literally in hand. 

Armand had not dressed for the occasion. He wore an oversized sweatshirt—one of Daniel’s, a green one with an illustration of a trilobite fossil on the front—and jeans. Casual clothes. Daniel wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything. He’d expected Armand to wear a suit or finery, but then, why? This wasn’t a video recording. And his outfit did mirror Daniel’s clothes: a purple sweatshirt, gray t-shirt, and jeans. 

After letting Armand fiddle with the recorder for a bit, Daniel held out his hand. Armand hesitated, then placed it in his outstretched palm. Daniel put it back in the center of the small round table and plugged in the microphone he’d purchased to go with it.

Once he was sure the set up was good, he looked up. 

Armand was staring at his ring-adorned hands that lay flat on the table in front of him. 

“Are you ready?” Daniel asked.

Armand did not move or speak. 

Daniel swallowed uneasily, but he didn’t want to push too hard. So he waited,  drumming his fingers on the table and looking aimlessly around the room. There wasn’t much to see.

They were sitting in one of Trinity Gate’s smaller sitting rooms. In it was the table with two chairs on either side, and a window that looked out into the courtyard garden. It was private, though that wasn’t really the point - they were alone now in this massive house. Everyone else was in France and soon they’d join them. He’d chosen this room because the small size, small window, and thick wallpaper would help the sound quality. 

Daniel waited, his nerves jangling. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. The idea had come up during a hard conversation they’d had last night about Armand’s book. But he’d agreed, hadn’t he? Daniel hadn’t forced his hand. 

Armand remained motionless. Infuriating how he could turn into a statue like that! It always driven Daniel past all reason when he went utterly still. 

“Do you—” He started.

“It’s not for them, Daniel.” 

Daniel blinked. “What isn’t?” 

“Our story,” Armand said. “It’s not for David, or even Sybelle or Benji. And it’s not for public consumption, anymore than it already has been. That's why I left it where I did.”

Pain and frustration twisted inside him. He could still remember the way Armand’s dismissal of him in his book had felt like a knife right through his stomach, how he thought he’d never stop bleeding from that particular wound. Armand, his maker, the person he’d given up his entire life for, had reduced to him a few bitter paragraphs. 

It wasn’t the worst thing Armand had ever done to him but it had stung—no, more than stung; it had cut him open and torn out his heart. Daniel had been freshly restored to his own faculties and eager to reconnect with him, only to read that he was hardly an afterthought, and not a fond one at that. 

Daniel bit back a retort and took a breath. “You weren’t shy about discussing your past with Marius,” Daniel said, trying to keep his voice even, lest this explode into another fight. 

“More time had passed.” Armand turned away, looking out the window. “With you, the wounds were still raw.” 

Daniel looked down, a lump forming in his throat. The last time they’d seen each other before Armand dictated his story to David Talbot, they’d fought viciously and carelessly, venting their spleens and marinating in the bile. They’d been cruel to each other, maybe crueler than they’d ever been, and then Daniel, having hit his limit, walked out the door.

Not forever. He never intended that. But once he was gone, he kept going, and didn’t look back. It was fair enough for Armand to assume he was done with him when he’d yelled exactly that before slamming the door so hard it had cracked.

It had been mean of him and he’d wanted it to hurt Armand at the time. 

He just hadn’t known what would happen next. That not long after Armand would go into the sun, without so much as a thought to how Daniel would endure the centuries without him. 

Daniel ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands. Hot shame washed over him, along with regret and frustration. Armand glanced over at him and then reached across the table, taking his hand. 

He squeezed, his hand cool against Daniel’s blood-warmed skin. Such a small, simple gesture. The touch tingled up his arm and his shoulders relaxed.

Armand let go and gestured to the recorder. “Do you wish to begin?” 

Daniel swallowed and nodded. He reached over and hit the little record button on the device. 

“So, tell me about the night we met,” Daniel said. 

Armand straightened in his seat. He looked up into Daniel’s eyes which he held as he spoke: 

“I heard a familiar voice from down the street as I approached the little house. I walked past it nightly, you understand, and checked on it.” 

“On Lestat, you mean,” Daniel corrected.

Armand waved a dismissive hand. “Louis’ voice was grainy and I knew that he wasn’t there. I couldn’t sense his presence. But of course it was strange to hear his voice coming from the house. I went to investigate and I found the most curious thing: a mortal boy, desperate and feverish, with recordings of his voice.” 

“Desperate and feverish?” Daniel asked, amused.

Armand cut his eyes at him. “No commentary, beloved. This is my story.” 

Daniel held his hands up in supplication. “Yeah, yeah. Go on.” 

Armand nodded sagely, but Daniel caught the ghost of a smile on his lips. “The tapes surprised me. I wondered why Louis had allowed his voice to be captured in such a way. But then I saw this beautiful creature pacing in the house, tall with soft blond hair and intense eyes. He had a frenetic energy and was walking from window to window as if hoping someone would appear. I knew at once Louis had probably been drawn to the boy’s beauty. Though I still didn’t understand why he’d spoken with such candor. So I remained outside and listened.”

“How long were you there?” Daniel asked. 

Armand considered. “Long enough to learn that boy was there for Lestat, who still lay sleeping. Not long enough to decide if the boy should live or die. That was why I had to hold him until I could examine his belongings and learn more about him.” 

Daniel, of course, remembered being knocked unconscious and locked in the cellar for three days. How delirious and desperate he’d felt when he’d seen Armand again, how full of awe and desire! Those days were a blur now, but he remembered the strange cocktail of emotions that would become his life for the next few years: terror, curiosity, and burning desire. 

“And? What did you find?” 

Armand smiled wryly. “That he was a harmless fool in pursuit of danger. But he was beseeching and bold and I found that fascinating.”

“Yeah?” Daniel sat forward.

“For all he knew of our kind, the boy’s excitement at seeing me was equal to his fear, and I was intrigued.” 

“Intrigued, huh?” 

Armand paused, tilting his head as if in thought, eyes burning into Daniel with such intensity he could feel the heat of it.

After a moment, Daniel asked, “Are you going to call me ‘the boy’ the entire time?” 

“If you wish for me to continue, you must let me tell it how I see fit,” Armand said. 

Daniel smiled at him. “Sorry, boss. Go on.” 

Armand scooted his chair closer to the table and continued his story. 

[dodger-chan]

Wrote a couple of short pieces between refreshing the hurricane tracker and passing messages to relatives in Florida (all fine but without power). (part two)

“Worst song?” Steve asked.

“Easy. John Cage’s 4’33”. Most pretentious piece of music I’ve heard in my life.” Robin slid another tape into the rewinding machine and started it up. “Worst crush?”

“No, I need to know more about this song that you think is too pretentious.” Steve leaned against the counter, ignoring the returns he was supposed to be checking in. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well, it’s essentially four and a half minutes of not playing music, so arguably you have heard it,” Robin grumbled. Under other circumstances, she might go in-depth into chance music and ambient noise. But Steve was only asking about it to avoid answering her question. “C’mon, Stevie, worst crush?”

“Uh, pass?” he asked. Robin kicked his ankle lightly.

“No passes in Worst, Dingus,” she pointed out. Best had a pass for some reason, but Worst didn’t. You had to name your personal worst and at least one reason. No lying.

“It’s gonna hurt your feelings.”

Robin rolled her eyes. She already knew about the crush he’d had on her. And if it wasn’t her, she could handle him naming some other girl she’d liked or been friends with that His Highness of the Hair hadn’t found cool enough to ask out.

“My feelings can take it. Anyway, aren’t you a heartless asshole who doesn’t care about other people’s feelings?” she teased him, reaching over to muss his hair. He caught her hand mid-air with his stupid jock reflexes and scowled at her. “Steeeeeve.”

“Eddie Munson.” The name came out sharp and quick. Steve dropped Robin’s hand and turned his back to her, like he was focusing on the returns.

Oh. Shit. That did hurt a little.

Steve had crushed on a boy and hadn’t told her. Had let her go on about her fears and feelings of isolation for weeks without a hint that he might share them. Had he not trusted her to love him despite their similarities? Or did he think them both liking girls was okay, but him liking guys was too different?

The rewinding machine clicked. She swapped out one video for another.

It was the second one that bothered her more. If Steve didn’t trust her, well, she didn’t like it, but she got it. She still hadn’t told her parents, even if she was ninety-nine percent sure they wouldn’t love her any less for being gay. If it wasn’t about trust, though. If Steve had limits as to how much gay he could accept and saw himself outside of them? That hurt so much more than any bruised feelings.

“Ugh, he’s so obnoxious. I see why he’d be Worst.” Robin tried for a casual tone, tried to match that easy acceptance she’d heard from Steve in that filthy mall bathroom, about midway through the worst forty-eight hours of her life to date. “You could do so much better. Like, um, Milton Bledsoe.”

“Milton Bledsoe?” Steve stared at her with skepticism. At least he was looking at her.

“What? He’s nice. He was probably my best friend before he went off to college and I met you. He’s funny. He’s really smart and creative. A total music nerd. You like nerds, Steve.” That sounded a little accusatory. She toned it down. “Also, he’s good looking? I think? I’ve been told he is. By people who were trying to set us up, so maybe they were overstating it. Honestly, I have no idea what makes a guy attractive. It’s probably all subjective, anyway.”

“Munson stepped on my lunch, once.”

“Oh?” It was a bit of a non-sequitur, but Robin could roll with it.

“Yeah. He was giving one of his big speeches and somebody - Sawyer, I think - tried to knock his feet out from under him and Munson stumbled right onto my lunch tray.” Steve made a face. Robin could sympathize. As much as she agreed with the thematic content of Eddie’s dramatic orations, she was a firm believer that shoes should be kept away from food. “I don’t remember what I said to him, but I remember him looking down at me, smirking, and telling me if I asked nicely he might let me lick his shoes clean.”

“Gross,” Robin agreed. “And rude. That definitely qualifies him for Worst.”

“No, Rob.” Steve glanced nervously around the store. It was just as empty as it had been all afternoon. Still, he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “That’s when I realized I liked him.”

Oh. Wow. The shit she was learning about Steve Harrington.

[wheels-of-despair]

Clown Around and Find Out Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie decides to play a prank on Evil Woman, and quickly finds out just how dangerous that is. Contains: A quiet night alone, a bad idea, an Evil Woman secret, excessive cursing, panic, rage, attempted murder, happy ending. Words: 1.8k Note: This takes place in the fall of 1990.

"She's gonna murder you."

"No, she's not," Eddie grins, admiring his outfit in the mirror.

"Don't you think it's kinda mean?" Jeff asks.

"That's what makes it funny!" Grant insists.

"She is literally going to murder you," Gareth reiterates.

"She is not! It's just a jump-scare, she's gonna know it's me in like a second!"

"You're gonna give the poor girl a heart attack!" Jeff tries again.

"You guys are no fucking fun anymore," Eddie grumbles, picking up the mask he'd found in a clearance bin after Halloween and modified for this very occasion. "I'm outta here."

"It's your funeral, man," Gareth shrugs.

After a few years of living with Eddie, you learned to appreciate your alone time. You loved him with everything you had, but even (mostly) domesticated, your beloved trash panda was still a lot to handle. So somewhere along the way, a night of band practice for Eddie started to mean a quiet night alone with a book or a "chick movie" for you. You'd never admit it to him, but you enjoyed these peaceful nights.

However, about a week ago, you and Eddie sat down with a bowl of popcorn to watch the new Stephen King miniseries.

IT.

You'd both read the book when it first came out and thought it was awesome.

Seeing it in your living room, on the other hand, was not so awesome.

You hated that fucking clown.

The mile-high forehead. The nose that looked like a blood blister about to pop. The fucking fangs. The whole luring-children-into-the-sewer-and-eating-them thing. Nope, nope, nope.

Eddie had watched the whole thing with fascination. You'd focused your eyes on the dusty little houseplant that lived below the TV whenever that thing was on screen.

And still, it invaded your nightmares.

So tonight, your quiet night alone was something of a nightmare as well. It was so quiet, every little creak echoed through the house.

You put on a movie - an old favorite that calmed your nerves for its duration - but as soon as the soothing whir of the tape rewinding ended with a clunk, the house resumed its creaking. You decided to do some laundry, hoping the washing machine would drown out the little noises that kept making you jump.

You gathered the basket of dirty clothes, hauled it to the laundry room, and began sorting. Still too quiet. You started singing the first song that came to mind to combat the silence as you loaded the washer and poured in the detergent.

When you turned to reach for the cap, you gasped.

There was a fucking clown standing in the doorway. Big forehead. Round nose. Frizzy hair. Ruffled shirt with ridiculously large pom-poms down the front. White gloves.

It's not real. Remember when a cardinal flew past you the other day, and you freaked out because all you saw was a flash of red, and you thought of that fucking clown? It's not real.

And then it fucking moved.

You shrieked and jumped backward, colliding with the wall of your tiny laundry room. There's no fucking way out of here. There are no weapons. If you survive this, you're going everywhere with a machete strapped to you for the rest of your life.

It crosses its arms.

Just like you've seen someone else do on occasion.

"Edward Munson, if you don't have that fucking mask off in 3 seconds, you are in for a WORLD of fucking hurt."

The clown throws up both hands in an exaggerated shrug.

It's just Eddie, right? Fucking with his poor little chicken? He'd laughed after you told him about the first clown nightmare, giving you an "awww" and a patronizing kiss on the forehead. It's just Eddie thinking he's funny. Which he's not. He's really not.

"Eddie, I'm fucking warning you."

But what if it's not him?

It takes a leap toward you.

You grab the handle of the laundry detergent - the big value-sized kind in a jug - and hurl it at the clown with everything you've got.

As if it were traveling in slow motion, you see the blue liquid begin to spill from the spout, somehow spreading in every direction; if you lived through this, you'd probably spend the next week scrubbing laundry detergent from every square inch of this room.

The clown ducks and misses the heavy jug, which hits the wall in the hallway and falls to the floor, but still gets doused in blue. It looks down at the liquid seeping into its stupid ruffly shirt, and you reach for the jug of bleach on the floor.

"You think this is funny, motherfucker?"

The clown holds out one of its gloved hands and takes a step closer, and it fills you with rage. If this is Eddie, you're gonna kill him and bury him in the back yard. If it's NOT Eddie, you're gonna kill it and call the cops. You fling the bleach at it, and this time, it's not quick enough. The clown tries to duck out of the way again, but the bottle makes contact with its side before falling to the ground.

The clown bends over with a grunt, clutching the spot where you hit it. Its massive forehead slowly rises to look at you. All you can see are dark holes where eyes should be. You grab the bottle of fabric softener and send it flying toward the clown's face. Direct hit, and a muffled cry from the clown.

You reach for the iron and grip the handle hard. If you die tonight, at least you're gonna take that ugly-ass motherfucker down with you.

The clown grumbles something from behind the mask, but you can't understand it. It stumbles backward. You raise the iron, wishing it were hot so you could melt this motherfucker's face off.

The white glove starts fumbling with the frizzy red wig, then pulls it off. A familiar mop of brown hair comes into view.

You're relieved for half a second, and then you're back to irate.

"You fucking ASSHOLE! What is WRONG with you?!"

"I thought it would be funny," he winces, standing and rubbing the spot on his side where you'd hit him with the bleach. "When did you get so violent?"

When did you get so violent?? You can feel the rage bubbling over again, and Eddie can see that he's still in danger. You slam the iron down on top of the washer, and he jumps at the sound.

"Okay, woah, I'm sorry," he says, backing toward the door. "I didn't think you'd freak out this bad."

You slowly advance on him, filling with fury.

"Stop. Stop." He holds his still-gloved hands up in surrender. You clench your fists and prepare to strike.

He makes his move a split second before you do.

You pounce, and he escapes. The door slams in your face.

"YOU'RE A DEAD MAN, MUNSON!"

"I said I was sorry!"

You try the doorknob, but it won't turn. This door locks from the inside. He's holding onto it.

"You really think locking me in here is a good idea?" you seethe.

"You're not locked in."

You smack your hand on the door where you suspect his face is on the other side.

"Hey!" Damn, you're good.

"Let me out."

"Not until you calm down."

"Is it ever a good idea to tell a girl to calm down, Edward?"

A thump comes from the door, as if he's just banged his head against the other side.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know it would freak you out that bad. You said you had a dream about the clown, and I thought it was cute, then I saw the mask and decided to fix it up and mess with you."

You feel the adrenaline draining from your body at the sound of his stupid voice. You both love and hate this power he has over you.

You sigh and lean your head against the door. "I've been dreaming about it every night," you admit, removing your hand from the knob.

"Every night?"

"Every night."

"Fuck."

You step away from the door and shimmy yourself up onto the dryer, sitting on top with your legs crossed.

"If I open the door, are you gonna murder me?"

"Only time will tell," you deadpan.

The door opens a sliver, and you see puffy red eye staring at you through the crack. He eases it open the rest of the way, but remains in the hallway.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Your life-or-death rush has faded; you're too tired to shoot him the withering glare he deserves.

He approaches you cautiously, still not entirely convinced that he'll live to see tomorrow.

"Take that stupid shirt off."

He whips it off and throws it over his shoulder. The gloves follow.

"Are you okay?" he asks again.

You sigh, close your eyes, and lean forward. He closes the distance and wraps his arms around you.

"I really am sorry," he whispers into your hair.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me."

He hums in acknowledgement and holds you tighter. You rest your cheek against his warm chest for a few minutes, replaying the events of tonight. You'd probably be laughing about this in a few years, and telling this story at parties. But for now, you were just glad you hadn't really killed him. You quite liked this idiot. Most of the time.

"Are you okay?" you ask. "Aside from your slow reflexes?"

"Couldn't see shit in that mask."

"Excuses, excuses. Answer the question."

"I'll be fine," he chuckles. "Just like being back in high school and fucking with the jocks. 'Cept your aim's better. And they never cuddled me after they threw shit at me."

Both of your shoulders shake in silent laughter.

When you pulled away and opened your eyes again, you were greeted by the sight of blue splatters everywhere. Everywhere. How did one jug even hold that much? How the hell did it get on the ceiling?

"Looks like somebody jerked off a Smurf in here," you observe.

Eddie snorts, which makes you snort, and then you both start laughing. And just like that… everything was okay again.

Two Days Later

The Corroded Coffin boys put down their instruments and stood together when Eddie's van roared up the driveway, waiting to hear about The Pennywise Incident. He took his time getting his guitar and approaching the garage, then walked right by them without a word. He turned his back and ignored them while he set up his gear.

The trio closed in on him.

"How'd it go, man?" Grant prompted. "Did she freak?"

"Did she make you sleep in the van?" Jeff laughed.

Eddie turned around and took off his sunglasses with an unamused huff, revealing the black eye the fabric softener had given him.

"Told you so," Gareth smirked.

[vanillabeanmachine]

𝚆𝙸𝙿 𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 #𝟷

𝙽𝚘 𝙻𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙶𝚘: 𝙰𝚗 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚜 -- 𝙰𝚌𝚝 𝙸

Hello everyone 👋😊 I've been working on No Letting Go for a while now and am excited to share that I'm almost ready to post Act I, which currently stands at approximately 14.5K words. This seems to be shaping up as the average length for each of the four acts. As I continue to polish and refine No Letting Go, I’ve decided to start sharing snippets every Wednesday. This will not only give you a glimpse of the content but also some of the behind-the-scenes thought process. Stay tuned!

[...]

The recorder was not the same that Daniel had once owned in 1973. Indeed, Daniel couldn't quite recall the exact model or brand of his original device, nor the circumstances of its disappearance—had it been shattered in a sudden fit of rage? Perhaps it had vanished, lost in the swirling chaos of his drug-addled days? It was equally plausible that it lay forgotten in some distant apartment, nestled under a thick layer of dust, untouched and unthought of for almost half a century. Moreover, Daniel wasn’t certain that this Suga model had even existed in 1973. A wave of nostalgia had swept over him one day as he had strolled down Camden High Street, leading him to purchase this particular piece on a whim. Initially, it hadn’t worked at all, prompting nights spent poring over YouTube tutorials and hunting down obsolete tech parts on eBay in an attempt to restore it. Eventually, he had given up on pure restoration, instead cobbling together a functioning unit by marrying the surviving vintage Suga skeleton with the guts of a modern machine – a Frankenstein’s monster of resurrected technology that, despite its changed nature, still swallowed down tape with a voracious appetite.

He could have easily acquired a functioning Suga online, or even opted for a modern tape deck. Yet, Daniel cherished this battered machine, with its scratches and dents marring the case, the rust on the sprockets that added a squeak when rewinding tape, and the worn buttons that spoke of frequent use. It was a tangible relic of a human past, an artefact that Daniel clung to—not merely as a tool but a reminder of a life once lived.

Daniel meticulously arranged his tools for the evening—the Suga recorder, his sleek MacBook Air, a battered .99 cent notepad with its edges crumpled and pages unevenly torn from the binding, an elegant Montblanc Meisterstück pen, and a well-worn half-full leather cigarette case that had journeyed with him from the '70s. 

Armand waited as Daniel organised, his expression the picture of serene detachment; yet beneath this stoicism flowed an undercurrent of acute attentiveness.

Armand's reddish-brown colour-of-dawn gaze, typically distant, tonight held a piercing clarity and focus entirely directed at Daniel. It was as if the full essence of his immortal being had chosen to anchor itself in this singular interaction. There was a palpable familiarity in Armand's intense stare, a comfort that Daniel recognised and found strangely reassuring. 

Yet amidst this familiarity was a void—a poignant sense of loss, something indelibly altered. The once-constant press of Armand's mind against his own, a psychic echo that had lingered in Daniel's human consciousness, had vanished now with his vampiric transformation. The Dark Gift, poetically named but harsh in its realities, had not brought Daniel enlightenment or a renewed closeness to his Maker but a barrier, severing the connection the pair once shared. Where there had once been a flowing stream of thoughts and emotions, a psychic murmur that had connected him to Armand, there now existed only a silence—as if a door between their minds had been firmly shut and locked. This new silence was not peaceful but a cold absence, a reminder of what they had both sacrificed for Daniel's immortality.

Armand's intensive gazing at Daniel was justified now more than ever. Perhaps, in this new reality they shared, all that remained to bind them was the mere physicality of their being—something that Daniel found inexplicably more alluring now than ever before.

While Daniel clung to the remnants of his human past and habits still, Armand had always appeared unburdened by such earthly ties, having long shed them like leaves in an eternal, ageless autumn. But as Daniel now stood entrenched in this new existence, he began to perceive that what he once thought of as an uncanny stillness in Armand was not a marker of death but a vibrant, pulsating life, more profound and intricate than he had ever imagined possible.

The gravity of Armand's presence was magnetic, drawing Daniel inexorably in, as if each moment spent in observation tethered him more firmly to a spellbinding eternity. Daniel was acutely aware of the need for caution, knowing all too well how effortlessly he could become entangled in an everlasting gaze upon Armand. In such moments, time could dissolve into irrelevance—akin to Narcissus, spellbound by his reflection in the serene embrace of a forest pool. It was the mesmerising dance of light across Armand’s rich, dark skin, the lush curls that tenderly framed his face, and the impeccable symmetry of his sharp, angular features that seemed destined to rest in the contours of Daniel's palm. The striking yet harmonious contrast between Armand's finely sculpted upper lip and the plush fullness of the lower, coupled with the intoxicating memory of their kisses—

Caught in a dopey smile, Daniel realised Armand had observed the slip when a knowing look crossed his features. Perhaps the psychic bond they once shared was no longer necessary; Daniel's emotions were still as transparent to Armand now as when Daniel had been still human. And yet, frustratingly, Armand remained equally an enigma to Daniel, close yet distant in the same breath.

[...]

Author’s Thoughts™:

Indeed, the Suga KC-920 is a different model from the recorder Daniel used back in 1973. I deliberately chose a different tape recorder from the one shown in "Don’t Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape." This choice is meant to enhance the theme of an "odyssey of recollection," emphasizing the unreliability of Daniel’s memory. It reflects his efforts to piece together fragments of his mortal past, his reliance on nostalgic constructs, and his commitment to maintaining a connection to his former human self—no matter how shaky the foundations that connection is built on.

I'm very proud of the line describing the tape recorder as "a Frankenstein’s monster of resurrected technology that, despite its changed nature, still swallowed down tape with a voracious appetite."

Daniel's choice of a Montblanc Meisterstück pen—which retails for between $460-680—for use on a 99-cent notepad creates a conceptual contrast. This disparity is further heightened by his combination of a modern MacBook with an archaic tape recorder. This deliberate mismatch across items of differing economic and temporal values introduces an element of dissonance—it feels almost jarring, and in a way, disrespectful? Using a luxury pen on low-quality paper subverts expectations of propriety and value, while opting for obsolete technology over more efficient modern alternatives suggests a conscious rebellion against practicality. I wanted to set up space for a future commentary on value, utility, and nostalgia, and highlight a bit more of this tension between the past and present in Daniel.

I wanted to explore the impact of Daniel and Armand’s severed mental connection. Daniel's transformation into vampirism brought with it the loss of his psychic link with Armand, a shift that necessitated a new way of Daniel perceiving and connecting with Armand. Since he no longer can feel Armand’s emotions directly, Daniel becomes reliant on interpreting Armand’s physical cues—a necessity that alters the nature of his gaze. This redirection of focus towards the physical can be seen as a form of objectification, where Daniel's longing is intensely projected onto every visible detail of Armand, focusing not on his emotions or his interiority, but rather his most striking features instead. This gaze is not merely observational; it is charged with desire and a nuanced romanticism, making it palpably lustful. Daniel's gaze is transparent to Armand.

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 13

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Steve’s first few days at Family Video passed by without incident. He started during the week so it wasn’t very busy and Robin was a good teacher. She talked a lot. A constant stream of chatter. It made him feel comfortable, oddly enough. She never seemed to mind that he didn’t have a lot to say himself, but he tried to contribute. Tried to share bits of himself with her.

She had been going on about the other part time employee who called in sick all the time, Rick. He always left her high and dry on Friday afternoons. After the first few times, Steve would have stopped scheduling him for the shift but apparently there were rules that Robin had to follow. Sounded like bullshit to him.

“So, last weekend I had to work alone and there was a huge rush, because there’s always a huge rush after five. And this woman kept yelling at me, like that was going to make me go any faster.”

“But Robin,” Steve deadpanned, “the customer is always right.”

She barked out a quick laugh.  

“She sounds like a real bitch, though. At least if Rick calls in again this Friday, I can come and help you.”

She looked over at him with a smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

They went back to their separate tasks and worked quietly for a few minutes. Steve knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Nancy has really been nagging me about college since she’s been back,” Robin said, breaking the silence. Steve kept his finger on the rewind button and looked up at her.

“What were you gunna do?”

“Criminology.”

“What the heck is that?”

“The study of crime and criminal behavior.”

“Sounds cool.” He didn’t know what job you could do with it, but it did sound badass.

“Yeah, it’s cool.” She said and laughed a little to herself.

He wanted to ask her why she didn’t want to go but he already knew the answer. She didn’t want to leave him. It made him incredibly angry, all of a sudden. Because if the kids had left him where he belonged, Robin would probably be ready to move on. She had been heartbroken when Steve died, and all her plans had fallen apart. Now, she was putting them on hold again. For him. Making sacrifices. For him. And she shouldn’t.

“Nancy is right, you should go,” was all he could think to say.

She went quiet again. Steve took the tape out of the machine and put the next one in.

“Not yet,” she finally said. “I’m gunna save up a bit more. Apply next year.”

As if Steve wouldn’t be able to see through that. Saving up for college wasn’t why she didn’t go last year and it certainly wasn’t why she didn’t want to go this year.

“That’s a long time to wait.”

She hummed noncommittedly. “It’s not that long.”

“I don’t –” Steve paused, trying to get his thoughts together. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I don’t want you stay or put your life on hold for me.”

“I’m not.”

“Rob –”

“Steve!” She interrupted. “I’m not!”

She wasn’t looking at him.

“I’m not him, Robin. You don’t need to stay for me. I don’t want you to stay for me.”

“I’m staying for me, asshole!” Robin yelled as she walked over and shoved him hard. “I know you’re not him. I am so aware you are not him, Steve. I want to stay because I want to know you.”

Steve rubbed his chest and gritted his teeth. Robin glared up at him. He glared back.

“You stubborn ass – I told you I wasn’t leaving. You trying to push me away isn’t going to work. College will be waiting for me when I’m ready to go.” Her face softened and she reached for his hand. “And even when I do go – I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me forever. Got it?”

He looked away and swallowed against the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to start depending on her, didn’t want to keep liking her so much. Better to push her away now, let her get on with her life, than have her leave him after he became attached. As if he wasn’t attached already…

Robin was the first person he could reasonably call his friend here. He knew Dustin wished they were closer, but he couldn’t get past the weight of expectation in his eyes. The eyes that still saw Steve and not… him. It hurt, because Dustin was his brother and he was holding himself back from him. Eleven and Will – well, he was starting to love them dearly and that scared the shit out of him. And Eddie was becoming something…maybe. Which also hurt and scared the shit out of him.

But Robin? She didn’t hurt him or scare him. She didn’t treat him like something fragile that was on the verge of breaking. She shoved him and got angry and called him out when he was being an idiot. She was a good friend and deserved better than Steve trying to push her away.

Gripping her hand back, he nodded.

“Got it.”

She smiled and shoved him – more gently this time.

“Good. Now get back to work.”

Steve laughed and went back to rewinding tapes.

---

The day continued. Robin went into the back to do some paperwork leaving Steve to main the front store. The bell chimed as the door opened, signifying a customer had walked in. He looked around the display he was setting up to see a teenaged boy standing at the entrance, looking around with wide familiar brown eyes.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked.

“Stephanie?” the boy asked, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Uh… no. Steve.” He corrected.

“Steve? Steve Harrington?”

“Yeah, Steve Harrington.” The words were barely out of his mouth when the boy threw himself at him. Steve caught him on instinct, thinking about the last time a teenager threw themselves at him. The boy was skinny but damn was he strong. When he was done hugging the absolute life out of Steve, he leaned back a bit and started poking at his cheeks and touching his hair.

“So strange,” he said wide-eyed. “My Harrington was a girl.”

Steve blinked down at who could only be another Eleven.

A boy Eleven.

And his universes’ Steve was a girl!?

“I am so glad you lived!” Eleven said with the same devastating conviction and happiness that the other visiting Eleven had used. Tears immediately sprang to Steve’s eyes. Because this time he knew it was a choice. He had chosen to live and every day he chose it again, the beautiful and painful torture of it.

He looked into Eleven’s face, picking apart the similarities and differences between him and the other Eleven’s he had known. It was always the eyes that were the same. The wide brown eyes that always seemed innocent despite all that they had been through. He realized that they really were all looking for him. That an infinite number of Eleven’s couldn’t accept that he was gone, that just needed to find one of him for it to all be okay again. He thought his chest might burst with the feelings building up inside him.

Steve didn’t know what else to do so he smiled and said, “hello, Eleven.”

Eleven beamed up at him and stepped back from their hug but stayed close to his side.

“Who’s this?” Robin asked, coming out of the back room.

“I am Eleven!” he said, “and you look like Rob!”

Robin eyed Steve questionably before turning back to the boy. “I’m Robin.”

“Robin,” Eleven exclaimed in wonder and went over to poke at her cheek too. She allowed it for a moment before waving him away when he started playing with her hair.

“So, I’m guessing you’re from another universe then? Visiting Steve?”

“Yes,” Eleven replied with a smile. “I am visiting.”

“Is everyone the opposite gender to us?” Robin asked. “Our Eleven is a girl.”

Eleven scrunched his nose at that, Steve understood the feeling.

“My Stephanie was a girl and my Rob is a boy,” Eleven said and shrugged.

“Stephanie!” Robin shrieked. “Oh, I wish I could have known her! Steve as a girl…”  

“I bet she was badass and hot. Tell Robin she was badass and hot, Eleven.”

“Stephanie was very bad ass… and hot.”

Steve winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

“What about Dustin?” Steve asked.

“Dustin?”

“Henderson.”

“Ah. Tina Henderson.”

“Tina!” Steve repeated, cackling at the thought.

Robin laughed too. “He’s going to hate that!”

They talked and traded names back and forth. Eleven was just as curious as they were to find out how different their universes were. Steve wasn’t surprised by most people’s parallel names and he and Robin were able to figure out most of them. Mike was Michelle, Nancy was Nathan, Max was Max. It was only Eddie’s that was holding them up. There just weren’t that many feminine ways of changing Edward. Robin guessed Edwina and Edith and Steve guessed Emily and Emma. All no goes. Eleven seemed to be really enjoying stumping them on this one and Steve had a feeling they already guessed it but he was messing with them.

“Edie.” Robin tried. Eleven shook his head.

“It’s Lucy,” he finally admitted.

“Lucy!?” Steve and Robin exclaimed at the same time.

Eleven nodded. “Lucy Munson.”

“Well… that doesn’t make any sense at all!” Steve spluttered.

Eleven just smiled and shrugged.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “You’re messing with us, aren’t you?”

Eleven laughed full out and shook his head. “Her name is Lucy! Friends don’t lie.”

Friends don’t lie.  

Steve’s heart clenched. Those damn echoes.

“I should get back,” Eleven said. “I have never been gone this long before and everyone will be worried. Is there anything you would like me to tell them for you?” he asked, looking at Steve with the weight of infinite Eleven’s in his eyes.

“Tell them,” Steve began slowly. “Tell them that I’m okay, and that I love them. Tell them that I know that surviving is hard and moving on is harder but that their Harrington wouldn’t want them to – to hurt themselves with missing her. That if she was anything like me, she’s proud of them. So proud of them. She would be proud of you too, Eleven. Tell them to look after each other like she would have and remember her with laughter. Did she like to swim?”

“Yes,” Eleven replied softly.

“Tell them to go to the lake if they want to feel close to her. It’s where I would choose to be. They can go there to – to swim with her and talk to her… if they need to.”

Eleven nodded, tears pooling in his eyes. “I will tell them.”

Steve moved closer and opened his arms and Eleven fell into them as his tears turned into sobs.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He knew the words were coming but they still felt like a punch to his gut anyway. He didn’t need to ask what for this time.

For living.

He looked up and blinked quickly, holding Eleven tighter. Suddenly realizing that every time he was visited by an Eleven… he healed an entire universe full of the people he cared about most – simply by living. By being here to say that everything was going to be okay and to let them say goodbye. And if that was true… it meant helping an infinite number of Elevens, and Dustins, and Eds, and Robins… and on and on and on.

And Steve thought about the sacrifice of that.

Of taking on an infinite amount of love and grief. He wondered if this was the moment that Other Steve had mentioned feeling to Robin. A different sacrifice, he knew. But a sacrifice all the same. And he couldn’t help but rage inside… at the injustice of fate. Because if it was Steve Harrington’s destiny to die saving his loved ones but leave them in grieving pieces – how was it fair that it was his destiny to put those pieces back together? How was he supposed to heal an infinite multiverse amount of grief?  

He didn’t know if he was strong enough. His own grief was a black hole that sucked in every sliver of happiness he managed to feel. But… maybe that was why he could do it. Because he knew it. Had become intimately acquainted with it. Felt it. Understood it. Breathed it. Lived it. Cherished it.

The loss.

The grief.

The guilt.

… and the love.

And they helped to heal pieces of him, too. The visiting Elevens. The first had found him, pulled him to safety and gave him a home and a family. The second had saved him from a literal cliff’s edge, and then gave him a reason to try living again. And this Eleven…proved just how much the universe…loved him.

Every instance of him.

Another sob broke free at his side and he looked over to see Robin with her head in her hands, shoulders shaking as she tried to cry quietly. She didn’t manage it. She cried just like she did everything else – loudly.  

“I miss you,” Eleven said into his chest.

“I know,” Steve replied softly.

He took a deep breath and then stepped out of Steve’s arms, wiping his eyes. 

“It helps to know you are here. I can’t wait to tell the others about Steve Harrington. They will be so shocked!”

“I’m excited to tell everyone about you, too.”

Robin came over and slipped her hand into his and Steve was grateful for her grounding presence.

“Good-bye, Steve,” Eleven said and smiled brightly, despite the tears still in his eyes.

Steve smiled back. “Good-bye, Eleven.”

The bell over the door jingled as he left. Back to a universe without a Steve or Stephanie in it. To tell them that he loved them and that everything was going to be okay.

Because he did.

And it was.

Part 14

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues

Huge thanks to those who offered to be sounding boards for an idea: @newtstabber @stevie-crow @queenie-ofthe-void @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36 Thank you all so so much!

-I have all of the alternate names written out and I am so mad I couldn’t figure out how to get Wayne (Winnie) into this conversation. -I don’t know why everything I write turns out sadder than I originally intended. This was supposed to be a fun chapter and instead it became…This. Cried like a baby writing it. That said, it's my favourite so far so I hope you all like it!

[greenwith-ivy]

going through our dvds and stuff just for fun and i find this:

Dr. Who tape 2??? what an incredibly specific description! now i’m curious. i ask my parents and neither of them remember what it could be (nor can any of us figure out what got taped over lol). so i take matters into my own hands.

our old tv!! it needs plugged in though.

i move it over onto the sewing machine so the extension cord can reach it.

i press CH ⬆️. then it does this which i can’t do anything about because i don’t remember this tv ever having an antenna

i mess around with it for a bit and then just put the tape in. it needs rewinding so i do that too

it’s done! time for the moment of truth…. i hit play.

mystery solved!!! Dr. Who tape 2 is season 1 episode 7: The Long Game.

[tears-and-smiles-ao3]

In His Space

Steddie, rated T, cw: smoking

Eddie was driving him insane, sucking hard on a popsicle while leaning on the counter of Family Video.

His leather jacket squeaked against the wood, and each tiny suck noise rattled around Steve’s brain like a pinball machine.

It was infuriating how Eddie could do this to him, yet the thought of sending him away wasn’t an option.

They’d been friends since spring, when Vecna had once again tried to take over their town, and now hanging out just seemed like a normal thing to do.

Sure, they didn’t have much in common except their shared experiences of the Upside Down, but when everyone in town treated Eddie like an evil murderer, well, it wasn’t hard for Steve to step up and suggest they hang out.

He liked hanging out with Eddie. He was fun, and interesting.

It didn’t change the fact that this infernal noise was driving him mad.

He just couldn’t say why it was driving him mad. Robin often brought in popsicles and Steve didn’t think he’d had the same reaction then.

Maybe it was the fact that Eddie had been here all afternoon but wasn’t staying beyond five. In about 20 minutes, Gareth would drop by and pick Eddie up for band practice and it was probably one of the only nights Steve would manage the store alone.

Usually, they’d spend those lonely weekday nights together, Eddie talking for hours about some obscure film he’d watched, or teasing Steve about his ‘mundane’ choices in films.

Just because he loved Footloose didn’t make it mundane, thank you very much. His taste in films wasn’t bad, no matter what Eddie said.

Today though, he’d be alone again and that strange feeling in his gut was playing on his mind.

Was he jealous? Of Gareth? Of band practice? Surely not.

Eddie hadn’t picked up on his mood, seemingly content just to watch Steve rewind the tapes, his eyes boring into Steve’s back like a knife.

“Stop staring.”

Eddie pulled the popsicle out of his mouth with a loud slurp, a noise that sent a shiver through Steve.

“At what? You, lover boy?” Eddie purred.

Steve turned, hands on his hips in that motherly look he’d been teased about many times before.

Eddie raised his eyebrows, his right hand swinging the popsicle in a loose circle. Steve watched, enticed as the sticky substance skimmed dangerously close to his curls.

“Well, mom, are you going to tell me off?”

“No, no, ” Steve muttered, defensively at first, then softer. He watched Eddie lick his lips, feeling his breath hitch as he took the popsicle back into his mouth and gave it a gentle suck.

Behind Steve, the video player clicked, making him jump a little.

Eddie chuckled, going back to sucking loudly and driving Steve insane once more.

Sighing, Steve ejected the tape and put it away in its box, dropping it onto a large pile of videos to put back onto the shelves.

“Need a hand?” Eddie asked, but Steve shook his head.

“Nah, I’m good. Besides, you don’t work here.”

“That I don’t,” Eddie laughed, watching as Steve walked out from behind the counter, his arms full.

He took the long way round, ducking behind the shelves whenever he could to avoid looking at Eddie with that stupid popsicle in his mouth. Maybe if he couldn’t see it, he wouldn’t have to think about how it made him squirm.

Yes, it was much better to focus on the videos. Back To The Future and The Breakfast Club go here. Five copies of The Goonies go over there.

It was easy work, really. Especially when most people went for the same movies over and over. It was almost autopilot to put them away.

Ah, Too Scared To Scream. Steve walked over to the horror movie shelves and squinted, looking for where this tape should sit.

Huh? There didn’t seem to be any space left for it. Steve scratched his head as he stared at the shelves packed with videos.

“Need help, big boy?” Eddie whispered, leaning against Steve’s back. He draped his arms over his shoulders, putting the popsicle in his hand mere inches away from Steve’s face.

“Watch what you’re doing with that,” Steve hissed, trying to keep himself steady with Eddie’s weight on him.

Eddie chuckled, waving the popsicle about. This close, the scent of strawberry filled the air.

“What this little thing?” Eddie taunted Steve, bringing it closer to his lips.

Automatically, Steve felt his breath hitch at the closeness. Eddie was all around him, hanging over him. He could feel his breath ghosting against his cheek.

Something in his brain was trying to get his attention but Steve couldn’t focus when Eddie was everywhere.

Eddie was right there, holding his popsicle up close to his lips, and Steve hadn’t shaken him off yet.

“You should try it,” Eddie murmured.

His voice was like silk and it made Steve feel off kilter.

Slowly, Steve stuck out his tongue and licked a small stripe along the spherical shape. The flavour filled his mouth and Steve swallowed harder than he needed to before opening his eyes.

“Hmmm, it’s nice, huh?” Eddie asked.

Steve swivelled his eyes to look at him. It was difficult with how close they were, but he needed to see the smirk he thought Eddie would be wearing.

Eddie wasn’t smirking. His eyes were wide, maybe a little shocked, and they looked at each other for a long breath.

That was until Eddie broke the spell.

“Um, that video goes there,” Eddie said, drawing Steve’s attention down Eddie’s arm towards the shelves.

Oh. Oh, right. Steve looked at the last tape in his hand. He went to move, but stopped when he remembered Eddie’s popsicle.

Instead of asking him to move, though, Steve opened his mouth and took it into his mouth, then closed his lips. It sat like a small weight on his tongue.

Eddie inhaled sharply, but Steve couldn’t focus on that.

No, he leaned forward, dragging Eddie with him, and placed the tape on the shelf.

The intimate positioning was consuming Steve’s mind, but he wasn’t going to let Eddie get one up on him.

Steve sucked harder on the popsicle.

“Oh,” Eddie gasped, and Steve wanted to chuckle.

It was then that the door chime went off, and Eddie jumped back, letting go of the popsicle.

“Hey, Gareth,” Eddie called out. “Man, aren’t you late?”

Steve stood up straight, stretching out his shoulders. He walked by the desk, where Eddie and Gareth were talking nerd shit. He shook his head, smiling as he moved the popsicle around his mouth with his tongue.

At least Eddie wouldn’t be making those goddamn sucking noises anymore. He could finally relax. Maybe he could even enjoy the last few hours of his shift.

If Eddie’s eyes swivelled to the popsicle he stole while they rented a video, Steve didn’t even bother to hide the grin from his face.

-

Picking up Robin for school was one of the most routine things Steve did. He was always bright and early, waiting on Robin dragging herself out of bed and throwing on some clothes.

Sometimes, he had to wait ages for Robin to appear, leaving him with nothing to do except drum his fingers against the steering wheel.

That was until this morning when Eddie walked towards the car.

“Hey, big boy,” Eddie greeted, leaning his arms against the open car window. His curly hair blew in the wind, catching in his lips as he spoke.

“Hi,” Steve stumbled out, his throat suddenly drying up when Eddie fucking Munson poked his head inside, his face mere inches from his own.

What was it about Eddie and his lack of personal space?

“Nice ride, man. Robin’s lucky she gets first class service every day.”

“Uh," is all Seve could say, his brain short circuiting. Seriously, he should've been used to Eddie being up close and personal by now.

“Man, you’re a little tense.”

Steve scoffed. "I'm not."

Then he turned, glancing over at Robin’s house to hide his face, which suddenly felt very hot indeed.

"She's not out yet huh?" Eddie murmured close to Steve's ear while Steve did everything he could not to react.

He kept his eyes trained on the front door, which was still shut tight.

Damn. Hurry up, Robin. She was going to be late at this rate.

“You know, you’re heading my way,” Eddie purred, his fingers tapping inside the car down while he leaned further in.

Steve turned back, his eyes barely able to focus on Eddie’s face with how close he was.

Fuck, Steve couldn’t even concentrate on anything but their proximity. For a long time, he just stared into Eddie's large brown eyes.

The passenger car door opened, and Robin slid into her seat.

“Hey dingus, we need to get going.”

“And whose fault is that?” Steve snapped, pushing all his tension into the only available release.

Robin stared at him, fury in her eyes as she forced down the visor with a thud. She pulled out her makeup bag and threw it down on her lap rather dramatically.

“Oh, ho, ho, someone’s in a mood," Eddie needled, a smirk on his face.

Steve turned to Eddie fast, their noses almost touching, and whispered, “I’d drop that if you want a lift.”

“Ooooh, King Harrington will give The Freak a lift. How generous.”

“Just get in,” snapped Robin.

Steve sighed. Well, this was going to be a tense drive. He couldn’t even figure out why they were all snapping at each other this morning.

Eddie got in and sprawled across the back, one of his legs vibrating while he chewed on his nails.

If that wasn’t distracting enough, Eddie also winked when Steve used the mirror to check behind him before setting off.

Swallowing hard, Steve turned the radio up. Manic Monday blasts loudly into the car and two things happen.

“Hell, yeah,” Robin yells, dancing in her seat as she continues to put on her mascara.

“Fuck, no,” Eddie moans, covering his ears with his hands and staring menacingly at the ceiling.

“This is just like today: manic,” Robin chatters idly, and Steve lets out a small laugh.

“It’s not even Monday, Buckley,” Eddie deadpans. “Ugh, this was such a bad idea.”

“Would you prefer to walk?” Steve asks, feeling brave enough to look back at Eddie.

Eddie is just groaning continuously. Robin ends up turning the radio up louder to compensate.

“Hey, I’d like to not get tinnitus, thanks,” Steve snaps, turning it back down, but not enough to appease Eddie.

There was a line here, something that Steve felt he needed to address, but he wasn’t sure what. Perhaps it was just payback for Eddie making him feel hot all over earlier.

If only he could figure out why.

Still, he was glad when both his temporary charges left his car. If he glanced into the mirror to see if Eddie was looking at him, no one needed to know.

Especially not Robin.

-

Robin had talked him into this, and Steve was starting to regret it. The sheer number of shrieking kids, the dazzling lights and the loud music at Hawkins High school disco was overwhelming.

Man, he was getting old.

It hadn’t been like this when he’d been a school, and that wasn’t that long ago.

Christ, maybe he really was turning into a mom.

Sighing, Steve rearranged the juice boxes one more time. Being stuck on refreshments duty was probably the easiest job, but it sure was boring.

“Hey, dingus,” Robin called, her hip banging against the table as she leaned on it. The cartons rattled, and Steve bit his lip to stop complaining.

If Robin was here, it meant her nerves were stopping her from talking to Vickie.

“Things not going well?” Steve asked, because if he’d learnt one thing it was just to get straight to the point.

Robin sighed, grabbing a juice box and ripping off the straw, ignoring Steve’s raised eyebrow.

“It’s not that easy,” she said, taking a sip. “Vickie’s just not in my league.”

“Oh, come on, Robin. You know that’s not true.”

“Says the King. Honestly, Steve, do you even need to try?”

“Sometimes,” Steve admitted, his eyes misting over.

Robin snorted. “That’s a lie. Ain’t nobody you’ve struggled to get.”

“Stop changing the subject, Robin. I think Vickie likes you too. Look, she’s watching you.”

“Or, she’s watching you.”

“I can’t win," Steve complained dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

“What can’t we win?” Dustin asked as he skipped up to them.

“Uh, everything,” Steve griped. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something was irritating him. “I think I need some air.”

-

It was a relief when he stepped out into the dark schoolyard and felt the cold air hit his lungs. It lifted that burning sensation, the one that made him feel like choking.

“Hey, babe.”

Steve jumped, spinning around at hearing Eddie’s voice and nearly knocking his head against the wall.

“Eddie? I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I’m just here on business,” Eddie stated, a small laugh leaving his lips.

He leaned against the wall, taking a long drag of a cigarette. Steve watched as Eddie’s lips puckered around it, cataloguing how he inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a second, then exhaled, puffing out a haze of smoke slowly.

Eddie licked his lips once, his eyes on Steve, then took around slow drag, and Steve felt himself almost fall forward as he tried to lean closer.

“You want some, Stevie?” Eddie asked softly, turning to face him entirely now.

Steve shook his head, patting his pockets and about to say he had his own, when he realised.

“Shit.” He’d left his new cigarettes at Robin’s. Man, was this night getting worse.

Eddie looked over his face, as if assessing him, then he smiled coyly.

“I have a solution,” he said, stepping into Steve’s space and pushing him back against the wall.

Eddie stared into Steve’s eyes as he put the cigarette into his mouth and took a deep inhale. The embers flared brighter for a second, and Steve felt entranced, just watching Eddie breath.

Then Eddie’s face was right in front of his and he opened his lips, exhaling slowly right over Steve’s mouth.

Oh. Steve’s brain clicked on and he opened his mouth, inhaling as much of it as he could.

It hit him like a smack in the face. His blood buzzed from the nicotine, and he grabbed Eddie’s waist to keep him steady.

The soft fabric of Eddie’s cotton t-shirt felt soothing against his fingers, like a lifeline in a tumultuous sea.

“Do it again,” Steve asked, his voice so quiet. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure why he felt like putty in Eddie’s hands, but he did. Everything Eddie did unmoored him and right now, in the same place Steve had kissed many girls after his own school discos, he was adrift.

Eddie let out that little throaty laugh of his and took a deep, long drag. He leaned forward, his lips a hair’s width from Steve’s own, and breathed out slowly.

Steve gasped, pulling Eddie closer into him as he gulped down as much intoxicating smoke as he could.

It was then that it happened, and how, with them pressed so close together, had Steve expected anything else.

Eddie’s lips brushed against his so softly, accidentally so, and Steve whined. He goddamn whined.

Without thinking, not even caring who saw, he acted on pure impulse.

A hand grabbed onto Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer still, and then Steve’s lips were on Eddie’s properly and nothing else mattered.

The world faded away, it was just them and their lips moving against one another. The taste of Eddie’s tongue, a mixture of smoke and strawberry, filled his mouth and Steve gulped it down.

Eddie pressed harder into him, leaning one arm up against the wall while his other hand grabbed on tight onto Steve’s ass.

Fuck, this was the hottest kiss Steve had experienced in a long time. None of his recent dates had turned him on this much. He just wanted more.

It was at that point Steve’s brain switched on and he realised he was kissing Eddie and was liking it.

He was kissing Eddie. He was. Right now. Right here.

Steve’s body must’ve flinched or something, because suddenly Eddie pulled back and they were back to looking at each other, but this time Eddie looked concerned.

“Should we stop?” he asked in a whisper.

The hammering in Steve’s heart threatened to make him collapse. Why on earth would they stop?

Oh, that’s right, he’s meant to be straight.

Was he? He had no idea right now and all he could think of was kissing Eddie some more.

“No. Please don’t stop.”

The smile that spread across Eddie’s face was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. The way it made his eyes shine was breathtaking.

Then Eddie's face fell, suddenly unsure.

“Wish I could, babe, but I’ve got business and you’ll need to head back inside like the good boy you are.”

Steve clutched onto Eddie’s jacket as he pulled back.

“One more kiss, please,” Steve begged.

Fuck, when had he become so needy? Yet, right now, as Eddie pressed his lips against his once more, Steve didn’t care.

He let himself melt one more time, let himself moan into the kisses, let himself float.

Figuring himself out and what this meant could happen tomorrow.

Right now, all that mattered was Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

[polariod240]

80s Akira but when he fuses with Amon, he still has his walkman on so it becomes part of him, too.

This walkman looks completely normal on the outside, but if you open it, you can see bits of living flesh fused with mechanical components. It's so scary that Akira won't let anybody touch it, but that's not the only reason. He doesn't know why, but he feels lost and weak if he can't feel the machine close to his body at all times.

The machine reveals its true nature only when Akira transforms into a devilman, really. As a matter of fact, it immediately merges with Akira's flesh around one of his thighs, except for some basic buttons like fastforward, rewind, eject and stop. As long as Akira puts a real tape inside his walkman-leg, he can modify the music on it and go berserk until the tape reaches the end of a side.

Yeah, I love thinking of Akira as a scary 80s Starlord that fights demons while listening to cool beats. Akira can't do it for long while in his devilman form tho, because the walkman is now powered by his own blood. Better kill those demons fast my man, unless you want to turn human again and probably die! Whoopsie.

On a lighter note, the walkman is able to change a tape's content even in its safe mundane form- so Akira totally sells high quality bootlegs to support himself. (he doesn't want to be a burden to his family or even Miki's).

Ryo is the one who does the dirty job tho. To be honest, it was probably Ryo's idea in the first place. The world is ending, so who cares, right? Might as well buy a few more drinks before it's all over.

If Akira gives you a mixtape for free, you have to listen to it because he must really love you a lot. (Ryo will regret this)

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.