#pig higgins

[snazzy-jas-z-is-a-fan-of]

So like last summer an au thing was talked about in a discord server I was in (for a different fandom) and it sparked this idea that had me rambling a story plot.

the au: “I read some of a cool 100 au where a person gets their heart broken and somehow gets turned into a statue and can only become human again when their soulmate holds their hand. Idk if this is a common trope or nah but I thought it was swag”

me: can you imagine all the statues with worn hands and then the ones with no wear on them 0.0 bonus points if they're aware while they're statues if their soulmate is close, but still unable to interact with anyone

my friend: go to bed satan

me: no 🥰 have this idea now

and then I proceeded to write the following:

andrew was always told he was heartless, because who go through all that he had, and not be a statue.

little did they know, he had been. once. when he was young. it didn’t last long, but it was long enough.

he didn’t get why people were so obsessed with having been a statue at any point, it felt horrible. no one talked about the people who, though they were rare, when they were statues were aware of everything, no matter how far or close their soulmate was.

andrew had spent a few months as a statue, watching everyone walk around him, the young one. he wasn’t sure what moment signified his heartbreak: learning yet another home didn’t want him anymore now that he had served his,,, use; or hearing that he had a sibling out there somewhere, who was happy and loved, who was chosen over him.

his calcification had been slower onset, so he’d managed not to be trapped in the house. he’d gone to the park, to the middle of the trees there, intent to climb one, but he had frozen stiff before he could do more than reach an arm up.

he didn’t like to think about the memories engrained in him from his time as a statue, mostly long periods of no one, just animals, and then times with- no.

but one night he heard footsteps running through the forest, someone pausing next to his tree, feeling for something and breathing quietly, but heavily. it was a new moon, and the trees cloaked any other possible light that could be seen. fingers brushed against his own, but he stayed stiff.

“where is it? wait, no, wrong section of the park”

and off they ran again.

another random person, andrew thought, ready to delve into the closet thing to sleep he could get. and so, he did, he fell asleep, and woke up the next morning, brushing away the squirrel cuddled on his chest. brushing away. oh. that was interesting. he sat up and looked around at what had been his “home” for the last few months. he stood, turning back towards the tree, noting some bark that had been torn away from the tree. barely hanging on.

he snagged it off completely, looking at it in his palm, before turning and walking out of the forest, the way he had come all those months ago.

a woman noticed him blinking at the sun as he emerged from the trees. “oh my gosh, babe! look! that little one found his soulmate!”

andrew glared in her direction. “no”

she looked taken aback. “what? surely you must have!”

“I didn’t find my soulmate.”

“,,, maybe he wasn’t stone honey. we should go, and leave him alone”

and andrew walked away before they could. he walked and walked and walked, until he came across pig higgins, who reluctantly takes him back to the station to be arrested, because andrew had run away one too many times. it wouldn’t have counted as running away if he had told that he had turned to stone, but every time he was asked, he just said that he hadn’t found his soulmate.

andrew goes through his whole arc to get to palmetto, and instead of the whole riko fiasco, drake ends up getting convicted a lot sooner in higgins investigation, and goes to trial andrews freshman year. so he goes back to california for that summer, and the foxes come along for a part of it because idk they want to? but before they come along, andrew decides to drive around the coast when he has free time. he comes across one specific beach that just,, pulls at him. he drives past it several times before he finally notices something once. he pulls over and gets out.

there, just out of view of the road, only able to be seen if you get out of your vehicle like he has, is the charred remains of a car. he walks up to it, just,,, looking. he brought his bag with him, so he sits down facing the beach, leaning against the wheel well, and reads. when the sun sets, he returns to the apartment higgins is fronting for his stay.

and so it becomes a habit while he’s there. one day, just before the foxes arrive (not that andrew knows that), andrew looks up at the sunset, having finished his book faster than he thought, and having no extras. there sits a figure on the shore. once again he feels that pull, and walks towards the figure, still at the ready to pull the knives in his armbands.

he gets close enough to recognize that the hunched over figure is actually stone.

he looks it over, not touching, until the sun has truly set, and all that is left is the stars in the sky. he lights a cigarette for himself, smokes it, and leaves.

the next time he comes back, he walks past the car and to the statue. he looks at it in the daylight, and sees the violent torment of emotions on the still face. he doesn’t know why he does it, but that day he sits next to the kneeling figure, and begins to read aloud.

this becomes his new routine

until the foxes come.

they claim to be there for nicky, so andrew makes sure nicky knows they’re his problem. and he continues to go to his beach on his bad days.

then the foxes want to go to the beach.

“andrew’s always at the beach, just ask him” aaron says. andrew is unamused, but internally cussing his twin out, asking why he can’t have this one thing.

“fine” he says when they pester. he takes them nearby his beach, but not all the way there. when they run off into the water he walks off, towards where he knows his favorite spot is. no one follows him.

it becomes the new routine for the summer.

at some point, andrew had started starting every day with a life update before he started reading.

so when the day comes near the end of summer when the trial ends, and drake is sentenced, with far less than andrew would have liked, andrew storms off to his beach.

he begins to rant, pacing back and forth in front of the statue, pulling out two cigarettes, lighting one, and absentmindedly putting the other in the hand of the statue, managing not to touch him still. it’s not until he finishes his last one and is finally ready to leave that he remembers the cigarette in the statues hand. more careless in his worn out state, and distracted by his buzzing phone. andrew grabs cigarette out of the statues hand, glaring into the sunset.

“What Nicky?” he goes to step away, grip still on the cigarette, until it pulls out of his grip, held tight by something else. Slowly, he turns back around, seeing the once hunched over figure straighten out somewhat, eyes whipping between andrew and the cigarette clenched tightly in his hand

“andrew!! finally! where are you? we went to your beach but-“

andrew hung up, staring in disbelief at the sight before him.

[ninyard]

my mission here is to make every single character from aftg as important as the rest. ever thought about jim from improv? BAM you're now considering him as your favourite character. thought special agent browning was your fave? oh well, heres a text from special agent towns that is gonna have you shipping them both together. have you ever thought about donald boyd naked? now you have. once gorilla gets a cameo in the twitter au trust neil will be your least fave character.

[spot-conlons-pimp-cane]

Racer is bilingual (and bisexual)

Bilingual: in King Of New York he uses a pig latin word when talking to davey

"amscray punk!"

this is legit all I have to fuel this HC but I don't care.

bisexual:

a) in 92sies, when they are talking abt not hurting/fighting the other newsies who come to take their jobs, race says something along the lines of: "what are we supposed to do, kiss em?" and jack says that he personally wouldn't do that. this response insinuates that he believes that racer might actually do this

b) in livesies he just gives off gay/bi energy, I cant be the only one who thinks this, right? right guys...?

[be-queer-do-arson]

Been thinking about the old post about the monsters paralleling the upperclassmen recently and thought i would give my character parallel hot take: Coach Hernandez and Pig Higgins are literary parallels. I will elaborate.

For one, they're both indirectly responsible for Andrew and Neil getting into exy. Coach Hernandez got Neil onto his team, and Higgins made sure Andrew got into a good juvenile correction facility, which is where Andrew learned exy.

They looked out for Andrew and Neil even as they resisted their every attempt to do so. Higgins did everything he could to get Andrew's life back on track, and Andrew had nothing but contempt for him (which is completely understandable given full context, but it's true). Coach Hernandez reached out to try to help Neil and let him sleep in the team locker room without interrogation. He sent his tapes to a team that was out of Neil's league talent wise because he believed in him and wanted a better life for him. Neil lied to him about everything because it wasn't worth the risk to him (again, understandable).

Higgins gave Andrew his family by reuniting him Aaron and Nicky, and Hernandez gave Neil his family in the foxes.

I have no idea whether all this was intentional or not, but i find it fascinating either way.

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 24: Behind the Scenes

Word Count: 701/Rating: T/Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader/CW: Eddie's got a crush, theatre girl!Reader, reader wears a dress, one dirty joke thanks to Gareth/Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, theatre girl!Reader, Principal Higgins

Divider credit to @silkholland

“This is all your fault,” Gareth hissed at Eddie. “I should be behind the bleachers, making out with Annie right now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, swiping a paint brush over a two-by-four. “Sure, blame the guy standing up to The Man. Let’s not consider that Principal Higgins was the one who banned us from the talent show.”

Jeff hiked up his sleeves and grabbed the nearest hammer, ready to construct the Scarecrow’s perch. “Higgins didn’t ‘ban’ us,” he countered. “He just told us we couldn’t play War Pigs.”

“And that’s better?” Eddie shook his head. “No, we were given freedom of speech for a reason! We should be able to play whatever we goddamn want!”

Mrs. Porter, the school play’s director, glared at him and shushed. Eddie held up his hands in surrender, but continued complaining in a loud whisper. 

“All I’m saying is, if he didn’t want us putting on our own lunchtime performance, he should’ve let us do our thing at the talent show.”

“I think the lunch ladies enjoyed it,” Grant chimed in, earning himself a thwack in the back of the head from Jeff. 

Eddie was about to thank him for his support, but a flash of pink caught his eye. You were standing in front of the girl playing Dorothy and twirling in your Glinda dress. After a few spins, you got dizzy, and Dorothy caught you as you both burst into laughter.

Gareth resumed his rant, oblivious to Eddie’s sudden smittenness. “I’d rather play Girls Just Wanna Have Fun than build sets for the fuckin’ school play.” He held the perch in place so Jeff could hammer in the nail. “At least we could write lyrics and plan campaigns in regular deten–are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?” Eddie blinked a few times, snapping himself out of his daze. “Yeah. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Got it.”

“What’re you looking at?” Grant peered around one of the fighting trees, his face splitting into a grin when he saw. “Oh, that’s why you’re not pitching a fit about this set design detention.”

Jeff batted his eyelashes flirtatiously. “Eddie, do you have the hots for the fairy princess?”

“Shut up!” Eddie grumbled. “And she’s not a fairy princess; she’s Glinda the Good Witch.”

The backup guitarist put up his hands in mock surrender. “My apologies.” 

“You gonna ask her to play with your wand?” Gareth snickered, but he quickly stopped once Eddie shot him a look that could kill.

You disappeared back into the makeshift dressing room, and Eddie let out a silent sigh of relief. He might not be able to stare at you from afar, but at least he could think about you without the guys interfering. The subject naturally shifted to the songs they wanted to add to their setlist for their Hideout gigs, and Eddie was in the clear.

Until.

“Those look great!” 

Eddie’s head shot up at the sound of your voice. His cheeks reddened and his mouth relaxed into a sheepish grin.

“Thanks, yeah. I’m not much of an artist–like, a painting artist. I band. Um, I mean, I play in a band. So, like, music artist. I do music. Yeah.”

You raised your eyebrows, clearly unsure how to interpret his rambling. “Well, a music artist is still an artist.”

“Yeah.” Christ, Munson; is that the only word you know?

Gareth was more than happy to supply further conversation. “Sorry, he’s kind of an idiot around girls he’s hopelessly in love with.”

‘I hate you’ was perched on Eddie’s tongue, but you stepped in. You paid no attention to the menace-formerly-known-as-Gareth as you spoke directly to Eddie. “Well, we always need music artists to help make the orchestra pit fuller. If you’re interested.”

“No–I mean, yeah, I’m interested. Super interested.” The paint brush clattered to the ground, but he barely noticed. “Where do I sign up?”

As Eddie followed you to where the orchestra conductor was tuning violins, Gareth leaned closer to the two remaining bandmates. “Think it’s a good idea to tell him that Higgins is technically the reason why he got to talk to his dream girl?”

Jeff clapped a hand on the drummer’s back. “Good luck with that.”

--

[hardboiledleggs]

Hawkins High Prom, 1985

Howdy gang, it's been a minute. This is a quick little oneshot I whipped up for the lovely @imnotokayhru based on this post of theirs. TW for a tiny bit of internalized homophobia and bad teenage dancing lol

The Munson Doctrine does not allow for attending high school prom, especially without a date. Jeff had just begged so hard, and Eddie Munson was, at his core, a weak man. Secretly, he’d been hoping to see what prom was like, and it turned out that it sucked hard. So now he was here, surrounded by crepe paper and sweaty teenagers, and listening to Cyndi Lauper and Blondie.

Jeff’s date, a quiet girl from his biology class, had dragged him onto the dance floor almost an hour ago. Gareth had been too young to go to prom, and Grant had flat-out refused, so now Eddie was stuck here by himself watching the teenage population of Hawkins try to moonwalk. Hello, therapy.

A third glare from the chaperoning Mrs. Click forced Eddie to move from his hiding place near the wrestling mat. He had been slowly revolving around the room, doing his best to keep away from Higgins, but apparently his tactic of standing completely still and looking bored was suspicious to the teachers for some reason.

Just then, Mr. Mundy abandoned his post by the door to the boys’ locker room, yelling “Hands, Hagan! Let me see your hands!” as he went.

Spotting his chance, Eddie dodged a decidedly drunk Tammy Thompson and hurried into the locker room. He breathed out a sigh of relief as the door shut behind him and muffled the DJ.

He checked his watch. Still too early for the damn thing to be over. He debated trying to escape through the vents briefly before realizing that he wouldn’t know which direction to crawl in and might die up there. It would be really funny if his corpse fell out of the ceiling during O’Donnell’s class, though.

Eddie gazed at the lockers for another moment before inspiration struck. Hadn’t he sold to all these asshole jocks one hundred times? Surely, at least one of them kept their stash in their gym locker.

He hurried over to the first locker and pinched his nose, anticipating the smell of sweaty jock straps and unwashed ass to assault him. His senses were pleasantly surprised when the locker betrayed only a faint floral scent that vaguely reminded him of his mom.

Eddie rifled through the contents. Extra socks, a basketball uniform, and a pair of Adidas sat at the bottom. The top shelf had deodorant, hair gel, a tin of moisturizer, and a can of Farrah Fawcett hair spray. Eddie snorted. No weed, just the sports paraphernalia of a very fussy member of the basketball team.

“Uh, hey. That’s my locker you’re stealing from.”

Eddie swore loudly and straightened up, smacking his head against the shelf of the locker. Tears sprang to his eyes and he staggered backward, clutching the top of his head. His would-be thievery victim started to apologize, and that was when Eddie looked up and recognized the very famous head of hair.

“Is it still stealing if I was doing my civic duty and just planning on removing any illegal substances I found during my snooping?” Eddie muttered as he rubbed the spot where a bruise was already forming.

“Unless you became a cop and didn’t tell anyone, I’m pretty sure theft is still theft,” Harrington snorted.

“I’m no pig, Steve-O. Just a guy looking for weed.”

“In that case, let’s try Hagan’s locker,” Harrington said as he crossed to the other side of the locker room. He let out a little “Aha!” of triumph and tossed a bag across the room that Eddie caught with one hand.

He slumped down with his back against Harrington’s locker and stuck his feet out in front of him, trying to ignore the way the tiles looked. Harrington crossed the room, hesitating for only a second before he flopped down next to Eddie, not quite touching, but sitting close enough that it would be easy to pass the joint Eddie was carefully rolling between the two of them.

“I’m assuming you’re planning on sharing?” Harrington quirked an eyebrow at him. He didn’t seem to notice that his very nice black suit was in contact with the biohazard that was the Hawkins High boys’ locker room floor.

“Of course, my liege. I always share the spoils of war with my fellow countrymen,” Eddie quipped. He passed the joint to Steve for the first hit, digging in his pocket for his lighter.

His companion took a deep breath, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before breathing out and passing the joint to Eddie. Eddie tried not to notice the way the wisps of smoke curled from between his lips and took a drag.

“Would’ve thought you would have your own weed for this thing, Munson. Isn’t this kinda your territory?”

Eddie scoffed. “I may be repeating my senior year but I’m not an idiot. Higgins would lose his mind if he caught me dealing at prom.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. His already-nice face was so much nicer when he laughed. It made him look younger, much less like the haggard boy who sometimes showed up to their shared history class with dark circles under his eyes.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, swapping the joint back and forth. Eddie picked at a hole in the leg of the dress pants Wayne had lent him, wondering why Harrington was being so nice to him and if he could push his luck.

“So, Farrah Fawcett, huh?” he said with a wry grin. Steve’s cheeks flamed with color.

“Hey, I’m swearing you to secrecy here. All of this-” he gestured at his ridiculous poofy hair, “-is only achieved with a very specific routine, okay? This stuff is the real deal.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Eddie grinned. “Speaking of secrets, why are you hiding in the locker room when you should be out there, in your element?”

Steve frowned. He actually looked uncomfortable.

“Well, my date started dancing with Hargrove when I went to piss, so…” he trailed off. “Guess I figured I’d wait out the dance in here while she had fun. This really isn’t my element anymore, anyway.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “How did you pick a girl stupid enough to ditch you, Harrington? Did you ask your cousin or something?”

Steve pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile.

“No, jackass. I think she just thought it would make her look cooler to come with a date and I was available. Whatever, it’s fine, I didn’t even like her that much. She wore this ridiculous dress that pushes her boobs together so hard it looks like they’re going to pop out.”

Eddie cackled at that. He could already feel the contented stupor from the weed seeping into his system.

“If it makes you feel better, I came alone. Or, I guess I came as the third wheel who can’t dance so he got left by the snack table,” he shrugged.

Steve glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“What do you mean, you can’t dance?” he asked. “Everyone can dance. You just have to sway around in a circle with your arms around somebody. Have you never slow-danced at a school dance before?”

Eddie shook his head. “C’mon, Harrington. Nobody wants to dance with the freak.”

Steve slapped his knee and stood up abruptly. He held his hand out to Eddie, who stared up at him from the ground.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

Eddie gaped up at him. Harrington actually looked nervous.

“Be serious. You don’t want to dance with me. What, is Hagan hiding in the showers, ready to punch me for agreeing to this like some queer?” Eddie snapped.

Steve’s face fell a bit, but he still grabbed Eddie’s hand and hauled him to his feet.

“I’m not even friends with Tommy Hagan anymore, Munson. Come on, I like this song.”

The intro to George Michael’s Careless Whisper filters through the door to the locker room. Eddie hesitantly wraps his hands around Steve’s neck and shivers when a large pair of hands settle at his waist.

They swayed together slowly. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to look Steve in the eyes, so he busied himself with counting the moles on his neck. George Michael crooned about his guilty feet as they revolved around the locker room.

“See. This isn’t so bad, is it?” Steve whispered into his hair. They had drifted unconsciously closer as they danced, and now they were only a few inches apart.

He pulled back a bit to force Eddie to make eye contact with him. Eddie forced the blush that was fighting to rise to his cheeks back down and smiled.

“I would say it’s the best dance I’ve ever had, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” he admitted.

“Well, I do, and I agree,” Steve said. “Don’t sell yourself short, you’re a very good dancer.”

Eddie grinned.

“Don’t let me get too cocky, Stevie. I might think you actually like me.”

“And if I said I did?” Steve asked seriously.

“I-I’d tell you that you probably don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie stammered.

Their eyes met again. Steve had a worried little crease between his eyebrows that Eddie registered as very cute in the back of his mind. They continued to sway even as Eddie’s hands began to sweat. Steve’s expression cleared suddenly, as if he had made up his mind about something.

“Stop me if this is, I mean, if I’m doing the wrong thing, okay?” he murmured.

He lifted the hand that had been on Eddie’s waist and cupped his cheek. Eddie felt his heart fall out of his chest and settle somewhere near his stomach. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut and he started to lean forward.

Tonight the music seems so loud, I wish that we could lose this crowd.

Eddie’s lips parted in a hastily stifled gasp as Steve Harrington kissed him. His own eyes slid shut as their lips met. Everything melted away: the smell of the locker room, the harshness of the fluorescent overhead lights behind his eyelids, even his own nerves squirming in his stomach. There was nothing but the press of Steve’s soft lips against his own and the pressure of his hand against Eddie’s face.

Far too quickly, Steve pulled back. Eddie stared at him, wide-eyed with shock.

“That was okay, right? That I did that?” Steve asked softly.

“Uh, um, yes yeah definitely. Definitely okay.”

Steve grinned at him. It was so infectious that Eddie couldn’t help smiling back. He was still cradling Eddie’s face gently in his warm hand.

“Then would it be weird if I asked you if you wanted to sneak out of here with me and drive around for a bit? I don’t really feel like going back to prom,” Steve said.

“I’m all yours, big boy,” Eddie replied breathlessly.

Steve twined their fingers together and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Then he tugged Eddie toward the door, laughing. It was the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen.

~~~

They're so cute I love them so much. After this they drove around Hawkins for hours, singing along to the radio and holding hands and other sappy things. Anywhosies as always let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) my permanent Steddie tag list where I bother you anytime I write anything about these two boys <3

Steddie tag list

Tag list: @brassreign @inmoonywetrust @kyoxyukiforever @spectrum-spectre @vampireinthesun @awkwardgravity1 @obsessivlyme  @steddieassheg0es @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @sunflowers-and-knives @original-cypher @e0509 @estrellami-1 @scottiedoessknow @sweetwaterangel @novelnovella

[deardiary1899]

king of new york is a catchy af song but i like to think it emphasizes something about race

i always found it as something that represented their wants and are somewhat expressions of them internally--

Race: A pair o' new shoes with matchin' laces <- Race wants something practical? I mean, in some productions, his socks don't even match!!!!!

Romeo: A permanent box at the sheepshead races <- Surprisingly, Race was supposed to have this line but was changed in the Broadway production. It's one of the main things I found interesting in the lyrics.

and, honorable mention to Davey:

Davey: A regular beat for the star reporter!

Davey's kindness is shown here. He prefers to move the attention to Katherine, and what he wants is never really mentioned

Anyhow, Ive read from another post that the boys are sharing these things according to what the other person likes, and that, is very cute and i love it, but I unfortunately cannot see it that way myself when it's with Race. Romeo may have said that line for Race, but, the lines Race sings in Carrying the Banner sort of correlates with his lines in KofNY. The said Race's lines in CtB are as follows:

Curdled Coffee / Concrete Donuts / Sprinkled with mold / Homemade / Biscuits / Just two years old

I am a true believer that the lines characters are chosen to sing are important to who they are, and I will find it endlessly curious as to why these are the specific things Race would list out, when most of the newsies at this part, something they want/that's currently happening/general observations or whatever. It's just so,,, curious to me how he speaks of THOSE things?? they're definitely not something they want, and it's poetic as FUCK??? like WHO hurt you mr higgins

It makes me think of Race as someone who is somewhat practical. I mean, outside of being sort of rowdy, excitable and the like, he's, without a doubt, smart af and like his historical counterpart, quite aware.

Race: Am-scray, punk / She's the king of New York!

Katherine: Whod'a thunk! I'm the king of New York!

Newsies: We was sunk, pale and pitiful

Katherine: Bunch'a wet noodles

Katherine & Newsies: Pulitzer's poodles!

Les: Almost about to drown in the drink

Buttons: When she fished us out

Race: And drowned us in ink!

Am-scray is one of my favourite parts here. Maybe because it was sung by Race but It’s Pig Latin.

I have NO Idea how common it is to learn that in the 19th century– but considering in Newsies (not as historically accurate) the boys don’t get a proper education other than Davey (but in a more historical perspective, they did. somewhat.), It’s EXTREMELY important to me how he knows such words like ‘Hoi-polloi’ (GREEK!!!), Am-scray and Gratis (LOOK i dont know how common words like that are, because im not a native english speaker and DAMN i don't know the usual 19th century lingo, but to me, it was a big big word)

Even more, his wit is shown well in the line ‘and drowned us in ink’. I’ve been obsessed with that since I heard it, and I’ll never get over how it is a BEAT that you can skip to in writing. It’s such a smooth and witty way to say that Katherine’s writing had helped them, and that ‘drowning in them in ink’ led them to get the fame they got (front page of the papers).

It’s also bitterly sweet to note that seeing their faces on the front page was more than enough to have them all tap-dancing, and although they may be forgotten the next day, it was all the worth.

this is all over the place, and moreso a ramble, but I REALLY wish we got more of Race because these specific things keep repeating in my mind ALL the time. I would ALSO like to state that Race was a HUGE driving force in this. I could write a WHOLE essay about him but kiss his ass and slap it because after getting hit around by oppressors and police, he knew they needed at least a moment of relief !!!!!!

TL;DR: I have a crush on Race Higgins and I need him real NOW

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 15.1 - war pigs

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (angst, language, arson)

Word Count: 1700

☾

Generals gathered in their masses Just like witches at black masses Evil minds that plot destruction Sorcerer of death's construction

☾

May 15, 1984 - junior year

12:00PM.

With a sharp jerk of his hand, Eddie lit a match and held it to the firework.

Did he really think this plan out? No. Did he really care about the consequences at that moment? Definitely not. Did he purchase the fireworks from a reputable seller? Hell the fuck no. 

He bought them at a discounted price from some junkie in Illinois who swore they weren't expired.

But was the shit-eating grin on Eddie's face a clear indication of how much fun he was having? 

Hell yes.

Most of the students were inside the building, back to their classes after lunch. Eddie could see some figures out on the football fields beginning to notice the fireworks.

He started with a few of the big ones, moving on to some smaller ones. It was too light outside to really enjoy them, he knew, but that wasn't the point. He wanted noise, he wanted chaos.

Eddie Munson thrived on anarchy. It was in his blood, his bones. He had a carnal urge inside of him to disrupt society. 

Plus, what did he have to lose? He was going to be out of this hell hole in a week's time. 

Students and teachers began to emerge from the nearest doors, alarmed at the booming noises. He didn't pay attention to any of their faces - he was having a complete adrenaline rush, laughing maniacally at his magnificent work.

Eddie felt a twinge of nostalgia as he heard the fireworks, smelling the gunpowder. It reminded him of dancing with you on New Year's Eve.

"Munson! Stop this right now!" Someone was yelling at him, pointing fingers in his direction.

He had purposely waited until noon. Eddie knew that you would be in your Advanced English class, all the way on the other side of the building. 

Nothing was going to stop him now, not even his intimidating girlfriend.

Everything was going to plan until he reached for the final firework, the biggest one, saved for his grand finale. It looked like a stick of dynamite, meant to be held as it was lit and then thrown. He held a freshly lit match in one hand, and the firework in the other.

…and then something went terribly, terribly wrong. 

☾

In the fields, the bodies burning As the war machine keeps turning Death and hatred to mankind Poisoning their brainwashed minds Oh lord, yeah!

☾

A loud, sudden squealing of sneakers on the tile floor. 

You were stunned to see Jonathan Byers in the doorway of your classroom. He was out of breath, like he had been running the halls for a while. 

You jumped from your seat. You were technically in your English class, but because it was so close to the end of the year, the teacher gave you all a free period. You had nearly fallen asleep when Jonathan burst in.

"Byers! Is this necessary? What may we help you with?" Ms. Walker scolded the boy who was interrupting the peace of the classroom.

"Sorry, ma'am, I just really need to borrow Buckley."

Reluctantly, Ms. Walker nodded her head, allowing you to gather your book bag and chase after Jonathan.

"What's going on? Talk to me, Byers!" You did your best to catch up with him. He seemed to be running towards the front of the building, near the staff parking lot. 

Jonathan let out a quick laugh. "Are you serious? Don't you hear the fireworks?"

"Yeah, why? I figured it was just some celebration."

But Jonathan skidded to a halt, his shoulders dropping in exasperation. "Nah. It's Eddie. He was lighting off fireworks in the parking lot out front. One of them caught Higgin's car on fire."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

You took off into a sprint towards the school's main entrance. You wished with every bone in your body that Jonathan was mistaken, that it was some other unruly student and not your Eddie. He was inches away from graduating. He was already on thin fucking ice. This couldn't be true.

All of your hopes faded away as you weaved through the crowd of students just in time to see Eddie in handcuffs, being led away by Jim Hopper. A car nearby was engulfed in flames.

Anger burned inside of you, hotter than Principal Higgin's car, as you watched Hopper's truck drive away with Eddie in the back of it. 

☾

Time will tell on their power minds Making war just for fun Treating people just like pawns in chess Wait till their judgement day comes, yeah!

☾

After almost an hour of Eddie sitting alone, waiting, Chief Hopper stomped into the room. They were in his office, away from any prying eyes.

The look on the older man's face read a mixture of I really don't want to be here and he's going to be a legend.

"Kid, you know why I brought you here, right?"

Eddie feigned innocence, holding up his cuffed hands that were covered in ashes, burns, and gunpowder.

"No, sir. Not a single clue."

Hopper sighed heavily and tossed his hat onto the table separating them. Eddie noticed how tired the chief looked, how the bags under his eyes made him look ten years older than he probably was. 

"Munson, level with me here. There were over fifty people - students and staff - that saw you at the scene of the crime. I literally caught you red-handed, judging by those burns on your hands," Hopper explained, clearly holding back a smirk.

Tapping his fingers on the table, Eddie watched with amusement as they left little black marks in their wake. 

"Let's just cut to the chase here, Hop. What's my punishment? Community service all summer?"

The Munson boy suddenly didn't like the sad expression on Hopper's face, or the second heavy sigh that he released from under his thick mustache. A bad feeling sunk into the pit of his stomach and began to rot like spoiled meat.

The chief laced his hands together in front of him. "I talked with Principal Higgins for quite a while. I tried to negotiate, I really did, but-"

"It was a prank, sir. A harmless senior prank."

"That's the thing, Munson. It may have started out harmless, but it didn't end up harmless."

Eddie held his burnt palms out towards Hopper. "I'm fully aware! You think I can play guitar anytime soon with these hands? Do you neanderthals even have a first aid kit around here? I think I need to clean these wounds before they become infected."

But Hopper ignored his outburst. Hawkin's prized Chief of Police had a genuine look of pity in his eyes.

"They're not going to let you graduate, boy."

His stomach almost fell out of his ass in anger. Eddie could have strangled Hopper for being the messenger of news like this. 

Scratching the back of his mind was you and the look of disappointment that would surely be the death of him.

"Excuse me?"

"Your principal seemed to really hate you before today, but especially now that you blew up his goddamn Buick."

"First of all, it didn't blow up. It just caught fire. Don't be so dramatic."

Hopper gave him a stern look, but didn't have a reply to his back-sass.

Eddie tried to reason with him. "I'd rather go to jail, Hop. Let's work something out, okay? I'm a fucking week away from graduation."

The man across from him was shaking his head before Eddie could finish his sentence. "I did everything I could, kid. You were already hanging by a thread at that school before you went all Firestarter today."

At this point Eddie was holding back hysterical laughter. 

Hopper continued. "I personally don't know why he would want you back at Hawkins High. He refuses to press charges. I'm sure it's a mixture of your grades, your record, and the fact that he's out for blood now…"

And then the next words to come out of his mouth shocked Eddie.

"...the blaze from Higgins' car trashed Jerry Eulin's truck that was next to it. That teacher didn't seem to care for you, either. He dropped your grade. Even if Higgins didn't demand you get held back, your grades are ruined, Munson. I'm sorry."

"This system is fucked!" Eddie screamed. He leapt up from the chair and paced back and forth, fuming. He yanked at the cuffs on his wrists, tearing his skin. "Why am I even handcuffed?!"

The chief stood with him, gesturing with his hands to calm down. "I told them I wanted to be the one to tell you. It might as well have been a witch hunt to those assholes."

Eddie refused to respond. He stopped pacing and stood with his back to Hopper, trying to control his breathing before he started hyperventilating.

"Munson… Eddie." His voice was calm. "You've been through enough already with your father, I-"

A rapid knock at the door startled them both. 

"What is it?" Hopper exclaimed, annoyed.

The door creaked open, revealing Officer Callahan. "Chief, Munson's ride is here."

Eddie stood still as a statue, eyeing Hopper as he unlocked the cuffs from his sore wrists and led him towards the front of the building.

"Kid, take the summer off. Do some fun shit, spend time with your girlfriend," he held the glass doors open for Eddie. "And for the love of God, stay out of trouble, will you?"

"Thanks, Hop," Eddie replied cheerfully, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll make sure to invite you to my graduation next year."

And he turned away from Hopper without giving him a chance to apologize again. The pitying look in the older man's eyes was nauseating.

Eddie Munson didn't make it far, though, before he came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk. His heart broke into a million fractured pieces. 

His beloved van was parked right in front of the police station. Leaning against it was you, arms crossed over your chest, disappointment burning bright in your enraged gaze.

☾

Now in darkness, world stops turning Ashes where their bodies burning No more war pigs have the power Hand of God has struck the hour

☾

A/N: i didn't know how much i'd LOVE writing Hopper and Eddie interacting. why were we robbed of that in the show?!

(song lyrics credit: "War Pigs" by Black Sabbath)

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[otdiaftg]

Andrew takes the call.

"Pig Higgins, is that you?" Andrew asked. "Oh, it is. Yes, I'm surprised. Did you forget I don't like surprises? What? No, don't stall. You wouldn't hunt me down after all this time just to chat, so what do you want?" Andrew went quiet for a few seconds to listen, then said, "No," and hung up. The phone started ringing again almost immediately. The Foxes were staring openly now, their stretches forgotten. Wymack didn't order them back to business, so Matt sat on one of the benches to watch this odd scene unfold. Andrew yanked at his jersey until Wymack let go, then put space between them as fast as he could. He leaned against the wall, clapped his free hand over his ear, and answered the phone. "What? No, I didn't hang up on you. I wouldn't do that. I—no. Shut up." Andrew hung up again, but Higgins was persistent enough to call a third time. Andrew let it ring five times before answering with an explosive sigh. "Talk to me," Andrew said, and waited as Higgins explained himself all over again. Higgins went on for a good two minutes. Whatever he was saying couldn't be good; the conversation was visibly cutting through Andrew's drug-induced mania. Andrew's smile was long gone, and he started tapping his foot halfway through Higgins' story. He looked away from Aaron as the last of his cheer bleached out of his expression and pointed his gaze at the ceiling instead. "Go back," Andrew finally said. "Who complained? Oh, Pig, don't give me the runaround. I know where you work, you see. I know who you work with. That means there's a child in her house. She isn't supposed—what? No. Don't ask me that. I said don't. Leave me alone. Hey," Andrew said, a little louder like he was trying to drown the officer's arguments out. "Call me again and I'll kill you." He hung up. This time the phone stayed silent. Andrew waited to make sure Higgins got the hint, then put one hand over his eyes and started laughing.

Day: Wednesday, August 30th Time: 4:02 PM EST

[ninyard]

I have to say I truly just love in-universe outsider perspectives on the aftg series.

Trojans fans finding out about the lineup change. The other coaches reading the news and suddenly finding out one of PSU’s players killed somebody. Kathy Ferdinand fans who’ve never watched exy before. Exy fans who don’t watch the NCAA league hearing about the Riko/Neil beef. The ravens outside of the Perfect Court learning about Kevin’s transfer. The Minyard’s biological dad hearing about them and knowing they’re his kids, or not knowing and not giving it a second thought. Allison’s family. People who knew Seth before he went to PSU. The cops who were bought off by the Butcher in Baltimore. Bee watching Andrew break Riko’s arm. Pig Higgins getting the call from Wymack. Neil’s teammates in Arizona.

All these different people hearing about everything that happened for the first time, out of the blue, no context, no warning. I want to be inside of their brains.

[praecurokat]

Ted Lasso S3E6 'Sunflowers' Thoughts... *SPOILERS*

I love Jan Maas.

"This is a pretend conversation. You're a pretend person with a pretend job, and I'm having a really hard time pretending to give a shit." Roy opening with his trademark journalist deflection tactics.

Not Higgins going to the 'red light district' for a "special date".. then asking Will to join him there..

Jack's romantic aurora borealis plane date with Keeley to Norway is cute but I would've liked to see them in Amsterdam. There were already so many other storylines this episode though.

Pineapple Percussions = dole drums...

Jamie being so enthusiastic about training this episode.. it's giving Dani Rojas...

OMG Rebecca falling off the bridge but being saved... "you're upside down and you're soaked but you're alright"... the psychic's predictions...

As soon as Colin heard: "Drinking, dancing, and women" he was like... alright i'm out. Trent sipping his tea while listening to Colin's excuse was everything. And stopping the door with his leopard print shoe..

"Thunder and lightning and you" was another part of the psychic's statement- don't know how that connects except that the club/party Trent and Colin went to has 'Thunder' in its name.. could be a coincidence though.

"Drugs are bad" - cut to Beard and Ted with drugs from Kenneth the bus driver.. DID NOT see that coming.. although statements made about Kenneth in the past had me concerned..like how he's a former cult leader..

Predicting that the team will never leave the hotel.. these himbos are too chaotic. Poor Isaac.

aww Trent and Colin!!!!!

"Well.. my whole life is two lives." Ouch. I need Colin to be happy and accepted by his teammates...

Didn't have Jamie teaching Roy how to ride a bike on my Ted Lasso bingo card!

Ted going to an American restaurant in Amsterdam, ordering 'Freedom Fries' and then having visions of the "True Spirit of Adventure" is hilarious.

Jamie's dad needs to get beat up by Roy.. or someone else idc who..I know violence isn't the answer but i want it in this case..

I feel like there are so many references to triangles in this show.. the pyramid of success, love triangles, now this strange triangle-themed vision.. and probably more I can't remember.

If the 'tea' was defective, I guess Beard just likes wearing 70s clothes and a pig nose and Ted just has narrated visions??

[cerullos]

mid-year book freakout

tagged by @sapphicscience

number of books you’ve read so far: 57, i set my reading goal for 25 this year hoping it would push me to take my time with each book & be more reflective but then the unemployment hit and i got a little manic

best book you’ve read so far in 2024: poor deer by claire oshetsky is probably my sentimental fav so far! objectively the best were the spear cuts through water by simon jimenez and kindred by octavia butler both of which completely blew me away.

best sequel you’ve read so far in 2024: i very rarely read sequels, i think the only series i’ve read this year are dungeon meshi and beastars. i did read the first installments of dune, interview with the vampire (reread…shut up lmao) and the tainted cup by robert jackson bennett and will probably continue with all three!

new release you haven’t read yet but want to: i’ve had sociopath: a memoir by patrick gagne on hold at the library for months now, so that one comes to mind lol also really interested in picking up craft: stories i wrote for the devil by amanda lima, the haar by david sodergren, little rot by akwaeke emezi and private rites by julia armfield!

most anticipated release for the second half of the year: excited for the new charlotte mcconaghy, wild dark shore! honestly after migrations i’d pay to read her grocery list. also looking forward to hum by helen phillips (i loved the need, also by her!)

biggest surprise: this may just be recency bias but i picked up a good happy girl by marissa higgins not expecting to feel too strongly about it and wow, i felt seen (derogatory) lmao strongly recommend to all lesbians with dad and/or grandma trauma and a penchant for emotional self-sabotage ✌️

favorite new author (debut or new to you): so many! for a few not mentioned above: adora nworah, layla martínez, jennifer marie thorn, neil sharpson and andrew joseph white!

newest fictional crush: oh absolutely catherine from a good happy girl lol the second coming of lydia tár. etain larkin from knock knock, open wide is also up there (final girl turned shitty bitter traumatized mother? obsessed obsessed obsessed with her)

books that made you cry: i’m a robot, i don’t cry over media, i’m sorry! ducks: two years in the oil sands by kate beaton did make me a little misty.

most beautiful books you’ve bought so far this year (or received): working at the public library (and also having no money <\3) has sadly cured me of my compulsive book-buying habit ): i did buy a few physical volumes of dungeon meshi and all of them are gorgeous.

books that made you happy: again, dungeon meshi! & i had a really great time with the tainted cup by robert jackson bennett (fantasy + page-turning mystery with the most endearing cast of characters!) also found come and get it by kiley reid to be oddly delightful despite dealing with some pretty heavy topics.

what books do you need to read by the end of the year?: i’d like to finish emily wilson’s translations of the iliad and the odyssey. also parable of the sower by octavia butler, butter honey pig bread by francesca ekwuyasi and the first installment in the earthsea cycle by ursula k. le guin (all of which have been on my tbr for ages)

tagging @dykes4knights, @strangesmallbard, @thefinalpaperheart, @nicollekidman, @raffaella-cerullo, @jonismitchell , @tennesseewillams , @khukri and whoever else wants to do it!

[totallynotmeems]

Roy: So, who broke it? I'm not mad, I just want to know.

Ted: I did. I broke it.

Roy: No. No, you didn't. Isaac?

Isaac: Don't look at me. Look at Beard.

Beard: What? I didn't break it.

Isaac: Huh. That's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Beard: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Isaac: Suspicious.

Beard: No, it's not.

Nate: If it matters-- probably not, but Jamie was the last one to use it.

Jamie: Liar, I don't even drink that crap.

Nate: Oh, really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Jamie: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Nate.

Ted: Okay, let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Roy.

Roy: No. Who broke it?

Higgins: Roy, Sam's been awfully quiet.

Sam: Really?

Higgins: Yeah, really.

Sam: Oh, my god.

(overlapping arguing)

Roy: I broke it. It burned my hand, so I punched it. I predict ten minutes from now, they'll be at each others' throats with war paint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

(continued arguing)

Roy: *chuckles* Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

[ghost-proofbaby]

please may we have a snippet, or even just a crumb, from your illicit affairs fic? my apologies that i have forgotten the title for it but please im so looking forward to reading it and would love a little snippet if you would bestow one upon us.

don’t apologize! i never officially said the title, but it’s called “you showed me colors” for now 🖤 honestly waking up and seeing this though has made my day so absolutely i’m willing to share a snippet!!! thank you love <3

“I hate this,” he mumbled as he sat on the toilet of his shared bathroom with Wayne in their trailer, you kneeling between his legs as you blotted at his split lip with an alcohol wipe, “I should have punched the asshole back.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” you scowled, furrowing your brows even deeper in concentration, “And stop talking – you’re making it worse.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but you quieted him with a glare.

Just as you wouldn’t have survived the Age of Awkwardness without Eddie, he wouldn’t have survived it without you.

You finished cleaning off the dried blood before tossing the wipe into the overfilled trash can, sighing heavily as you fell back onto the ground and supported yourself against the wall opposite of him.

You leveled each other into a staring contest, eyes blankly boring into each other with emotionless expressions.

“You’re lucky Wayne isn’t home, y’know,” you finally broke the silence, shooting a hand out to grab his ankle and give it a squeeze, “He’d probably be driving down to the school right now and-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waved you off, shaking his head, “I know. Trust me, I know. I think Principal Higgins is starting to hate him more than he hates me.”

“Principal Higgins doesn’t hate you.”

“You’re right – he loathes me.”

The hand that was squeezing his ankle quickly traveled up to his knee to slap it, “Eddie.”

He raised his hands up in the air, lifting his brows for emphasis as he exclaimed, “What? You know I’m right, kid.”

Kid. The loving nickname Eddie had adorned you with the moment he found out he was a mere six months older than you. You hated it, and he loved that you hated it.

“The day you’re right is the day pigs fly, old man.”

Old man. The nickname that served as your attempt at a rebuttal. It didn’t work, not as intended.

He chuckled softly at that, as he usually does when you call him that, and only smacked his palms onto his thighs, “Well, doc, I must say – you’ve done an exquisite job. Am I free to go?”

You tried to fight your smile, tried to linger in the anger sparked from seeing Eddie hurt. Your disdain wasn’t directed at him; it was always a loaded gun pointed at whoever dared to lay a hand on your boy. You probably could have had a spotless reputation without Eddie Munson in your life, but you’d found your fists quick to fly in his defense.

Your parents hated it. Wayne secretly adored it, even when he’d still join in scolding you and Eddie alike on avoiding violence.

“Sure,” you shrugged, before grabbing his calves through denim to stop him. Dark blue denim, a deep shade of navy that you still hadn’t grown used to seeing. You hadn’t even realized jeans came in so many different shades until you met Eddie, and you’d always chastised him when he’d opt for a boring black pair, “But first, a payment is required.”

“A payment?” Eddie tilted his head, looking down at you curiously.

“A payment.”

“And what would this payment be?”

“A movie night,” you grinned wildly, finally letting your grip on him go, taking in the chestnut highlights of his curls and the red font of his t-shirt, a band shirt you’d never heard of but that he had recently gotten into, “Snacks provided by my loving host, you, of course.”

He exaggerated his pondering, bringing a hand to his chin, stroking dramatically. As if he was ever capable of saying no to you.

“Hm,” he hummed, his voice echoing through the tiny space and encasing you in warmth. As serene as that first summer day when he’d taken the leap of sitting down next to you in the grass, back to a tree, palm in your palm as colors had swarmed your vision, “I suppose that can be arranged.”

[melissamasakari]

Confessions you didn't notice

Chapter two. Birthday mess.

Sam's birthday went according to plan. In the morning I managed to catch her on the way back from training (and I even managed to cover my ears and not go deaf from Paulie’s screams!) and gave her a gift.

“Wow! Is this a ’snakebite’?! I didn't even dream of it. You're an angel!”

“Glad you like it. Evening plans are still valid?”

“Of course. That will be me and you only. Phyllis is on duty today, but I'll take her out for lunch. And Cap,” she turned around, looking at the dust slowly settling after her boss flew past, winding another circle, “had let me go early today”.

“What a generosity!” I deliberately clasped my hands. “Are we sure we’re there will be no one else?”

“I didn’t plan it. Remy is on Patrol around the abandoned ruins, Arlo, as usual, has carloads of papers and reports for the evening. And he also was talking about a bunch of commissions for materials. Well, he probably just came up with an excuse,” she shrugged with annoyance.

“Oh... that will be mine commissions, it seems. The poor fellow will completely drive himself away at this rate.”

“Don’t worry, he’s crazy like this every autumn. Just another week and he will calm down. He’ll just become an ordinary grumbler again.”

“With some itchy feet,” I couldn’t help but add quietly. Sam burst out laughing and ran off.

We had a great time in the evening as expected, collecting a ton of tokens from Django’s. I think we even emptied his entire prize pool till next year. He looked annoyed at first, but then he expressed his joy out loud and called us walking advertisements for an arcade.

Two days later I was persistently reminded that it turned out to be my birthday. Even pa sent a postcard from somewhere in his wasteland. Just amazing! He should have dispatched it at the beginning of summer for it to arrive in time. Ginger sent me a great necklace by the mail. I don’t usually wear this type of jewelry, but she will definitely be pleased if I come to a party in it. Gust sent... what is this, an umbrella? And with my signature stamp? He is crazy or something? By now the whole city should have noticed that I really hate umbrellas! And those hats are also dumb! And just then it started to rain, how predictable!

From time to time appearing at home between trips to work, I was surprised to observe the endless flow of townspeople at my fence gate. They looked around very funny, leaving boxes and parcels at the mailbox. Many gifts were without signatures or cards, but it was not difficult to guess the giver. In the mailbox there was even a note with threats and a demand to sell my workshop and get out. Probably Higgins...or those loser scammers. Well, let's see what kind of loot I’ve got. There is food from Emily and Martha, a cool warm jacket from Carol (I've been meaning to order it for a long time!), a carpet from Gale, another carpet from Sonya, a cool pot of flowers from Alice. Oh, what else is there? The box contained exactly the same black dress as I wore on that ill-fated day. The sweepingly and beautifully signed card read: “Shine bright too! I love you. Antoine!” Wow. ‘Black glow’? That’s unheard of. Well, okay, so there will be a spare one if I screw up somehow. And this is where the boxes end. And letters, too. Oh, wait. At the bottom of the box was a letter from Petra with blueprints and congratulations. And a very official paper from the Civil Corps with an apology for the delay of my commission and hopes for patience and calm. Damn red-block-head! But at least he definitely didn’t eavesdrop.

Sam found me late at night diligently threshing punching sacks. We had a nice chat and exchanged news. She handed me a cool roomy bag with the logos of Flying pigs stitched over as decorations. Hand sewn, that’s amazing!

“Do you like it? I wasn't sure since you didn't answer my question.”

“Amazing!” I couldn’t contain my delight and hugged her tightly. “Where did You get it? There are so many pockets, you are a miracle!”

“I bought the basic one from Carol and spent a long time fiddling with the decorations. It turned out a little clumsily, but I...” She drawled guiltily.

“Are you kidding?! In fact, it’s hard for me to imagine you doing needlework and here it is! When did you found time? No one has ever bothered like this for me before. Well, mom, maybe. And it was very long time ago so I almost don’t remember her.”

“I'm glad I guessed right. Cheer up, kid, I need to run further along the route before anyone notices that I’m skiving.”

Having assured that all the urgent work was going as it should I crawled away to rest. The weather was pleasant in the morning; the mud from yesterday's downpour had even dried out. After reporting on the projects to the guild, I decided to take a leisurely jog around the pond to relieve some turmoil from my head. Relieve, however, did not happen – obsessive thoughts followed me around. We even didn’t have a proper conversation. It's a pity. Maybe I should seek him out again? Come on, that's bullshit. I have much more important things to do. Gale has generously piled me with interesting work again, so I’ll try to throw myself into it and just wait till the rest of the fall. Apparently I made the wrong wish on the Day of Memories when I was releasing a flying lantern into the sky.

Until next Friday I honestly kept my promise to immerse myself in work. I fulfilled several large orders, took inventory, went through a bunch of paperwork, and, while making another small commission, decided to beat up my training dummies.

“Are you training?” out of surprise, I jumped abruptly high in the air and in a turn stroked the visitor with my knee in the shoulder.

And Arlo didn't even wince.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that sneaking is bad? And you have to knock!”

“Somebody once told me. And I knocked. Your fence gates are always opened anyway. Great shot, by the way!” He rubbed the bruised area, shook himself off and continued. “So just how busy are you?”

“It depends on what do you need me for. Are we expected to save the world again?” Remembering the last episode with the sewer repair I asked cautiously. I really didn’t expect that he would show up in person! Finally!

“No, it’s not that bad. I just got a little carried away and broke my training dummy. Can you make me a new one?” He nodded towards my equipment for blowing off steam. “I see you already know how – you don’t even have to look for blueprints. Will you take my commission?”

“Wait a minute. I made one for you recently. What did you hit it with, a hammer or something?”

“As it turns out I need something sturdier.”

“Okay, just how urgent is it?” And why do I keep thinking that I’m missing the chance to ask questions that are of much more interest for me?

“Can you have it done before the Snowball Battle? I don't want to miss my training for so long.”

“I have one condition. No, two.”

“I'm hanging on your words!”

“You still need to have a break from your training. You have been delaying my orders for the third week a row!”

“Sorry, something happened,” he shrank guiltily.

“I know what could have happened to you!” I blurted out, shaking my fist at him. Is it just my imagination or is there someone giggling there from behind the fence?

“What is the second condition?”

“I want to challenge you to a snowball battle. I have already beaten you in land run, but in the martial arts tournament I consider it was a technical draw.”

“A draw? You knocked me out of the finals! I didn't even understand how it happened. Twice.”

“So, you remember. And then Russo almost broke all my ribs. I should have left him to you. Or at least get some proper sleep before that fight...”

“Come on?! No preparation and you just rushed to thrash the butler. And if it’s of any consolation I didn’t have a chance against Russo either. He used to be a Civil corps leader after all.”

“Don't change the subject. I still have to invent an arlo-proof dummy, you know.”

“Yes, sure. I don't usually do snowball fighting, but why not? I haven’t done anything other than work and training for a long time.”

“Well, before I forget. How did your exams go?”

“It’s better not to ask,” he immediately drooped. Was it really THAT bad? He was running around like crazy all month.

“It's a pity. Sorry. So my lucky fist-holding didn't work. Next time I'll cross my fingers for you. They say it works better,” I made an appropriate encouraging gesture.

“It’s okay, I’ll survive. Looks like I'm still not good enough.”

“Then they are all blind there if they think so.”

Putting on an air of importance he cheerfully said goodbye and disappeared again into the landscape behind my fence gate. Just like deja vu. Looking for clues for the task he had given me I decided to visit Petra. We spent all day brainstorming and finally came up with a plan. There's just a little bit left to do – I have to get everything done in a week, unless urgent problem is rushed onto me. I had to hang around in the ruins all weekend and replenish supplies of materials; if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to start testing my arlo-proof-something by Wednesday.

On Tuesday morning Arlo reappeared on his own out of the blue. Sure, I don’t usually immediately notice if someone is looming around the fence, since it's such a common thing. There is always someone running around my place as if it is some tourist attraction. And almost half of the heads usually sticking up over the fence here are all red, well, including my own. I perfectly fit into the picture here, nothing more to say.

Why is Arlo acting so strange? So very weird. He just walks back and forth in front of my fence gate but for some reason he doesn’t try to come in or knock. So I decided to hail him myself.

“Arlo? Hey, come in, don’t circle around there or you’ll trample a hole in the road!” I shouted from the height of the second floor of the assembly station. Zero reaction. What's wrong with him? “Sky to the Captain, do you copy?! Captain Arlo, confirm the operation status! Repeat: confirm the operation status, Captain!”

“I asked you not to call me so!” He pouted, but at least he restored his touch with reality. I'll save this feat for the future.

“Come in, I said. I’ll come down soon,” I pointed with my hand into the yard, “or, if you’re not in a hurry, you can wait for me in the house.”

At the second offer he somehow stretched himself out with some nervousness, shook his head negatively, and in a couple of jumps found himself near the workbench. Having finished assembling another very important thing, I went to find out what was going on felling intrigued.

“Are you’re looking for your dummy? I planned to finish it tomorrow, well, Thursday at latest. I still need to test it, at least minimally.”

“Are you going to hit it with a pickaxe?” Hinting at the obvious difference in strength, he nodded towards my rather battered punching sacks hanging near the stable. “But no. That's not what I'm after.”

“Then what's up?” I wiped my hands with a rag and inquired.

“I was thinking. Maybe we can go somewhere together? Tomorrow.”

“Are bandirates invited to this party? Or maybe an ensemble of jumping dancers? An honor guard from the city administration? We seem to have agreed on a fest on Friday.”

“The festival is still valid, of course. But I would like to do something, well, more tranquil.”

“For example? Just don’t offer to go jogging and training!” I wonder if I’m daydreaming again, or is this a date? Judging by what I know, it’s definitely not his promotion party.

“How about we go to Django's? Then we can book an arcade hall or take a walk to the beach.”

“Beach in winter? Your tastes are little specific, you know.” I pointed out slightly sarcastically as I was trying not to show my excitement.

“I would suggest a haunted cave instead, but it’s slippery there now. And also cold. The atmosphere is the best, of course. It's creepy and disgusting. You may get sick, and instead of having fun you'll end up with a full pack of new problems”.

“Fair point. So tomorrow, a restaurant. In the evening?”

“Yeah, let's go in the evening. In the morning the hall is packed. At lunchtime there are always some of the bosses present. This will be no rest either.”

“Then where do we meet and what about the dress code?”

“I can come to fetch you. By seven. Is it fine?”

“Are you ignoring the second question on purpose, or is there some hidden meaning?”

“On this matter I am only a so-so adviser. I'll leave it you. Just make sure you're warm and comfortable enough. I know you’re still not very used to the snowy winter.”

“Acknowledged. I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow,” we bumped fists in goodbye.

In joyful anticipation I cheerfully completed most of the work planned for the whole week. I even managed to go and report on everything urgent. All that was left was that arlo-proof dummy. Sam caught me finishing it the next morning.

“Wow, what a monstrosity you are building here!” Her delighted voice came from behind the fence.“Can I check it out?”

“Come in, just don’t touch anything yet. It's not really bolted. I still need to tighten it up a little more and check it. And just then it will be ready to be screwed to some fairly heavy stand. So I just drove it into the ground so far. For tests.”

“Did you call a tester?” Sam inquired busily and patted her boxing glove with her hand.

“Let the owner test it himself. I really hope that at least he won’t hurt himself in the process”.

“This thing will be moved to the headquarters?”

“Bingo! Certainly. I'm already working on the second design.”

“What a colossus!”

“Yeah, I’m very interested to see how he’s going to get this thing uphill. I have never seen any transport usable to moving up the ice slide that the ramp in the park has turned into.”

“He'll figure it out. For the sake of resuming training he will do just everything. I was surprised that he even cleared away all the papers! Has he sent you all your materials? Or was I running around for nothing?”

“As far as I remember I still need leather and fur. I managed to get some for urgent orders myself. So, I'm not worried yet. But if there’s some lying around at the headquarters, just whistle and I’d better come and pick it up. Oh, by the way. Your order is ready too, I was going to catch you tomorrow. Wait a minute. And pass me that metal thing, please.”

“Oh, great. Glad I dropped by.”

“Are you in a hurry? I could use your help.”

“Not too much. What’s what you need?”

“A trivial girly thingy. I've nothing to wear.”

“Now that is interesting. People don’t usually come to me for something like that,” she laughed.

“I’m not going to ask Antoine for help and then be unable to get away from him. He gifted me a dress, can you imagine? And even signed a postcard.”

“Come on?! Show me!”

As we entered the house together I opened the closet and invited my friend to rummage through it while I washed myself off after the dirty work.

“So how do you like my booty?” I went out in my usual home attire, preparing to inspect my scarce selection of clothes.

“Here is plenty to choose from. So what’s the occasion and plan of the event?”

“I would have liked to know the occasion myself. I've been told it will be a restaurant and a walk. The sequence is arbitrary. Also I don't want to suffer from frostbite. And I don’t want to look like an unwashed miner either. As such, everything is as usual.”

“Okay. Then let's try this out” Sam surprisingly quickly put together a cool set for me. Then another one. And another still. How come I’ve got so many clothes?

As I’ve tried out everything offered, we looked at the clock and found that lunch was almost over. So we had to finally choose and we settled on a practical classic. As result two almost identical girls, a blonde and a redhead, looked at us from the mirror, smiling provocatively. The difference was in the details and some little things. My jacket was warmer and longer still, bright blue – made of Slurpee leather. And the jeans were perfect – gray, with a lot of pockets. My only warm and non-slip boots also fit well. I’ll even wear my new necklace with these. And also I’m going to take with me my current favorite bag.

“You are my savior! Drop by on any weekend – I’ll treat you to home-cooked lunch.

“Splendid! They say you almost beat Django in the Cook off. Sorry I missed everything. Usually that competition includes a lot of my favorite dishes.”

“Let's catch up then. And here's your order.”

To pass time til the evening I decided to tinker with the paperwork that I usually do on Saturdays. However, Arlo did not appear at the appointed time. Nothing new. I was about to go “test” his order, and I even got to made a couple of test kicks when I heard noise from behind the fence.

“Look what the cat dragged in! You can arrange transportation for your new toy,” I began instead of greeting and waved my fist invitingly.

“Oh can I try it out?”

“Just without zeal. I already thought you wouldn't come at all.”

“Sorry. I was sorting out complaints from one workshop. It turns out that you are accused of stealing a pickaxe. A bronze one!”

“What kind of jerk took a risk? I have had only iron ones for a long time. You know that.”

“Yeah, well enough. That's why the investigation took so much time. I had to collect evidence in the first abandoned ruins in order to prosecute him for libel. He will be an eyesore for me until the end of the week in the jail now,” he said indignantly but rather threateningly, and made a couple of test blows at the dummy.

“It was Higgins, wasn’t it? Ugh, I'm sorry. Consider yourself forgiven. And as such you already punished yourself for being late.”

“So generous. And this toy turned outto beexcellent! I had no doubts, of course. You’re a great builder after all. But you managed to exceed all expectations.”

“Are you sure you don’t have a basement anywhere? Otherwise it might, uh, break through the floor or something.”

“Don't worry. I won’t put it on the second floor, but it’s the clinic where there is a basement, not our place. Are you ready?”

“If you are ready to give up trying to break this monstrosity. At least until Sunday.”

“Yeah, sorry. Let's go. We should practice together sometime.”

“No way.” I closed the house and checked the gate.“I won’t spar with you anymore.”

“And why is that? It was great! I enjoyed it very much!”

“Because I still plan to beat you in the tournament next summer, of course!”

“And just how will joint training interfere with this?”

“You will be ready for my surprises that way. That's not very interesting.”

“Do you have any other strange techniques up your sleeve?”

“Just you wait and see.”

“We've arrived.” Arlo opened the door, letting me in first. Well, that's nice.

Oh, a cozy little fenced-in nook. Seems like a good spot, not too close to tables intended for large groups or business meetings, but, to my sorrow, uncomfortably close to the entrance and also in a draft. That's where we headed. Why am I so nervous? Well, I only dreamed about this for almost a whole month. Cheer up, girl! So, I allowed myself to be pampered a little tint bit, and we sat down opposite each other. The distance seems to be decent. Calm down, Melissa, breathe. Nothing is happening yet.

“You said that you come here often.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Then explain such abnormal excitement around.”

“You think so? It seems like it's always like this.”

“I don’t know how to put this. Usually when I get here, that’s either Sam who pulls me out into a noisy crowd of people or I just hang out alone at the counter and sometimes discuss new recipes with Django if he's not too busy. And now it feels like as soon as we entered the entire staff dropped what they were doing and began circling nearby.”

“If you hadn’t pointed this out I wouldn’t have noticed. For some reason such a stir happens every time I come in.”

“So it's clear. This means that in an hour at most the whole city will already be gossiping about seeing us here together.”

“And so what? Just let them say and think what they want. This doesn't bother me at all. Does it disturb you, maybe?” To my surprise he really guessed it! It’s unlikely that he’s always hanging out privately with the girls here. Otherwise Sonya would have already told everyone. Now she’ll definitely talk about this little visit of ours, oh crap.

“Not that much. Maybe on the contrary it will be beneficial and yield more orders,” I said, putting on an overly cheerful appearance. It’s also quite possible that those Nora of his will bite me in the face later. Who knows what these church apprentices are up to?

“By the way about orders. I mean what are we going to order?”

“Let me think. Will we have separate account? I'm quite happy with today's dish of the day, a couple of crepes for dessert, and some hot tart drink like tea or coffee.”

“If it’s more comfortable for you, let’s have separate.”

It is not at all surprising that Sonya was hovering somewhere nearby and instantly materialized as soon as Arlo waved his hand. We said hello again I told what I wanted and discussed the conditions. Then it was my companion’s turn and he immediately ordered a total five of his least favorite dishes. I was terribly surprised and immediately tried to talk him out from this dumb idea.

“Wait, you don’t like sweets. And you’ve said SO many times that you can’t stand steamed potato fruit. Are you sick by any chance? There are also three sweet dishes and even a dessert. Arlo, what's wrong with you?”

The waitress chuckled softly. Really, she knows better than anyone in this small town each persons preferences in food. There is nowhere else to go here to be honest.

“I was quite healthy this morning, thank you. I don't know I just wanted to try something new. Or give this food a second chance, something like that.”

“Okay, we’ll always have time to add something else.”

Sonya accepted our orders and finally left, smiling mysteriously and gracefully swaying her hips.

“So, how it is? Do you regret moving here yet?”

“No way. Apart from this cold winter and an excessively humid, rainy summer, I am quite okay. I'm not swallowing sand each time I need to go outside. And the skin does not crack if I forget to hide it from the sun. And my job is really interesting. I even have made some friends! And there is a small but pleasant bonus: my aunt can’t reach me here and has finally stopped trying to micro-manage my life.���

“How‘ s that?”

“Well, you know. She breathed down my neck all the time with her advice. Don’t talk with these people – they’ll teach you all bad things! Just tie the knot and be fixed for life. But you’re not allowed to be friends with this guy and that gal. Blah-blah-blah and stuff like that. She was so overbearing that she even distracted me from studying and working normally.”

“Understood. Sorry for asking.”

“Come on. Here I can at least breathe normally and be myself. Do what I want. Talk to everyone I like, and not with those who passed Kendra’s selection.”

“Do you think I'd pass?”

“Well, it's a good question. I didn't even think about it this way. Besides, I just don't give a fuck anymore. If she’d not like you, that would be her problem! It’s quite enough that I like you. But if you insist I can speculate what it would look like. Just for fun.”

“Try it, I’m curious, if it will not make you sad.”

“Well considering what I've heard about you from others... Hmm. I suspect she would be over the moon that I have a friend like you. Kendra would brag to all of her friends, driving away their ugly, boring momma's boys. But I just won't let this happen, okay? I only recently stopped receiving trainloads of letters from her demanding to account for every step. “

“Well, I haven’t seen something like this before, and it’s hard for me to comprehend it right now. I won't ask again, I promise.”

“Agreed. It’s like we came to have fun, not to pick at sores.”

“Exactly,” he was still noticeably saddened, even hovered a little. Somehow the conversation wasn’t going well, and I started to get even more nervous.

Our order arrived. Predictably, as Arlo never liked sweets, he turned even sourer. And he also flatly refused the offer to order something tastier or at least filling. Oh, damn it, what to do with him? I should have confessed to him near the house and found out everything! There are too many extra ears here, and it feels like they are all crowding around. I can’t ask about exams as he would have told me about work himself. In a fit of panic I fidgeted with my bag, I don’t quite understand what I was trying to find there except for keys and a set of tools. A first aid kit, maybe?

“Wow, what a cool bag do you have here. Did you do it yourself? I want one too!”

“No, it was not me. And there will be no repeat, this is a one-off.”

“Why is this?”

“It’s a present. Handmade. So it’s really hard to repeat.”

“It's a shame. Wait, a gift? From whom? Was there an occasion?”

“I won’t say from whom. But there was an occasion, yes.” I tried not to dwell on my disappointment from that day about how my “best friend” didn’t show up and didn’t even congratulate me with a postcard.

“I missed everything, right? How long ago?”

“In the fall,” Sonya came to put away the dishes, eavesdropped and tried not to giggle. I'll discuss it with her later. At least not in front of Arlo.

“Sorry. You were probably waiting, right?”

“Let’s just say, I hoped. At least that we could just meet up and chat. I definitely didn’t expect an apology for the delay of my order that arrived by mail. I missed you, by the way!” Oh, that was too loud. It seems like a couple of plates broke somewhere near, just a little short of reaching the kitchen.

“Can you pinpoint a date? I understand that I should have known this myself, but it has had totally washed out,” oh, what a guilty tone his voice has. I almost liked it.

“Not surprised. You were completely absorbed in the upcoming test. Twenty fifth.”

“Exactly. That was the last three days of preparation and run-up for the training ground. I utterly screwed up,” he hit himself on the forehead with his palm.

“Do not worry. I usually don't celebrate. This was I think the first year in the last... ten, or such that I had some festivities”.

“What kind of gifts do you like? Well, for the future,” have he perked up or something? It's nice.

“It’s hard to tell right away. I usually like something practical. The girls gave me a whole bunch of warm clothes. Now there is something to wear for work in and something fancy for special occasion. Just in case, I’ll tell you right now if you haven’t figured it out yet. I DO hate umbrellas! Anyone who dares to bring me an umbrella or any other thing that resembles it as a gift is at risk of getting it back, stuck up their ass and opened!”

I heard the door opening and the completely indecent laugh of Sonya and her group of friends three tables away. Antoine cackled louder than anyone, even the chandelier above them swayed. Well, guess who got here... I think I have problems. It's probably too late to leave. I shrank all over in my seat and tried to pretend to be a decoration on the wall, checking the situation with my peripheral vision. The laughter can still be heard, but it seems that the storm had passed. Gust walked past with a poker face and disappeared somewhere at the entrance to the arcade hall. His pig jumped funnily after him. Now it was I who had to hold back my laughter. Arlo without any reaction to Gust calmly continued:

“Do you have any wishes?”

“About gifts, or about this evening?”

“Both.”

“I’m not going to the arcade now, okay?” I nodded towards the person who came in. “I don’t want to see him with his sour face. It will ruin the whole mood for me.”

“Understood. Let's bug out then? “He winked conspiratorially and helped me to get ready to leave. Just in case I left a generous tip for my part of the order. I hope my hint will be taken.

We walked out into the refreshingly cool, clear night. The city had not yet begun to decorate for the winter festivals, it was quiet and calming. The yellow lanterns shone comfortably. I was really proud of making them! The shops had long been closed, and on the way to the Central square we didn’t even meet anyone. Sam's light wasn't on – she was most likely on duty. I was very relaxed so I didn’t even notice how we ended up at the swing near the school. But why not?

“Do you want to swing? New competition?” Arlo perked up noticeably and cheerfully sat down on the second swing nearby, as soon as I sat down on mine.

“You wanted quiet leisure time. Don't overexert - you'll fall out. Or wind will inflate your head,” I slowly began a test swinging, “I have a light form of motion sickness.”

“Then why did you do such tricks at the land run?”

“I had to quickly dust off my rusty skills. I have a complicated relationship with horses. And that stallion, moreover, was rented and too nasty. But it was fun!”

“Never DO that again. No one would even notice in time that something went sideways! You looked so confident.” I can hear rising anger in his voice. “And for your skills, we’ll come up with something if you wish.”

“Personal riding instructor? Sounds tempting. But first I will have to fix the issue with the stable and look for an opportunity to buy a horse. I need to wait until that tame filly I noticed at McDonald's grows up,” I said and then immediately imagined how ridiculous it all would look. Crap.

“Maybe you can start with something more trivial? Llamas are quite good for taming.”

“I hope this isn’t a veiled insult about my petite size. It's enough that Sam teases me about it regularly. But she's allowed to.”

“Why should I tease you? I like the way you are. And, by the way, why should Sam tease you? You two are almost of the same height.”

“It’s not really about height,” I jokingly pushed him under the elbow with my palm, slightly disturbing the balance of the swing. “We quickly befriended, and I got tired of her calling me builder. It was too formal. She called me “little fella” or “kid” one day and it stuck. Strange, because it’s not much shorter than my actual name. But I didn’t argue anymore.”

“Understood. Don't push me, or we'll get swings twisted.”

“Come on, I don’t have the strength to move you.”

“But you still managed to win a spar.”

“I’m still convinced that you gave in.”

“I wouldn’t have thought,” he got from the swing and walked around me from behind and grabbed the chains of my swing right above my hands. Satisfied, he looked down at me and offered to swing me. Starting to blush deeply, I nodded in agreement. For some time, only the rustling creaking of the rig was heard from above. I need to come back here sometime soon and oil all the bearings.

“Is it okay? Not too fast? Not frozen yet?”

“Fine. And what?”

“You look so good with such a blush on you, you know. It's getting late. Do you want me to lead you home?”

“Only if you come up for tea,” the swing gradually stopped.

“I don’t want to abuse your hospitality. Let's leave the tea for another time, okay?”

“Deal,” I got off my seat, and we headed towards the stairs.

Having climbed a few steps up, Arlo turned around, waved his hand at me and said: “See you Friday, sweetie!” and sped up the hill.

I'm looking forward to it. Wait, how did he call me? I definitely misheard!