#I thought it would be a useful concession to take three days instead of one or two

[spolew]

cope time bc I have not been able to play rw for 3 entire days :(

Work and school both take it out of me

I NEED to see the dlc, I NEED to beat hunter. But like. How. It’s going to take months ::(((( my life might be over by then. Who knows what could happen over such a span of time? What if I spoil it? What if I lose interest? I need to capitalize NOW but I am stuck :/

[tanadrin]

The impression I get from Revolutions is that in the 19th century there was a real uncertainty about the empirical question of how to achieve socialist aims in politics. On the one side you had forces like the Russian Narodists, who eschewed engagement with the system (and "the system" was, in the Russian context, Tsarist autocracy), fearing that to do so would be to legitimize the system and allow the desire for reform to be coopted, and thus allow it to be stalled out. This was framed in somewhat Romantic terms, with language about, like, the "vitality" of the "revolutionary spirit," but I think the underlying concern is one I'm sympathetic to, even if I would use different language to describe it. And, after all, the system you want to build is pretty politically and socially divorced from the circumstances around you, and it's hard to envision how you get from the current system to that one, in any kind of reasonable timeframe, by purely incremental reform.

On the other hand, you had agitators like Martov and also social democrats willing to work within the (limited, and definitely undemocratic) parliamentary systems that European states were grudgingly establishing, or even the pretty powerless zemstvas in Russia, but whose engagement of the system also came in the form of, like, strikes and demanding concessions from bosses and capitalists, which is something that a lot of anarchists and Narodist and others on the "anti-engagement" side thought was a waste of time, and tended to grant the legitimacy of the position of these bosses at the top of the hierarchy. Equality and freedom and the like wasn't something you should be granted, it was something you should take. At its most extreme, this dichotomy expressed itself in political terrorism: 19th century anarchists really thought that killing a king or a tsar (or even a president) might spark a national revolution and cause the whole system to come crumbling down.

But the course of the 19th century, especially the latter 19th century, pretty much answered these questions. For one, assassinations just provoked brutal crackdowns that tended to destroy radical organizations. For two, the labor movement proved effective. Wildly effective, in fact. For three, the fears of arch-conservatives proved correct: a little bit of parliamentarism was a foot in the door for genuine democracy, and once your foot was in the door you could keep pushing, and revolution was still an option on the table if progress stalled out too hard or for too long.

And yet I also have the suspicion that the long 19th century was a period where revolution was an unusually effective tactic, and that in the centuries before and the century-and-change since, it has proved to be a much dicier proposition. Revolutions are of course hard to kick off even under ideal circumstances--you can miss your chance one day because it rains and people stay home, or a protest over one pastor getting evicted can bring down your whole regime. But autocracy is brittle, the 19th century (and early 20th) was a period of extremely rapid social change and an extremely entrenched reactionary ruling class, and the alternative a lot of revolutionaries had in mind--liberal parliamentary democracy--can actually be surprisingly stable once it gets entrenched.

Revolutions that switch out one strongman for another, or install more oligarchic republican forms, or otherwise create governments with weak legitimacy can instead devolve into a generation of political chaos. But by the 19th century, Europe was starting to converge on a pretty durable model of governance, one pioneered in Britain (which managed to avoid revolution entirely throughout the period!). And I think in this framework participation in the system is both easier to justify and is inarguably more effective than abstention. Abstention, in both its more peacefully separatist and its aggressive kill-the-king-and-hope-everything-collapses forms, proved too utopian; building a parallel drop-in replacement for the state is simply too vast a coordination problem, and the whole reason states exist in the first place is that they solve big coordination problems (even if in deeply suboptimal ways). You can secede to form your own little community in the wilderness, if that's the flavor you want your anarchism or agrarian socialism to have, and if it is, more power to you--but if you want to remake society, rather than just remove yourself from it, ultimately you have to confront and engage with the channels of power that already exist.

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 18

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 17

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescurtainbangz @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @usergeta @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Content Warnings 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, teasing, mentions of smut, mentions of drugs, arguing, anger, angst, self-destructive tendencies, fluff, crying, smut, drug use, groping, fingering, handjob, oral sex, praise/degradation, choking, role-swapping, mentions of suicidal thoughts/ideation, mentions of drunk driving, mentions of vomit

Word Count: 16.3k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 18.1 Inside Out

Friday, June 2nd, 1989

You've worked with Eddie at The Hawk for a few weeks now, putting you exactly halfway to your six-month relationship goal. You have plans to celebrate the three-month mark with Eddie tonight, after your shift and a late birthday party for Dustin. Neither of you were able to get the day off to celebrate on the actual day, so your brother insisted on throwing the party today instead. 'It's only a week's difference', is what he told Mom when he begged to hold off on the festivities. You're surprised that Dustin would postpone his own birthday just to have you two there, but you find the sentiment very sweet.

"Hey, Y/N. We're almost done here, can you take the trash out back for me?" Jamie asks from behind the concession counter.

"Sure thing!" You reply, grabbing the big black bags gathered by the employee doors and pushing the metal bar with your back. You step out into the warm air of the early evening, making the short trek to the dumpster. You toss the bags in, wiping your hands on your pants afterwards. You're just about to turn around and go back inside, when you hear a small mew coming from underneath the metal receptacle. You get down on your hands and knees, peeking below the rusty bin to see where the sound came from. You find a tiny kitten hiding under there, staring at you with its perfectly round eyes. "Aw, hello there, little guy!" You coo, reaching a hand under the bin to coax the cat out.

"Mew." It says, inching towards you cautiously.

"That's right, it's okay. C'mere sweetie. You're safe." You continue to draw it out, wiggling your fingers playfully to maintain its attention.

"Mew." It speaks again, eventually coming close enough for you to scoop it out from there and into your arms.

"Hi there, it's okay. I'm gonna take care of you. You poor thing, how'd you end up out here?" You take a moment to have a good look at the little thing. It's all black, with piercing gray eyes, and so soft and fluffy despite being rather dirty. It's very cute, purring incessantly as you stroke its head. It's been years since you've owned a cat. Your previous one, Mews, died a few years ago. Your whole household was very sad when he had to be put down, he'd gotten attacked by a stray dog after escaping from the house one day. Mom couldn't bear to replace him, but maybe she'll let you keep this sweet little stranger you've found.

"You alright out here, sweetheart?" Eddie says from behind you, the heavy door shutting loudly after he steps outside. You turn around, and his eyes widen when he sees the cat cradled in your arms.

"I found this puffball under the dumpster. It's so precious, and it seems to like me." You say, absolutely smitten.

"Oh my god! Aren't you just adorable! Hey there, little kitty. Did Y/N save you from the garbage? You poor baby. It's okay, we'll take good care of you." Your mouth falls open at Eddie losing his mind over the kitten, you've never heard him baby-talk anyone or anything before. He has his face level with the cat, smiling wide as can be. His eyes catch yours for a moment, and he realizes how ridiculous he's acting. He stands up straight, clearing his throat. "Yeah...it's uh, pretty cute. I guess." He shrugs, playing it cool. But all you have in reply is uncontrollable laughter. He scowls at you, crossing his arms to demonstrate how unamused he is.

"Eddie, I'm sorry. I've just never seen you do that before! But it's really sweet." You reassure, giving him a kind glance. "You wanna hold it?" You offer, extending the feline towards him in your hands.

"You're damn right I wanna hold it! This is fuckin' awesome!" He exclaims, wiggling his fingers as he waits for you to give him the cat. You pass it over, and watch as Eddie carefully cradles it in his arms. "Aw, it's so soft. And all black, too? I've always wanted a cat, ever since I was a kid. Wayne's allergic, so he wanted a dog. But those kinda scare me, I got bit once and never trusted one since." He says solemnly, assuming there's no way either of you can keep this new friend.

"We can let it live at my place, if you want. I used to have a cat before, so I know all the ins and outs. And you can visit whenever you want." You explain, and he nods in agreement.

"You sure your mom won't mind, princess?" He asks, his eyes refusing to leave the bundle of joy currently vibrating in his gentle hold. He strokes its head and ears, making its eyes close blissfully.

"No, as long as I take care of it." You reply, and he finally looks in your direction again.

"What should we name it?" He asks, lifting it up to see if it's a boy or girl. "I dunno what it is, though." He says, goofily checking all angles to figure it out.

"A vet could tell us, we'll have to get it looked at before taking it home anyway." You reply, giggling at the puzzled expression on his face.

"Oh, okay. We'd better hurry, Dustin's party starts in a couple hours." He lowers the cat once more, keeping it nice and safe. You make a move to take it back, but Eddie turns away. "Nuh-uh! You can hold it in the van!" He protests like a child who doesn't want to share his new toy.

"But I'm the one who found it!" You huff, rolling your eyes. It's not fair, Eddie's hogging all the cuteness to himself.

"Don't care. My cat now." He says simply, walking back inside without holding the door for you. You scoff, following behind to gather your things from your shared locker.

"What is that...thing doing in my lobby?" Mr. Biggs bellows when he sees you leaving the break room. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he's practically glaring at the tiny kitten.

"We found it under the dumpster, but we were just leaving." You explain, your words coming out far more shaky than you'd like.

"Alright then, hop to! And get that pest out of my theater!" Biggs shouts, making you jump. You nod silently, pulling Eddie by the arm to get away from this awful man.

"I'm sorry, little fluffypants. Mr. Biggs is a mean, mean man. But we won't let him hurt you, will we? No we won't!" Eddie says to the kitten in the infantile voice again, which makes you smile. He's always been a gentle soul, but this is a whole other level. You walk together across the street, and Eddie puts the cat in your lap once you slide into your seat. "Here ya go, 'lil cutie. Y/N will keep you safe." He gives it a final pat, running around to the driver's side.

The vet visit is brief, no more than an hour. You find out she's a girl, about two months old. She's free of fleas and worms, perfectly healthy besides needing a warm bath. You'll have to return in a few months to get her spayed and vaccinated, but the vet says you're free to go. You pay the bill, and make a quick stop at the Big Buy to get some food, litter, a few toys, and a collar for your new pet. You wanted to get a pink collar, but Eddie insisted on gray to match her eyes. "So, what should we call her?" You ask as you approach the checkout with your supplies. Unnamed Girl Cat sits in the child's seat of your cart, sleeping soundly on your theater vest.

"Hmm, it should be something cool. A name no other cat has." Eddie says, racking his brain while peering at the kitten.

"Definitely, something original. Like Madonna." You add. Eddie scoffs at that, hoping you're not serious. You roll your eyes, explaining yourself. "Not exactly like that. It's just an example, jeez."

"Good, because I'm not gonna name our cat after a popstar." He chuckles. "What about....Ozzy?" He suggests.

"If we can't name her after a popstar, we can't name her after anyone from a rock band, either." You retort.

"Ugh, fine. Would be pretty kickass, though." He grumbles, crossing his arms. He thinks about it some more as you put your items on the conveyor belt to be rung up. Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in his head. "Oh, I know!" He exclaims, making the cashier glare in your direction. "What about Arwen?"

"Like Lord of the Rings?" You question, remembering hearing that name quite often when Eddie read the books to you. You recall the character being described as a beautiful elven woman, with pointed ears, dark hair, and gray eyes. Much like your four-legged friend, coincidentally. You glance at the kitten, saying the name in your head a couple times to see if it fits. You smile affectionately as it rings through your brain, deeming it the perfect title for her. You look at Eddie, giving an approving nod. "Arwen it is. It suits her."

"Yes!" He jumps and punches the air, ecstatic that you've agreed to go along with the rather nerdy name.

"Shh, you'll wake her up being so loud like that." You say in a hushed tone, nudging your head at Arwen slumbering on your clothes.

"Shit, sorry. I'm glad you like the name, though. This is the perfect three-month anniversary present, by the way. We have a cat...together." Eddie gushes, speaking lowly in your ear.

"Well, I certainly didn't plan on it. But she's ours now. Our own little furball. We're almost like parents now." You giggle at his breath tickling against your skin, letting him leave your side to pay for your supplies. You load the bags back into the cart, trying your best to not disturb Arwen's nap.

Eddie chuckles. "I suppose we are. Arwen couldn't have picked a better woman to be her 'cat mom'." He says sweetly, taking his change and shoving it in his pocket.

"And you're gonna be a great 'cat dad'." You reply, taking his hand as you push the cart through the automatic doors. His thumb runs over your fingers, a simple affectionate gesture. "I just hope Dustin won't get jealous."

"Nah, he'll be excited enough to be Arwen's uncle." He smiles.

"I feel a bit bad, though. She might distract everyone from what we're supposed to be focused on. Dusty already postponed his party for us, how's it gonna look when we show up with a damn kitten?" You feel rather torn on the subject. On the one hand, it wouldn't be right to leave Arwen out on her own. But on the other hand, the timing isn't exactly convenient.

"Baby, relax. It'll be fine. We'll go to your house, get her settled. And then we'll celebrate your brother with cake and presents. And after all that, we'll finally have some time for ourselves." He reassures you, closing the back doors to the van once your purchases are safely inside. You scoop Arwen out of the cart so Eddie can return it, which unfortunately rouses her out of her peaceful sleep.

"Mew." Arwen whines in protest.

"I'm sorry, little one. We're gonna take you home now." You speak sweetly to her, scratching behind her ears. She starts purring again, which makes your heart melt. Eddie returns to your side, helping you get into the van. Arwen quickly falls asleep in your lap, lulled by the smoothness of the road beneath the van's tires. You pull into the driveway, finding a few more cars and some bicycles out front. It appears you're running a little tardy to the party. You've lost track of time taking care of the cat. "Shit, we're late. Mom's gonna kill me." You groan, dreading walking through that door.

"Y/N, relax. It's just a birthday party, which Dustin's a bit old for, if I'm honest." He chuckles, reaching over to stroke your knee. He leans across the console to give you a comforting kiss. "C'mon, let's go inside. You take Arwen, and I'll bring in her stuff and the gifts. 'Kay?" He offers, doing his best to put you at ease.

"Okay." You nod, hopping out with the kitten. You wait to walk in with Eddie once he retrieves everything from the back, leading the way to the front door. You go inside, finding a rather crowded living room. "Hey everybody, sorry we're late. We found a certain somebody under the dumpster at work." You announce, letting everyone take a moment to notice the ball of fluff sitting in your arms.

"Aw, it's so cute!" Max says, walking over to see the cat up close. She looks to you, asking permission to pet Arwen. You nod your head with a smile, and she reaches a hand forward to stroke the kitten.

Everyone else gets up from their seats, coming over to have their turn admiring the cat. "Alright, don't crowd her. She's a little skittish." You say calmly, letting each guest have a chance to say a brief hello.

"What the hell is that?" Mom asks as she walks in from the kitchen. Her eyes widen when they fall on Arwen, before flicking to you in accusation.

"This is Arwen. She's our new cat. I found her at work." You explain, swallowing hard. You were worried she'd react like this. Mews' passing was the hardest on her, he was her best friend after Dad left.

"Oh, I don't know, Y/N. Do you really have time for a cat? You've got work, and Eddie. I'm not going to take care of her for you." She says sternly, crossing her frosting-splattered arms.

"I wouldn't ask you to, Mom. Me and Eddie are going to look after her together. She's our cat. We'll make it work." You reply, rolling your eyes at her being so averse to Arwen's presence.

"Wait, Arwen? Like Lord of the Rings?" Dustin asks.

"Yep! She's got dark hair and gray eyes, just like the character in the books." You chirp.

"And how do you know that?" He questions, quirking and eyebrow.

"Because Eddie read them to me. You're not the only nerd in this family, you know." You retort, your eyes rolling in their sockets beyond control once more.

"Jesus, Eddie's really done a number on you." He laughs, and the others join in. You can't stop the blush that colors your cheeks. You do find it a little frustrating, however, that your brother thinks these interests hinge on Eddie being in your life. As if you have no individual thought, molding yourself into an extension of your boyfriend.

"Whatever, I've gotta give Arwen a bath. She's covered in garbage juice." You huff, leaving the room abruptly to tend to your pet.

"Ew!" Everyone squeals, rushing to get to the kitchen to wash their hands. Eddie follows you down the hall, noticing your upset.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" He asks, setting the bags down on your bed. He digs out the pet shampoo, bringing it into the bathroom where you've got the water running.

"No. But I'm not gonna make a big deal out of it. It's his damn birthday, it's not about me." You say flatly, checking to make sure the water isn't too hot. Arwen sits patiently on the fuzzy bath mat, looking at you with her ashen eyes. She's calm now, but you're sure she'll object to being put into the shallow bath once it's ready.

"I know, princess. But you can still tell me, while we're away from everyone else. What's bothering you?" He continues, sitting cross-legged with you on the bathroom floor. He sets the shampoo bottle on the edge of the tub, putting his hand on your back to rub back and forth.

"I just find it annoying, what Dustin said. Like I'm only interested in D&D and the books you've shown me because I'm with you." You say grouchily, resenting the idea. "I've always liked plenty of geeky shit on my own. Star Wars, Labyrinth, things like that. And I asked for science kits and mythology books as opposed to Barbies and makeup at birthdays or Christmas." You continue to rant, with Eddie listening intently. "Not to mention, I'm an even bigger bookworm than he is, and that's saying something." You sigh, shaking your head as it falls to look at your feet. "I dunno, maybe I'm being overly sensitive. But as much as I'm borderline obsessed with you, I'm still my own person." You shut the water off once it's deep enough and the right temperature. You lift up Arwen, setting her carefully into the water.

"I don't think you're being sensitive, love. Look, I don't think Dustin necessarily meant it that way, but he could've been better about it." He watches as you carefully wet Arwen's fur, continuing to talk while you clean her up. "As a lifelong nerd myself, I've seen many geeky girls get treated differently than the guys. I've always found it a bit silly, but it happens." You open the shampoo, squeezing a small amount into your hands to lather it. You bring it to the cat's fur, massaging it in throughly. "But I want you to know that I see you as a major nerd, regardless if we're together or not. I know you're not my 'clone' or anything. I probably wouldn't go out with you if you were. I'm not that vain." He jokes, making you giggle.

"Thank you, Eds. I'm glad you understand." You allow the smile from your laugh to remain on your face, relaxing as you finally get to rinse Arwen's coat. "She's very good in the bath, which is odd for a cat. Mews used to scratch the shit out of me to get out of the water." You observe, giving the kitten a sideways glance.

"It's because you're her mother now, sweetheart. She picked you, so she trusts you." He speaks in your ear, his breath fanning hotly over your skin.

"Is it weird that I find it really hot when you say that?" You ask, biting your lip.

"Not at all, babydoll. You're such a responsible young woman, more than capable of caring for a cute little creature like this." He says, leaning into your well-documented attraction to praise. He's not even saying anything particularly dirty, and yet you find yourself getting warm under the collar. You suppose it's due to the constant self-doubt you hold inside your head. To have Eddie quell your anxieties in this way is oddly erotic.

"Mmm, keep going." You sigh blissfully, reaching for the towel you set aside for Arwen. You lift her as carefully as you can, bundling her up like a burrito to dry off. Eddie scoots to sit behind you, spreading his legs apart. You lean against him, holding the cat in your arms.

"You're so smart, and independent, and mature." He continues, planting blazing kisses on your neck as he speaks. "You're your own person, angel. You can do anything you set your mind to." He nips your sweet spot with his teeth, drawing a light moan from you. "Damn, you're really into compliments, aren't you?" He smirks against your skin, loving every second of this.

"Only from you, Eds. They're so sincere when they come out of your mouth." You exhale, remembering what you're meant to be doing as opposed to this. "We should finish getting Arwen settled, we're neglecting the party." You can't help coming off a bit whiny as you speak. But you made a commitment to be here for your brother, and you plan to stick to it. He only turns eighteen once.

"I suppose you're right, sweetheart. We'll pick this up later." He agrees, helping you stand up while holding Arwen.

"We better. I'm gonna be thinking about it all night." You say lustfully, handing Eddie the kitten for the time being. He follows you to your room, eyes widened at the thought of you craving him for hours on end. Just waiting for the right moment to take what you want. You both take off your matching vests, bow ties, and shoes, leaving the rest of your uniform on for the time being.

You set up Arwen's litter box, setting her inside to see if she'll use it. She stands awkwardly on her tiny paws, looking to you for guidance. You figure it'll take a few tries to get her to understand what the box is for, but you let her get acquainted with it in the meantime. You open the cat food, pouring it into one of the bowls you bought for her. You ask Eddie to fill the other with some water from the sink, setting it on the floor beside the food. Everything else you bought can wait for the time being, and you sit on the floor for a few minutes with Arwen still standing in the litter box. "How long do you think it'll take?" Eddie asks, his eyes watching the kitten curiously.

"I dunno, I'd like her to try to go before we get back to the party. It's not exactly pleasant to have a cat piss on you, no matter how cute she is." You reply, looking for any change in expression or stance from Arwen.

"We could keep her on a towel if it's taking too long. It's also a little weird to wait for a cat to poop." Eddie chuckles, his shoulder brushing yours as he leans on his hand.

"I agree. Towel it is. Worst case scenario, we throw it in the wash." You nod, taking Arwen out of the box while Eddie retrieves a dry towel. You walk back down the hall to rejoin the party, taking one of the spare chairs. Eddie sits first, with you on top of him with the cat in your lap.

"You guys didn't wanna change clothes?" Steve asks, scrunching his nose at how uncomfortable your uniforms look.

"Nah, they probably won't stay in them very long after the party anyway." Robin quips, making everyone laugh.

"Ugh, please don't talk about my sister like that!" Dustin shouts, covering his ears.

"Alright, alright. That's enough now, it's time for presents." Mom says, shutting everybody up. Dustin sits in a chair placed across from everyone else in the room. Mom holds the camera ready, waiting for someone to give Dusty his first gift. "Who wants to go first?" Mom asks, glancing around the room.

"How about I start with the package from Will and Jane?" Dustin suggests, getting up to grab it from the kitchen counter. It's been sitting there for the entire week, calling his name to open it. But since he begged Mom to let him postpone the party, she said he'd have to wait.

"That's a great idea! I know it's been hard to be patient with that one." Mom replies, waiting for him to reveal what's inside the box. He cuts it open with a small knife from the kitchen, and pulls out the packing paper. He reveals a lemon-yellow Surfer Boy Pizza t-shirt, presumably from Jane. And the other item in the box is a folded up piece of canvas. He carefully unfolds it, his eyes widening as he finds a highly-detailed portrait of him and all his friends in a huddle. From you, to Eddie, to Hopper, even the twins, the gang's all there in perfect likeness.

"Wow, this is amazing." Dustin says, a single tear falling down his cheek. He turns the canvas around to show everyone, and you all gasp in turn at how gorgeous the painting is. Will has always been an incredibly skilled artist, which he plans to turn into a career illustrating for comic books.

"Damn, everybody's in it! I wish Will was here so we could tell him how awesome it is." Steve says, smirking at his signature coif of hair captured in an uncanny swoosh in the picture.

"I'll make sure to call him later." Dustin replies, suddenly missing his friend very much. He sees something else in the box, a blue envelope. He tears it open, and he reads the card inside aloud. "Happy 18th birthday, kiddo. Sending love and hugs from California. We wish we could be there to celebrate with you and the gang. But we're there in spirit, today, and every day. Hope to see you soon, love Joyce, Hop, Jane, Jonathan, and Will. P.S. Here's some cash to soften the blow of our absence, don't go blowing it all on nougat!" His breath shudders on the last couple words, and you can feel everyone's hearts swell in an overpowering, bittersweet fashion. "Fuck, maybe I should've saved this one for last." Dustin jokes, wiping his eyes.

"No shit! That's gonna be tough to follow." Mike quips, drawing light-hearted chuckles from everyone in the room.

"Okay, hold up the painting, Dusty. And then we'll move on." Mom says, sniffling a little herself. She clicks the camera, and the photo spits out a moment later. "We'll have to get a nice frame for that. Okay, who's next?"

"I'll go." Steve says, handing Dustin a raggedy bundle of red wrapping paper and scotch tape.

"It's from both of us." Robin chimes in, a bit embarrassed at her lack of gift-wrapping skills. Dustin tears open the paper, and finds a Family Video vest underneath. There's even a tag with his own name on it clipped to the breast. "We know you've been begging us for a job, so we thought you could work with us over the summer." She explains, smiling wide.

"Hell yeah! I can't wait!" Dustin exclaims, holding up the green uniform for Mom to snap another photo. The next gifts go as follows. He receives a hardcover compilation of all the Watchmen comics from Lucas and Erica, an Oingo Boingo cassette tape from Mike, a Walkman from Max, and a case of 3 Musketeers bars from Ian and James. Dustin thanks every single one of them for the presents, and Mom takes a photo of each item.

Next up is Nancy, who bestows him with a Caltech sweatshirt. She had Jonathan send it over all the way from California, as it is the prestigious school Dustin has chosen to attend in the fall. "I know you'll fit right in the second you walk through the door, but I figure this should help, too." She says sweetly.

"I'll wear it as much as I can, Nance. Thanks." Dustin smiles, and it's now Eddie's turn. He hands Dustin a large gift bag, which houses a black leather jacket that matches his own. "Oh, wow! This is so bitchin', Eddie!" He cheers, standing up to give him a high five.

"You know it, man. And just a heads up...total chick magnet. You wear that, and you'll be beating them off with a stick." Eddie says cooly, and Dustin nods in understanding.

"I don't recall you exactly drowning in girls, Eddie. Hell, you're lucky to have Y/N sitting in your lap right now." Steve interjects, slightly offended at not being the one giving dating advice.

"Maybe not, but Dustin is also a lot more...approachable than I am. If he has the badass look to go with it, he'll be unstoppable." Eddie retorts, narrowing his eyes at Steve.

"Okay, I don't think I need to hear anymore of you two trying to corrupt me sweet baby boy. Y/N, it's your turn." Mom cuts in, gesturing for you to keep things moving.

"Mom!" Dustin whines, embarrassed at your mother calling him such childish things. She just shoos her hand at him, and you carefully pass Arwen over to Eddie to present your gift. You gingerly remove the item you purchased from the greenhouse box you've kept it in, bringing it over so your brother can see. "Oh, wow! A Venus flytrap! I've always wanted one of these!" Dustin cheers, smiling ear to ear as you give him the carnivorous plant.

"Now, be careful with it. There's instructions in the box on how to water and feed it properly. But I know you've begged Mom over and over for one. And now you don't have to." You explain, returning to Eddie's lap after taking Arwen in your arms once more.

"I just think they're creepy, that's all." Mom says, but she can't necessarily argue against you gifting him one. "Okay, my turn!" Mom claps her hands in excitement, picking up the box beside her. She lays it in Dustin's lap, taking her seat a second later.

Dustin opens up the box, finding a brand new Nintendo Gameboy inside. It comes with Super Mario Land, Baseball, Tennis, and Alleyway. "Whoa, a Gameboy! That's frickin' sweet!" Lucas says, totally jealous of his friend's new present.

"How'd you get one? They've barely been out and most stores sold out almost immediately!" Dustin asks, looking at Mom with amazement.

"Angie happens to have some connections, people she met after moving in with your father. She managed to snag one just for you, so I suppose this also counts as her gift." Mom explains, taking one last photo before everyone makes their way to the snack table.

You're about to stand up, when you notice a small brown pile on Arwen's towel. "Oh, well, looks like she finally went to the bathroom. I'm gonna grab a fresh towel." You say to Eddie who's still sitting beneath you.

"No problem, princess. I'll tell them to wait before lighting the candles." Eddie says, getting up after you. He heads for the dining room, while you go down the hall to freshen up Arwen's make-shift restroom. You return shortly, standing beside Eddie as Mom begins to ignite the candles on Dustin's cake. Eddie wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close. His free hand briefly strokes Arwen's head, drawing a small, happy meow from her.

"Alright, here we go, Dusty." Mom says, before leading you all in the traditional birthday song.

"...Happy Birthday to you!" You all cheer as the song ends, watching Dustin blow out the candles to make a wish. Everyone claps, and the candles are removed so the cake can be sliced up.

"Can I hold Arwen for a little bit, Y/N?" Dustin asks, pleading with his eyes.

"Sure! Just keep her bottom covered with the towel, she's not box-trained yet." You instruct, before allowing your brother to hold her.

"No problem." Dustin replies, giving Arwen's head the gentlest of pats.

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?" Mom asks, nudging her head for you two to talk in the kitchen. You nod, leaving the party behind to see what she wants.

"What's up, Mom?" You ask, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed. Your eyes flick to Eddie's across the room, and he silently checks with you to make sure you're okay. You nod, and he moves on to talk to Steve and the others.

"What the hell were you thinking bringing that kitten here?" She asks, trying her best to hide her annoyance.

"I found her out in the alley all by herself, Mom. And we would've had her live at Eddie's, but his uncle Wayne is allergic. But like I already said, we..." You point your finger at yourself and in Eddie's direction. "...will take care of her. What's the big deal?" You ask, not even attempting to control your attitude.

"The big deal is that this is still my house, Y/N. You could've at least run this by me first, but you didn't. You just stroll in here with a filthy cat, drawing the attention away from Dustin on his birthday..." She rebuttals, her voice raising slightly.

"I didn't plan on this happening. I would never want to steal his spotlight, Mom. And he seems to really like Arwen, so can you lay off a little bit?" You reply, matching her volume. You notice a couple pairs of eyes flicking in your direction, you really don't want to turn this into a fight. But Mom seems to have other ideas.

"No, I can't! You can't just make decisions like this without asking me!" She gets a little louder, drawing a small crowd. Perfect, a dreaded mother-daughter showdown on Dustin's special day.

"I don't need your permission for every choice I make! I'm twenty-one, for crying out loud! I'm not a little kid anymore! I said I'd take care of her, and that you don't have to do anything! You're being totally unreasonable!" You shout back, killing any and all outside conversation. Everyone is looking at you now, watching silently as your faces scrunch in anger.

"I don't appreciate you talking to me like this, Y/N! I'm your mother, and it wouldn't kill you to check in with me once in a while! But you're so concerned with work, and Eddie, and now this damn cat! I barely see you around anymore, and you have the nerve to say I'm being unreasonable?!" Claudia yells.

"Forgive me for wanting to have a life of my own, Mom! I've barely dated or had any friends my entire life, always staying home and studying! I'd think you'd want me to get out of the house! Eddie makes me happy, my job makes me happy, and Arwen is a part of that now. You used to be so supportive of me, and now you're getting on my case about everything!" You're almost screaming by the end, heart pounding and chest heaving as you feel your skin turn red. Your stare breaks hers, trailing around the room to find the gobsmacked faces of every party guest looking at you. No one says a word, and you're absolutely mortified for making a scene. This is the last thing you wanted to do, and yet you've managed to do it anyway. You stand in awkward silence, before deciding to flee to your room. You walk briskly down the hall, hoping nobody is following you. You shrink into your room, slamming the door shut and clicking the lock.

You slide down the wooden wall you've put up to keep everyone out, sitting with your knees tented in front of you. You pound your fists into the carpet, needing a way to release your frustrations. The shag below stings your flesh as your balled hands collide with it over and over. You let out small, stunted grunts through clenched teeth in an attempt to keep the noise down, allowing a few tears to fall hotly down your cheeks. If it wouldn't make this situation worse, you'd bang your head backwards against the door.

You can't think, or speak, all you can do is be angry. Angry at your mother for berating you like a child, for doubting your capabilities as a person, in front of everyone. "Y/N." You hear a muffled voice speak from outside your window, and you look up from your fit to find Eddie standing outside. Arwen's nestled calmly in his arms, her teeny tiny face showing an absurd amount of concern for you.

You sigh, getting up from the floor to open the window. You slide the pane along its track, sniffing harshly. "What?" You say flatly, not particularly in the mood for company.

"Can we come in, sweetheart? I noticed you locked the door." Eddie asks cautiously, as he can see you’re boiling mad inside, threatening to blow your top at any moment.

"Why? You gonna yell at me, too?" You ask, unable to control yourself. You know he only wants to help, but something inside you wants to spit venom at anyone and anything that comes across your path.

"No, princess. I just want to be here for you, like always. And Arwen misses you." He replies, lifting her slightly to emphasize his point.

"Ugh, fine. But I don't wanna talk. I don't wanna do anything." You step aside, taking the cat so Eddie can climb into your room.

"That's okay, baby. I just didn't want you stewing all alone." He speaks gently.

"I don't need a babysitter, Eds." You snap, sitting on your bed with your back turned to him.

"I know you don't. I didn't mean it like that. But I can go if you want...wait with the others until you've calmed down." You can hear Eddie gaining some frustration of his own, and you don't blame him. You're not being very nice, quite the contrary. He's the one person you should never treat this way. You know that. But you feel like shutting everyone out, you can't handle being around people right now.

"Please do." You regret the words the second they leave your lips, deep down you want him to stay. As awful as you're being right now, you want him to talk you down, to make you okay again. 

His breath catches slightly, you've never told him to go away before. His heart aches at hearing you say that, but he nods. He supposes you don't need him to fix all your problems, or to hold your hand through every little thing. But he wants to, so badly. And to have you deny him, it definitely hurts. "Okay. We'll be waiting for you, Y/N. I love you." He says glumly, heading back to the window to climb out again.

"I love you too." You reply, not wanting him to leave without hearing you say it back. You listen to the window shut once more, leaving you and Arwen all alone in your room. She stares at you, her pupils following the tears falling freely from your eyes. "I know, kitty. I've made an ass out of myself, huh?" You say to her, letting out a weak chuckle at the thought of talking to your cat.

"Mew." She replies, but you have no idea what it means. You don't speak feline, unfortunately.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. What am I gonna do, Arwen? I yelled at Mom again, and I made Eddie go away. I feel like I'm back at square one. The same girl who locks herself away from anyone that wants to help her." You sigh, bringing your hand up to pet the kitten's head.

"Mew." She says again, no change in tone or inflection whatsoever. A low purr comes from her at your soft touches, and she tilts her head to allow you better access to her left ear.

"Well, you're certainly making me feel better with how cute you're acting right now." You giggle, allowing a chunk of the wall you built up be chipped away by the magic of an animal bonding with their human.

"Mew." Arwen meows again, still as one-note and shrill as every meow before it.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to go back out there sometime. Hopefully I haven't killed the mood too much. It's also meant to be mine and Eddie's anniversary today, you know." You continue conversing with the petite kitten before you, but you don't imagine she's listening all that well. Her eyes are held shut as she enjoys the scratching of your fingertips along her cheeks and neck.

"Mew." She replies, rolling onto her back to expose her tummy. Her paws stand straight up into the air, and she looks at you expectantly to grant her request.

"Alright, you spoiled little thing. I'll rub your belly, and then we go back to the party, okay?" You offer, taking a page from Eddie's book to speak childishly to Arwen.

"Mew!" She says enthusiastically, louder than before. You giggle again, bringing your fingers to the soft flesh of her stomach. You give her some tickles, which she reacts to in the most adorable way. Her paws come down to encapsulate your hand, the claws digging in slightly. You don't mind, she's just being playful. You continue like this for a while, letting the stress of the day gradually evaporate.

"Okay, Arwen. We've had enough alone time, I think. I've got some apologizing to do." You state, rolling the cat onto her stomach once again before heading for the door.

"Y/N!" Everyone cheers from their seats as you re-enter the room. You allow a small smile to creep across your face. You're surprised they've missed your presence, and that they aren't totally pissed at you. You notice your mother is missing from the group, wondering where she went off to.

"Where's Mom?" You ask, the smile fading slightly at the thought of how you spoke to her earlier. Sure, she started it. But you certainly took it upon yourself to end it poorly.

"She, uh...decided to go to the Hideaway for a bit after you stormed off." Dustin explains uneasily. "Don't sweat it, though. She needs to cool off, she'll come around." He says, a bit more cheery now.

"You want some cake, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, bringing a paper plate with a large slice of Dustin's chocolate cake to you along with a plastic fork.

"Yes, please. Some empty calories would be great right now. And I'm sorry for being so awful earlier, you were just trying to help." You say apologetically, leaning into him to plant a warm kiss to his lips. He happily meets you halfway, earning 'OOH's and grotesque noises from the others.

"It's alright, love. I know you didn't mean anything by it." He grins, moving closer to speak in your ear. "We're still on for later, right, princess?" He smolders, making your cheeks heat up.

"Always, Eds." You reply, eyes meeting his with burning intensity.

"That's what I like to hear. Eat up, darling. You're gonna need all the energy you can get." Eddie instructs, exchanging the cat for the cake. You take the flimsy plate in your hands, and promptly dig a large bite out of the slice. You bring the fork-full of fluffy cake and thick frosting to your lips, opening nice and wide as he watches you put it in your mouth. His smile grows wider, and he doesn't have to utter another syllable. You know exactly what he's thinking, two simple words meant just for you: good girl.

"Ugh, can you guys stop flirting for five minutes? We're trying to have a party here." Erica expresses her disgust.

"Sure thing, Lady Applejack. My apologies." Eddie replies, bowing dramatically. You giggle at his antics, following him over to the couch to finish your cake.

"You sure you're alright, Y/N? Things got pretty nasty earlier." Robin inquires. She unsuccessfully attempts to lick some icing from her upper lip, her eyes crossing as she tries to find its exact location.

"Yeah, I'm alright. And I'm sorry for making a scene. It was really embarrassing." You sigh, keeping your eyes on your plate as you wait for forgiveness.

"It's fine, Y/N. Everyone fights with their parents sometimes, no biggie." Steve assures you, walking over to clap a hand on your shoulder. You meet his eyes, finding kind understanding there. The others nod and verbalize their agreement. You let the tension slip away, allowing yourself to sit closer to Eddie and fully relax.

"Okay. I'll try not to overthink it." You reply, shoving another large bite of chocolate overload into your mouth.

"You? Overthinking things? No way!" Dustin quips sarcastically. You all share a hearty laugh at this. It's a well-known fact within the group at this point that your brain works overtime in every aspect of your life.

The remainder of the party goes smoothly. You play a few rounds of charades, and Dustin sets up his Gameboy. Lucas, Max, Erica, and the twins watch over his shoulders as he tests out the games. You talk casually about work and life in general with the other adults, which you find a little mind-boggling. A couple of years ago, you were a bunch of crazy kids worrying about prom, and graduation and college applications. And now here you are, talking about video rentals and annoying customers. The majority of you still live at home, however, which just adds to the awkward confusion of this transitional time in your life. 

"So, it's your anniversary today, right?" Nancy asks.

"Yeah, three whole months with this nutcase." You joke, giving Eddie a quick peck on the cheek. He shoots you an offended look, but you just roll your eyes. "You know I wouldn't have it any other way, Eds." You giggle, and his smiles too.

"It's alright, princess. I'll get you back for that later." He replies, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"So you're halfway there, then?" Robin asks, not fully realizing that she's potentially spilled the beans. Your eyes widen, and the others fall silent.

"Halfway to what?" Eddie questions, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing!" You exclaim, trying to save your ass. You don't want to spoil the surprise, but it might make Eddie suspicious that you're up to something bad.

"Okay, I can see there's something I'm not supposed to know yet. It's a good mystery, though, right?" He looks at you to cast his fears aside. He has no idea what Robin is referring to, but he's had an inkling that you've been planning something for him.

"Yes! I swear that it is, but I don't wanna say just yet. I'm not so sure it'll happen now." Your tone falls sullen, remembering how angry Mom became earlier. If she really thinks so little of you and your choices, especially regarding Eddie, she might just snatch her promise away in the blink of an eye.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Y/N. Don't worry about it." Robin insists. "And sorry for my...loose lips." She bows her head like a scolded dog, feeling guilty for almost ruining your plans.

"It's alright. I'll just have to deal with three months of Eddie trying to guess what it is now." You laugh, picturing him writing down a laundry list of ideas, begging and pleading with you to tell him 'yes' of 'no' to every single one.

"And I won't rest until I figure it out! It must be pretty good if you're trying so hard to keep it from me." Eddie replies, nudging your shoulder with his own. The motion startles Arwen out of her third or fourth nap of the day.

"Mew!" She shouts, growling lowly at being woken up.

"Aw, I'm sorry little baby. I didn't mean to wake you. Will some belly rubs make it all better?" Eddie coos at the kitten in his silly voice. The cat rolls over, accepting his apology. The others' jaws drop at seeing him talk this way. Even Dustin and his friends stop paying attention to the Gameboy to confirm that the founder of the Hellfire Club was, in fact, speaking childishly to a small animal. They've never seen Eddie be so soft before, except when it comes to you. He notices their staring, clearing his throat. "Um..." He tries to come up with a cover, but nothing springs to mind. "Shut up." He says, not wanting to deal with being ridiculed for this.

"Who the hell are you, and what have you done with Eddie?" Mike asks, utterly stunned at what he's witnessed.

"Don't listen to him, baby. It's so sweet that you love Arwen as much as I do. She likes it when you talk like that, it's cute." You try your best to comfort Eddie as his cheeks burn bright red.

"More like nauseating." Lucas says, scrunching his face.

"Lay off, guys. You're just too immature to understand." You warn, glaring at the kiddos to intimidate them into behaving. They stick out their tongues in response, effectively putting an end to this conversation.

"Alright, well I think we're just about done here. Robin, Nance and I will take the kids home. Thanks for having us over, we should do it again sometime." Steve says, attempting to corral the younger party guests towards the door. They whine and groan in protest, but he hears none of it. They don't call Harrington 'The Babysitter' for nothing.

"Bye guys, see you 'round. Thanks for coming." You reply, watching as they march out the door to load into their various vehicles. Dustin follows them to give more thorough good-bye's, closing the door once he's finished.

"Thanks for hanging out tonight, guys. It means a lot." Dustin says, walking over to you. He bends down slightly to pet Arwen for a moment. She purrs at his touch, her eyes closing in contentment. "She really is adorable, I'm glad you guys found her. I know you'll be amazing parents for Arwen." He says sweetly, making your heart swell.

"It was a lot of fun, Dusty. Well, besides the fight earlier. And yeah, we're glad we found her, too." You reply with a blissful smile.

"Well, I'm gonna go to my room and enjoy my gifts. Goodnight, guys." He says, standing upright once more.

"'Night, Dustin. Happy birthday." You say softly.

"'Night. Happy birthday, buddy." Eddie replies. Dustin leaves the room clutching his gifts, and it's just the three of you now. "Looks like we're on our own now. You wanna put Arwen in her cat bed and go outside with me?" Eddie asks, noticing the kitten in his lap has fallen asleep yet again.

"What's outside?" You ask, unsure what Eddie's talking about.

"Your anniversary present. Well, it's actually in my pocket. But we'll have to go outside to use it." He shuffles around as carefully as he can, not wanting to wake the cat up again. He manages to pull a blunt out of his pocket to show it to you. "I figure we can finally try fucking while we're high. I know you've been wanting to, sweetheart." He says, using his dark tone to tempt you.

"Mm, yes please." You coo, leaning in to give him a hungry kiss. You pull away a moment later, resisting the urge to tear his clothes off right here and now. "C'mon. Let's put her in my room." You stand up, waiting for him to follow you. You can't hide your enthusiasm, you need him as soon as possible.

"As you wish, darling." He replies, eager to get your anniversary celebration into full swing.

Part 18.2: Dazed and Confused

"You feelin' it yet, sweetheart?" Eddie asks as you inhale the final drags of your anniversary present.

"I think so, only one way to find out, though." You say through a giggle, obviously staring at his lips. You've been sitting barefoot in your backyard for a while, smoking the joint Eddie showed you earlier as the sun begins to set. Mom still hasn't come back yet. You're not sure when she'll return, or what particular mood she might be in when she does. You don't really care at the moment, however, as you're about to kiss your handsome boyfriend while under the influence of marijuana.

"My thoughts exactly." Eddie chuckles, leaning over to press his lips to yours. Immediately, you can tell that the drug has begun to take effect. This kiss feels absolutely amazing, all warm and fuzzy. You both let out low moans at the sensation, opening your mouths to play around with your tongues. You instinctively lay down in the grass you've been sitting on, allowing him to hover over you. His hands drag slowly up and down your body, lighting fireworks beneath your skin through your clothes. You do the same, starting with tangling your fingers in his hair.

You scratch your nails around his scalp, and he breaks his mouth away from yours to kiss your neck. "Fuck, Eds. This is incredible." You sigh, in total awe of how powerful everything feels. Your hands leave his thick locks, running down his back until you reach his ass. You squeeze the firm rounds of it, causing him to groan as he bites harshly on your throat. "Everything feels so fucking good, baby. We should go to my room, I need to feel you. All of you." You hate how goddamn needy you sound, but you can't help it. Every rush of hot breath or graze of fingers over fabric is amplified immensely.

"You sure we can't just stay here? I don't wanna leave this spot." Eddie says in an attempt to convince you to stay put. If it weren't for potential nosey neighbors peeking from their windows, or grass stains ruining your uniform, you'd absolutely let him take you right here.

"We can't, Eds. We'll get all dirty, and someone might see. C'mon, I also have a twig poking into my ass." You tap his shoulders, waiting for him to get off of you. He whines petulantly in response. But he knows you're right, despite his drug-addled brain telling him to keep going. He backs off, inelegantly standing on his own two feet before assisting you. You make the ill-advised decision to forgo walking through the whole house, opting to make an attempt at climbing through your bedroom window instead. You slide the pane along its track, and almost fall flat on your face as you clumsily climb over the sill. "Oh, fuck!" You yelp, catching yourself just before your head smashes onto the carpet. You laugh at your silly display, and how wobbly your body is.

"Take it easy, sweetheart." Eddie chuckles, enjoying your ass on full view for him as you haven't gotten up yet. He climbs in after you, lifting you off the floor. You both slump onto the bed, him laying behind you as your legs hang sideways over the edge. "I hope we don't wake Arwen again, I don't want her to see what I'm gonna do to you." He says breathily, trying to contain his laughter at the bumbling nature of your movements.

You poke your head up to look over at the kitten's bed, finding that she hasn't stirred one bit through all your racket. "She's still asleep. Can you shut the window, Eds?" You ask, beginning to undo the buttons of your dress shirt.

"Sure thing, doll." He replies. He hops off the bed with a grunt and slides the glass over to close you off from the world. You lay down flat on the bed, scooting yourself backwards with kicking feet as your fingers pop each button through their holes. By the time Eddie returns to you, you've got your shirt open, the sides splayed loosely on the bed. A sexy, pink lace bra you bought for this very occasion is on full display, making his eyes blow wide with lust. "Damn, princess. You wear that just for me?" He asks in a cocky tone, knowing full well the answer to that is a big, fat 'yes'.

"Mhm." You nod, biting your lip. You beckon him over with your finger, and he takes this as his cue to crawl across the bed like a prowling animal. "I wanted to wrap myself up all pretty for you, Eds. Even though I know you'll take it all off pretty quickly."

"Don't get me wrong, angel, I love the way you look in lingerie. You're absolutely gorgeous. But I enjoy what's underneath so much more, because it's you. Just you, baby, that's all I need." He says as he crouches over you now, his thick tresses hanging down on the sides of his face.

"Oh, then I guess you won't be needing the other present I got for you." You reply with a cheeky grin.

He scoffs, giving you a curious glance. "Hey, I didn't say that. What'd you get me?" He bites his lip, eager to know what your brilliant mind cooked up this time.

"Well...I guess you can have it, since I put in so much work to make it happen." You say in faux-defeat, reaching up to undo Eddie's shirt buttons as you speak. "I convinced Mr. Biggs to let us have a private screening of Heavy Metal after hours next Saturday. Just me and you, all alone, watching a silly, sexy movie together. Sound like fun?" You quirk an eyebrow, pulling the final button through its sewn loop.

"Sounds perfect, sweetheart. I look forward to it." He smirks, bringing his lips to yours in a thankful kiss. Your eyes slip closed, and you push the fabric of his shirt to shuck it from his shoulders. He tosses it away, and it lands somewhere nondescript on the floor. "How'd you know about that movie anyways?" Eddie asks, bringing a hand up to cup your breast as he waits for your answer.

"Well, I didn't...at first. I know you like those magazines, and I was asking Robin and Steve if there was anything similar in film form. Now, there's no VHS of it, apparently. But Robin said she'd been to a couple random screenings of it in Indianapolis before." You explain, gasping at Eddie's hand massaging your tit. He nods, wanting you to continue. "Then, I asked Milo if there was a copy laying around at The Hawk. He said it's one of his personal favorites, so I was in luck. All I had to do after that was promise Mr. Biggs that we would clean any mess we make, and lock up afterwards. And voila! Perfect anniversary present." You grin in satisfaction, moving to discard your own shirt. You awkwardly shuffle your arms, pulling the sleeves down to throw the garment away.

"I can't believe you went to so much trouble, just for me. You're the best girlfriend ever, you know that?" Eddie asks, cupping your cheek once you lay back down.

"Oh, I know. But it's only because you're an amazing boyfriend, too." You giggle, rolling your bodies over so you're on top. You're straddling his lap, and you can feel his stiff cock straining through the layers of fabric between you. You grind yourself against him, letting out a breathy moan at the friction between your legs. You're already so wet, and you can barely think straight. Eddie's hands move to your ass, massaging the flesh roughly through your slacks. "Fuck, Eddie." You whine, your head falling forward as you continue to roll your hips. He leads you to go harder in his grip, drawing more noises from you. The weed is taking full effect now, and you feel as though you're moving through molasses.

"You're so beautiful, angel. A perfect, moaning mess for me." Eddie coos lazily, barely keeping it together himself. He doesn't like to get high without you now, not since that first time at your father's funeral. He used to do it almost every day, trying to numb the loneliness he felt so strongly until he found you. It's something you get to share now, something you can use to enhance your closeness and intimacy.

"All for you, Eds. We're still wearing waaaaay too many clothes, though. I need to touch every last inch of you, feel your gorgeous body with my hands...and my mouth." You're surprised you can manage to be so coherent as a thick fog surrounds your mind.

"Does that mean you're gonna kiss my ass?" Eddie jokes, making you both burst out laughing.

"Maybe!" You cackle, letting yourself fall over him. The two of you continue to giggle like children as your mouths find each other again. You hum into a clumsy kiss, the laughter soon forgotten as you melt into one another. Eddie unclasps your bra, tossing it aside.

"Fuckin' gorgeous." He praises as he takes hold of your beautiful tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers.

"Oh, Eddie. That feels so good." You moan, breaking your mouth away from his. You lower your lips to kiss and suck his neck. He groans at the contact, pinching your sensitive buds a bit harder in response. "Jesus, everything shouldn't feel this fucking good. I can see why weed isn't legal, nobody would get anything done." You observe with a light laugh, reaching to open your pants to discard them. You undo the button, and slide the zipper down. You struggle to get them all the way off, unsure how you actually figure it out a moment later. You're left in nothing but a tiny thong that matches the bra you had on before.

"Damn, sweetheart. I've seen you like this at least a hundred times, but I swear each time always feels like the first." He says in a husky tone, licking his lips at how delicious you look now that you're pretty much naked.

"You always know exactly what to say to make me feel special, baby. I love you." You reply, blushing wildly at his words. He's quite the charmer, but nothing he says ever feels like a line, unless it's a genuine joke. You wonder every day how this is actually happening, how Eddie is truly yours and treats you like a queen. It all feels like a dream sometimes, but you're so grateful that it's real.

"I love you too, princess. Wanna help me with the rest of my clothes?" He asks with a kind smile.

"Don't mind if I do." You giggle, fiddling with his belt to get it open. You flick open the button and zip, yanking the pants down his legs. You remove his boxers afterwards, his dick smacking against his stomach before standing at attention. You take off your thong as well, leaving no barriers between you. You follow what your delayed mind demands, straddling his thighs as you lean down to kiss him again. Eddie's tongue slips into your mouth shortly after your lips meet. You want to take your time, to enjoy every single second of this.

Eddie breaks the kiss when he thinks of something that could enhance your experience even further. "Should we put on some music, sweetheart?" He asks, stroking your sides with his large hands. The metal of his rings drags cooly against your bare skin.

"Sure thing, Eds." You reply, understanding why he's asking. Having steady sound in the background can lead you through every touch and kiss and as the weed tantalizes your senses. You reach over to your bedside table, flicking on the radio. It just so happens to be set to the rock station from the last time you and Eddie listened to it, and the opening notes of "Dazed and Confused" by Led Zeppelin begin to fill the room.

"Mmm, perfect timing." Eddie chuckles, before rolling you both over onto your side. His lips meet yours again, following the echoing strums of guitar to roll his tongue against yours. You moan into his mouth, arousal spreading rapidly between your legs. His hand drags along your silhouette at the same time, making the skin of your shoulder, elbow, waist, stomach buzz. As Robert Plant begins to sing, Eddie wanders between your bodies to feel your slick folds.

"Eddie." You whimper, a shock of pleasure jolting through your body. Your pussy is very sensitive, and wetter than ever before. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and onto the blanket. You lift your leg to lay over his, allowing him better access. He grins at you, stroking your cunt in slow, exploring circles. "Feels so good, baby." You sigh as your heart rate picks up. The languid yet foreboding music intensifies every sensation, sending pleasure signals to your brain in rapid succession.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, angel." He speaks lowly, eyes glued to your face to watch your every reaction. "I love making you cum, watching all the pretty faces you make, hearing all your filthy noises. It's one of the most beautiful things in the world. You're such a good girl for me, my perfect little slut." He pushes two fingers into your pussy on his final word.

"Oh, fuck." You gasp, arching your back instinctively.

"God, you're fuckin' soaked, Y/N. Already making a mess, just for me." His cock throbs against your stomach, the slightest amount of friction making his head spin.

"Just for you, love. Shit, I feel like I'm dissolving or something." You observe dumbly, unable to keep your eyes open at how amazing this all is. It's overwhelming in the best possible way, you swear you could lose it any second now.

"You gonna cum for me, darling? I can tell you're already so close, makin' it hard for my fingers to move inside you." He's absolutely right, your walls have begun to flutter around him, threatening to strangle his digits altogether. You can't help it, everything just feels so good.

"Uh-huh. Keep going, Eds." You moan, needing him to push you over the edge. You wonder how he's able to stay so articulate, saying dirty things to you to spur you on. You can barely string two words together as your mind is mixed up by electric beaters with every swell of the music. Eddie does as you ask, even increasing his pace. He wasn't moving very fast to begin with, which only proves beyond a reasonable doubt, that what you're doing right now is a fantastic idea. "Can't believe I'm gonna cum when you've barely touched me. You sure there wasn't anything else in that joint?" You ask through a lustful whine.

"I promise there wasn't. I'd never give you something without you knowing, sweetheart." He says calmly, finding entertainment in your disbelief of your own reactions to the pot. His free hand takes hold of your tit, massaging the flesh to give you even more. You moan loudly at the sensation, arching your back again. Your abdomen brushes against his dick, making him groan. A streak of precum rubs onto your skin, the idea of Eddie marking you with his release pushing you over the edge.

"Oh, god! Eddie!" You cry out, losing all control you once had over your body. You convulse around his fingers, trapping them inside as fluids spill out of your pussy. It runs down either side of your thigh to soak through the top layer of your bedding. Your eyes roll back into your head as you let out truly unholy noises. Your orgasm works its way through you mercilessly, and all Eddie can do is watch every second unfold in slow motion. If he didn't know any better, he'd blow his load all over your stomach at the sight before him.

"That's my good girl." He praises, caressing your sweat-drenched face with the back of his hand. He pulls you into a kiss, setting you on fire again before you've had a real chance to cool off. He removes his fingers from your cunt, bringing them up to your mouths. He sticks them between you, allowing you both to lick the sweet nectar from the moisture-wrinkled flesh.

"Mmm." You moan simultaneously at the taste, frantically licking every last drop away. Your teeth and tongues clash against one another repeatedly, though neither of you care how clumsy you're being. You just want to keep touching, and kissing, and devouring each other. When the musky flavor of your release has gone, you push Eddie's chest to make him lie down. He bounces harshly on the bed from the force, smirking at how aggressive you've become. You straddle his lap like before, bringing your hand to his throat. You wrap your fingers around his neck, not yet pressing down.

"You gonna choke me, baby?" Eddie asks, absolutely loving the idea.

"Do you want me to?" You ask, smiling ear to ear at the concept. You've never done it before, you only hope he'll let you try. But even more than that, you want him to like it.

"I would love it, sweetheart. Go ahead, I know you're dying to try it." He bites his lip, waiting for you to follow through on your promise. You gently start to squeeze the sides of his thick neck, cutting off the blood flow ever so slightly. "Fuck. Harder." He begs, groaning as his head lightens at your touch. You do as he asks, overtaken by a dark thrill as you increase the pressure. He moans again, but it comes out a bit garbled from you choking him.

"Such a good boy for me, I think you deserve a reward." You say darkly, leaning to speak into his ear. "You wanna fuck me, Eddie?" Your hot breath flows against his skin, turning him on even further. You loosen your grip a bit so he can answer you.

"Yeah, I wanna be inside you so bad. You're so hot and wet, shit, I can feel you dripping all over me." He replies desperately, dying to have his dick plunge deep into your velvet insides.

"That's right, Eds. I just can't help myself, you make me feel so good." You let out an exaggerated whine, rolling your hips once across his torso. Your clit rubs against him, smearing a trail of your arousal on his stomach. "You want me to ride you, love?" You ask in that same seductive tone.

"Please. Let me fill you up, angel." He begs, you've got him wrapped around your little finger at this rate.

"You got it, babe." You briefly bite his earlobe, shifting your lower half downwards. You take Eddie's length in your hand now that you can reach, working him painfully slow.

"Shit, you're always such a cock-tease, Y/N." He breathes out with a grin as he tries not to cum. You frown at his words, wanting him to submit to you completely. You squeeze his throat again, harder than before. Another strained moan leaves his lips, and more of your juices trickle from your pussy at the sound.

"Naughty boy, you know better than to talk back. I'll fuck you when you've earned it." You say through gritted teeth. You stroke him faster, noticing his stomach already beginning to tense. "Gonna cum so soon, baby? You wanna make a mess all over me?" You question mockingly, aiming his tip towards your stomach as you continue to pump him. Eddie only manages to nod, your grip on his throat makes it impossible to speak. His eyes stare deep into yours, wide and doe-ish as his release takes over.

"Fuck." He barely squeaks the word out, his mouth falling open helplessly. His hips buck upwards, and his sticky load lands in hot spurts all over your tits and belly. It drips down sloppily, the white droplets gleaming in the light. His toes curl as he empties onto you, and his large hands bunch the blankets below in sweaty fists.

"Mmm, good boy." You grin in satisfaction. You let his throat and softening cock fall from your grasp, and you look down your body to see the evidence of his orgasm splattered all over you. You wipe up one of the streaks from your breast with your middle finger. You bring it up to your lips, accepting the entire length of it into your mouth. You moan at the taste, keeping your eyes on Eddie the entire time.

"Fuck, that was hot." He pants as his chest heaves, struggling to catch his breath.

"Sure was, baby. You wanna clean me up until you can go again?" You ask politely, slipping off his body to lay beside him.

"Of course, sweetheart. Trust me, I'm just getting started." Eddie chuckles, angling himself so his mouth can reach every bit of the sticky mess he left on you, while keeping his legs next to yours. He leans over your torso, dragging the flat of his tongue over each streak of his release to wipe them away. He licks one off your nipple, playfully biting the hardened bud afterwards.

"Fuck." You murmur. You follow his head traveling downwards while he cleans every last drop of cum off your body. It's such a filthy sight. Whimpers and moans leavE your lips at how warm his tongue feels against your skin. He keeps going, putting himself between your legs as he spreads them. It seems he's had an ulterior motive to doing as you commanded, secretly wanting to make you cum on his face. "You sneaky bastard." You laugh, rolling your eyes at his unrelenting sexual appetite.

"Don't pretend you aren't loving this, babydoll. Is it so terrible that I wanna please you?" He asks, teasing you while his hands grip your thighs.

"Not at all, Eds. Knock yourself out." You lay your arm under your head to prop it up, wanting to see everything he's about to do to you. The song changes, a glam rock tune that you recognize instantly. "Lady Grinning Soul" by David Bowie, naturally. It appears whoever is in charge of acting as local radio deejay tonight, has taken part in the same substance as you and your boyfriend. They may or may not be a bit horny, as well. Eddie's eyes meet yours, and he brings his mouth to your drenched pussy to lick a small stripe along your slit. "God, that feels amazing, baby." You sigh, legs twitching at the overwhelming sensation.

"You're so unbelievably pretty like this, sweetheart. I don't think I'll ever get enough of you." Eddie speaks sweetly. He takes his time, pressing wet kisses to your inner thighs at random intervals between slow strokes along your clit and entrance. He's playing around with you, but in a most pleasurable way. It's far from teasing, as everything he does has an intense impact on you. He's savoring it, savoring you. The saccharine tang of your arousal coats his lips, his teeth, even his throat as he swallows every last drop. You're an ever-flowing fountain to him, your offerings slaking his thirst for love and companionship. "You're everything to me, Y/N." He says earnestly.

"You're everything to me, too, baby. You doin' okay down there?" You ask in kind concern, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah! Yeah...I'm fine. I just一" His breath catches, almost like he might cry. He shakes his head, keeping the tears at bay. "You're just perfect, that's all." He says with a smile, rubbing your thighs to ground himself. This never happens when he's high, but he can't shake the dialed-up emotions swarming over him. It certainly doesn't help that his brain is twisting and turning, due to certain mind-altering drugs you both smoked earlier.

Eddie's been on his own in almost every way for as long as he can remember. Sure, he has the club, and Wayne. But when he's not leading a campaign, or his uncle is sleeping or away at work, he's left alone with his own thoughts. The dreadful, awful thoughts of not being good enough, of being a worthless asshole who doesn't deserve love or happiness. Booze and drugs can only do much to block said thoughts out, often leaving him immobile in bed for hours on end. Staring at the wall or ceiling, his heart aching in his chest for something more. He never once thought he'd be so lucky to have someone like you in his life.

"You're perfect, too, baby. C'mere." You beckon him to you, wanting to hold him close. You can see it in his eyes that he's feeling so many things at once. He crawls back up the bed, laying on his side next to you. You mirror his position, his face just a couple inches from yours. You watch his troubled expression, knowing he's holding back from you. "Tell me what you're thinking." You coo, cupping his cheek.

"I-I didn't think I'd meet anyone like you, princess." He stutters at the thought, recalling how unpleasant life is without you in it. "I didn't think I'd meet anyone at all, really. At least, nobody worth...sticking around for." His eyebrows knit oddly at those two words in particular, his voice dipping to an ashamed whisper. 'Sticking around'...

"What do you mean? Like...staying in Hawkins?" You ask, confused as to why he'd say it like that. Nobody thinks all that highly of this sleepy little town, most plan to get out by the age of five, and give up by the time they're thirty.

"No." Eddie replies, his mouth staying open as if he's going to say something else. He closes it again, averting his eyes. He shakes his head, he can't possibly tell you this. You'll hear him say this terrible thing, and you won't love him anymore. "Nevermind, it's not a big deal." He says shakily, wanting to drop the subject.

You're watching closely as fear, almost panic spreads over his features. He's breathing unevenly, his heart pounding in his chest. He can't possibly be saying what you think he's saying. But given his behavior, you suspect the worst. Regardless of what it is, you intend to stay by his side and support him. You take his hands in yours, reeling him back to you before he disappears inside his head. "Eddie, please tell me. I'm here for you, you know that. Don't hide this from me, you promised we wouldn't do that." You say as calmly as you can, not wanting to scare him away. His pupils flick to yours again, finding your empathetic face. This makes him relax a little, and he nods. He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I'm sure it's no surprise that I've always been...kind of a loner, Y/N. I'm not a popular person, friends are few and far between for me. I dunno if Dustin told you, but after we graduated, and my bandmates moved away, I've been on my own a lot." He pauses, feeling the sting of tears pricking his eyes. "And, uh...that's not great for me. I don't think very highly of myself, quite the opposite, actually. I won't bother you with the details, I'm sure you can imagine." He chuckles dryly, clearing his throat after. "So, being alone leads to lots of...dark thoughts. Thoughts I've never shared with anyone. Not Wayne, not the kids in Hellfire, nobody." He sniffles, a couple salty drops rolling down his cheeks.

"Would it help if you told me, Eddie?" You ask, offering every ounce of comfort you can give.

"I have a feeling you already know what I'm getting at, sweetheart." He says, his tone stiff and unwilling. He doesn't want to say the words aloud. He's never dared to do such a thing. It's like they're forbidden to fall from his lips.

"I think I can hazard a guess, love. And I'm sorry you've felt that way. No one should have to go through that. Especially not alone." You squeeze his hands and wonder if you should ask the question bubbling inside your head. You don't want to push him too far, but it's only natural to be curious. "Did you ever try to一"

"No." He cuts you off, shaking his head emphatically. "I couldn't do that to Wayne, but I thought about it all the time. How I'd do it, when, where, what my 'last meal' would be, of all things." He explains, his eyes squinting shut as more tears fall. He opens them again, red and glassy as they gauge your every reaction to his words. You keep yourself calm on the outside, but internally your heart is cracking at the seams, breaking for the crying man before you. You've known about his rough childhood, and the bullying through school and afterwards. But the idea of Eddie being suicidal, it just makes everything else all the more harrowing.

"Do you still think about doing it, Eddie?" You ask, willing to accept whatever the truth might be. You'd love to think that being present in his life has helped him feel better. And you're sure it has, to some extent. But it's unfair and unreasonable to think he would be one-hundred-percent 'normal' all because he started seeing you. You of all people know that love can't magically make your problems go away.

"I'm not gonna lie, Y/N. I still do sometimes, but a lot less than I used to. You've helped me feel so much better than before, I promise you that. But I'm fucked up, angel. I'm not sure it'll ever fully go away." He sighs, hoping he hasn't disappointed you. "Do you think less of me? I understand if you do." His thumbs rub mindlessly over your knuckles, steadying his state of mind while he waits for you to answer.

"Of course not, Eddie. I would never judge you for something that isn't your fault. I love you so much, baby. And nothing is ever gonna change that, okay?" You give him a gentle kiss, bringing a hand up to stroke his hair. He softens against you, his tense body loosening to accept your affection. You can feel more of his tears raining onto your skin, and you just let him work through everything he's feeling, kissing him tenderly and repeatedly through it all.

"I love you too, Y/N. Thank you for being here for me." He wipes his eyes, letting out another deep sigh.

"Any time, darling." You flash him a kind smile.

"Fuck, sorry for ruining the mood." He groans, flopping onto his back in annoyance with himself.

"It's okay. We've fucked many times before, and I'm sure there'll be many more opportunities after today. But for now, we can put some pj's on and watch a movie if you want. We can eat some cake, cuddle with Arwen on the couch." You suggest, sitting up in bed.

"That sounds perfect, babydoll." Eddie replies, getting off the mattress to get some pajamas from his bag. You do the same at your dresser, the sound of which disturbs Arwen's nap.

"Mew!" She cries as her eyes open to blink at you.

"Aw, poor little baby. I'm sorry we woke you up, but we're gonna cuddle and have cake." Eddie coos at the kitten, slipping on his lounge pants and an old band tee before scooping her up into his arms.

"You're so sweet with her, it's fuckin' adorable." You giggle, watching the cat's eyes close blissfully while Eddie scratches behind her ears.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Further evidence that I'm a big softy. I can't believe I talked like that in front of everyone at the party." He laughs, rolling his eyes. He has a reputation to uphold, and here you are making him so vulnerable, even in public.

"Yes, you are a very soft man." You start, making his head whip to you in offense. You continue, explaining what you mean. "But that's not a bad thing, Eddie. It just means you're a good person. You're loving, kind, and understanding. Those are things most people struggle with, and it comes to you naturally." He nods in response, realizing you were only giving him a compliment.

"It's nice that you think so, sweetheart. I don't always feel like a good person." He says sadly, pulling his eyes away again.

"I've found that the best people typically put themselves under a lot of scrutiny. Any little misstep, and it makes them question everything. But that's good, because bad people never really think about their actions, or how they affect others. People like that go through life justifying every move they make, as opposed to weighing the consequences." You explain, trying to get through to him that he's not as bad as everyone says he is.

"You know, you'd be great at public speaking, baby. You're very convincing, and smart as hell. I could listen to you talk all day long." He smiles, turning this conversation back onto you. You can tell he still doesn't quite believe what you've told him, but self-esteem can't be rebuilt in a day.

"Thanks, Eds. But I don't think my anxiety would allow such a thing." You giggle, reaching for his hand to walk down the hall together. He gives it to you, holding Arwen up in the other to go sit on the couch. You cut two more slices from the cake, bringing the plates over while Eddie picks out a movie. You're both still a bit stoned, but you sense you're on the precipice of the come-down. You plop down beside the kitten, who's waiting for you and Eddie to shower her with attention. "Hey there, furry little thing. You're just too cute, it makes my heart wanna explode." You say to her, in that same silly voice only meant to be heard by her fuzzy ears.

"Mew." She replies, her tiny mouth opening briefly to let the sound out.

"She's very talkative. Have you noticed that?" You ask Eddie as he pulls his choice of VHS from the drawer below the TV.

"Yeah, she's got a bit of an attitude, too. I imagine she's very smart, despite being just a baby. How's this one? I figure we could use something comforting tonight. It's been a long day." He says, showing you the worn paper cover of Labyrinth.

"That's perfect, Eds. Pop it in and get over here." You smirk, patting the spot next to you on the couch. He slips the tape into the VCR, hopping enthusiastically onto the sofa once it begins to play. You hand him his slice of cake, and the two of you dig in as the movie starts.

About halfway through the film, there's a knock at the door. "Ms. Henderson, this is Chief Powell. Can you open up, please?" You hear the man speaking sternly on the other side of the door. You and Eddie look at each other, wondering what he wants. He could be here for Eddie regarding the fight with Jason, or if something happened to your mom. You swallow hard and pause the movie. You go to the door, opening it slowly.

"What's this about, Chief?" You ask, keeping the door mostly shut to block Eddie from his view.

"It's nothing serious, Y/N. We've got your mother in the back of the squad car. She tried to drive home drunk from the Hideaway. Jack, the owner, called us to stop her." The chief explains, giving you a comforting look. He knows you're worried about Eddie's standing in the Carver case, thankfully it hasn't become an issue. Not yet, anyway.

"Oh my god. Is she okay?" You ask, looking around him to see Mom slumped in the backseat. The red and blue lights flash on the roof, shining brightly through the darkness of the night.

"She's fine, and we'll have her car towed back here. But um... her license has been suspended. She managed to drive a few blocks before we stopped her, and she almost hit a couple teenagers crossing the street." He sighs, regretting every word coming out of his mouth. Claudia hasn't been this bad since George left, he can't imagine why she'd do something so stupid.

"Jesus christ. Well, I'm sorry she caused you trouble, Chief. I'll get her in bed, and I can drive her to work until the suspension is up." You reply, subtly rolling your eyes. You're absolutely pissed. What the hell was she thinking? She could've killed someone, or got herself put in the hospital or a body bag. And then where would that leave you? Or Dustin? It's also really fucking rich that she had the nerve to yell at you only hours ago about how irresponsible you are, and then she goes and does this? What a fucking hypocrite.

"It's no trouble at all, Y/N. I'm just glad nobody got hurt. We'll bring her inside for you." Powell says calmly, reading the anger all over your face.

"Great." You say flatly, opening the door all the way so the officers can escort your mother inside. You sit on the couch beside Eddie, shaking your head with pursed lips.

"Is everything okay?" Eddie asks, putting a hand on your thigh.

"No. Mom got wasted and tried to drive home. She almost killed someone before she got pulled over." You state, avoiding his eyes.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Y/N." He tries to relax you, but you can't stop the boiling rage.

"Don't be. If anyone should be sorry, it's her. She could've gotten hurt, or died! And then me and Dustin would have NO parents!" Your volume rises, almost shouting. Dustin's bedroom door opens at the sound, and he comes down the hall to see what the ruckus is about.

"What's going on?" He asks while rubbing his eyes. Fuck, he was sleeping. And now you're shouting and Mom is drunk off her ass with a DUI.

"Shit, Dusty. I'm sorry I woke you. Mom's drunk, that's all you need to know right now." You say as Powell and Callahan bring Mom inside the house. She's barely conscious, more drunk than you've ever seen a human be before. "Are you sure she doesn't have alcohol poisoning? She looks awful." You ask the cops, wondering if they got her any medical attention.

"We had her checked out, they said she should be fine. Just keep an eye on her, I'm sure she'll have one helluva hangover tomorrow." Powell replies, struggling to keep a hold on Mom. Her eyes flutter open a moment, and she looks at you.

"I'm sorry." She slurs, her face scrunching into what looks like sadness and regret. That is, until she vomits onto the carpet. It lands a few feet away from you, stinking of booze and chocolate cake.

"Jesus christ." Callahan exclaims, adopting a look of utter disgust.

"’Kay, safe to say I'm not hungry anymore." Eddie grimaces, putting his half-empty plate down.

"Maybe a stop to the bathroom would be beneficial." Powell suggests, looking to you as a way to ask where it is.

"Yeah. It's just down the hall, the last door on the left." You say, glancing at Mom in pity. A dribble of vomit sits on her bottom lip, a translucent dark brown. The officers take her down the hall, and you hear more vomiting that hopefully all lands into the toilet this time. You sigh, letting your head fall into your hands. "Great, now I gotta clean up puke tonight. That's the last thing I wanted to do." You groan, your own stomach turning at the acrid smell filling the room.

"We’ll help out, sweetheart." Eddie offers, rubbing your back with his hand.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have to do that all by yourself." Dustin chimes in, heading into the kitchen for the cleaning supplies.

"Thanks, guys. Let's take care of it before it soaks in too far." You get off the couch, slipping on some rubber gloves your brother hands to you. First, you soak up as much fluid with paper towels and toss them away. Next, pour carpet cleaner on the spot, letting it foam up for a few minutes. Then comes the scrubbing, you scrub the fibers of the carpet until you're sure there's no barf left clinging to them. After that, you wipe away any excess cleanser and let it dry. Easy peasy.

"Okay, safe to say I never wanna do that again." Dustin says as the three of you thoroughly wash your hands.

"Same here." You and Eddie reply at the same time. It really was far from pleasant, the smell alone made you wanna add to the mess. Thankfully you held it together, save for a couple compulsive gags. The officers are finally leading Mom to her room once you finish, she's been puking this entire time. She must have racked up quite the tab at the Hideaway.

"Shit, you guys work fast. Your mom must be thankful to have such helpful kids." Powell comments when he returns to the livingroom to find the mess already cleaned away.

"You'd think so, right?" You retort, still quite peeved at needing to do so at all.

"Right." He clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. "We'll get out of your hair. Just make sure she has water and aspirin, and a wastebasket by the bed wouldn't hurt." He gives a weak smile, turning to leave.

"Will do, Chief. Thanks for bringing her home." You follow behind him, closing the door once he steps outside. "I am sooooo gonna tear her a new one tomorrow. What the fuck was she thinking?!"

"I don't think she was, angel." Eddie says quietly.

"No shit! God, I'm still high. I shouldn't be this angry!" You keep shouting, pacing around the floor wildly.

"I think you're being a bit hard on her, Y/N." Dustin says, coming to Mom's defense.

"No, I'm not! You wanna know what happened? She got absolutely wasted because of our stupid fight! And then she tried to DRIVE HOME! She almost hit some teenagers, she could have killed them! Do you understand how pissed she'd be if some drunk asshole almost hit one of us in the road like that? She'd be calling for their head and you know it! So now, her license is suspended, and I'll have to drive her to work like she's a goddamn child!" You're practically screaming now, going red in the face as you try to get Dustin to understand the gravity of the situation.

"I can drive her if一" He replies, focusing on the wrong thing. As if you actually think having to cart her around is the issue.

"That's not the damn point, Dusty! Did you not hear what I just said?" You question in disbelief. Neither of them have much to say about Mom's reckless behavior, more so they seem to want to justify it. And you'll hear absolutely none of it. "Ugh, whatever. I'm going to bed. Eddie, you can come if you want and bring the cat. Or not, I'm too pissed off to give a shit." You say with a resigned laugh, your arms clapping at your sides as you give up. You storm off down the hall, slamming the door to your room shut as hard as you can.

You flick off your bedroom light, and flop face first onto your bed. You press your head into the pillows, screaming into their fluffy bodies to muffle the sound of your frustration. You yank the blankets over your head, hiding away from the world. You don't care if Eddie comes to bed, he honestly might stay on the couch with how angry you've become. Maybe that's best, you don't feel all that deserving of comfort or cuddling at the moment. You know you're not wrong in your sentiment towards Mom's actions, but you definitely flew off the handle a bit. You groan loudly, rolling over to stop suffocating on the pillows. You face the window, letting your eyes peek out to look at the moon outside. The glowing orb in the sky gazes down upon you, the craters on its surface seemingly forming a look of shame and disappointment in your direction.

"Y/N?" Eddie says, quietly opening the door to your room. He tiptoes in with Arwen, hoping you're still awake. He feels awful for coming off like he wasn't supporting you. Of course he thinks Claudia was being an absolute idiot. But he doesn't think it's his place to say anything about it. He's certainly no angel. Who is he to judge someone else for their mistakes?

"Yes." You whisper, unable to say anything else.

"I'm sorry, love." He replies, crawling into bed with you. You turn to look at him, finding Arwen laying in the small space between you.

"For what? You're not the one with a DUI." You sigh, trying to stop a bout of tears.

"I know, baby. But I shouldn't have made it seem like I don't care that your mom was being reckless. Of course I do. Claudia's like a mother to me, despite the fact that she doesn't seem to like me much anymore." He lets out a light laugh at that. "And I know you love her so much, and you're worried about her. I'd be just as pissed as you if the roles were reversed." He scoots closer, putting the kitten into a warm cuddle sandwich. She mews happily at the coziness, nuzzling her head against you.

"It's fine. I didn't exactly let you have a chance to speak. She just一 I can't believe she'd do that. Like...what the fuck?" You say, looking to Eddie for the answer. That's the thing, more than anything else, you're utterly stumped as to why she would do this. Given the fight earlier today, and the constant lectures she's bestowed upon you and Dustin about the dangers of drinking and other serious topics. She rejected her own advice, and did something that has left you dumbfounded.

"I dunno, princess. I wish I had an answer for you. I guess you'll just have to ask her tomorrow." Eddie says sadly, tonight was supposed to be your night. Just the two of you, enjoying a nice time together. But no, instead it became about him telling you more of his deep dark secrets, and your mother throwing up all over the carpet. "You gonna be okay, love?" He asks, taking your hand in his.

"I'll give it my best shot, Eds. At least I have you here." You reply, giving him a chaste kiss. Arwen squeals in protest, annoyed at you squishing her. "Sorry, little one. I just had to kiss your daddy goodnight." You pat her head to put her at ease, and she lies down, placing herself into your touch. She purrs against your palm, settling in to go to sleep. 

"Take it easy on your mother, Arwen. She's had a very long day." Eddie says to the cat, smiling at how silly the idea of talking to an animal like it's a person is. It feels right, though, natural. Arwen is essentially your child, and you both want to love and take care of her the best you can. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you." He speaks to you now, taking your free hand to hold.

"Goodnight, Eds. I love you, too." You reply, closing your eyes shortly after. You really hope tomorrow pans out better than today did, but would it really be your life if things didn't go sideways?

To be continued...

[glitterypin]

Harry the Best Friend update (with unnecessary background lore!)

Harry arrived precisely one hour later than he had originally estimated he would.

Apparently the traffic was horrible (we totally believe that, I've heard a dozen different people commenting that traffic in our city has been terrible for the past couple of weeks and my few excursions to the outside world confirm this).

There is a very specific "beep" Harry's car makes when he locks or unlocks it. My uncanny ability to hear it and recognize it at great distances has been a subject of discussion in the past. Essentially, the beep functions like a reverse homing beacon for me. I hear it, I get up and go stand by the door, within three minutes Harry shows up.

One time my ex and I were sitting at a cafe waiting for Harry and I very suddenly went "he's here" because I thought I heard the Beep. Two minutes later I thought I heard it again, so I said "no, wait, maybe that was it". My ex hadn't heard anything at all. Five minutes passed and Harry hadn't shown up yet, so I was forced to admit it was a fluke and sometimes a beep is just a beep and not necessarily The Beep. And then I heard it again but I was rather dejected to have been fooled twice so I was modest in my hope that maybe this time I got it right. Harry did show up three minutes later.

He had forgotten his jacket in the car and gone back for it. The Beep had sounded indeed three times.

So here I am, full of anticipation, waiting for the doorbell to ring, walking out to the balcony every now and then to see if maybe his car would appear in the corner of the street, wondering precisely how fucking bad can the traffic be after all and suddenly... The Beep.

A pavlovian reaction; the Beep brings a huge smile to my face. The Beep beeps twice more; he had forgotten to take the bag with my Christmas gift with him.

I go sit by the buzzer. And finally, he rings, I buzz him in and run to the front door and I'm on ground level so there's no more waiting time, it is over, I open the door and Harry is THERE! In the flesh!

We hug for a couple of minutes. Granted, we always hug when we meet. Never this long. At some point he tenses as if to pull away but I hold on to him and he relaxes again. I make a move to pull away and he holds me instead. So far the words we've exchanged are mostly our names, "ahhhhh", and "awwww".

And then it's just a normal evening with Harry, as if he hasn't been away for nearly four months. We drink tea. He tells me about his trip (it was bad, the overnight ship was crowded as fuck and he's only slept an hour and currently running on fumes. I feel sorry for him but I also feel a bit special that he's dragging his corpse all the way to my flat to see me even though he should be passing out somewhere comfortable instead.) I tell him about my week. We don't have proper "haven't seen you for four months" news because we talk on the phone and with video calls every weekend. We're also both saving the big stuff for another day. We don't talk about feelings and dawning realizations much. We hug a lot and that's the only concession to our time apart. We don't usually hug in the middle of hanging out. Half the time I sit on the bed next to him instead of in my desk chair.

I got him two Christmas mugs, which makes him laugh and exclaim something along the lines of "fucking yeah" - it's one of our longest running jokes, buying each other mugs. I have more mugs than any of my flatmates (my ex last year and now my brother) are comfortable with, to the point that if they are all washed, they do not fit in the cupboard. Harry only moved out of his parents' home last spring, so his cupboard still has room but he already owns more mugs than is sensible for a person living alone (several of which I got him myself). So, knowing that neither of us needs any more mugs and that if new mugs are to be added to our collections it ought to be mugs we really really want, every now and then we buy each other random mugs just to be annoying and laugh about it.

But anyway, he did complain about not having Christmas mugs (whereas I have five - two of which he got for me last year!), so I got him two. One of them has a silicon lid and he can take it with him in the car. The other one is Very Pretty, he loved it just like I knew he would. How nice to know someone's tastes so well.

I also got him a book. I haven't read it but I've read something else by the same writer and I have a feeling he'll enjoy his style. I asked him beforehand, I said "have you read anything by ..." and he said "no, but I think I would like him". So, the gift of the book isn't a surprise either but it's still appreciated.

He got me a mousepad that reads "I'm too pretty to work". Weirdly, I love it. I don't need a mousepad at home but it will be a good addition to my laptop bag because I've often found myself in offices where I've had to tape A4 papers on desks to get my mouse to work. And I appreciate the sentiment. I feel like it belongs with the mug my brother got me three years ago which read "it's not my fault I'm angry, it's your fault you're all stupid". Harry agrees that I'm building myself a profile there. Suddenly I'm even more eager to start working again.

He also got me a handmade lip balm that tastes like melomakarono, which is hilarious to me. It does smell like melomakarono (or at the very least any spicy winter-y biscuit), the taste on my lips is mostly cinnamon, though. I love it. The gift wrap includes two tiny novelty soaps, a sticker of an elk in a rocking chair with a blanket and a hot beverage, a funny postcard relevant to the island where he works and a smaller card that reads "hit me over and over 2025". The sticker is on the side of my bookcase (where all my other stickers are). The two cards are already taped on the wardrobe door. I'm turning 30 in five months and yet my room is suddenly beginning to look like a teenager lives here. That's alright.

Anyway, we get food and we make mulled wine but only drink half of it. My nephew is here and wants to show him something his teacher gave him at school. He's always been pretty good with my nephew when their paths crossed but now it's just effortless. (I haven't mentioned this but the job he went to the island for is elementary school music teacher. His entire job is dealing with kids around my nephew's age now. I laugh at the stories he brings. Sometimes I wonder how the fuck he manages it, I can't stand kids. He's relatively happy with it. He shows me videos of a bunch of seven year olds singing along to Deck The Halls. I can hear his voice in the background guiding them. I can't fucking believe the clown I went to middle school with is now a proper Teacher.)

We watch a video of a comedian he loves and I like. He has already seen it, it's been out since October and he's been waiting to come home and show it to me. We go out for a smoke a couple of times but the third time we both agree to skip it. We're both enjoying the illusion of making a healthy choice every time we decide to not smoke a cigarette. We both know it's an illusion. We've silently agreed to keep up the pretense.

There is some awkwardness. It feels like last he was here was yesterday but also like it's been years. It's been four months (three and a half actually) but these are very sensitive times for both of us, we are both at turning points in our lives. It scares me that we're not witnessing each other's changes up close but I have faith in our friendship and our honesty. Whatever happens, we're not losing each other - at least not now.

He leaves and for once I do not protest because I know he's tired (and I am, too, tbh). The goodbye hug also lasts longer than usual. We'll talk tomorrow. As soon as he starts making plans with everyone else we'll figure out where and when I can fill the gaps. He's promised to give me a haircut this week. He's stopping by on Christmas Day after the big family lunch. I've promised to go hang out at his place at least once. I try not to think about how many days are left 'till he's back on the island. He'll be back for the Easter holidays and maybe even in May for my birthday and then he'll be back at the end of June for the summer vacations and if we're lucky next September he'll get a teaching position in our city or at the very least somewhere closer than that island.

I didn't mean to write so much. But I guess I want to remember. I've been a lonely person my whole life, largely ignored and unloved by the people around me and Harry is a fairly cool, artsy extrovert. That he somehow ended up choosing this particular sack of wise turnips to be his best friend still amazes me when I think about it too hard. I'm very lucky to have him, he's the most reliable grounding force in my life and one of the very few people I can be totally myself around - even when myself is a pile of depressed garbage. (He's also lucky to have me, because he absolutely needs brutal unapologetic honesty in his life and I bring that to the table, wrapped in empathy and humour.)

Anyway. I could write twice as much and keep going, there's a lot of lore here, we've known each other for fifteen years now. But I'll stop. Other opportunities will arise to talk about Harry, I'm sure.

[mysticdreamcafe]

Still tired

Yesterday wasn't real eventful, none of my days really are. I wrote a letter, conversed with my mother, and went over my books outline while my daughter was at work.

The plan was to run to a store we'd went to the day before and return a tea cup and saucer I had purchased. I think I've mentioned before that I like old fashioned things...to a point. So when I limited my coffee intake and replaced it with tea I found my tea pot and kept an eye open for a cup and saucer that would match it. I bought the pot approx. 30 yrs ago and it didn't come with cups. Mug for coffee and tea cup with saucer for tea.

While I'm waiting for my daughter to finish her work as a big bunny for a children's Easter party thrown by the area library I made sure to do what was needed to keep my migraine to a minimum while the dogs, one in particular, talked to me constantly.

I made a concession about getting a dog, or two, after our three Shelties passed. They were siblings so 1 passed at 10yrs old and the other 2 at age 12. I liked their size but my daughter wanted a Husky. In case you don't know anything about Husky's they can be noisy dogs. They talk (different than a bark), scream similar to a Shiba Inu, and lead any drama class with full marks. Plus they shed like a busy hair salon.

After some research I said ok to a Pomsky. Half Pomeranian and half Husky that are classified as a designer dog. I didn't find the 'designer' part till after we obtained the first one. I'll try and post a pic of each later, I'm really tired today, but one is black and white like what a typical Husky would look like and called Yasha. Yasha means deamon in Japanese and his markings live up to the name in looks. Other is blonde with light blue eyes and called Natsu. Summer in Japanese because his eyes are the color of a summer sky.

Yasha looks physically more pom and is snarky and loves to talk and stomp is paws. He huffs while whipping his head around in disgust or throws a hissy fit when he doesn't get his way. He could win an Oscar for drama. We brought him home at 14 wks. old and he was basically feral. He likes us and will be snuggled and coddled but not outsiders. They are the "don't touch me" people. Bigger dogs are ok but if they try to pick a fight he goes straight for the throat. Same with ground hogs.

Natsu is more like a Husky physically and came from a good home at 14wks old, too. He loves people, kids he's standoffish but they move fast at him so...if they stand still he'll love them. This one howls at sirens and screams when he thinks it's time to go. Dog park? Scream to leave house then again to leave park when he or his brother are tired.

Both breeds are energetic so combined they still have energy and smarts in abundance. So they go for walks and to the dog park periodically. They also have a very large yard to run and play in. Trust me, they want for nothing. However, if they don't get to go someplace outside this property they get difficult. More difficult than normal.

After the stop at the shop I thought we'd take them for a walk along the river. It was in the 20's, we're having a second winter here in Michigan, and very windy but they went with my daughter for a total of about a mile. Yasha is 20lbs and has short legs and tires the fastest. Natsu is almost 30lbs but doesn't fight stopping when his brother is tired.

I personally only went 1/4 mile and then back. I go slow and just watched them speed walk along with boardwalk. I thought of pushing it and joining them but decided the after affects aren't worth it. So, instead of being a blob on the couch today because I hurt to much to move I have written 2 letters, meditated, straightened house a bit, prepped supper, and started cleaning my room while the pups napped on my bed.

That is huge for me considering I'm running a fever again and exhausted.

[squibbles-gubwee]

Sgshsvsb Well!! It's been a slow day at work so i worked on this lmao. I hope you enjoy. @tmntredline @0ddbugs @coffinpal

"Who's this little friend?"

Cool eyes blinked and looked up, spotting a particular peachy furred mutant. She smiled at Rook, and he looked back down, studying the tangerine-coloured leg being stitched onto the green body. He pulled the needle through, before prodding the seam with thick fingers and frowning. He doubled back to take care of the too-large holes he left behind with messy stitches.

"Hello again, Master Splinter. I uh… It's a cattywampus..."

"A cattywampus?"

Splinter sat down, a chair's distance between the two as she watched the man pick up the needle back up and immediately poke his thumb. The mother had snuck off this way when she spotted the blue haired human, and…well, while she wasn't using him for his access to tea, she wouldn't deny her appreciation for it. 

Her eyes flicked over towards the two paper cups from the concessions full of hot water. One was already steeping with an oolong, and there were three tea bag sachets laid out for her to choose from. 

…Did he expect her to follow him? Or was this just in case she surprised him with a visit?

(Honestly, she was a bit surprised herself. She hadn't known their group was watching this competition as well!)

"Yeah! It's, um…well, growin' up, it was like…a mish-mash monster. A beast of broken parts. I had one with floppy ears and six legs that my grandmother made for me. Lots are made from old torn up stuffies, instead of throwin' em out." The wonky, unfinished plush was lifted up, and its boxy head flopped to the side. Rook's nose scrunched in thought. "Probably for the best that it's uh…kinda messy. I think the last time I'd sewn something was in my teens…"

"How do you keep finding these breakrooms you aren't likely supposed to be in, hm?" Splinter gave a wry grin as she slid a cup closer and grabbed the cinnamon rooibos chai.

The bulky man gestured vaguely to his faux leg. "I just say I need to remove it and people give me space. Mais…I, uh, do need it off for a bit. It's killing my hip. Are you alright with…?"

Splinter waved the notion off quickly, and the human sighed in relief as he released the prosthetic limb, removing it and setting the leg on the chair opposite of him.

"Thanks. I guess a storm's coming."

"It's no trouble, do whatever makes you feel comfortable."

The two lapsed back into quiet, the fawn-furred lady taking in the moment of quiet as the navy-haired therapist turned the toy this way and that. Tang Shen took a sip of her tea, frowned, and allowed it to steep a while longer. She wished she had a bit of milk to pair with it, but it seemed fine without.

Rook liked that about Master Splinter. Normally he was painfully awkward around other folks his age. Working with kids and teens all day every day did that to you. But she was quite easy to talk to. The silences weren't harsh, and he had no real pressure to talk. She laughed when he said something about rug time instead of sneering.

(It's why he decided to just keep quiet about what he saw in that hall. He hadn't meant to find her, and instead decided space would be what the distressed woman most likely need. So, he kept quiet, and he would keep quiet.)

"So, why a cattywampus?" 

If she were closer to the human, she'd tease him for the red that bloomed on his face. 

"Well…They're sorta like gargoyles."

Her whiskers twitched at that. "Oh? How so?"

"Well, gargoyles are supposed to protect places and ward off evil, no? It's why they're on so many old buildings and stuff. Catawampus are kinda like that. They're supposed to protect their owners by scaring off bad spirits because they're tataille- creepy little monsters."

"He's going to be a pretty poor cattywampus, then. He's adorable."

Rook snickered at that. "Eh, I think he'll do just fine. I also stuffed a satchel of lavender in his belly. Put a silica pouch in it to keep the buds dry."

"Oh my, I thought that was your tea!" She gasped, gingerly taking the little beast. "How cute. He's sure to make one of your sons happy."

The red haired woman heard a choked noise and looked back over, laughing a bit at how Rook seemed to get embarrassed again. "I-T-gh. Th. They are not my sons."

"Aren't they?"

"No. Heaven's sake, miss, I'm just their therapist."

There was a knowing look in the woman's eye, but she opted not to say anything. After all, no therapist she knew of would do something like let their patients take them on an interdimensional trip to watch a bake off or a hockey game. Instead, she acquiesced, and quietly sipped her tea, brushing a strand of ruddy hair from her face.

He'd figure it out eventually.

"Still. Whichever one that's for, he's sure to love it."

The human hummed as he doubled back and reworked another seam of the half-stuffed creature. He still needed to make sure to put the rest of the fillings in later. He'd hide the fill seam with the bat wings he did up. "I hope so. I worry it's a little too childish…"

"Well… I like him," Splinter hummed, the tip of her tail hooking around the strap of Rook's bag and pulling it closer to him when she saw him reach. "I think he's a charming gift! You put a lot of care into him. Besides, I don't think something is childish just because it's a cute toy."

Rook smiled a bit as he fished out the large buttons he found that he thought would make good eyes. "Yeah…I guess you're right."

Days later (Days? had it been days? time moved so strangely in these places...) while she was heading back to the locker room, Tang Shen spotted her sons behaving perfectly normally. Leonardo was reviewing dance moves, Michelangelo was talking about baking and ratios with Donatello, and Raphael was wrapping his knees. Perfectly normal.

Perfectly suspicious.

Narrowing her eyes some, the mother stared for a moment. Leo started bouncing his leg. Mikey smiled wider. Donatello's eyes widened a bit, looking more innocent. Raphael turned his head away and went to wrap his other knee.

Perfectly guilty. They were up to something. Shen would find out what it was after she changed into some clothes she could bake in-

She could smell lavender.

Deft, clawed fingers opened the metal latch of the locker-

…only for her vermillion eyes to lock with large, slightly skewed, butterscotch yellow ones. A smudge of red below each one made her think of the red lines she and her sons were so well known for (apparently), and the tangerine stripes on the thick plush tail matched the mismatched legs.

Delicately, Master Splinter plucked the cattywampus plush up, looking over the stitches that made up the zig-zag mouth on his mint-coloured head. He was much fuller, with a bit of a pleasing heft to him. Her heightened hearing could pick up the soft, rain-like sound of small beads tumbling over one another in part of his belly and legs. The floral smell was much stronger now, but not unbearably so. She opened the velcro hidden under his tiny wings and found where Rook had tucked away the pouch of dried buds.

How utterly sweet.

"I have the perfect name for you," Splinter hummed, lifting the creature up so she could look into those yellow buttons and jaggedy smile. The big eyes gleamed in the fluorescent lights, and her own crinkled from her smile.

"King."

[ducktracy]

I'm not sure if you've been asked this before but: Your thoughts on Duck Amuck vs Rabbit Rampage? Both have a very similar premise and I was just wondering which one you think works better.

DUCK AMUCK ALL THE WAY! i have my obvious biases of course… but i do very earnestly think that Duck Amuck is a much more superior cartoon and works better in every way. i admittedly think Rabbit Rampage is one of Chuck’s worst cartoons, but this is somewhat a compliment in itself because if that’s what a dud looks like for him? then you’re doing something right.

Jones’ Bugs is not sustainable for the cartoon, whereas the premise works perfectly with Daffy. (it helps that the initial concept was tailored TO Daffy and his needs.) i could see RR working better if it was the more reactionary Bugs of Bob Clampett’s or Friz Freleng’s, but instead the whole short feels very awkward in that Jones’ Bugs is trying to be something he’s not. i was initially happy to see his Bugs get with mad, because i love the thin-skinned Bugs of yesteryear, but after awhile kept asking myself when it would end and came out feeling annoyed rather than impressed. Bugs wouldn’t let that fly. he’d put a stop to it after a minute, whether that’s taking care of the source problem or just disengaging entirely.

Duck Amuck works so well because Daffy is one of the most versatile fictional characters ever created. he is incredibly adaptable, and the crux of the cartoon is all ABOUT adaptation—how can Daffy (or Bugs) still be seen as themselves when they’re being forced away from their core identities? how does Daffy as a four-legged, flower headed, flag toting amalgam still manage to read as Daffy first and foremost?

Daffy’s outbursts (or disarmingly polite concessions) work because they feel so genuine. he’s a reactive, emotional, responsive creature of impulse. likewise, there is an overwhelming sympathy in Amuck not present in RR. Daffy isn’t asking for the hijinks to stop entirely (at least, not early on)—he just wants something he can work in. he’s willing to adapt! can’t be one of the Three Musketeers? you’re doing a farm scene instead? fine. it’s not ideal, but he’ll do it.

it also helps that Daffy has such a natural extroversion. interaction with the audience is a core part of his character and has been since the very beginning. when Bugs talks to the audience, it’s funny, but you don’t feel like you’re on the same footing as you are with Daffy. Bugs will give you the time of day to crack a punchline or dubious expression at you, but is largely invested in himself. Daffy is one of the only characters who can talk, show off, confess to, and bargain with the audience and have it feel totally natural. i always like to default to this clip as an example. nothing of it feels forced or pedantic, it doesn’t feel like a “special privilege” or just a narrative device that he’s taking time out of his day to talk to us—how lucky are we! it’s just an instinct.

as a result, with both cartoons having the characters converse to an entity off screen that simulates the illusion of them talking to the audience, Daffy feels natural in this regard. it feels stilted and odd for Bugs to do the same. there isn’t that same exact friendliness or organicism that’s present with Daffy.

also, the ending for both: Elmer is the one causing Bugs all of this turmoil????? really?????? this complete rube of a man whose soul has been shattered multiple times by Bugs, even/especially in the face of deadly weapons? having Bugs as the animator in Amuck makes perfect sense. like. of course it would be him. who else? who else barely has to lift a finger for Daffy to be crushed by his own impulses? the reveal in RR just feels totally lame

regardless, i will give RR this: it is animated ENTIRELY by Benny Washam and nobody else, which is an incredible feat in and of itself. Washam draws some particularly appealing Bugses, so there is a lot of eye candy to be had. regardless, it just does not work for Bugs at all. i know i have my biases (Daffy will forever be my favorite fictional character and i personally am not a fan of Jones’ later Bugs), but i do just believe that the two don’t even compare, Duck Amuck all the way!

[sexybabystevie]

rose with robin since I love her. I dont dont think I need to explain myself since you already know me, feel free to use my old pronouns for this one (I wont mind if its for her <33)

A/n: I'm sooo nervous to write this but I really hope you like it!!! <3 (Don't worry about old pronouns, I'll just write with a gn!reader in mind!)

Robin Buckley Masterlist

Strawberry Slushies and Arcade Games

Robin Buckley x gn!Reader

Tags and Warnings: Brief Implications of Homophobia, Shy!Robin Buckley, Soft!Robin Buckley, First Date, Headcanons

Word Count: 1325

You and Robin were barely acquaintances, having only seen one another as you passed through the hellishly crowded hallways at school. You'd never really spoken to her either, finding her friendly enough, but neither of you had really considered yourselves that great at socializing, so it remained one of those 'what-if' situations. One of the things you thought about at night when you wondered if your actions and choices could have led you to a different outcome.

Until... Robin notices you at the arcade next to Family Video. She's been working there for months, and she has a habit of spending her break time there instead of in the video store . (Steve teases her for it, but who can blame her? They have better vending machines and they have blue raspberry slurpees. What more could she ask for?)

She remembers you from school – someone who seemed kind and genuine and who she wanted to converse with but never had the courage to – and so she finally comes up with a plan to talk to you. She's going to walk into the arcade one day, see you there, and try to strike up casual, easy conversation. Maybe about the arcade or the game you've been playing for three days straight now. Easy enough, right?

Well... not so much. Robin carries out phase one of her plan; she steps into the arcade during her break and orders the usual from concessions – her blue raspberry slushie and a medium side of chili cheese fries – but that's about as far as her plan goes. You're there, hyper-focused on one of the game machines – she hasn't figured out how you always manage to be there when she's on break, but it's not as if there's much to do in Hawkins besides run from monsters, watch movies, and play games, so she doesn't really pay any mind to it – and she's rendered a bit of an anxious mess because she's just realized she'll have to talk to someone outside of her typical friend group. Sure, you give off good vibes, but the possibility of getting to know you and then finding out that you won't accept her for who she truly is keeps her from moving over to talk to you.

She keeps her eyes on you, curious and yet hesitant, until she has the fleeting thought that this might seem a little creepy, so she turns back to her food and continues intensely staring at her blue slushie, imagining what it would have been like had she been capable of following through with her plan.

However, she doesn't have to imagine it for very long, because suddenly you're next to her, asking the concession manager for your own strawberry slushie – something that actually surprises her, because she didn't have you pinned as the strawberry type. She's so shocked that she unintentionally voices her thoughts.

"Strawberry? I didn't see you as someone who could handle the sweetness of it."

"Yeah, it's surprisingly not too bad." A beat passes and then you fall into an oddly familiar routine – strange, seeing how you'd never interacted before – and you smile as you tease her. "You got something against strawberries, Buckley?"

Conversation strikes up easily, taking you both by surprise, and the difference between your demeanor and your personality has her captivated. She quickly grows fond of you – becoming friends who talk excessively about whatever is currently of interest to the both of you, listening with wide eyes as you get to know one another – and suddenly she's making sure to spend all of her breaks at the arcade, sharing snacks and various flavored slushies together as you talk alongside the machines. She finds your honest and teasing personality refreshing, finds it intriguing how you're so devoted to your hobby of gaming; you have this goal to become the player with the highest score on every machine, and she thinks it's both impressive and endearing that you're actually pretty close to achieving that, having half of the machines already showcasing your name as the number one player. In other words, it doesn't take her too long to realize that she may be developing a crush.

If it did take her any longer, then Steve would have been the one to clock it. She's prone to rambling on and on to him, as they're best friends, and you've become the latest subject of such ramblings. She talks about how much she enjoys your presence, about how she can't believe the two of you had never talked before now, and when he gives her an all-knowing glance, she just playfully rolls her eyes.

"I'm serious. If you had actually met them, you would think that they're as cool as I do."

But she's not as dense as Steve thinks she is; rather, she's just worried about exposing herself to the wrong person.

Regardless, one day when she leaves her shift a few hours early – Steve taking care of Family Video as she goes next door – she accidentally spills her secret (and her strawberry pink slurpee).

The two of you were talking at an arcade machine with your usual snacks when you had convinced her to try her hand at the game you were trying to win.

"Oh no, I've never been much of a gamer. My hands get really fidgety and they've always been a little over my head..."

She nervously laughs but you insist, and she eventually caves. She struggles at first, trying to keep up with which button does what, but she finally gets the hang of it as you cheer her on. Your support has her cheeks dusted pink, making her brain falter for a minute as she reels on how nice it feels to hear you applaud for her, and she falters. She's about to lose the game when suddenly you help her out, your hand resting on hers in order to save her little character on screen, and Robin feels like she might explode.

She's so giddy that she moves her free hand forward, knocking over her cup and sending some of it flying towards you. What remains of the strawberry drink you had convinced her to try is now on your shirt, and her eyes are wide, mortified and filled with guilt.

She rushes to hand you some napkins, quick to try and talk to explain to you.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I really hope that doesn't stain because your shirt is really cute and I would feel absolutely terrible if I messed it up. Like horrible, and I hope that you don't think I'm crazy for how much I talk to you because I just think you're really cool to hang out with. Like, so cool. Like, I talk about you so much to my coworker Steve that I'm pretty sure he wants to strangle me sometimes. He seems to think I have some sort of crush on you and–"

She stops, having realized what she's bumbled on about, and when you ask her if she does have a crush on you, she just lets out a nervous giggle before saying, "Um.. maybe?"

She's so anxious, heart hammering as she looks anywhere but at you, terrified that you might reject her and expose her to everyone else at Hawkins High as an outsider, someone different, but you don't. You take her hand and give her a smile, reassuring her and confirming that you feel the same, and Robin beams.

"So uh... I could take you downtown to buy you a new shirt? To make up for this one?"

You accept her offer and enjoy your first official date together, hand in hand as you go shopping right after leaving the arcade. When you leave, various brown paper bags of items hung on your fingers, you both sport matching grins of elation and golden charm bracelets, yours of the moon and stars and hers of the sun and clouds.

[sundaysundaes]

Falling

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Angst | NC-17 | 11K

Summary: In the absence of your warmth, Lee Donghyuck begins to reminisce the loving memories he’s shared with you in the past three years, regretting how your first fight turned into something that ended it all. Lyrics are taken from this beautiful song: Harry Style’s Falling.

Warnings: Unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!), oral sex, alcohol consumption, swearing

I'm in my bed

And you're not here

The small, barely prominent crack on the ceiling of his bedroom has always gone unnoticeable. It stands only as a silent witness of the meeting between a pair of plumps lips to redder ones, the breathless sounds of frantic moans, and the sacred exchange of loving words. But not tonight. Tonight, as he lays on his bed, sheets all crumpled but with the absence of your warmth, Donghyuck notices everything.

He notices how quiet his room—his entire apartment—feels when it’s only the sound of his own, soft breathing echoes through the air. The walls, the carpet, the bedsheets, the framed photographs that remind him of the joy that used to bloom on his face—everything feels monochromatic. Empty. Shallow. Because ever since you walked out of his life, you’ve taken all the colors with you, leaving him solely in black and white.

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands

With the bitter taste of vodka sitting on his tongue, Donghyuck closes his eyes, allowing himself to remember but not forgive the words he once said to you. 

Regrets start to suffocate him at once.

Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left

What hurts from a break-up is not the parting of two hearts, but the memories that had been drawn deep within them. It’s not the kiss that he misses, it’s the taste of your lips—the faint scent of strawberry that sits pale in comparison to your natural flavor. It’s the way they move against his own, timid at first then consuming all at once. And how there will be no other girl that will taste the same, feel the same, or emit the same kind of feelings from him.

It’s funny, Donghyuck thinks, how he can only see your smile behind his closed eyelids these days. But he doesn’t find himself laughing. He can’t even remember the last time he found a reason to smile, now that you’re gone.

The moon was hiding behind thick clouds, he remembers, that night when fate walked in and introduced you to one another.

Donghyuck’s eyes were glued to the silver screen, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he witnessed the battle between the villain and the protagonist grew deadly. The thrill of it soon perished, however, when a scent of chamomile shampoo fleeted through his nose.

Your head was falling onto his shoulder as you waned into your dreamland. Unbeknownst to you, you had been leaning your weight entirely to a stranger whose bergamot perfume compelled you to focus on anything besides the movie. It was as pleasant as it was distracting. But after being sleep deprived for three days, exhaustion finally took over and you fell asleep so deeply, you didn’t even have the strength to dream.

Your weight on his body was unfamiliar but it wasn’t uncomfortable for twenty-two years-old Lee Donghyuck. As he took a glance at your face, it wasn’t your beauty that kept him frozen—except for the gentle smile that broke on his lips. It was how peaceful you looked, almost like an enervated child curling up after spending her time chasing butterflies on the field.

Donghyuck shifted carefully on his seat, attempting his best to give you comfort by providing more space for you to lean your weight on. Then he stayed still, his smile never faltered away, the movie long forgotten. He didn’t spare a glance at the screen even when people were gasping at the sight of the protagonist dying in his lover’s arms. He was more intrigued by the thought of your name, wondering whether it would sound as nice as the smell of your shampoo.

When the credits rolled, Donghyuck told Mark and Jeno in hushed whispers to leave without him, throwing icy glares at them when they grinned devilishly at the sight of you sleeping on his shoulder. He went as further as kicking Jeno on the shin when his voice rose too loudly, afraid that he’d wake you up, which made the other man complain because certainly, the background music was louder than anything else in the room.

Nevertheless, you were still deep in your slumber.

Donghyuck begged for more time when one of the concessions workers asked him to leave. Refused and left with no other solution, he sighed and turned his head toward you.

“Hey,” he whispered, heart palpitating in anticipation of finally hearing your voice. “We have to go.”

His voice was foreign to your ears but it was so soothing, almost like a lullaby, that you snuggled closer, wanting to hear more of it. It took Donghyuck three times more with his cheeks reddening to call upon you until you finally found the power to detach yourself from your stupor.

“Hey there,” a boy—beautiful boy—with glowing, sun-kissed skin; round, enticing eyes; and a voice as sweet as honey, beamed at you with a smile so warm, it nearly melted your heart, and you decided ah, I don’t ever want to wake up from this dream.

It was when the usher popped into your vision, stating, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but we’re closing,” that you internally screamed oh God, no, this isn’t a dream, what have I done?

“So that’s what he said.” Donghyuck’s smile was sheepish with a tint of teasing, and your heart moved on its own, yearning for him to display you another one. “But if you still have time to spare, we can go get some coffees or something. I can fill you in on the details.”

“A—” Your voice was hoarse from sleep, embarrassingly so. “About what?”

“About the movie you just missed.” The grin he showcased grew wider and this time, it was so utterly mischievous that you had to break your gaze before heat rushed to your face. “The fact that you’re here watching a movie by yourself must mean you’re interested to see how it ends. I can help you with that.”

“Umm—” You rummaged your purse, pretending like you were searching for something when it was only a poor excuse for you to not be captivated by his eyes longer than you already were. “It’s fine, I can look it up online.”

“But then what should I do with this?” He brought his right hand in the air, pursing his lips. “My arm’s falling asleep. Shouldn’t you take responsibility for it?”

The horrified look on your face made him laugh, and his laughter became the reason why you decided to throw all common sense away and just went with what felt right.

Awkward conversations made you anxious but they died before you could finish your coffee. They were reborn into something that was supposed to only be shared between friends instead of strangers, but with Donghyuck, everything felt so natural, you didn’t even find the will to question it. His affable, carefree attitude was almost inspiring, breaking through your facade as easy as counting his fingers.

“So, how come you went to the movies by yourself?” Donghyuck asked, his coffee long forgotten on the table as he was more drawn to you and the little smile you retained on your lips. “Boyfriend too busy to come along?”

A bit flustered, you brought your head down, hiding your eyes behind your fringe. “I don’t... have a boyfriend.”

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, lying his chin on his palm as he rested his elbow on the table. The way he stared at you made your stomach flip, and he reciprocated with nothing but a hum, tapping a finger to his cheek. His tiny smile held a thousand meaning.

You hurriedly took a sip of your coffee. “I, uhh, I had some free time today and it’s my favorite movie franchise—I just got to see how it ended. But all my friends have seen it, so…”

“They didn’t invite you?”

“They did. I was just busy with work.”

His voice dropped an octave lower. “And they didn’t wait for you.”

“It’s—” Your chest tightened. “It’s fine, really. I mean, it would only make me feel bad if they waited for me. My schedule is crazy. I haven’t been sleeping properly for three days because of my deadlines.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” He chuckled and you noticed how his teeth were a little jagged. “I could still smell your drool on my shirt, actually.”

“Oh my God,” you spluttered. “I’m—Please let me wash it for you.”

“And you expect me to walk home half-naked?” His naughty eyebrow raise made your skin tingle. “Or are you inviting me to stay over?” Seeing you part your mouth but lost for words, Donghyuck tittered. “I’m kidding. I would’ve waited for you. No matter how busy you were, I would. And even if I’ve watched it first, I wouldn’t mind watching it again with you.”

You shook your head, both in attempts to disagree with his words and to erase your blush away. “But that would be a waste of money—”

“That wouldn’t be a waste, and you know why?” He leaned closer, body almost halfway through the table. “Because for me, it’s never about the movie. It’s about watching it together with you. About us complaining about the plot holes, talking about the bad acting, laughing at each other when something reminds us of one of our inside jokes. That’s what makes it worth.” As Donghyuck realized how your eyes were locked with his, your breath hitching in your throat with the proximity, he quickly plummeted back to his seat, flushed. “I mean, it applies to everyone—not you, specifically.”

So he could be shy, you wondered. And what else could he be? Maybe buried underneath those mischievous grins, laid a caring heart. Maybe he could be the one who’d understand when you missed three of his calls as you tried to survive your deadlines. Maybe he would cook you breakfast instead of just reminding you to take one. Maybe he could taste sweeter than any boy you’d ever kissed.

So when his curiosity for you matched the intensity you had towards him, you let your walls crumble, welcoming him with open arms.

“It’s going to rain,” Donghyuck mentioned, eyes observing the night sky, dark clouds rumbling as they hovered above you. You were walking next to him, knuckles nearly grazing one another from how near you were though none of you was brave enough to close the distance.

Although obvious, you decided to humor him. “Yeah? How can you tell?”

“‘Cause I’m psychic.” The added wink in the end was a bonus but to you, it became the main reason why you had to drag your gaze to your feet.

Funny how for the past three hours, your smile never faltered away—almost to the point that your cheekbones began to hurt—when you could barely remember the last time you found amusement in anything.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and you promptly shook your head no. Unfortunately for you, your body betrayed you. Donghyuck chuckled softly when he noticed the shivers that ran through your spine. “Want me to lend you my jacket?”

“Oh—no, it’s fine, I’m—”

“It was a rhetorical question, dummy.” The body heat that was imprinted on his leather jacket made you well-aware of just how warm he actually was. The scent of his bergamot perfume was overwhelmingly delightful, but there was another scent underneath it—something that reminded you of summer, sunlight, and sandalwood—that made you wonder, maybe, if he wasn’t wearing this perfume, he’d smell just like this.

He pushed your hair away from your neck, straightening the jacket until it enveloped you entirely with its warmth. “Better?”  

You eventually managed to snap yourself out of your reverie. “Were you always this smooth with women?”

“No, I just practiced in front of my mirror a lot.”

“Practiced what?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “The art of seduction.”

“Is that so?” Your cheeks began to warm but it was probably because of the jacket. “Guess I should try that sometimes,” you joked.

“I don’t think you need it,” he cooed, bending himself down a little so you were eye-to-eye. “You already have me wrapped around your fingers from the second I laid my eyes on you.” When you became petrified by his words, his laughter reverberated through the air. “Now, that’s an example. How did I do?”

Ignoring your racing heart, you retorted, “Terrible.”

“Then will you let me practice on you so I can get better?”

Just like that, you found yourself sporting another smile. “Now, that’s smooth.”

Your life had been dull, repeating the same routines over and over again with your job taking most of your precious hours. Being with Donghyuck was a breath of fresh air—a stranger who was attentive to every little gesture you made, every little word that escaped your mouth, as much as he easily stole your attention away. His confidence was inspiring, his laughter was contagious, and you adored every little bit of his quirkiness.

“This feels like a date,” he professes, smiling diffidently to himself. “Would it be okay for me to think of it as a date?”

Suddenly, your vocabulary had diminished into nothing but his name. You nodded, and surprisingly enough for you, Donghyuck snickered, hand reaching out to playfully—almost childishly—ruffle your strands. “Thanks. Then a date it is.”

You wished time could go slower so you could savor the moment, memorizing the heart shape of his lips when he grinned.

You stopped in front of your apartment building, a breeze of cold night wind caressing your cheeks. “Umm, this is me,” you said, dismantling his leather jacket of your body. “Thank you... for this.”

Donghyuck’s fingertips grazed against your knuckles and it took longer than necessary for him to retrieve it from your hand. “You’re welcome.”

“And...” Your mind strayed away from forming the right words as you took notice of him wearing his leather jacket, how it fitted him so perfectly, how handsome he looked. “Umm, thank you for walking me back.”

“Thank you for giving me the chance.” His smile reminded you of spring, your favorite season, the way it blossomed on his face, so warm and beautiful. “I could’ve been a serial killer, you know. Showing me where you live isn’t too smart.”

“You don’t look like a serial killer to me.”

“Yeah?” His smile turned impish. “Then, how do I look like to you?”

You were fast to pivot on your heels. “I think I should go.”

His laughter filled the air. “Wait, I haven’t even said good night yet.”

“Then good ni—“ Your words died on your tongue when a pair of plump lips found their way to your cheek, just brushing lightly against the skin but your entire breath escaped your lungs at once. He retraced his steps before you could respond properly, biting the corner of his lip, looking somewhat unsure.

“Sorry if that’s—“ Donghyuck cleared his throat. “Umm, good night.”

You felt lightheaded, and you shortly blamed it on the amount of espresso you’d gulped too much during the day. “Good… night…”

Donghyuck was too bashful to meet your eyes, which was why you were brave enough to sneak a glimpse at his face. You decided that his sly, confident grins looked alluring on his face, but they were nothing compared to how adorable he seemed when he evinced that nervous, shy look on his face.

It took a few seconds before Donghyuck gave you a weak nod and walked away, taking the same direction from where you came. Something queasy grew inside your stomach, your grip around your purse tightening. 

Is it all there is? Am I never going to see him again?

With a heavy sigh, you walked toward your building.

Maybe he doesn't like me that much... But what do I do now? I want to see him again.

I don’t want to let him go without knowing whether I could see him again.

God, for once, just do something for yourself. Do something that makes you happy, be brave!

Taking a deep breath, you chose to gamble.

At the same time you turned on your heels, shouting his name, Donghyuck was calling upon yours and you both met each other halfway, breathless when it didn’t even take you more than twenty steps to reach one another.

“H-hi,” you greeted, voice quivering but not as much as the fingers you curled around the hem of your blouse.

“Hey.” Donghyuck’s gaze softened. “I was wondering—”

“Can we meet again?” You didn’t intend to cut him off so abruptly, but the anxiety within you nearly made your heart burst that you ended up asking the question without waiting for him to finish his. “I—I mean—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Yes, a thousand times yes,” he answered in one breath, with his sentence ending in chuckles. “You’re adorable, do you know that?”

Your heart was still about to burst but for an entirely different reason. “That’s…” You tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear—a habit that seemed to appear whenever you were too embarrassed to function. “That’s great. I mean, the fact that you want to see me again, not—” Oh God, okay, stop. “Well, then, umm, I guess I should leave now.”

He concealed his grin. “Aren’t you going to ask for my number or something?”

You mentally slapped yourself. “Y-yes, that would make it easier.”

The way Donghyuck was gazing at you made you feel like you were about to fall from the edge of your seat. He must think I’m an idiot. But had you been brave enough to see the gleam in his eyes, you would’ve noticed how he was staring at you so adoringly. “Give me your phone then.” When you just stood still, too busy trying to comprehend that a cute boy was really going to give you his number, Donghyuck added, “To add my numbers, Sweetheart. What, do I look like someone who flirts with pretty girls just to steal their phones away?”

“I wasn’t—” You quickly handed him your phone. “Here.”

Donghyuck’s smile grew playful again. “Care to make it interesting?”

“What?”

“I’ll add my numbers except for the last digit. You gotta guess it.”

“What? Why—”

“Because you’re cute,” he repeated, cocking his head as he returned your phone. “And it makes me want to tease you even more.” You unconsciously began to pout and he nearly whimpered at the sight. “Don’t do that, that’s not fair.”

You mumbled quietly, “I don’t like being made fun of.”

“I’m not making fun of you, I’m teasing you. There’s a difference.” He sighed, fingertips aching to reach out and swat your bangs away from your eyes. “A huge difference.”

You jutted out your bottom lip. “Feels the same to me.”

Donghyuck leaned in, calloused palm finding its way to cup your cheek, lifting your face so the streetlight could illuminate your features. “You need to wash that pout away from your face,” he whispered, eyes slowly going down to your lips that you had to remind yourself to breathe. “Or else I won’t be able to hold myself back.”

It was supposed to be another teasing, you knew he only meant it that way. But all trace of playfulness quickly vanished from his face when he noticed your eyes drifting to his lips—just for a split second—but that was enough. He saw the sign, he felt the chemistry, and there was no way he was going to let it pass just like that. Not when he had been thinking the same thing repeatedly for the last three hours you’d been together.

It wasn’t your first kiss—nor your second or third—but it was the kiss that mattered and you weren’t sure why. Three hours ago, he was a stranger. Now, he sent a trickle of electricity through your bloodstream, as if he was your first love. As if you had been wanting him for years.

A gentle rain began to pour over your heads, tiny droplets staining your cheeks but all you could think about was the way his thumb was caressing your cheekbone, how his lips were warmer and softer than anything you could have imagined, yet fierce and powerful at the same time.

“Am I going too fast?” He asked in a broken whisper, parting away just enough to murmur the question but close enough that you could still feel his words grazing your lips.

“Yes.” But you curled your fingers on the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. Donghyuck sighed into your mouth, eyebrows furrowing as he let himself drown deeper in passion. What started as a chaste kiss became ardent, and you allowed him to taste you enough so that he would fall asleep thinking about your lips. Donghyuck took a hold of your wrist, detaching your grip from his fabric and moved it up, silently telling you to wind your arms around his neck instead. The second you did it, he melded his lips with yours in a passion that matched the blazing sun, entangling his long arms around your waist, nearly lifting you off your feet as he embraced you tighter.

You wanted to preserve this moment. Right here, kissing fervidly under the soft rain in the arms of a stranger, drowned in the feelings of excitement. Because if you were oxygen, then Donghyuck was dying to breathe.

When it ended, you wished it didn’t have to. Donghyuck’s eyes were deep and intense as they peered into yours, growing a bit half-lidded when he shifted them back to your lips. “Hey.”

You mirrored his gentle smile, forehead pressing against his. “Hi…”

“I don’t know about you,” he chuckled lowly, “but as far as first kisses go, I think that was the best first kiss in the history of mankind.”

You tried to suppress your laughter but failed instantly. “Hyuck?”

“Yeah?”

“Judging from that line, I think you need to practice harder on your art of seduction.”

“Let’s just go back to kissing for now. I like kissing.” He pulled you in again, exchanging muffled giggles between playful kisses.

And if happiness had a form, it would’ve had his smile.

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I’m someone I don’t want around?

I’m falling again. I’m falling again.

I’m falling.

It’s almost laughable that the memories that once sparked so much joy in his heart have taken a shape of javelin, striking him deep in his chest, right where he ached for you the most. It tasted like summer when he kissed you in the rain, and the pain that swells in Donghyuck’s heart whenever the memory of it suffices is harder than the storm. And now, it’s the silence of the room—the absence of your presence—that pierces his skin.

It was easy for him to fall in love with you. So easy, it frightened him at first. After his first relationship, the way his first love shed his heart to pieces, he thought he wouldn’t be able to love someone ever again. Wouldn’t have the courage to even try. But when you came into the picture, Donghyuck didn’t even have the strength to resist. You were everything he ever wanted, an epitome of the woman that graced his dreams. And he was a prisoner, trapped under your spell.

So, why does everything have to end?

Now that he’s falling without you catching him, what is he going to do?

He hates who he’s become. He loathes the fact that he can no longer easily smile like he used to. He despises how grimly he envisioned the world these days. As if you were his entire future, and now that you’re gone, his whole world collapses. Donghyuck no longer knows himself, as you were the one who defines him. The one who gave meaning to his life. The one who mended his broken heart.

What if I’m down? What if I’m out?

What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?

I’m falling again. I’m falling again.

I’m falling.

You must hate me now, Donghyuck ponders, bringing his arm over his face, nibbling at the corner of his lip. The things I said… How I let you go without even giving us a chance… I must have hurt you…

It all began that night, on the day of your twenty-sixth birthday. Two years had passed since you shared your first kiss. Little fights over your differences couldn’t be avoided, but they helped nurture the bond you had with him, making it stronger. And each forgiveness was sincere and was rich in kisses. Donghyuck always made sure of that.

As you were fond of movies, your perfect date must involve watching a movie together with him so Donghyuck, dressed unusually handsomely in a white button-up shirt and black khakis that caught you off guard, took you out to the movie theater—the place where fate once meddled in and brought you to one another.

Knowing your taste, he paid two tickets to see the latest romantic movie, two buckets of popcorn, and a coke for him but iced green tea for you, realizing full well how soda had become one of your biggest enemies ever since your diet started. He made sure that your seats were located on the corner top of the theater, private enough for him to snuggle close to you or steal kisses whenever he felt like doing. You didn’t mind because Donghyuck would only kiss you when you seemed bored, never wanting to bother you when you were too immersed in the movie. He simply kept his hand laced with yours the whole time to make up for the loss.

Complaining about the plot holes and making jokes that only you two could understand had become Donghyuck’s habit to keep you entertained during the movie and it was something you always looked forward to. But that night, he was quiet, his eyebrows creasing in irritation but because of what, you were clueless.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you exited the building, this time being the one who reached out for his hand first. Donghyuck stiffened but his shoulders soon relaxing as he intertwined your fingers together.

“I’m fine,” he assured. “Why, do I not look fine?”

You weakly smiled back, uncertain. “You just seem awfully quiet, that’s all.”

He rubbed his nape, somehow looking a bit perturbed. “I just… It made me remember something I’ve been trying my best to forget.”

“You mean the movie?”

“Yeah.” He sighed into the night, puffs of hot air erupting from his slightly chapped lips. “I don’t know about you, but I think the way the movie depicted their long-distance relationship is just bullshit.”

There was so much bitterness in his words that it nearly made you stop walking. Suddenly, there was a thick tension around you, one that made you aware that it would be wiser to drop the conversation. But curiosity was eating you from the inside. He looked so crushed, so angry, and Donghyuck was turning into a whole other person before you.

You asked him what happened.

“I don’t think I want to talk about my past relationship when I’m celebrating a special night with my girlfriend.” He forced himself to laugh about it, but it sounded hollow.

You unconsciously tightened your grip around his hand. “I just wanted to understand you better.”

“Hey.” He pulled you toward him so abruptly, you ended up falling on his chest. His smile was warmer when he looked at you. “Without even knowing my past, you already understand me better than anyone.”

You were still unsettled when Donghyuck kissed your lips to divert your attention, softly biting your lower one just to joke around to ease the tension. “Ah, I can’t wait until we’re home,” he whispered when all laughter had receded and he had his fingers tucking your loose strands behind your ear. “I want to make love to you.”

Your heart beat thunderously inside your chest. “You’re—you’re just gonna say it so blatantly like that?” He used to be so shy about it, asking you to join him in bed by pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck instead of using words.

“Just wanted you to know my plans beforehand.” He simpered. “Or do you not want to?”

Face aflame, you hurriedly took a couple of strides forward, leading the way with your hand clamping his wrist. “Where are we going?” Donghyuck frowned but followed you nonetheless. “The restaurant is right there.”

“We can have dinner after.” You threw a look over your shoulder, too nervous to smile, but hoped your words would deliver. “Aren’t we going to make love?”

His astonished look soon turned delicate. Donghyuck’s smiles were always beautiful, but the ones that were caused by you were the brightest. 

As soon as the door clicked open, Donghyuck half-pushed, half-carried you inside his apartment that smelled pleasantly like him. He didn’t wait until it was properly closed before he latched his parted lips on your softer ones, fusing perfectly in the way no one ever could. A stinging pain erupted from the back of your head when Donghyuck drove you to the wall, not knowing his own strength, but when you groaned against his mouth, it was solely because you needed him as much as he needed you.

“I love you,” he breathlessly said against your neck, tearing your coat away from your body, fingers slipping underneath your dress. “I love you so much, it’s insane.”

It had been three months since you first exchanged the sacred three words, but no matter how much Donghyuck had whispered them to your ears, painted them to your skin with his lips, it still felt like the first time you heard him say the words. It wasn’t just because of how many promises he held underneath them, it was the way he said them—so sincerely, so desperately, as if you were running out of time and he needed you to hear them before you disappeared from his life.

“I—” You flinched, pulling him for another kiss again when Donghyuck hooked his fingers on the side of your lingerie, hastily pushing it down your thighs. “I love you too—Hyuck—”

The bed was not more than twenty steps away but it was long forgotten when Donghyuck, still with his teeth ghosting across your lower lip, hastily unzipped himself and pushed his jeans and boxers lower enough for your hand to find and stroke him to life. “God, baby—” he hissed when you curled your fingers around him, hot breath caressing your jawline. “I want—I need to be inside you—just—”

No one had ever wanted you the way he did. Every kiss was nearly bruising, every hug was almost suffocating, the thrill of it all was overwhelming. 

It was almost a whine that escaped his lips when he vocalized your name. As soon as his desperate gasp and pleading moan reached your ears, the butterflies came alive in your stomach. Your skin tingled, even with the lightest brush of his lips. Your fingers found home in his hair when he kissed the valley between your breasts, tugging at his soft strands and earning a low grunt in response.

You gave him a sign, affirming that it was okay to continue and Donghyuck wasted no time. Pushing the fabric of your dress as much as he could until it pooled around your waist, he lifted one of your legs and wrapped it around his hips, one hand sliding down to prop up your thigh, the other one aligning his tip against your entrance.

The friction made you moan, both in pain and passion, as Donghyuck slid himself in one swift motion. The second he was sheathed deep inside, waiting for you to adjust to his size, he drew out a long sigh, eyes shut close as he relished the sensation. But when your gaze met, his half-lidded eyes were gentler than they had been the entire day. Careful fingers framed your face, his thumb rubbing comforting circles along your cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

You weakly nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Are you?”

His chuckles were light and bashful. “I’m feeling great,” he said. He moved his hips without warning, just a little, not too fast, not too deep, but the sensation was enough to make you whimper and Donghyuck swallowed every little noise you made directly with his lips.

A certain thrust made you squeeze around him and he drowned out his moan by mouthing against your shoulder, teeth prickling against the skin. “Fuck, do that again, baby, please.” And as he continued hitting the same spot, it was a given that you provided the same reaction.

Donghyuck was insanely good at making you feel good, and in return, you wanted to give him everything that he desired. “I love how you feel around me,” he confessed under his breath, as if he was talking to himself. “Perfect—you’re so perfect for me—”

Your arms were frantically clutching around his neck, trying to maintain stability when Donghyuck pushed you up the wall, now lifting both of your feet off the ground. He buried himself deeper, moved his hips faster, and kissed you with the desperation of a dying man.

You tried to hold back but you couldn’t. It was too much. His breathless moans in your ear, the frantic sway of his hips, the closeness of your bodies—everything was overwhelming and you came hard on his length, legs wrapping tightly around his waist as Donghyuck chased after your lips. 

“Fuck,” he breathed heavily, his jaw hung low. The way you quivered and clenched around him sent fire through his veins. “Did you just come?” he whispered and you bit your lip in shame. The tiny laugh that broke free from his lips were both playful and filled with tenderness. “Already? That was fast.”

Flustered but not given the chance to react, you inhaled sharply when Donghyuck picked up the pace. He was almost growling when his lips grazed against the shell of your ear. “Actually, me too,” he moaned, “Is it—can I come inside?”

You nodded fervently, embracing him tighter and Donghyuck buried his head in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he came.

When he let you slide down to your feet, your knees gave out under your weight and you stumbled back to his chest. He held you close, laughing as he kissed the top of your head. “I’m sorry, come here.” Bending down slightly, Donghyuck hooked one arm under your knees and another one behind your back. He carried you in his arms, teasing, “The sex was so good, you could barely stand, huh?”

You playfully slapped his chest. “Shut up.”

But all of his mischievousness dissipated as soon as you both slipped under the duvet, his bedsheets felt silky smooth under your spine. He cleaned the stain that dripped down your thighs with a warm towel, but dipped his head down to taste you directly with his tongue the second he was finished with it. Donghyuck’s eyes never left yours, placing gentle kisses on the inner sides of your thighs and two more on your clit before he slid his tongue along your folds, slowly, as if he had the whole time in the world to please you.

He was always gentler the second time, slower with more feelings instead of sheer passion. So when he slid himself into you again, his forehead was pressed against yours, lips curving up into an innocent smile. “I never want to let you go,” he chuckled between tiny moans. “I want to stay just like this with you, forever.”

“I don’t think it’s physically possible,” you giggled, raking your nails down his spine and he arched his back in response. 

“Wouldn’t it be great if we could stay connected like this all the time, though?” Donghyuck broke away, sitting on his heels as he rested one of your legs on his shoulder. His fingers were kneading the skin of your thigh, hugging your leg close to his chest as he rocked his hips slowly, savoring every moment. “I mean, ah, doesn’t this feel good?”

You nibbled at your lip, sighing. Good was an understatement but you weren’t sure you could find a term to perfectly define how amazing he felt around you. From where you laid on the bed, you could take a good look at Donghyuck’s eyes—the way they drooped slightly, clouded with both affection and infatuation every time they met yours. How the muscles in his abs were flexing with every movement. The sinful, obscene sway of his hips. The little smirk that broke on his face when you accidentally moaned his name too loud—Donghyuck was... Beautiful. Irresistible. Sexy. 

“Baby?” Donghyuck called, chuckling softly as he peppered open-mouthed kisses to your ankle that made you stare in a haze. “You okay down there?”

You pursed your lips. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Yeah?” He brought your leg down so he could fall back into your arms, mouth meeting your jawline before it moved to playfully bite the tip of your nose. “Well, I’ve got something else you could also enjoy.”

You hummed, trying your best to contain your moan when he suddenly brought his fingers down to rub against your clit. “And what’s that?” Though by the way he slammed his hips harder against yours served as an obvious answer.

“Some caramel pudding,” he answered, nipping against your neck as he grinned, careful enough not to leave any marks. “They’re in the fridge. You’ll love them.”

It was hard to focus when he kept hitting the spot that made you curl your toes. “Hyuck...” You pushed a loose strand of his hair behind his ear before you caressed his cheek. “I love you.”

His movements stopped, eyes peering into yours, stunned at first, then melted into something softer than the breath of summer. “I love you too.” His lips never left yours as they spoke each loving word with more sentimentality and less urgency. “And happy birthday, baby...”

When both of you had no strength left but to cuddle in each other’s arms, you gathered the courage to ask once more. “Hyuck?”

“Hmm?”

“I still want to know, after all. About what happened to you earlier. You looked so distraught—I can’t rest before I know what upsets you.”

Donghyuck’s fingers stopped momentarily from carding through your strands but with a heavy sigh, he surrendered.

It was his first relationship with his first love, back when he was sixteen. They were together for four years but knew each other for ten. She was a close friend that grew into something more. Even loving words didn’t need to be exchanged as they could practically finish each other’s thoughts. You felt a pang of jealousy gnawing at you from the inside, at the thought of him having someone so important in his life—someone who had stayed with him longer than you’d met him—someone whose name couldn’t be spoken as it triggered too many emotions.

But for the sake of understanding him, you cast your jealousy aside, no matter how much it hurt.

Donghyuck’s voice had lost its usual cheeriness when he reminisced his past. By the time they graduated high school, she decided to continue her study in Japan. Donghyuck let her go, supporting her plans and dreams like the perfect boyfriend that he was. They were committed to each other, faithful to one another. Donghyuck never doubted her, not even once.

Until one day, during a summer break, he decided to pay her a visit. He bought airplane tickets with the money he’d saved up for months, along with a thoughtful gift for her birthday. But the second he saw her opening the door to her apartment, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

She was never alone. He was.

“Why are you here?” She asked, as if his presence was a bother. Him, the man whom she claimed she’d loved with her entire soul for the last four years. The man whom she had made love to on his bed just six months earlier. Donghyuck would never forget the look she had on her face that day.

“It’s funny how you’ve been with this person your whole life,” Donghyuck breathily said, eyes locked to the ceiling. “And you thought you knew them like the back of your hand and then one day, they betrayed you in the way you thought they were incapable of doing.”

You couldn’t find your voice, blending in with the silence of the room.

But he didn’t hate her, Donghyuck confessed. He hated himself. He hated how stupid—how innocent and gullible he was. He hated how easily he let someone else carry his heart around and let them do whatever they want with it. He knew that she wouldn’t have the power to destroy him, if he didn’t give her the chance. Maybe, if his thoughts weren’t as clouded by his feelings, he would’ve noticed the little sighs she made whenever he told her he loved her. He would’ve noticed the way she sounded much brighter when she talked about her life instead of their lives together during their late-night calls. He would’ve noticed how distant she sounded whenever she spoke his name, as if it was just another meaningless word and not the one that she used to murmur in short gasps near his ear.

And maybe if I hadn’t fallen in love...

Donghyuck fell mute for a few seconds as if he was drifted to another time and space. The hurting look on his face was so vivid that it broke you just by seeing it. Attempting to wash the pain away, you placed a hand on his cheek and Donghyuck grew rigid once before he melted into smiles, leaning into your touch.

“I had to stay for a whole week in a country I didn’t know because I couldn’t refund my ticket. All alone, since my girlfriend cheated on me and didn’t even care to apologize about it,” he murmured against your palm, still sounding bitter but with more ease. “So yeah, I probably have some trust issues now because of that.” He tried to laugh it off. “But it’s all right. I don’t care. I have you now, right?” He laid on his side, facing you with a boyish smile that made your heart race just a little bit faster. “I’m starting on a new page with you. And as long as you’re here with me, I’m the happiest man in the world.”

You reflected his smile though your heart was unsettled. “You’re lame.”

“Excuse me, I’m in love,” he corrected, pouting. But when his hand found yours, his expression grew tender again. Kissing each of your fingertips, he murmured, “We’ll always be together, right? Promise you won’t do that to me, ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He knew what loving you could cost him, but you were different. And he was different. He wouldn’t fall into the same trap. He knew how to protect himself this time. So he allowed himself to love you just as much, if not more, moving on but never forget.

Your eyes were focusing on the way he brought your index finger between his lips, the tip pressing against his hot tongue. “Yes,” you softly whispered, hooking a finger around his silver necklace, pulling him in for a kiss. “We’ll always be together.”

So when you received a job promotion a year later, you didn’t know what to say to him. It was your dream job, finally achieving that position after practically hanging on for dear life for five years working in the company. The salary exceeded your expectation, and you would be working under a senior that you admired. The company would pay for all your living expenses, give you your own flat to live with a balcony where you could see the sun rising behind the skyscrapers. It all sounded so perfect. Too perfect.

Except for the part where you had to move to another country that stood three thousand miles from where he was.

You knew you should’ve said something to Donghyuck the first time your director broke the news to you. But you couldn’t as you didn’t know how. During the three years of your relationship, both of you had avoided talking about matters that could lead to fights, only allowing yourselves to discuss trivial, daily things that would make the other pout in annoyance but not fury. The first time you noticed this happened, was when both of you became too busy dealing with your own lives. You had your job to think about, while Donghyuck had his thesis to work on and there wasn’t much time to focus on each other even when you were staying in the same room.

Donghyuck often released his stress by nuzzling his nose against your neck, pulling you into his lap, whispering, “I miss you,” and you reciprocated each time with a kiss but you both stopped before it got too much, with you patting his cheek, apologizing to him with both words and your eyes, “I’m sorry, but I have a Zoom meeting in an hour so I really need to get my presentation done.”

He just sighed, pressing a tiny kiss between your eyebrows. “Well then, I’m gonna go catch some sleep. Don’t work too hard.”

And as he walked to the bedroom, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone in his living room, you realized the distance that grew between you. He used to look back, peeking his head through the door, saying, “Would it really kill you to just join me for, like, fifteen minutes? I’ll be fast, I swear,” which you would answer with a laugh, assuming he was joking. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”

Now, he doesn’t even stop to say good night.

You knew you could fix it—he knew he could fix it too—but none of you ever said anything about it, afraid that it would trigger something bigger that neither of you wouldn’t be able to fix.

It didn’t mean that you didn’t try. Every weekend, you would commit yourself fully for him and Donghyuck would accept your unspoken apology with all his heart. You once attempted to drop some clues about your promotion during dinner when he made you your favorite dish, grinning from ear-to-ear as he waited for your reaction. Donghyuck’s Spaghetti Aglio e olio never disappointed you, but you know your words would. So when he was smiling at you, his thumb gliding along your knuckles as he took your hand in his, how could you tell him? 

I just need more time to prepare myself. To find a better way to explain.

But before you could find your words, Donghyuck found your promotion letter.

“What is this?” He asked to your horror, body leaning against the doorframe, your letter in his hand.

The maroon dress you were trying to fold fell from your lap as you stood up abruptly, eyes widening in shock. “That’s—where did you get—”

“What is this?”

“It’s...” You trembled. “My promotion letter.”

“Are you planning to tell me about it?” He wasn’t shouting, didn’t even raise his voice, but to your ears, his voice was thunderous.  

You fidgeted, fingers fisting the hemline of your shirt, desperate for comfort. “Of course, I—” But there were no words. Your brain was too jumbled to find a proper excuse. So when Donghyuck just lowered his gaze, eyes growing colder, and left the room, you could only call out his name.

He only stopped in his tracks when you grasped his wrist. “Did you say yes to this?” His voice was quiet, eerily so, that it sent shivers down your spine.

You nibbled at your bottom lip. “I was—”

“Yes or no?”

He only allowed you to choose, not explain. With a deep breath, you mumbled out, “Yes.”

There was a moment of silence where you could only hear your stuttered breathing but none of his. “Three months,” he murmured, voice deep and hoarse that you barely recognized it. “The letter is three months old. You had all this time to tell me.”

Panic was bubbling up your chest. “I was going to tell you but—”

The rest of your words died instantly the second Donghyuck slammed the letter on the dining table. Without another word, he stomped off to the front door, grabbing his coat.

“Wait!” You chased after his trails, knees wobbling. “Where are you—”

The door was shut close with a bang.

No matter how many times you tried to call him, he never answered. The only thing you could do was stay in his apartment and waited until he came back to his senses. Now that you were alone in the living room, you began to notice just how much of your belongings were positioned in every corner of his apartment. Your toothbrush was next to his, your clothes were hanging inside his wardrobe, your favorite books were on his shelf, and the walls were painted with more photographs of you than his own. In every picture, you could see yourself smiling in his arms, laughing at something he did or said because that was it, wasn’t it? Donghyuck was the only one who could make you smile so freely, without a care in the world.

So why are we in this position?

It was your first big fight and you had no one to blame but yourself. Hours had passed by and tears began to well from how frustrated you were with yourself, but the front door flung open before they could outline your cheeks.

“Hyuck,” you called out, heart breaking at the sound of his name. Donghyuck’s hair was ruffled by the wind, his nose and cheeks reddening from the cold night air. His hands were in his coat’s pockets, his eyes hiding behind his bangs as he kicked his shoes away. He walked past you as if you weren’t there, heading straight to the bedroom.

Judging from the scent and his droopy eyes, you knew he had been drinking. “Are you okay?”

No answer. He took his coat off, throwing it to the bed, along with his phone—which was clearly functional as always. You had expected him to dismiss your calls, but it still hurt being ignored.

Eyebrows knitting in concern, you went to the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee, hoping that a little caffeine would ease the tension as it was something you were both fond of. You stopped to catch your breath, noticing that it was one in the morning.

What should I do?

“Hyuck…” You carefully said, voice quieter than usual as you walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind you. “I’ve made you some coffee. It’ll help warm you up.”

Donghyuck was sitting at the edge of the bed, his phone in his hands, blatantly ignoring you.

“Can we…” You hesitated, fingers curling into tiny balls of fists. “Can we talk..?”

But the silence was deafening.

“Hyuck—”

“What?!” He suddenly roared, making you take a step back, flinching. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I…” You swallowed your breath. “I know you’re upset about me leaving and I’m sorry—”

“Oh, so now you want to talk about this? After I found out about your letter?” Donghyuck didn’t wait for your response. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this a secret from me! What else are you not telling me?”

Heart dropping to the stomach, you weakly replied, “Nothing, just... I was going to tell you—”

“Yeah? When, exactly?” Donghyuck stood up, throwing his phone to the bed. “When you’re about to go? When you’re about to disappear from my life just like her?”

Being put in the same position as the person who tore his heart to pieces was both sickening and infuriating. “Of course not, I won’t do that to you! I won’t leave you—”

“But that’s all that everybody fucking said!” He threw his hands in the air. “That’s what she said when—”

“Well, I’m not her!” The booming sound of your voice startled you both, but it grew weak in comparison when the eerie silence followed. “Hyuck, you can’t blame me for what she did. I’m not her. I’m not her replacement. Don’t compare me with her.”

For a moment, Donghyuck’s lips were pressed tightly until they grew white. “I never compared you with her,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not until now when you’re doing the same thing, saying the exact same thing to me.”

You cowered slightly under his gaze. The sound of the ticking clock had never felt so loud when you fought for words to say. “It’s my dream job, Hyuck. I’ve been waiting all my life to get this position.”

“Congratulations.” He scoffed, clenching his jaw. “I’m so glad you get what you wanted.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to say words you don’t mean.”

He clicked his tongue in vexation. “Yeah, well, I would’ve meant them, if you had told me about this sooner.”

“I wasn’t able to tell you because I thought you’d be upset about it—”

“Well, I suppose, postponing it until we’re counting days till your leave is going to make me feel fucking elated, isn’t that right, Sweetheart?” There had never been a day where you thought his adorable, warm laughter could turn into something so spiteful. “Let me guess. You’re leaving in like, what, a month?”

You rubbed your tears away before they fell. “Six weeks.”

“Oh, that makes everything so much better! Six weeks!” He cynically laughed, throwing his head back. “You know what? You’re right. I’m so happy. Never been this fucking happy in my whole goddamn life—”

“What do you want me to do?!” The frustration that welled inside your chest finally broke through your lips. “You want me to turn back time so I could tell you right after I heard the news three months ago?”

Donghyuck averted his gaze, his hand going to his head, pulling at his hair roots. “I just don’t understand why if this is so important to you—and if I’m so important to you—why don’t you talk this out with me? Don’t you care about what I think? About how I’d feel?”

Tears were running faster than you could wipe them off your cheeks. “I couldn’t find the right time to tell you.” You choked out. “ And you were busy working on your final thesis too, I didn’t want to bother you—”

“That’s your excuse?!” he gasped in disbelief. “I don’t fucking care about my thesis. I care about you! And you knew how I felt about this—about being in a long-distance relationship—"

“That was the reason why I was waiting for the right time until—“

“Until you can tell me that you’re leaving.” He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m tired and we’re going in circles. Why are we even discussing this when you’ve made the decision all by yourself.”

Embittered, you asked, “Do you want me to choose between you and my career?”

“No. I don’t.” He finally peered into your eyes, and you could see how there was not as much anger as sadness that emerged in his eyes. “But I’m making my own decision.” When you frowned in confusion, Donghyuck looked away, staring at the wall that was filled with memories as he spoke. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“What?” It felt like the world was swallowing you whole. “What did you say?”

Exchanging stares with you, Donghyuck appeared more weary than furious. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

“You’re drunk.” You reasoned out, both in efforts to calm him down and to wash the fear away from your chest. “You won’t be saying any of this if you were sober.”

Donghyuck’s eyes grew colder. “If that’s what makes you sleep at night, sure. Go ahead and think that way.”

Dread was coursing through your veins, making you feel terrified of what was coming. “Wait,” you almost pleaded, “We need to talk about this.”

“I think we’ve talked enough.”

“Can’t we at least try—”

“I can’t.” The confession escaped his lips, his eyes were heartbroken, as if it was you who was breaking up with him and not the other way around. “You know I can’t do this. I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. I don’t want to be that guy who constantly gets suspicious or overly protective of you because of my past. It won’t be fair to you.”

“I don’t care if you’re being unfair,” you replied shakily, “I just don’t want us to end what we have now.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice grew softer. “If we continue this, I know I’ll end up saying things I never mean to say. With three thousand miles between us, how often do you think we can see each other? With you being so busy with your new job, how often can we speak?” But the bitterness in his voice came alive when he added, “We could barely do that when we were in the same room before.”

“It’s about that..?” Realization washed over you like a wave. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Same reason as you,” he replied, “To protect our relationship. That’s what we always do, isn’t it? Pretending everything is fine when it’s not?”

“Hyuck, I’ve tried my best to spend time with you... I thought you’d understand that I have a job—”

“You’re right, but unlike you, I don’t.” Donghyuck weakly smiled. “I don’t have anything going on with my life except you. I don’t even know if I can graduate in time. But you’ve achieved so much. You’re only a few years older than me and yet you’ve already had everything figured out, and I admire you for that.” His words sounded sincere but it only tore your heart open even more. Donghyuck walked closer, his fingers pushing the bangs out of your eyes like the way he used to do but it didn’t feel the same. “You’re already perfect the way you are now. You don’t need me in your life.”

“No.” The desperation was so thick in your voice, that it made you wince but not regret. “You’re wrong, you—There’s not a day where I don’t need you, Hyuck. I want you to stay with me. Come with me. We still have time.”

You don’t mean that. Donghyuck brought his head down, unable to meet your eyes. If you did, you would’ve told me about this sooner. “And then what?” he sighed, sounding so tired. “What am I going to do if I come with you? I haven’t even finished my study, let alone having a job.”

“You can find one in—”

“In a country where I can’t even speak the language?” He bitterly smiled. “I doubt it. I’m not gonna let you pay for my needs—”

“Then, I’ll make some time for you, I promise. Better this time.” Your fingernails were sinking into your palms from how tightly you curled them. “No matter how far we are from each other, I’ll call you every day.”

“I don’t want that.” His words were laced with frustration. “I don’t want you to force yourself to do something for me. And I don’t want to spend my nights imagining whether you’re spending yours with someone else.”

“You...” You were so quiet, you wondered if he could hear you properly. “You don’t trust me?”

But Donghyuck shook his head, gaze softening. “I do. I just don’t trust myself.”

Your mind turned into a blank slate, unable to form a word. Donghyuck’s breathing tattered a little when he exhaled, walking to his wardrobe to pick out some clothes. “I’m gonna go stay at Mark’s for the weekend. Feel free to take out your stuff. Just drop the keys at the lobby when you’re finished.”

You stood still, frozen. It almost felt like a heart attack from the way your heart was hammering against your ribcages. “I don’t want to lose you, Hyuck,” you quietly professed, “I thought we could work this out...”

Donghyuck’s movements were put to a halt, just for a couple of seconds, before he continued shoving his clothes down his bag.

You stood on the side as he walked past you, his natural sandalwood scent had disappeared, buried under the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. “So, this is it…?” You fretted. “For us..?”

Donghyuck stopped walking, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “It’s better for both of us, don’t you think?”

But he didn’t wait to hear your answer.

When you dared to appear at his front door six weeks later, it was the night before your departure. He hadn’t called, hadn’t sent you a single text, as if he was a ghost, only living in your imagination. But knowing it was your last chance to see him, you decided to take the first step.

Donghyuck was wearing the same navy blue knitted sweater that he wore the first time you told him you loved him. You remembered how startled he was back then, unsure of what to say as he was afraid to love someone else after knowing how it felt to have his heart shattered to pieces. That time, he only responded with a hug and a small “Thank you.” As you laid in his arms later that night, you spent every second with your eyes closed but your thoughts awake, trying to figure out why won’t he say it back? 

But when you left for work early on the next morning, one arm holding an umbrella over your head to protect you from the morning showers, Donghyuck was chasing after you in the same knitted sweater, his hair messy from sleep but soon be drenched by the rain.

“I love you too!” he shouted, breathlessly, both from running and the rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins.

You turned around, eyes wide in astonishment, though you didn’t catch his words. “What—” You were about to run so you could shelter him from the rain, but Donghyuck reached your spot faster than you could reach his. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you take an umbrella with you?” You dropped your handbag to the ground, not caring if it got wet from the rain as you focused more on the man who was shivering in front of you. You rubbed his arm up and down before cupping his face. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine. I just have something to say before you go.” He broke into a tender smile, pressing his palm against the back of your hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back last night. I was afraid. Being in love with someone means you’re giving your heart for them to hold or to crush and I didn’t want to go through that pain again but—” He stepped closer, his temple nearly touching yours as he brought his head down. “I love you. I want you to know that I love you too. I don’t want to lie to myself anymore and I don’t care what’s gonna happen in the future. I just love you, so much, that both my heart and my head feel like they’re going to burst.”

And you could only stare, dumbstruck and in awe.

“Say something, please?” He begged, cold fingers caressing your cheek. “Otherwise, I might have to crawl into a hole and die from shame.”

You chuckled lightly, overwhelmed by the sheer happiness that washed over you. “I love you too.”

He seemed so relieved, almost as much as you were, and he twisted his fingers around your strands, chasing after your lips. The kiss was sweeter than honey but knowing him, even the sweetest kiss emitted so much passion, it left you breathless.

“I’m sorry, I know you gotta go to work,” he said, slightly pushing you away before his emotions defeated him once more and he slanted his lips against yours in a more frenzied manner. “God, I know you have to go,” he whispered between needy kisses. “But just—one more—”

When he finally had the strength to break apart from you, his eyes were conflicted, his thumb caressing your cheek, and Donghyuck wetted his already glistened lip as he stared at yours. “Must you go? I want to be with you today.”

It didn’t matter that the two of you just spent the entire weekend together. No amount of time would be enough to satisfy your needs for each other’s touch. So you answered him with your lips meeting his in a frantic kiss, casting your umbrella aside and it didn’t matter that it was cold, with big droplets of rain easily drenching you from head to toe, because Donghyuck was always ready to warm you up. 

“Then take me home, Lee Donghyuck.”

But you realized as he tugged you back into his arms, soft lips pressing against your temple, you were already home.

Now… That memory felt like a fantasy, one that you could only dream of having.

“I…” You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I just wanted to get the books I left on your shelf.”

He didn’t say a word, only stepping to the side to give you some space to enter. A month had passed by since he broke up with you, and his apartment still smelled delightfully like him, but instead of making you feel joy, it broke your heart even harder.  

“It’s in my room,” he said, all stern with no warmth like he used to have. You nodded, making your way to his bedroom. When you closed the bedroom door behind you, hot tears were about to spill and you tried your best not to be suffocated with the memories of the nights where you used to share your feelings with him, bodies tangled underneath the sheets, lips carving marks on each other’s skins.

You couldn’t breathe.

By the time you managed to collect yourself, you came out of his room with two of your books in your hands while you left ten more on his shelf. You didn’t need any of them. It was only a poor excuse for you to see his eyes once more before you bid your final farewell.

“I made you some coffee,” he said, leaning against the coffee table. “It’s cold outside so…”

You weakly smiled. “Thank you.”

You used to spend hours chattering behind a few cups of coffee, talking about the things that mattered and things that didn’t because everything felt special when you shared them with someone you loved.

But today, every sip of your coffee sounded louder than your voice as no words were shared.

You said you care

And you missed me too

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you

“How are you?”

“I’m doing great,” he answered formally. It’s funny how he didn’t need spiteful words to hurt you. The absence of his affection in his sentences was more than enough to strangle you.

“Are you… still writing lyrics for Mark’s songs these days?”

“No. I’m busy these days.”

“Oh… With your thesis?”

“Sure.”

Donghyuck didn’t tell you the truth. Didn’t tell you how many papers had been written, scratched, discarded just so he could deal with the thoughts of you. Didn’t tell you the words he wrote about your pretty eyes, your pretty smiles, your kindness, your passion, your everything.

The reason why he let you go was because he knew, you would probably stay with him if he’d asked the question. He didn’t want you to have any regrets. Didn’t want you to choose him because you felt like you had no other way.

It felt like you betrayed him when you kept it a secret for months.

What else will you keep from me, if you can’t even tell me you’re leaving? Will you keep it a secret when you no longer love me the way you used to? Will you keep it a secret when you find someone new, someone better, someone who can stay to wipe your tears and hold you in their arms while I’m three thousand miles away from you? Will you pretend like everything is fine, when we’re straying further away from each other every day?

In Donghyuck’s mind, he thought you’d be better on your own. At such a young age, you managed to chase after your dreams while he was still unsure of what he wanted to have in the future. To him, you were always a step ahead. And tomorrow, you’d be taking your first step to another place where he wouldn’t have the strength to follow. 

His thoughts about you were never-ending. And he wrote so much, poured every feeling down to papers, that now as you stood before him in person, there were no more words left to be said and he could only reply your sentences with silence.

And the coffee's out

At the Beachwood Cafe

And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” you eventually said and Donghyuck glanced at you from behind his bangs, but never stayed for a second longer.

He knew. Of course, he did. He had been counting the days, dreading every second of it. “Take care of yourself,” he responded in a way a stranger would say to another stranger at the end of their brief meeting. “Good luck with your job. I’m sure you’ll be fine, Noona.”

Noona... He didn’t even want to call you by your name or the sweet terms he’d once associated with you. You were truly strangers now.

“Thanks.” You forced yourself to smile, nails sinking into your thighs as you brought your hands to your lap. “You too. Don’t forget to take your breakfast every day. You always skip it.”

It was your job to remind him, who used to serve fried eggs and toasts on his plate and maybe Donghyuck remembered that too because he brought his head down, and simply replied with a hum.

When you took your leave, you handed him a note to your new address. “Just… Come visit whenever you’re in the country. I’d love to show you around.” It sickened you how formal you sounded, but you couldn’t say it any other way.

When Donghyuck took the note, your fingers brushed against his, it almost seemed like the time stopped, just for a little, and he wanted to pull you into his embrace, to tell you how much he’d been missing you the same way you’d been missing him. To tell you how much he wanted to be selfish, to have you choose him over everything in your life because that was how you meant to him. You were everything to him.

Just like how you are to me.

So when he dropped his hand, tucking it inside his pocket, you knew it was really over. Finally, the word goodbye took its true form.

And I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again.

[reidingmelodies]

Sugar Rush

Summary:  Who knew finding the perfect wedding day dessert was so much work? Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Category: Fluff Includes: Food consumption, light kissing Word Count: 2.4K

“Did you know the first wedding cake was most likely served in Ancient Greece?” Spencer began, looking down to where you were laying with your head snuggled against his chest.  You hummed in interest, moving your hand to meet his where it rested on his lower stomach, intertwining your fingers together.  Spencer smiled at the gesture before continuing his spiel, “But one of the earliest mentions of wedding cake originates from Ancient Rome where the cake was actually broken over the bride’s head in the hopes of bringing them good fortune in their life together”.

Your brows furrowed at that, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction.  “Well, we certainly won’t be doing that at our wedding,” you giggled, giving his hand a light squeeze.  

Flipping your hands over, he brought your hand to his line of sight and admired the engagement ring resting on your ring finger.  “Do you want to smash cake in my face after we cut it?”

You thought for a second before shaking your head.  “I don’t think so- unless that’s something you want to do?  I don’t even get why that’s a thing in the first place, it seems kind of gross”.

Spencer sighed in relief, beyond grateful that wasn’t something you wanted to do.  He loved you, and he was more than happy to exchange germs with you in other ways- but throwing cake at each other definitely wasn’t his style.  “I’m glad you don’t because I feel the same way.  Cutting the wedding cake is traditionally seen as a symbol of a couple’s commitment to each other, and I don’t want to ruin that by throwing cake in your face”.

You smiled, rolling over slightly until your stomach laid against his and propping your head up to look down at him.  Spencer hummed in approval at the new position, moving his hand from yours and resting it on your lower waist.  “Plus,” you added, “we’re paying way too much for the cake to waste a single drop of it”.

Spencer laughed in agreement, pushing himself up lightly to give you a soft kiss on your lips.  “So no cake smash- there’s one part of the great cake debate settled”.  You groaned at his words, dropping your head and burrowing your face in the space between his shoulder and neck.

“I don’t understand why there’s so many cake flavors to choose from!  Honestly, do we even need a cake?” you groaned, voice coming out as no more than a mumble against your fiancé’s neck.  Spencer rubbed your back soothingly, before humming in acknowledgement.

“We’ll figure it out, babe,” he reassured you, giving your forehead a quick kiss.  “On the bright side, regardless of whether we pick one or not we’ll get to try at least twenty different types of cakes for lunch tomorrow”.

“I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or not,” you laughed, pushing your upper half up to once again look at his face.  “But as long as you’re with me I’m sure it won’t be too bad,” you finished, leaning down to lay a sweet kiss on his lips.

“What a sap,” Spencer jokingly mumbled against your lips, causing you to pull away and playfully roll your eyes at him.

“A sap you decided to spend the rest of your life with,” you countered with a smirk, eyes softening in admiration at the grin that spread across Spencer’s face with your words.

“Best decision I ever made,” Spencer claimed softly, sealing his declaration with a concession of kisses against your lips.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair and continuing what you started- leaving the discussion of cakes and all things wedding behind, choosing instead to spend the night entangled with your fiancé, trading kisses and whispered declarations of love well into the evening.    

***

The next morning, you sat in the kitchen nursing your cup of coffee while Spencer took a shower before you headed to the bakery.  It had been six months of engagement bliss for you and Spencer, and you both found yourself on an impenetrable high for the first three months with no qualms.  As far as the two of you were concerned, you were irrevocably in love with each other, full stop.  You didn’t know when you wanted to get married, or where, but you knew that you wanted him by your side for the rest of your personal slice of eternity.  

Eventually, that answer stopped being met with aw’s from your friends, and instead had been met with playful eyerolls followed by logistical questions regarding the wedding.  It became apparent pretty quickly that there wasn’t a where or when anywhere in your plan, but the who, what, and why were pretty clear.  And when it came to wedding planning, the last three took the back burner.  Who would have thought?

Weekends cuddled up with your fiancé turned into Friday nights spent researching, Saturday afternoons filled with venue tours, and Sunday mornings comparing notes (and somehow, that was always the part that lasted the longest when it came to you and Spencer).  

Once the venue was secured, you both became invested in the rest of the details that made your special day unique to the two of you, settling on a lilac color scheme and Save the Dates in the form of bookmarks.  Everything settled into place pretty quickly after that, except for the dreaded cake.

There was just too much to it.  Between the design, number of layers, and flavors there statistically wasn’t a high probability of pleasing all of your guests much to Spencer’s dismay.  And as much as everyone said that the most important thing was that you and Spencer were happy with the cake, the two of you were more than happy with each other, and that’s all you really cared about.

“Ready, Y/N?” Spencer broke you from your train of thought and drew your attention towards him.  He smiled, holding a travel mug of coffee in one hand and your car keys in the other, motioning towards the door with his head.  

You nodded, taking the keys and heading towards the door with the love of your life in tow, internally cursing yourself for stressing out half as much as you have about a silly cake.

***

Two hours later, and one thing was for sure- you were right to be stressed.   The owner of the bakery was one of the sweetest women you’ve ever met (the title of sweetest belonged to Penelope Garcia, hands down), but as welcoming and supportive as she was you still felt like a fish out of water.

You and Spencer were ushered into a room with exactly twenty-three cake samples laid out on tables, accompanied by open portfolios and photos of some of the bakery’s most renowned creations.  In the time since your arrival you’ve tasted flavors ranging from lemon raspberry to mocha chocolate and you were exhausted.  

You couldn’t help but feel like the universe was punishing you and Spencer for joking around the previous night about how great it would be to eat cake for lunch.  You leaned over to tell Spencer just as much, and the exhaustion was almost worth it when you saw his smile illuminate the entirety of his face.  

“What happened to ‘as long as you’re with me I’m sure it won’t be too bad’?” he jokingly questioned, booping your nose and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek when he saw the joking glare beginning to form on your face.

“Changed my mind when you called me a sap,” you retorted with a smirk followed by a quick squeeze of his hand so he knew you weren’t serious.  Your comment made him laugh, and soon enough you were both in a fit of giggles surrounded by mountains of cake and half looked through portfolios.   

As your laughter died down the reality of the situation you were in began to set it.  You loved all of the cake you tried, but everything about what you were doing just didn’t feel right.  The more you envisioned your cake, the cloudier the picture became.  All you knew was that you wanted something that screamed you and Spence, but none of the flavors you tried did that.  You sighed, and Spencer immediately perked up, forever in tune to you and your needs.  

“What’s going on up there, love?” Spencer tapped the side of your head lightly with his pointer finger, causing the right side of your lip to slightly curl up.

“If I ask you something will you be honest?” you asked, putting your hand on top of his.  

Spencer immediately nodded, grasping his fingers with yours and bringing your hand to his lips.  “Always”.

“Do you picture any of these cakes at our wedding?”  You questioned, bringing the closest portfolio towards you with your free hand and flipping through the first few pages.  “They’re all so pretty, but I just don’t think they’re us, ya know?” 

It was quiet for a beat longer than you expected, and for a second you were nervous you had somehow offended Spencer.  But when you looked up and met his eyes, all you found was his understanding gaze looking back at you.

“I completely get what you mean,” he began, squeezing your hand before continuing his thought, “but Y/N.. do you really think that we’ll ever find a dessert that’s more us than donuts?”

You knew right away that he was joking, but you also couldn’t help but smile at the flood of memories that overtook you once he said it.

As Penelope liked to call your relationship, “the greatest love story of this generation” began just a block south of the bakery you were at over chocolate sprinkled donuts and coffee.  It was a Tuesday morning, and you were running a few minutes late in your morning routine.  You usually got to the cafe around 8:15, just before the majority of the 9-5 workforce showed up for their morning coffee fix.  

That day though, you had missed your usual metro and walked in the door of the café at 8:27 AM.  It was overly crowded, and you were already dreading waiting in the overpopulated line for your coffee, but as luck would have it Dr. Spencer Reid had picked that exact morning to treat the BAU to coffee and donuts. 

He had walked in the door behind you, smiling in recognition at the book he saw peeking out of your bag.  Before he could stop himself, he tapped you on your shoulder, reciting a fact about the author of the book.  Almost immediately, his face dropped, worried that you were going to tell him off for being nosy.

To his relief though, you smiled and asked him for his opinion on the book- before you knew it, you both made it to the front of the line, and you found yourself longing for more time with the stranger who seemed to know an infinite amount of fun facts.  

As you both waited for your coffee and donuts, you took a leap of faith and asked Spencer if he’d want to meet up for breakfast the next morning.  To your delight he agreed, and the rest was history.  After three months of sporadic breakfast dates whenever Spencer wasn’t away on a case (mainly consisting of you trying all of the donuts on the café menu and Spencer sticking to chocolate frosted with sprinkles), he took his own leap of faith and asked you out on a date beyond the comforting walls of the café.

As far as you were concerned, donuts were a fundamental part of your love story, and Spencer was a genius.

You smiled at the memory, turning to Spencer and giving him a quick kiss on the lips.  He gave you a lovesick grin in response- “what was that for?”

“Have I ever told you you’re the smartest man I know?”

Immediately, Spencer nodded.  “Just last week when I told you how many books have been published by Penguin Random House.  You also said it the week before when we were talking about polar bears and I-” your laugh caused him to lose focus, all of his attention instead focused on the way your smile lit up your whole face.

“Okay, okay so I call you a genius a lot- sue me,” you countered, giggling with every word that came out of your mouth.  “I think you’re onto something with donuts though”.

“Wait, really?  I was just kidding,” the confusion was obvious on Spencer’s face, but it was laced with excitement as well and you knew right then and there that he was as hooked on the idea as you were.

“I know you were, but that doesn’t make it any less genius!  It’s just so us.  And not only that, but think of all the different flavors we can get!  That way everyone has a choice over what dessert they have and we don’t need to stress over finding one most people will like.  Oh my gosh babe, and Penelope can definitely help us think of a cute way to set them up!  Maybe we can do a cake stand or put them out in a buffet style?”  You made eye contact with Spencer, eyes widening as you realized you haven’t even asked for his opinion yet.  Softly, you brought your ramble to a close, doubt slowly kicking in, “Unless you don’t think it’s a good idea?”   

Smiling, Spencer stood from his chair and motioned for you to do the same.  Considering the fact that you would do anything he asked you to, you followed suit and he pulled you into his side, planting a kiss to the top of your head.  “I think you’re the real genius in this relationship, Y/N”.  You giggled at that, and Spencer continued, “it’s an amazing idea.  And you and I both know Penelope is gonna love that you thought of her to help us put it together.  How about we go to the café and see if they’d be able to help us out, hm?  Maybe grab some donuts while we’re there too?”

You nodded enthusiastically, before grimacing at the idea of having another sweet, “We’re gonna have a sugar rush for the next week, Spence”.

“Every day with you is a sugar rush, Y/N,” he quipped, trying to hold back his laughter at the disbelieving look on your face.      

You chuckled, leaning in for one of many sugary sweet kisses awaiting you that afternoon before playfully retorting, “And you have the audacity to call me the sap in this relationship.”

***

Link to join my taglist ♡

Tagging: @calm-and-doctor​

[veryrealimagination]

Every Whumpee’s Needs

Day No: 5

Prompt: Running out of air

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries

Medium: fic

Trigger Warnings:

SFW

James Pendrick groaned as he woke up from a monstrous headache. The last thing he remembered was working on a new prototype for an engine, something that might burn gasoline at a lower rate for better mileage. At least it was something he could sell, unlike the Bullet, which was forcibly tore apart so it wasn't competition. Then he felt something slam into the top of his head.

"Oh, hell," he mumbled, dropping back on his posterior after trying to stand. His already tender head hit something above him, causing a string of curses to fall out as his vision temporarily doubled. After five minutes of waiting, and waiting, the pain receded enough for him to try again. Instead of standing, he moved his hands up and felt something smooth only a foot above his head. He did the same in front of him, and all around to find all the same stuff.

Well, now he was going to have to open his eyes and see what was going on. Thankfully, he was not in some shipping crate, but a clear box that he could see the outside room. There was nothing identifiable, but it was better than seeing nothing. Especially since there was a letter taped to the other side of one of the walls.

James Pendrick,

Just a few things. Station House Four has been alerted to your disappearance.

Detective Murdoch will not be able to investigate, as I have intentions for him.

You're currently a distraction. I need them hunting you down as you will run out

of air in roughly five hours. As long as you don't start panicking.

Enjoy the break.

Ah, well. This...

This wasn't good.

Whomever put him out of commission also has taken Murdoch out. Station House Four was told he was missing, but he didn't know when the note had been placed. He could have five hours, or four, or less. Don't panic, James. That definitely won't help any. Going through his pockets, he started searching for something that could possibly break the seams or the actual walls themselves.

Instead, he found two good fountain pens and his notebook. Excellent. The first page was about the many possible jokes on the name that Murdoch's secondary detective carried. It was a shame he only met Detective Watts recently. There were good things about that name he could have been punning about for years.

Back on track, Pendrick.

Right, he didn't have anything on him that could seriously make a dent into... What was it? Houdini used a glass tank for his water escape, but this wasn't glass. That he could break. That was probably why they didn't stick him in one. What could have this been? Who invented this? Whatever it was could be used for something else. Street lined windows that wouldn't shatter into thousands of pieces if someone smashed one in. Or something that he could test explosive experiments behind.

Is the light getting brighter? Squinting as the bulb from the room started making his head worse, he covered his eyes and laid back against the wall behind him. Breathing, the air he was taking in didn't seem as good as he thought it was when he first awoke. Less than five hours, possibly three and a half. With nothing to try, he would have to wait for rescue.

Oh, how utterly boring.

At least he could do something. The notebook was only partially filled, and his pens had a good amount of ink. At first, it was mundane things. A couple of notes on his engine. Another joke on Detective Watts's name. The drawing of a light bulb but with Constable Crabtree.

With his headache getting worse, he knew that the air was becoming poisonous to himself. It was only a matter of time before he would drift into unconsciousness. He wrote some of his last words, a concession and half thought out will that hopefully someone will execute.

-

The first person he saw hovering over him was Julia Ogden.

Oh, he must be in hell for that Bandit business.

"You're not dead, James," she said, a laugh in her eyes, "Although, I don't think the Bandit business would net you a trip to Hell."

Groaning, he sat up. The box that he had been stuffed in was over to his left. Was it really that small? Doctor Ogden was in front of her along with Constables Crabtree and Higgins. There was, of course, no sign of Murdoch. But strangely, there also wasn't a sign of the younger Watts. Sad, he had come up with a good pun on his name while delirious. "The note said that Murdoch would not be here," he stated, confused, “But your other detective...”

"Mr. Pendrick, we need your help with something, very very strange," Crabtree said, nervousness running through his frame. "What do you know about necromancy?"

[south-park-meta]

Bunny w/ Mamihlapinatapei if you like that, otherwise Style?

I don't like Bunny tbh but it's fine, there aren't many pairings I hate too much to try writing! (I included Style too though because I'm a simple person).

Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

"I know now that you won't remember, the next time you see it. I just need you to believe me, before we...start anything."

"I believe you," Butters says immediately. He considers, then says, "Y'know, I think we all die a little. It's the comin' back that matters."

Kenny's always been good at reading people. Stan's good at it, too. It's one of the defense mechanisms that they've picked up together but separately. Kenny learned it as part of conflict resolution; it's important to read the mood at home, to decide if he and his siblings should leave the room or if it'd be better to just flick on the TV. If he had to guess, he'd say that Stan got good at reading people at home, too. Neither Stan nor Shelly have ever been hit by their parents-- Kenny doesn't think they were spanked as kids, never mind gotten in a fist fight the way Kevin did sometimes with his dad. But violence isn't the only thing that does it. Stan knows if someone's safe to drive with or if they're going to weave between lanes. He knows the exact way to play babysitter to draw someone back from a nutty scheme. He knows how to mold himself to seem like less trouble to make things easier, when it matters.

Their experiences are different but the same, when it comes to picking up those little hints of a person. The cues that most people don't have reason to learn.

Kenny notices the shift, when Stan and Kyle fall in love with each other. He's always figured they'd end up together, once they figured their own shit out. Over junior year the way they look at each other changes-- not overnight, but not slowly, either, like it's shifting with the seasons. He actually thinks they're together when Stan starts talking about prom.

Except then Stan asks if he wants to skip it to play video games.

Kenny furrows his brows. "Is this a 'Poor Kenny' thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Kenny says. Then he stops for a moment to consider which way to take it. His guess is that Stan's feeling sorry for him, because prom's kind of expensive if you do it right. Even doing it a little wrong is more expensive than what Kenny has. It's a hard thing to traverse, though, because if he's honest he likes it when his friends recognize the difference in what they all have to spend. The pop he's drinking is one Stan bought him. But there's a difference in wanting to tag along to McDonald's and maybe, every now and then, letting his friends order a happy meal for him, and wanting his friends to skip out on milestone moments just to play video games. "How come you and Kyle aren't going together?"

"We could," Stan agrees, holding his bottle of Fanta by the neck and spinning it in a lazy circle. Kenny knows he gets the glass ones instead of plastic because it makes him think of beer bottles. It's hard to tell if that scratches an itch or tickles at it. "But we'd just be hanging around, anyway. Same shit, different place."

"Or you could, you know, dance?"

Stan stops spinning his bottle. "With Kyle?" he asks.

He sounds so baffled that Kenny's actually almost surprised they don't need an extra step of 'With who?'

Which makes Kenny baffled, too. "Why not with Kyle?"

"Because we're not dating?"

"Is that a question?" Kenny asks. And before Stan can answer he says, "I thought you were. Finally." It seems like something they'd forget to tell him just because they've been half-dating for so long.He still can't stop himself from making snide comments when they box him out now and again, but when it comes to this--he hadn't even been offended, thinking they'd forgotten.

"Well. We're not."

"So ask him."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why the fuck wouldn't you do that?" Kenny demands. "I love you, Stan, but you're really stupid sometimes."

"Hey," Stan says, but he doesn't sound very offended.

"I know you love him."

"Okay," Stan says, "I love him."

Kenny waits a beat, but Stan doesn't keep going, which is a little maddening. "And he loves you."

"Not like that."

"Yes like that."

Kenny can tell he's not telling Stan anything he doesn't already know, the way he frowns and looks away.

"Why don't you ask Butters, then?" Stan snaps, peevish, looking at his feet. "If you're so smart. He'd go with you."

"Because," Kenny says.

Stan huffs through his nose and opens his eyes a little wider in a way that says, See? And man, maybe Kenny's a hypocrite, but Stan is a smug hypocrite, which is definitely more annoying.

"Fuck you," Kenny says.

"Fuck you, too," Stan says. They sit in silence for a moment and Stan takes another drink of Fanta. Another moment of silence and he says, "You should ask him, though, for real."

Maybe Kenny should, for real. Stan still doesn't like Butters much after all these years--Butters doesn't like Stan much, either-- so Kenny knows it's nothing Stan would suggest if he didn't think it was something that would make Kenny happier. "If I do, you have to talk to Kyle."

"Sure thing, Ken," Stan says. He's still got smug in his tone, like he's agreeing because he knows this is a bet he won't lose.

And it's still kind of annoying, mostly for the 'Ken' that Stan rarely uses except to be condescending, but only for about half a second. Stan can get up his own ass sometimes around Kenny for the same reason Kenny knows he can be petty, bitchy, around Stan. Kenny knows he can't claim a spot at the Super Best Friends table, but they've been regular best friends since they were three. They know each other's entire humanities, even the ugly bits. It's good sometimes, to have a place for the ugly.

They shoot the shit a while longer and then part ways. Stan takes both their empty bottles to recycle them.

Kenny goes over to Butters' house afterwards. He tells himself it's for Stan and Kyle's sake, or at least to force Stan to admit he doesn't have the guts, but he knows well enough he's using them as an excuse. He knocks on the door and waits.

"Kenny!" Butters greets him, bright-eyed. It's really hard to take someone looking at him like that. Like he's the only good thing in all of South Park.

"Hi," Kenny says. "Can I come in?"

"I'll come out," Butters says. "Your shoes are kinda muddy. Y'know my parents would throw a fit."

Kenny doesn't look down at his shoes. It's true, and he doesn't really mind Butters saying so. Even if he does think he could wipe his shoes clean enough.

They take a walk down to Stark's pond. Butters takes his hand halfway there. Kenny slows his pace to make sure it lasts a little longer just in case Butters wants to skip rocks. He doesn't let go, though, once they get there. They sit there holding hands and looking at the water.

"I need to tell you something. Then I need to ask you something," Kenny tells the water.

"Mm, all right," Butters says. His tone stays pitched up, chipper, but Kenny can hear the anxiety stretched underneath, like a safety net waiting to catch someone's fall. "Shoot."

"Well," Kenny says, deciding to back track a bit, because he doesn't like that anxiety. There are too many kids in South Park that have it sitting dormant under their voices, and he likes it least of all on Butters. "I want to ask you to prom. But I need to tell you something first."

The tension slides out at that and Butters smiles wide. "You're doing it all backwards, then, ain't'cha?"

"I do a lot of things backwards," Kenny says, "But you'll go with me? If I ask."

"Sure, I will!"

That doesn't surprise him, for the same reason he knows Stan won't be surprised if he asks Kyle-- or Kyle, if he asks Stan. "I need to tell you," Kenny starts again, "That I die a lot."

Butters tips his head. He looks at Kenny, eyes asking him to continue.

"I know it sounds crazy," Kenny says, "But you've seen me die. You've all seen me die. I used to die every day. And then I came back, and you'd all forget." He pauses as he stares at the lake. There are concessions he's learned he has to make, since the frustrated years of his childhood spent killing himself over and over again, intentionally and not. "I know now that you won't remember, the next time you see it. I just need you to believe me, before we...start anything."

"I believe you," Butters says immediately. He considers, then says, "Y'know, I think we all die a little. It's the comin' back that matters."

"Yeah?" Kenny knows Butters doesn't mean the physical, the way he does, but he also knows that Butters knows he does mean the physical.

"Yeah. I feel it, when part of me dies. Why, there's been times-- there's been times I figure enough of it's gone and died, that I ought to just end it all!" He's not just talking about Reality, and Kenny knows that, too. He's talking about the bits and pieces that have been killed by his parents, by the other students, by South Park as a whole. "But you come back to life. And if you work real hard at it, you come back stronger than before. It gets better...You said it doesn't happen every day anymore, didn't'cha?"

Kenny nods his head. He's a little surprised, that Butters had caught that with his saying it 'used to' be every day.

"Well, maybe someday it won't be happening at all, anymore. Maybe you're coming back stronger and stronger and it won't keep getting you. Not until it's supposed to."

"I'd like that," Kenny says, smiling.

"I'd like to go to prom with you," Butters says.

Kenny nods very fast. He wants, at that moment, more than just prom. He wants every life and every death with Butters. He wants them to go, hand-in-hand the way they are now, and face as many deaths and revivals as they have left in them, together.

[carminite-wyrm]

Running Onwards, To the Hope of a New Day (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

(Thank you to everyone who's been reading this fic of mine so far! I've really appreciated all your comments! Also, this will eventually be up on AO3, just not yet because I haven't been able to get an account just yet.)

In which Nyx tries his best, realises a few things, learns a new skill, and commits a minor case of arson.

All in all, Nyx was feeling pretty good about his chances, on his ninth run. He’d learnt from his eighth run that, no, setting the black-market dealer’s place on fire, stealing both the explosives and the phoenix down, and quietly dumping the explosives into one of the rivers that ran through Insomnia wasn’t enough to stop the rebels from bombing the signing ceremony. Considering there was more than one cell, he was sadly unsurprised by this. He’d also figured out that whatever was attracting the daemons was attached to the tracker in the hairpin in a way that he couldn’t just remove, which was a shame.

He learned that he needed to give Crowe a phone in some sort of blast-proof container or casing, because while he’d managed to give Crowe the means to contact him and Libertus sooner, the phone would be severely damaged without one. And, because the phone would be broken, Crowe wouldn’t be able to get in contact with them soon enough to stop Libertus from joining the rebels and giving them the vital information that they needed to launch their attack on the Citadel.

He had also found out that if he told King Regis about the traitorous Glaives he knew would survive the Princess’ extraction, that the King would be able to sever their connection to his magic before they encountered them on either the bridge or the overpass.

Unfortunately, its effectiveness was limited by the fact that there were still Glaives that he hadn’t known were traitors, and so they still had ended up rocketing off the overpass when another Glaive, who Nyx belated recognised as Isra Solis (and Crowe had cursed her out even more viciously than Nyx had, because Isra was as talented with frost magic as Crowe was with fire, and the two had been close, before everything went down).

At this point, Nyx was pretty sure that as soon as they got to that first attempt to escape the city, it was almost guaranteed that they’d be crashing the car sooner or later.

At the very least, Nyx thought to himself, as he finally found an old camera case which he hoped would be enough to hide the phone, this should help with stopping Libertus from leaving. Hopefully.

A day later, he awkwardly held the box of Crowe’s things, waiting for Drautos to move out of earshot. As Libertus raged at Crowe’s apparent death, Nyx took a deep breath, and quickly grabbed Libertus, warping them into one of the nearby alcoves (why there were so many alcoves by the morgue, Nyx had no idea, but he’d take it).

“Nyx, what the hell?!” Libertus gasped, nearly losing his balance at the sudden movement if not for Nyx’s steady grip on his arm.

“Lib…I don’t think Crowe is dead,” Nyx said, mustering the most serious voice he could, which was actually pretty serious considering how much potentially hinged on him getting Libertus to listen. “Look, you know how I gave her some of my curatives, right? Well, I also gave her a phoenix down and an extra phone.”

“…Why? What has that got to do with any of this?”

Nyx rummaged through the box in his hands, searching through for any of the items in question. Thankfully (for the point he was making, at any rate), he could not find any of the things that he had given Crowe.

“They said they recovered everything, right?”

Libertus nodded slowly.

“The phone isn’t here. Not even parts of it.”

Nyx was gratified to see the dawning realisation on Libertus’ face, and silently congratulated himself for finally convincing him of Crowe’s continued survival. And hopefully now, Libertus wouldn’t have too many reasons to leave, or at the very least, no reason to give information to that rebel cell.

“So, what you’re saying,” Libertus said, slowly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “Is that Crowe could still be alive.”

“Yes, exactly!” Nyx internally was jumping up and down with joy, this was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“We need to go find her.”

Wait, shit. Celebrated too early.

Nyx wasn’t even certain that Libertus would be able to find Crowe, if he went haring off now. And if he lost track of Libertus, then he wouldn’t to be able to assure himself of Libertus or Crowe’s safety. And if Libertus went running off, then that would alert the traitors that their plan hadn’t gone exactly to plan, and Nyx…couldn’t risk them changing the script that drastically.

“With what resources, Lib?” Nyx hissed, holding back Libertus with a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t even know where she is! She still has the phone, presumedly. We should wait for her call.”

“But what if she can’t call? What if she’s been captured by the Niffs, or- or.”

“…Give it a day, Lib. 24 hours, and if we don’t hear anything, we’ll go find her. But don’t you dare leave without me.” Nyx scowled, hoping that his mild concession wouldn’t be necessary. He didn’t exactly want to show off the fact that he knew the approximate area that Crowe would end up in, two days from this point, but 24 hours would give him time to come up with a reasonable excuse. He hoped, at any rate.

“Fine,” Libertus nodded. “24 hours’ll give us time to prepare, either way.”

“And don’t you dare try and resign, we’re going to need the King’s magic for this. Probably.”

“Alright, alright, hero.” Libertus shook his head, patting Nyx on the shoulder. “Worry about Crowe, not me.”

“I am not going to risk losing you as well, Lib.” Nyx scowled.

Libertus’ expression softened, then, and he drew Nyx into a hug.

“You won’t, Nyx.”

But I have. So many times, Nyx didn’t say, basking in the warmth of his best friend’s embrace. So many times, Libertus. I wish I could tell you.

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

When Nyx’s phone rang early the next day, showing the contact for the phone that he had given Crowe, Nyx was unashamed to admit that he broke down sobbing. Frantically hitting the answer button, he listened to Crowe tell him that Luche had nearly killed her, that she’d been rescued in the nick of time by the combined efforts of the phoenix down and a pair of hunters, and that (this time), for some reason, she was actually all the way at Hammerhead.

Why she was all the way there, Nyx wasn’t quite certain, but Crowe had explained that the phone had actually been slightly damaged after the fight with Luche, but when Crowe had been trying to get it to actually make a call, one of the hunters had said that there was a mechanic over at Hammerhead, who could repair it.

Nyx wondered why Crowe hadn’t gone to the outpost last time, surely an outpost as well-established as Hammerhead would have been the ideal place to take an injured Glaive to contact her allies. Then he realised that in the last run, the phone had been completely toasted, and perhaps the hunters had not realised that Crowe was a member of the Kingsglaive, until they had spotted the Imperial dropships and Crowe had gone racing off after them.

Still, he did have some other questions to ask her.

“Wait, hold up, why couldn’t the hunters call us for you? Don’t they have phones of their own?”

“Batteries died.”

Are you fucking kidding me?! Nyx thought. What were the bloody chances of that happening?!

“What.” He said instead.

“Yeah, apparently they were going to head to one of the smaller, nearer outposts because there’s some spares there, but when I told them I needed to get in touch with a member of the Kingsglaive fast, I think they broke like four or five road rules to get me here as fast as they could.”

Nyx couldn’t help but laugh at the image, before slowly managing to calm himself down.

“Can you hold for a moment? I need to get Libertus here before he does something stupid and tries to rush after you.”

“Sure, Nyx. Get him in here, I bet the big guy’s worrying his ass off about me. I sure won’t be going anywhere, the hunters said it was risky enough bringing me all the way over here in the first place.”

Nyx sped down the hallway, and raced for the stairs, almost knocking Luche down the stairs (if only) in his haste to reach Libertus. He slammed open the door, having only wasted a few seconds fumbling with his own set of keys beforehand.

“LIB!” He yelled, as he shut the door behind him.

“What?!” Libertus yelled back, from inside the bathroom, where Nyx could hear the sounds of the shower running. “It better be important, I only just got the hot water running!”

Oh, whoops.

Three minutes later, Nyx was awkwardly sitting on Libertus’ couch whilst Libertus talked with Crowe, the other man significantly less irritated at Nyx’s interruption when Nyx had told him he had Crowe on the other end of his phone. He didn’t mention to Libertus later, when the man had finally re-entered the main area of his flat and put the phone on speaker, that he had definitely heard the sound of Libertus sobbing even with the continued sound of running water. Nyx was honestly just happy that Libertus was still here, still with him, and that Crowe was still alive.

“Shit, Nyx.” Libertus finally said, after Crowe had fully retold her story. “Luche’s a fucking traitor. We should…we should tell the Captain.”

Nyx froze, from where he was preparing to head off to be part of the Princess’ escort into Insomnia.

“I…I’m not sure we should.” Nyx admitted, trying not to make it apparent that he absolutely distrusted anything and everything Drautos said or did. “The details of Crowe’s mission should have been confidential, as soon as she left the city. But despite the precautions that were taken, Luche was still able to find her, and nearly kill her. If Luche’s a traitor, what’s to say there aren’t any other traitors in the Kingsglaive? What’s to say that the Captain’s office hasn’t already been compromised?”

“Shit, is there anywhere else we can take this?”

“What about the Crownsguard Marshal? The Crownsguard deal with internal affairs, right?” Crowe chipped in.

“We could…but I’m due in for Citadel duty in ten minutes, and we can’t afford any possible traitors knowing something’s up just yet.” Nyx scowled, frustrated at how things had lined up. “Lib, can you see if you can talk to the Marshal?”

“Nyx, you know how I feel about the Crownsguard,” Libertus shook his head. “With my luck, I’d end up just pissing them off, and that’s the opposite of getting them to listen. Chances are, I’m not even going to make it anywhere close to the Marshal’s office.”

“Damn it.” Nyx sighed. “I’ll see if I can find him, when it gets to my lunch break.”

“I’ll see if I can think of any way to get Crowe back here soon, I’m certain Crowe showing up alive will lend support to our whole ‘Luche is a filthy traitor’ argument.” Libertus nodded. “Best of luck, hero.”

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

If one were to inquire as to why Nyx Ulric of the Kingsglaive was currently sitting with his head in his hands, barely an hour after his shift had ended, on the steps just outside the Kingsglaive barracks, he would tell them to politely ‘fuck off’.

It was, perhaps, not the most diplomatic of responses, but Nyx felt it easily summed up how he was presently feeling, after the utter shitshow that was his attempt to find the Marshal of the Crownsguard.

The actual searching and inquiry itself was quite fast. He’d only had to step into the Crownsguard building asking to see the Marshal, only to find out one little thing. One key thing he honestly wished he’d known far sooner, because it explained so many things.

The Marshal was not in the damn city.

Apparently, the man was off on some sort of confidential mission, due to return the bloody day before the signing ceremony for some Astrals-damned reason.

That was too late for any of Nyx’s current (and possibly future) plans.

And there was no way he, a single Kingsglaive, could even get the Marshal to return sooner, it simply wasn’t within the bounds of his current abilities.

So that avenue was closed to him, for the time being. Perhaps there were other people in the Marshal’s office he could approach, but Nyx simply did not know who would be a trustworthy, reliable person he could talk to in that branch of the military.

He briefly considered Fortis, before shaking his head. That man could be relied upon in a crisis, he had to admit, but…to most people, the only crisis happening at the moment was the political nightmare of the ceasefire. To most, it was a matter for diplomats and Kings, not foot soldiers and guardsmen.

Scowling off into the distance, he wondered whether it might have just been best to get Crowe back into the city, so that he could at least go to the King with direct evidence of Luche’s treachery. With any luck, Luche would have spilled everything, and then they could have killed Glauca when he inevitably fought back.

It seemed a bit late to try that this time around, though. Tomorrow, Insomnia would be invaded, after all.

Nyx sighed, before readying himself for his night shift guard duty, and the Princess’ inevitable kidnapping. Time to see if he could, at the very least, keep all his friends alive for longer this time around.

The next morning, he let himself back into Libertus’ room, to kick his plan of ‘Keep The King and My Friends Alive At Least’ into motion.

“Lib, I’m…I’m going to go talk to the King,” He said, and had a moment of amusement at Libertus nearly dropping his bowl of oatmeal in shock. “Crowe’s still at Hammerhead, yeah? Presumably heavily injured, but not injured enough to be unable to hold a call, right?”

“I would assume so,” Libertus nodded, after regaining his composure. “You sure you can get the King himself to listen? He’s a Lucian, and a noble to boot. You know how the combination of the two tend to treat folks like us.”

“…I think he’d listen. We have proof, now, and the next highest-ranked person isn’t even going to be here yet.”

“I still think we should tell the Captain-“

“No!”

Nyx winced as Libertus levelled a critical eye at him, the force of his disagreement clearly a bit…too much.

“Nyx.”

“Yes, Libertus?” Please don’t ask what I think you’re about to.

“Why are you so adamant about not telling the Captain?” Libertus put down his bowl, and crossed his arms, a pose familiar enough to Nyx that he knew Libertus wouldn’t take a vague answer. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I- I think the Captain is also a traitor.” There. He said it.

Nyx waited, as the seconds ticked by, as Libertus seemed to turn the thought over in his head. He waited, for the inevitable doubt, the claims of paranoia gone too far in the wake of Luche’s betrayal.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any evidence, do you.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t a complete expression of doubt, even if Libertus did still seem highly sceptical of his not-theory.

“No. It’s just,” Nyx fished around for the right word that wouldn’t cause more suspicion, considering he still wasn’t sure he could just outright say ‘yeah I’ve watched Drautos murder King Regis like three times by now’. “A gut feeling. An instinct.”

“Well, your gut instinct hasn’t led us astray much at all, has it,” Libertus sighed, his stance loosening dramatically as he sat down heavily. “Astrals damn it. And considering Drautos is actually respected by the Lucians, they won’t be likely to take your word without actual evidence to back it up.”

“And obviously, I couldn’t exactly break into his house or office to look for evidence.”

“Well, you could, it’d just be difficult.”

“What.”

Libertus shrugged, before gesturing at himself and Nyx.

“We’ve both got magic, idiot.”

“Yes, and? It’s not exactly conducive to breaking and entering, you know. Security cameras exist, and I can’t exactly fireball my way into his office.”

Libertus blinked up at Nyx, before vanishing in the slightest glow of crystal-blue.

“Oh.”

Nyx sat down, on the floor of Libertus’ shoebox of a flat, and laughed into the palm of his hand. He laughed, until he registered Libertus (now visible again), shaking his shoulder.

“You good?”

“I. Yeah,” Nyx wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. “I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me. Six, it was so obvious all along!”

He looked up at Libertus, and grinned. “Can you teach me?”

“What, now?!” Libertus looked around, before sighing once again. “You want to go searching whilst the Signing Ceremony happens, don’t you? Fuck, of course you are, you reckless piece of shit.”

“Well-“ Actually, I was more thinking it’d be good for a future loop.

“Fine. You’ve got forty minutes before your next citadel guard shift, you better be listening closely, hero. The others in my squad took at minimum three days to hold this for longer than a few seconds. You might be a warp-spammer, but this shit takes more focus than a shield, for all that it drains your magic slower.”

“I’m listening, Lib.”

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

By the time Nyx had to leave for the citadel, he could hold the invisibility for all of two seconds, a feat that Libertus had briefly praised, before going right back to fondly complaining about Nyx’s aptitude with all things magical. It wasn’t enough to be truly practical, but Nyx figured he’d have time to practice it more, next loop.

“You’ll call me, yeah, if anything goes south?” Libertus had asked, grabbing hold of Nyx before he could leave.

“Yeah,” Nyx nodded. “I will.”

An hour later, he was hastily calling Crowe with the coordinates he had by now memorised, as he made his way to the rest of the Kingsglaive with their orders to mobilise. As for Libertus, he’d updated him as to the situation, tasking Libertus with keeping an eye on the situation within the city, and calling him if anything happened.

Obviously, Nyx knew that things were definitely going to happen, but the point was that he wanted Libertus to not run off and potentially get himself killed. Nyx had a plan, this time around, or at least the makings of one, and he was fairly certain he’d be able to keep his friends, the Princess, and the King alive this time around.

First off though, he had to survive the Princess’ extraction.

With a deep breath, he launched himself up onto the Niflheim ship, experience allowing him to stick the landing instead of the awkward crash his first time around. With expert motions, he directed the Glaives through the ship, right up to the point where Pelna found the Princess.

“Pelna, get out of there, now. Don’t go down that corridor, I spotted a really nasty daemon that way.” Nyx said, hurriedly, as he sprinted down the hallway to meet them. He easily ducked under a traitor’s attack, ripping off their mask just before he slit their throat.

He’d forgotten to check their identities the first few times around, too busy with trying to survive and keeping his friends alive, and while he knew he wouldn’t be able to get all of them in one run, he sure could at least find out who a few of them were.

Distantly, as he expertly tripped another traitor and killed them before they could even try and attack Pelna from behind, he wondered how much he had changed, already, with how many times he’d already replayed the past five days. Before this hell week, before the ceasefire, before the time loops, these Glaives had been his fellow comrades-in-arms. He’d saved them, and been saved in turn, on countless missions, in countless fights. And yet here he was, barely batting an eye as sisters and brothers turned on them all, as he cut them down within seconds of them raising their blades and spells against their former friends and allies. Their movements were so familiar, so scripted, he knew exactly how to move to counter their attacks, how to slip under their guard and slice them apart. The only true dangers, it seemed, would be the daemons, Luche and his posse, and General Glauca.

He shoved Pelna back with one hand as they rounded the corner, tanking a fireball from Tredd with his own shield, before retaliating with his own rapid blasts of lightning. He could hear Tredd curse, ducking around his own corner just as a tentacle from the octopus daemon began to tear the ship they were on in two.

He quickly directed Pelna and Lunafreya onto the ship they would escape in, nodding to himself as Crowe suddenly warped onto the open deck with a gasp, mirroring the events of Loop 7. He quickly shoved a couple of hi-elixirs into her hand, before turning around and seeing if he could spot Luche’s escape ship. Sadly, he couldn’t, and resigned himself to seeing those assholes again later, during the overpass chase.

“Shit, Crowe!” Pelna called out. “You’re alive?!”

“Yeah, no thanks to fucking Luche.” Crowe spat, and Nyx mentally noted down that two hi-elixirs were so much better than just one single elixir. “Nyx, you need to call Libertus, let him know what a shitshow this has all turned out to be.”

“And it’s gotten worse.” Pelna agreed, pointing out the falling Wall.

“We need to return to the Citadel-“

“Yeah, I know. The King and the Ring, right?” Nyx sighed, already calling Libertus.

“Yes, exactly- Wait, how did you know that?” Lunafreya suddenly appeared in Nyx’s field of view, eyes bright with concern, just as Nyx had finished talking to Libertus.

“You’re talking to the Glaive who’s pulled the most Citadel duty out of everyone, I picked up a few things,” Nyx said, suddenly aware of the fact that the importance of the Ring was…probably not the most common of information around. He hastily changed the subject. “I let Lib know we were coming back, he’s going to be waiting for us in the Citadel garage.”

“You sure he’ll be alright? What with that leg of his?” Pelna inquired.

“He might not look like it, but Lib is a very good driver.” Nyx thought back to the past loops. In every single one where he’d actually made it to that plaza, Libertus had, without fail, successfully crashed a car into Glauca. And on top of that, he’d also successfully navigated his way through a city in the midst of getting razed, whilst Nyx and the Old Wall had been tearing up the city in their respective fights. Libertus was the best damn driver Nyx knew, broken leg or not.

The four of them made it to the Citadel in what felt like record time, running into the signing room just in time to once again see Ravus’ arm on fire. Pelna and Lunafreya quickly hustled the King out of the room, whilst Crowe and Nyx did their best to harry Glauca with alternating blasts of fire and lightning. As they ran out of the secret tunnel and into the garage, Nyx grinned as he Libertus waved at them all. As Crowe rushed to give Libertus a one-armed hug, Nyx quietly relayed the identities of the rest of the traitorous Glaives he could be certain of, as well as his suspicions about Captain Drautos, to the King, who nodded even as he paled considerably at Nyx’s revelations.

“Astrals, but am I glad to see you, Crowe!” Libertus called out.

“You too, Libertus! Better not have done anything stupid whilst I was out.”

“Cool catch-up, but we’ve got General Glauca right on our heels,” Nyx said, slamming down another shield over the tunnel that they had just left. “We’ll take two cars. Pelna, you’re driving that car over there. Crowe, you and King Regis can get into Lib’s car. Me and the Princess will be with Pelna. We’ll exit together, and Pelna will take the lead. Lib, I want you to stay as close as possible to us, me and Crowe will be taking charge of killing anything that gets in our way, but there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to clear a path, so stay vigilant. Make sure your comms stay open.”

“Got it.” They all nodded, Crowe even giving him a thumbs up as she slid into Libertus’ car.

The drive out of the Citadel went exactly as Nyx had expected, and he quietly cackled to himself even as he leaned out of the window to throw a handful of lightning at one of the MT Armours chasing them. As he spotted the ship carrying Luche, Tredd, and the rest of their group slowly coming into view, he threw a fireball at them, before ducking back down into the car. Hastily, he grabbed the Princess’ hairpin from her, the woman too shocked by the suddenness of his action to protest.

“Pelna, hand me the wheel.”

“Nyx what-“

“You’re still good at warping, yeah? I need you to warp the Princess to Lib’s car,” Nyx sighed as Lib predictably began to also protest. “Lib, get someone to hold that door open.”

“Nyx, you fucking-“

“Pelna, now!”

To his credit, the man didn’t hesitate even with his protests, throwing his dagger in a shower of blue as he tugged the Princess along, leaving Nyx alone in his car.

Not for much longer, of course, because just as Luche and Tredd leaned out of their ship to try and shoot at them all, and just as Petra Fortis in his armoured van appeared in Nyx’s rearview mirror, Nyx turned his car to face Luche and Tredd.

The look on their faces as he drove the car straight at them would be one Nyx would savour for a long, long time. Luche’s string of curses as Nyx warped out of the car just before impact, would also be on the list of things that gave Nyx so much joy.

He landed on the side of Fortis’ van with a quiet oomph, clinging onto the kukri now lodged into the metal. A few moments later, he’d managed to swing himself into the front seat, after Fortis had rolled down the window for him.

“You’re insane, Ulric. Actually insane.” Fortis said, staring at him with wide eyes even as they caught up with Libertus and the others.

“Best warper in the Kingsglaive.” Nyx replied smugly, and winced as the yelling over his comm reached an even louder level.

After that, they somehow made it all the way to within view of the West Gate, even with the occasional daemon or magitek soldier that they ran into. It seemed Nyx’s gambit with the crashed car and the hairpin had paid off, for now, and he quietly let himself relax a little, though he kept an eye out for anything else that might stop their escape.

It was that caution that had him spotting the glimmer of silver and purple before it hit the ground in front of Libertus’ car, his yell of alarm all that they needed to grind to a halt just in time to avoid General Glauca slicing their car in two.

“Shit, Fortis, you and Lib are gonna have to guard the King and Princess, we’ll try and hold him off. If you see an opening, get out of here.” Nyx said, as he chucked a kukri out of the window, and began doing his level best to once again kill Glauca.

As Crowe covered the King and Princess’ retreat to Fortis’ van, followed by a very worried Libertus, Nyx threw himself headlong into the fight, Pelna darting in and out where he could, the two of them trying to keep Glauca’s attention long enough for Crowe to be able to join in.

“Why do you fight, for a King who would abandon us all to save his throne and his son?” Glauca roared, as Nyx warped out of the way of his sword, flinging a blast of flame to hide Pelna’s approach. “Walk away, Glaives, and you will see another day in peace, the Empire has promised it!”

“The way I see it, whatever Niflheim promised you isn’t enough to justify the utter destruction laid in its wake, Drautos.”

Glauca actually froze, momentarily, as Nyx called him by his actual name. And then cursed, because Crowe had apparently figured out how to properly stash the King and the Princess away, and had now joined the fight as well with a blast of flame that Nyx could see had melted part of his helmet.

“So, you know, then.”

“Yeah, I do, you traitorous bastard.”

The three Glaives did their best to fight Glauca, a blast of lightning from Nyx actually causing the armoured man to stumble backwards a little. This…wasn’t going terribly, Nyx thought, warping past Glauca’s shoulder and swinging back down, Pelna trying to go for Glauca’s knees at the same time. They were both flung backwards for their efforts, but Crowe had used that opportunity to slam another two fireballs at Glauca, only one of which the man was able to deflect.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a daemon making its way to them, ambling towards Fortis’ van. Nyx cursed, and launched himself at Glauca, trying to herd him out of the way so that Fortis could make a break for it, before the daemon got to them.

“Crowe, Pelna, we need to get Glauca out of the way!”

Pelna nodded, grunting as he parried a punch, before warping away from Crowe’s attack. Nyx dove forward immediately after, hissing as Glauca’s sword drew a sharp cut across his cheek, but it was worth it as he managed to get close enough to unleash a pulse of lightning strong enough to send Glauca back a few vital steps. He warped out of the way of his retaliation, letting Pelna take over briefly as he cracked an elixir onto himself.

They just needed to get Glauca a little further away, and then Fortis could, hopefully, get out of the city.

But Pelna was tiring, and so was Nyx, the fighting from earlier having already taken its toll even though they had come out of that mess mostly unharmed.

Glauca, on the other hand, seemed to be fuelled by whatever cursed shit made up that armour of his, and probably a few other things as well.

At this rate, Nyx had the feeling he’d be needing to put that damn Ring back on his finger. Again.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Pelna yelled as he dodged several swings of the sword, managing to avoid getting skewered only for Glauca to catch him around the waist and fling him across the road.

“Pelna!” Nyx yelled, unable to check on his friend as Glauca was now attacking him, and thank the Astrals that Nyx had already seen some of these moves and knew how to counter them, because it should be illegal how fast Glauca could move, in armour like that.

Nyx managed to blast Glauca in the way of one of Crowe’s fire blasts, just as he heard the screeching of tires. He grinned, even as Glauca doubled his attacks at him, Nyx holding up a shield just as he felt the van fly past him, the vehicle close enough to almost him.

“You do realise that you will die here, that nothing will stop me from killing that coward King.” Glauca growled, as he batted Nyx away.

“Your armour’s looking real bad, you know that?” Nyx quipped back, nodding to Pelna as the two of the charged at Glauca, Nyx aiming a blast of frost at Glauca’s feet whilst Pelna tried for a headshot.

They both missed, Glauca almost managing to get a kick out at Nyx, but they both managed to distract him enough to take yet another gout of fire to the head.

“You. I knew I should’ve had you killed when I had the chance!” Glauca roared, charging suddenly at Crowe, a sliver of skin visible along his collarbone.

“No!” Nyx yelled, warping after him, only to get a fist straight to his chest, winding him as he crumpled to the ground.

He could see Crowe warping out of the way, but she’d never fought Glauca in melee combat before, and melee wasn’t even her specialty-

The axe that lodged itself in Glauca’s collarbone surprised them all.

Glauca’s yell of surprise and pain was nearly drowned out by Libertus’ warcry, as the man suddenly appeared, his axe in both hands as he braced himself and completed his swing, turning that sliver of collarbone into a bloody gash, although Nyx could see the silver of the armour already trying to repair itself.

“That’s my sister you nearly killed, you bastard.” Libertus spat, and ducked as Crowe tossed fireball after fireball at Glauca, before she turned and set the approaching daemon alight as well.

“How-“

Nyx didn’t give him time to finish, letting Pelna use him as a springboard to launch right at Glauca, the man plunging a dagger right into that open wound before he landed in front of Libertus and Crowe, ready to help defend them.

“Damn, he’s still going?” Pelna shook his head, flinging up a shield to briefly deflect Glauca’s next attack. “That should’ve at least slowed him down significantly.”

Nyx warped back into the fight, giving the three time to reposition themselves as he tried his best to carve out more of Glauca. This fight was just as frustrating as it had been all the times before, as even though he had his friends with him, it was balanced out by the fact he didn’t have the extra power from the Ring. For all of his experience, Glauca was the worst enemy he had to fight, and it showed.

Drautos had been their commander, their beloved Captain. He knewall of their moves, or at least most of them, their fighting styles, their habits and their weaknesses. And that meant that he could counteract them with more ease than he should have.

Which meant that Nyx had to do something unpredictable, something so utterly insane not even Drautos could predict it.

His gaze skittered over the road, looking for something he could maybe use to his advantage. He couldn’t see anything, just broken concrete and asphalt, Libertus’ by-now trashed car, the corpse of a daemon smouldering behind them-

He looked back at the car, where there was a puddle of fuel slowly leaking from its side.

His first thought was that it was a wonder it hadn’t caught alight, what with Crowe’s flames. His second thought was that surely Glauca wasn’t completely explosion-proof, even with that armour of his.

“Guys!” He yelled, sprinting back into the fight. “I’m going to try something, I need you to herd him backwards, to the car!”

“What are you going to do, trip me?” Glauca actually sounded a bit amused, even though he was, in fact, getting slowly pushed backwards by their combined assault.

“No, even better,” Nyx watched as Glauca was finally backed up to the car, and probably as far as he’d get before he’d clue into the petrol leaking from Libertus’ car. “Everyone, get back!”

Pelna’s eyes widened in understanding, as he warped away and grabbed Libertus with him, and Nyx tossed as large a fireball as he could at Glauca and the car.

The resulting inferno wasn’t quite as impressive as the explosion Nyx had been hoping for, but the screaming from within was.

“Do you…think that’d kill him?” Pelna asked, as they all stared at the flaming wreck, from a safe distance away.

“I’m…not actually sure,” Nyx admitted. “Actually, are cars supposed to catch on fire like that?”

“If they’re a good quality car, no.” Libertus growled. “Cheap piece of shit.”

“Eh, better safe than sorry.”

The three men looked at Crowe as she began to hurl more fireballs at the car (and presumably Glauca), her barrage only pausing when she had to crack an elixir, before continuing on. Nyx shrugged, and joined in, except with lightning bolts. Her logic was sound, in his opinion, even if Pelna and Libertus were staring at them with increasing amounts of fear.

There was one slightly harrowing moment as they watched Glauca actually stumble forwards a few moments later, but Nyx and Crowe’s panicked blasts of lightning and fire respectively quickly had him crumpling to the ground. They stayed where they were, for a few moments longer, to see if he would get back up, before Nyx sprayed the flaming wreck with a light blizzard, and they moved closer to see whether Glauca truly was dead.

“Oh, yikes.” Crowe muttered, staring at the body on the road.

“That’s a lot of- I don’t think a burned body is supposed to smell like that.” Pelna commented, holding a hand up to his nose.

“Must be the armour, that shit was magitek. Must’ve had a bad reaction to all that fire we were hurling at him at the end.” Libertus reasoned.

Nyx simply marched up to the body, and stabbed what he assumed was the head. Twice.

“Alright, he’s definitely dead.” Nyx concluded. “If he wasn’t before, by some miracle, he is now.”

Crowe cackled, a little hysterically.

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

A little later, Nyx trudged behind his three friends as they headed for the nearest haven, presumably to rest and recover before they tried to meet up with any other survivors of the Invasion.

Dawn was breaking on the horizon, and he was simultaneously relieved by the sight, and dreading its arrival.

On one hand, as far as he was aware, he’d managed to keep all of his friends, and the King and the Princess, alive. Even Fortis was alive, and that was something Nyx hadn’t expected. But on the other hand, Insomnia was still a smouldering ruin, the Empire had gotten away with that Crystal, and Nyx was pretty certain the fatality count was up in the hundreds of thousands.

Up until now, he hadn’t managed to live past the dawn, had always died as soon as the sun had fully risen above the horizon. What if his survival now meant that the loops were finished? The thought scared him, somehow. He’d gotten used to slowly inching his way to figuring out the multitude of things that had led up to the city’s fall, and the destruction that came with it. What if he could’ve had more chances to try and stop everything from happening in the first place, if only he figured out a way to die before the dawn? What if there were parts to this puzzle he didn’t yet know about, vital pieces that could ensure everyone’s survival without the destruction of the city?

But, if he looped back now, then wouldn’t all the fighting he had just done be for naught? He looked at his friends, at their tired, but cheerful, expressions. To them, they’d just survived one of the greatest tragedies since the Fall of Galahd, and had even managed to kill the legendary General Glauca, the man responsible for the destruction of not only Galahd, but also Tenebrae, and now Insomnia.

He couldn’t- He couldn’t take that away from them.

And so, Nyx Ulric watched as the sun rose above the horizon, Pelna cheering as one of the imps that had been about to approach them almost instantly melted away into daemonic miasma.

And stopped.

He shuddered, clutching his head as a sudden spell of dizziness overtook him. He vaguely heard Libertus’ cry of alarm, as he stumbled backwards, something tugging on his chest even as the world around him seemed to flicker in and out like a bad television signal. Nyx had the abrupt sensation of the ground beneath him giving way, before his vision fragmented, like a broken mosaic almost, and he fell, dragged along by an unseen force. The swirl of colours that his vision had devolved into was nauseating, and Nyx shut his eyes, the sensation of freefalling continuing until-

He sat upright with a shout, as the world snapped back into place, and he was greeted by the familiar sight of his dimly lit apartment, sunlight streaming through the cheap curtains.

[southeastasianhistories]

Southeast Asia’s role in World War I is all but lost to history. There was no major invasion of the region by a hostile power, like Japan in World War II. None of the Central Powers – an alliance of Germany, Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire – had colonial territory in the region, except on the periphery. German New Guinea quickly fell to the Allies after the outbreak of war in July 1914.

Yet the First World War, which ended 100 years ago this month, proved a decisive event for Southeast Asia. For the first time, it severely tested the relationship between the colonial authorities of Britain, France and the Netherlands (neutral in the war) and their colonial subjects in Southeast Asia, for whom sacrifice in the conflict was to be a rallying cry for more civil rights. The burgeoning nationalist movements throughout the region swelled with veterans returning home from democratic and industrial nations, while others, with considerable consequences in later decades, brought home interests in the radical politics at the time, not least communism.

Arguably, the most interesting response to the declaration of war was made by Siam, as Thailand was then known. As the only Southeast Asian nation not colonised by a European power, Siam, under the absolute monarch King Vajiravudh, decided to go to war against the Central Powers in 1917, sending its own troops to fight in Europe. The Siamese Expeditionary Force of more than 1,000 troops arrived in the French port of Marseilles in July 1918. It was led by Major-General Phraya Phya Bhijai Janriddhi, who had received military training in France before the war. At first, the Thai troops were employed by the Allies as rear-guard labour detachments, taking part in the Second Battle of the Marne in August that year. The following month, they saw their first frontline action. They took part in several offences, including the occupation of the German Rhineland. In the end, 19 Thais had lost their lives – none from battle.

King Vajiravudh’s decision to go to war was calculated. Gambling on Allied victory, he believed Siam’s participation would earn it the respect of Britain and France. He was correct. Although it was independent, neighbouring colonisers (the British in Burma and the French in Cambodia) had slowly whittled away Siam’s territory in the preceding decades, with large tracts of land returned to Cambodia in the late 19th century. After WWI, though, Siam’s territory didn’t budge. Equally important, Siam took part in the 1919 Versailles Peace Conference and was a founding member of the League of Nations, a clear indication that Western powers now saw it as a legitimate force on the international stage and in Southeast Asia.

The rulers of independent Siam might have wanted respect and power, but the thoughts of ordinary people from the rest of colonised Southeast Asia are little known. Few first-hand accounts exist for historians. Quite probably, however, many did not want to be thrust unquestionably into the greatest fratricide the world had yet seen, and some no doubt hoped the colonial empires would be destroyed by the whole endeavour. Yet some nationalists, especially those of higher rank who weren’t expected to fight, saw the war effort as a means of gaining more political rights for themselves under the colonial system.

The war, for example, provided the Vietnamese with “an unexpected opportunity to test France’s ability to live up to vaunted self-representations of invincibility”, as Philippe Peycam wrote in 2012’s The Birth of Vietnamese Political Journalism: Saigon, 1916-1930. The prominent Vietnamese nationalist Phan Chu Trinh, who had spent years in jail before the war for his activism and was imprisoned for six months in 1914 on wrongful charges of colluding with the Germans, played a considerable role in recruiting Vietnamese men for the war. Another noted nationalist, Duong Van Giao, published a history of the Vietnamese war effort, 1925’s L’Indochine pendant la guerre de 1914–1918. Because of Vietnam’s sacrifice, he called on the French colonials to adopt a “native policy”: not quite outright independence but radical reform of civil rights for the Vietnamese. It was a similar sentiment as expressed in Claims of the Annamite People, an influential tract cowritten in France in 1919 by a young activist who later became known as Ho Chi Minh, who had spent most of the war working in a London hotel under the famous chef Auguste Escoffier.

As a French colony, Vietnam was expected to provide troops for the war effort, but there were differing views among colonial officers as to what role they should play. Lieutenant-Colonel Théophile Pennequin was a hardliner but also a keen reformer. Before the outbreak of war, Pennequin requested that he be allowed to form a competent military unit that was termed by some as an armée jaune (yellow army), similar to the force noire (black force) popularised by General Charles Mangin in France’s West African colonies. For Pennequin, a national native army would allow Vietnamese to gain “positions of command and provide the French with loyal partners with whom they could build a new and, eventually, independent Indochinese state,” wrote historian Christopher Goscha in 2017’s The Penguin History of Modern Vietnam.

But Pennequin’s designs were rejected by Paris and, instead, most Vietnamese recruits were sent to Europe to work in factories or as supply hands. Yet some did fight. One estimate contends that out of 100,000 Vietnamese conscripts sent to the war in Europe, roughly 12,000 lost their lives. A battalion of Tonkinese Rifles, an elite corps formed in the 1880s, saw action on the Western Front near Verdun. Do Huu Vi, a celebrated pilot from an elite family, became a national hero after his plane was shot down over France.

Despite overt racism by some French nationals and trade unions’ concerns that they were bringing down wages, many of the Vietnamese put to work in munitions factories found it a revelatory experience. Some started relationships with Frenchwomen, unsurprising since other workers in wartime factories were mostly women. Others joined social clubs and reading groups. After the war, wrote Goscha, “a hundred thousand Vietnamese veterans returned to Indochina hoping to start a new life. Some wanted French citizenship; most expected good jobs and upward social mobility. Several hoped to modernise Vietnam along Western lines, despite the barbarity they had just witnessed in Europe.”

It was a similar story for the Philippines, then a United States colony. It declared war on Germany in April 1917, the same time Washington did. At first, the colonial government requested the drafting of 15,000 Filipinos for service, but more than 25,000 enlisted. These troops formed the Philippine National Guard, a militia that was later absorbed into the American military. Most of the recruits, though, would not leave the Philippines during the war. Those who did travelled as part of the American Expeditionary Forces. In June 1918, the first Filipino died in action at the Battle of Château-Thierry, in France: Tomas Mateo Claudio, a former contract labourer on a sugar plantation in Hawaii who had enlisted in the US.

It is not known exactly how many Southeast Asians died during the First World War. Of those active in the European theatre, the number is estimated to be more than 20,000, mostly conscripts from the French colonies. It was a small figure compared to the number of Southeast Asians who perished during the Second World War. And, unlike in that war, there wasn’t a great arena of warfare in Southeast Asia during the First since none of the Central Powers nations had any imperial control in the region.

But Germany did have influence in China and possessed leased territory in Kiautschou Bay, near present-day Jiaozhou. It was invaded by Japanese forces after 1915, and China would later declare war on Germany in August 1917. But in October 1914, the German East Asia Squadron still had its base in the concession – it was from there that a lone light cruiser, the SMS Emden, slipped into Penang Harbour, part of what was then British Malaya. Disguised as a British vessel, the German cruiser launched a surprise attack on a Russian ship and then sank a French destroyer that had given chase. The sole attack on Malaya during the war killed 100 and wounded thousands more.

After the attack, the Emden is thought to have docked in a port in the Dutch East Indies, present-day Indonesia, raising British suspicions that the Dutch weren’t as neutral as they had claimed. Neutrality, moreover, didn’t mean the colony went unscathed. The Dutch East Indies was home to a sizeable German population that worked to “coordinate and finance covert operations designed to undermine British colonial rule and economic interests in Southeast Asia,” as historian Heather Streets-Salter wrote in 2017’s World War One in Southeast Asia: Colonialism and Anticolonialism in an Era of Global Conflict.

The Emden was finally stopped by an Australian cruiser that ran it ashore in Singapore. The surviving crew of the German vessel were interned there, then a part of British Malaya. Also stationed in Singapore was the Indian Army’s Fifth Light Infantry, which unsuccessfully mutinied in January 1915 after they learned they might be sent to fight in Turkey against fellow Muslims (though they were eventually sent to Hong Kong instead). The 309 interned Germans from the Emden joined in the mutiny, which left dead eight British and three Malay soldiers, as well as a dozen Singapore civilians.

A much forgotten history of World War I was a Turco-German plot to promote jihad (holy war) in parts of the Muslim world colonised by the Allies, including Malaya. Using the Dutch East Indies as a base, supporters of the Central Powers produced “pan-Islamic, anti-British propaganda” that was sent to Muslim-majority British Malaya, and also to India. One of the architects of this plan, Max von Oppenheim, wrote in a position paper in 1914: “In the battle against England… Islam will become one of our most important weapons.” The Ottoman Sultan, Mehmed V, issued a fatwa against the Allies in November of that year. In British Malaya, the authorities doubled down on censorship by closing many Malay-language newspapers, some of which were considered supportive of the Ottoman Empire.

Pan-Islamic propaganda agitating for independence of Malaya was just as attractive to the Muslim-majority subjects of the Dutch East Indies where it was produced. In the preceding decades, these subjects had been demanding more freedoms, even independence, for themselves. This was a serious cause of concern for the Dutch colonialists, but ultimately the real impact of the war on the Dutch East Indies was economic. The Allies’ blockade of European waters, as well as control of Asian waters, made it difficult for Dutch ships to reach the colony for trade purposes.

“The Netherlands Indies was effectively cordoned off by the British Navy,” wrote Kees Van Dijk in 2008’s The Netherlands Indies and the Great War, 1914-1918. As a result, the war caused price increases and severe food shortages in the Dutch East Indies. By the end of 1916, the export industry was practically destroyed. Around that time, social unrest had gained momentum. Rural protesters burned reserve crops, eventually leading to famine in some parts of the colony. Nationalists and a small contingent of socialists began advocating for revolution. By 1918, unrest was so dire that the governor general called a meeting of the nationalist leaders where he made the so-called “November promises” of more political representation and freedom, but these were empty promises.

Economic problems were a constant throughout the region. To help pay for the war effort, the French and British were reduced to raising taxes in their Southeast Asian colonies. The burden fell mainly on the poor. Small wonder it resulted in unprecedented protests. A failed uprising took place in Kelantan, British Malaya, in April 1915. In Cambodia, the so-called 1916 Affair saw tens of thousands of peasants march into Phnom Penh demanding the king reduce taxes. None of these were exact appeals of “no taxation without representation”, but rather the germinal expressions of self-independence that were to become more forceful across the region in the 1930s, and decisive after World War II. Brian Farrell, a professor of military history at the National University of Singapore, has described the impact of the First World War on Southeast Asia as significant yet delayed.

By the close of the war, many of the colonies returned to some form of pre-war normalcy. Yet the colonial governments, indebted and weakened from the conflict, knew that reforms had to be made in Southeast Asia. In Laos, the French-run administration thought the county “secure enough�� in October 1920 to introduce the first of a series of political reforms aimed at decentralising power through local appointees, wrote Martin Stuart-Fox in A History of Laos. The British authorities in Malaya also experimented with decentralisation in the 1920s, which involved placing more power in the hands of the provincial sultans. In 1916, the Jones Act was passed in Washington to begin the process of granting the Philippines a “more autonomous government”, including a parliament, which was built upon until full independence in 1946.

War also transformed the role of local elites, who took on more autonomy and power. In Vietnam, the years after 1919 saw the creation of reformist newspapers, written in the increasingly popular Vietnamese script instead of the Roman alphabet, which the French had imposed. In Cambodia and Laos, such forceful nationalism did not arise until the 1930s. Other reformists in the region grew interested in ideologies brought back from the West. The South Seas Communist Party, a pan-Southeast Asian party, was formed in Burma in 1925 before splitting along national lines in 1930. Ho Chi Minh, who spent the war in London, helped create the Communist Party of Indochina that year. Tan Malaka, who had actually tried enlisting to fight with the German army – without success – became an integral part of the communist movement in the Dutch East Indies, later becoming known as something of a father of the independent Republic of Indonesia.

World War I laid bare the unequal “social contract” that colonial authorities had forced their colonial subjects in Southeast Asia to sign. The contract would only become more obviously threadbare by the 1920s, yet it took the next global conflict, which had a far greater impact on the region than the first, for these anti-colonial movements to grab real political power.

[writer-room]

Siblings: Chapter One

AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Summary: The Bats reflect on how their thoughts about siblings have changed over the years. Some opinions stayed, others didn't.

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

Dick always wondered what it’d be like to have a little brother or sister.

He recalled asking his parents why he didn’t have one. Not accusatory, just curious.

His mother had smiled and said that they had their hands full plenty with Dick, and he was all they needed. His father, while still kind, said that they didn’t really have the time or resources in the circus at the moment to add another child to the family.

Dick was disappointed, but he understood the reasons.

Even still, he’d find himself staring at the kids that watched the acts with awe. Older kids lighty taunted their younger siblings, ruffling their hair and pretending they were too good for it all, and that they were doing their siblings a favor by being there. Kids who nudged their brother or sister to distract and steal the snacks from concession stands, later whispering words that’d make the other gape or giggle. Young children holding their sibling who was of toddler age or younger, pointing towards parts of the acts, their glee growing upon seeing the excitement of their sibling.

Dick hadn’t been lonely growing up in Haly’s Circus, he had his parents and the other people who worked there, from the handlers to the clowns to the tricksters. 

And yet, he still found himself watching the kids who’d come in with one, or even two or three, brothers and sisters, taunting and laughing and sharing their wonder.

A sibling would’ve been nice, he thinks mournfully. It might’ve even been fun.

Ah, well. At least he had the circus.

,

“Hey, hey Dick. Dick. Dick, lookit.”

“If I turn around and I see you about to push Damian off the roof, I’m breaking your helmet.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Dick sighed, turning back from where he was keeping an eye on the streets below. Jason, who’d only been a few feet away, immediately took this moment to seize Tim, who had been too busy looking through his binoculars to care about whatever the two had been doing, and proceed to chuck him off the roof.

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan as Tim’s undignified shriek was cut off by him catching himself on a fire escape below, scrambling to get a good hold on so he didn’t fall the rest of the way.

“What?” Jason huffed. “You said not to push Damian, and I didn’t push Damian.”

“Of course,” Dick replied sarcastically. “My mistake, I’ll be sure to rephrase it as don’t push anyone off the roof.”

“Now that’s just unreasonable,” Jason huffed, hand on his hip as Steph and Cass snickered from the nearby chimney they were perched on. “I can think of plenty of people who deserve to be pushed off roofs. Like Scarow, for example. Bastard made me break my good hand last month and I still need to shoot a bullet in his back for that one.”

“Then don’t push your family off roofs, is that enough for you?” Dick sighed, standing up and peering over the edge of the roof. “You alright down there, Tim?”

“Names,” Damian finally chastised, not once having glanced over to the others from where he was on the corner of the roof, farthest as he could get from them.

“Oh, sure, now you worry.” Tim grumbled from the fire escape, finally pulling himself to his feet and brushing himself off. “Dick, please tell me I have permission to stab out Jason’s eye.”

“You do not.”

“He’d be fine!” Tim complained, snagging a hand on the stairs and instead pulling himself up along the outside of the fire escape instead of walking up the steps like a normal human being. “Harper could probably make him a new functional one in two days if she's in a good mood.”

“I’m not making him a new eye in two days. Maybe two weeks.” Harper informed from the other side of the roof, also ignoring the others as she tinkered with some gadget.

“Get anywhere near me and I’ll cough on you,” Jason threatened, also peering down off the roof. “You have basically no immune system, you’d die in a week. A long, painful death. Poetic cinema, really.”

“If you say it's poetic because you were beaten with a crowbar for two hours, I’m dropkicking you.” Steph warned, eyes narrowed.

“You’re so mean to me,” Jason gasped, placing a hand on his chest as he turned. “What did I ever do to deserve this? I’m nice to you!”

“No, you’re not.” Chorused Dick, Tim, Damian, Steph, and an extra voice through their earpieces.

“Wow, thanks, Babs.” Jason grumbled. “Showing up just to bully me, typical.”

“Names,” Damian warned a second time.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Babs crackled through their earpieces. “You’re not the only one I bully.”

“Everyone please stop harassing Jay,” Dick pleaded, though it came out more as an exhausted sigh.

“Names,” Damian growled a third time, losing his patience.

“I know it's fun,” Dick continued, ignoring him. “But this is supposed to be a scouting mission, and I’d rather he didn’t start taking out petty revenge during patrol.”

“I have no idea why he’s so surprised we get bored when scouting,” Steph mumbled quietly, to which Cass simply shrugged.

“You have no faith in me,” Jason snorted, and Dick could tell he was rolling his eyes under his helmet.

“I have plenty of faith in you,” Dick soothed. “I also, however, know how you are.”

“Don’t worry,” Steph raised a hand. “I already lost faith in you when you tried to kill Tim.”

“Which time?”

“Steph, don’t taunt him. Do it back at the Manor.” Dick lightly scolded.

“How many times do I have to repeat this?” Damian snapped, whirling from his post to glare at the others. “We do not use names on patrol!”

“Doesn’t Jon call you D on patrol?” Harper raised a brow, glancing towards him.

“That is different! He does not use my actual name!”

“Hypocrite,” Jason coughed under his breath.

Tim finally swung back onto the roof, skillfully rolling and dodging when Jason attempted to immediately kick him off again. Tim rolled close to the chimney, quickly pulling out his bo staff and crouching, glaring at Jason. It was reminiscent of two cats in a standoff, arched backs but neither of them making the first strike yet.

“Do not fight,” Cass said calmly. 

“Thank you, C--” Dick hesitated, glancing at Damian for a brief moment. “--Orphan.”

“Fight in Cave,” Cass continued cheerfully. “We have sparring mats for reasons.”

“And I take that back.”

“You wanna hang with the cool kids?” Steph asked, leaning off the chimney to offer her hand.

“Yes. Have I mentioned you’re my favorite person?” Tim grinned, putting his staff away as he took the offered hand and was pulled onto the chimney beside Steph and Cass.

“You could stand to say it more often,” Steph teased.

“Cheaters,” Jason grumbled, relenting that fighting both Steph and Cass to get Tim was a losing battle.

The three were rather squished on the chimney, but none of them seemed to mind. Harper only rolled her eyes and went back to tinkering.

“We really need to bring D--Signal on one of these things.” Dick muttered, shaking his head.

“Because he’s sensible, or because you want him to suffer like the rest of us?” Tim raised a brow.

“Because he deserves the same family bonding time.” Dick said simply.

“Duke and Cullen are next to me listening in on this,” Barbara said through the communicators. “I am here to inform you that Duke is both touched and terrified.”

“The bumblebee was awake and didn’t even bother to join us?” Harper snorted. “Rude.”

“Cullen agrees with you.”

“He better,”

“I’m taking a ten hour nap after this,” Dick complained, sitting back on the edge of the roof, legs dangling in the open air as he leaned back dramatically on his hands. “I deserve it. Self-care and all that.”

“That is the length of a normal amount of sleep.” Damian raised a brow.

“Not in this family, it’s not.”

“Preach!” Tim pumped a fist.

“You don’t count, Tim.” Dick chastised, leaning his head back to look at Tim upside down. “Everyone here remembers to sleep at the latest once every two days. You don’t sleep for five.”

“I’m being harassed,”

“You’re being bullied into a proper sleep schedule.” 

Damian suddenly whacked Dick over the head, startling him with a yelp as Jason hid a snicker. Harper and Cass looked over for a moment before continuing with whatever they had previously been doing.

“Names!” Damian hissed. “Do you all want your identities revealed?”

“Literally nobody is here,” Harper pointed out.

“If Gotham hasn’t found out our identities by now, they never will.” Steph snorted.

“Especially finger-stripes over here.” Tim added, a smug expression on his face.

“A nine-year-old finds out your identity one time and you never hear the end of it.” Dick muttered under his breath before sitting up and proceeding to snatch Damian, who had been previously stalking towards the others, by wrapping an arm around his chest and tugging him closer as the boy squawked.

“You were using a Flying Grayson move, dude.” Tim deadpanned. “You gotta pay the price for being flashy for no other reason than because you can.”

“That’s his entire personality.”

“Why do you all hate me?” Dick whined, holding a squirming Damian close as he gave the boy a noogie. “What did I do to gain such torment?”

“You want the list?” Harper looked up, finally putting away whatever she was tinkering with.

“We alphabetized,” Cass added.

“Wrote on the front and back,” Steph nodded sagely.

“I’m adding three more to the list when we get back,” Damian growled, looking ready to bite Dick if he didn’t stop soon.

“You better be joking about that list,” Dick warned, releasing Damian for his own safety. “Because if I ever find a list of reasons to be mean to me, I will not show mercy.”

“Do you mean you’re gonna attack us physically or emotionally?” Jason inquired.

“Emotionally,”

“You sick bastard.” Steph whispered in horror. “I can’t believe you would use your powers for evil.”

“Does it make it any better if I tell you the list, if it does exist, would probably only exist so that when we notice someone looks like they’re gonna do something stupid, we use the list to remind them of something you did so they take it out on you and not, say, turn all of Gotham into a gang war zone.” Harper said slowly.

“I hate you,” Steph glared. “You mess up one time--”

“You died, Steph!” Tim exclaimed, before getting a batarang chucked at his head that Damian somehow snuck into his utility belt.

“She didn’t even die,” Jason snorted, crossing his arms. “Both of you two had lame fake-out deaths.”

“Why am I the one who’s become the punching bag?” Dick complained, holding Damian back again when he tried to grab the batarang Tim had dodged and threw it again.

“Because you’re actually good at feelings and everyone else is emotionally constipated.” Harper deadpanned.

“And the Ric incident.” Damian added right after, giving up in his thrashing. A shutter passed over the Bats at the mention of the name.

“Aw,” Dick’s face softened, ignoring the Ric comment. “You guys care about my advice?”

“Congrats,” Barbara chuckled slightly. “You’re the therapist brother.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Jason groaned, flopping backwards on the roof. “Now he’s going to be mushy and clingy all week.”

“Lord knows you idiots need it,” Harper huffed as Dick practically glowed.

“I’m sicing him on you later.”

“Jokes on you, he hasn’t found my apartment yet.”

“Yes I have,” Dick raised a hand, turning towards her. “Well, Robin found it, but I still know it.”

Harper stared at him for a few moments, momentarily turning her head to Damian for a moment before going back to Dick, and then turning to Jason.

“You’re a monster,” She whispered, a look of true horror on her face.

“I know,” Jason cackled gleefully.

“None of you are leaving the Manor when we get back.” Dick said matter-of-factly, pointing a finger to his siblings. “We’re gonna bond, and you’re going to like it.”

“We’re already bonding right now!” Damian protested.

“You’ll have to kill me first.” Steph hissed, shying behind Cass.

“Bold of you to assume you can keep me confined to the Manor.” Tim huffed in offence. “Orphan, I’ll stash you in one of my safe houses if you promise to be my bodyguard.”

“Deal,”

“You guys are so dramatic--”

“Hey, guys? Crazed pyromaniac with flamethrowers to the north.”

The group immediately dropped whatever they had been doing, heads snapping up towards the direction Barbara had tiredly informed them of the attack.

It was only a few moments before the sight of flames peaked over one of the buildings, dying out almost immediately. Shouts and rumbles were steadily growing in volume, especially the cackling of Firefly, likely revving up whatever weapon he’d acquired this time.

“Fantastic, can’t even keep watch with you morons.” Damian growled.

“Oh you are not the only one trying to work here!” Tim snapped. “Orphan, for example, is doing a wonderful--where’d she go?”

He and Steph looked around rapidly, their sister suddenly missing from the chimney. How they hadn’t noticed she’d left their crowded space was a mystery that’d likely never be solved.

“Over there,” Jason said boredly, upholstering a gun and pointing across the rooftops.

The outline of Cass’s body could be seen sprinting across the roofs towards where the fire had been spotted, leaping with reckless abandon.

“Life lesson for the rest of you,” Harper hummed, getting to her feet. “Be like Cass.”

“Stop using real names!” Damian barked.

“Last one there is on cleanup duty!” Steph hollered, shoving Tim and taking off in the same movement.

“Asshole!” Tim yelled as Jason, Harper and Damian all bolted after her without a moment's hesitation. 

Dick laughed, just getting to his feet as Tim stumbled up and after the others, swearing obscenities.

He quickly ran after his siblings, though he strayed a little further back, nobody paid attention to who showed up last anyway, his eyes darting from each of his siblings. Someone had to make sure they didn’t face-plant off a roof.

They shouted over each other as they descended down to take out Firefly. The guy had really picked a bad night to start causing trouble. It’d be over in no-time.

Even still, Dick paused on the roofs, scanning the streets below as the others ran to and fro, yelling over each other as Barbara switched between the coms to talk to them. It was a chaotic mess and Dick found himself grinning at it all.

His siblings were a hot mess, and it was amazing.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted to You

Part 1: The Chain

Summary/Author's Note: As the sister of veteran turned freelance for hire Santiago "Pope" Garcia, you grew up close to his friends and ex-military squad. Frankie Morales always had your heart, in the same way you always had his--the two of you just never seemed to get the timing right. Trying to escape the violence of a military career based family, you turned to journalism and humanitarian work in war torn countries. But three days ago your crew was ambushed and after three days without any contact, Pope is getting the guys back together for a rescue mission. (Follows Canon events very closely with added character and liberties) Thank you to @winters-buck for headcanoning with me about Frankie and getting me pumped up enough to write this.

Pairing: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Pope's sister!Reader Word Count: 4.6k (idk what happened...) Warnings/rating: (NC-17)/18+ Language, smoking, implied drug use, PTSD, sex/smut, kidnapping, blood, violence, threats, fluff and feelings

MASTERLIST

Present Day Somewhere in Texas, USA

Santiago "Pope" Garcia had always had a talent when it came to lying, but never had that talent been used so willingly on his closest friends. He was a good bluffer. It had helped his career in the military with his superiors, it had helped him on their weekly poker nights, but he had never planned on getting the five of them back together to boldly lie directly to their faces. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the locker room as Will looked him over skeptically.

"What did he say?" Will asked, straddling the wooden bench and crossing his arms to mirror his friend.

"He's taking a look at it," Pope sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "He may not be up for this."

Of course he was talking about their friend Tom. Tom, code name 'Redfly' had been their captain back in the day, their leader, and his brutality and no bull shit attitude made him a good one. Pope knew if he wasn't on board with this, then Will would be out, and the rest of them would drop like flies before this even began.

"You know he's the best with something this complex, and he needs this right now," Will said and Pope agreed with a silent nod.

Beyond the concrete walls of the locker room a cheering crowd could be heard albeit muffled. Both men turned and looked in the direction of the noise before Will shook his head and leaned forward on the bench.

"This shit is fuckin depressing," he said.

"Come on let your brother have some fun. Support him." Pope offered with a wave of his hand like Will's brother getting the shit kicked out of him for a couple hundred bucks wasn't a big deal.

"I've been supporting him since the day he was born." Will pointed to the wall that stood between them and the mixed martial arts arena. "That kid's a one in a million talent, going out there playing the fucking clown to a bunch of hillbillies."

Pope started to respond but the door opened and a man dressed in nothing but loose fitting shorts and the med tape wrapped around his hands entered.

"Where are my boys at?!" He yelled in a deep voice like an announcer and threw his hands in the air.

"Benny! There he is!" Pope embraced him before patting him on the back and passing him off to his brother who stood up from the bench.

"Hey, shithead," a familiar voice said in Spanish and Pope turned around to see Frankie, a wide grin on his face.

Frankie "Catfish" Morales, known mostly by 'cat' or 'fish' to his friends, was probably the closest thing Pope had to a best friend. Even though it had been two years since they had last seen one another, Frankie looked exactly like he always did. His dark curly hair stuck out under his trademark, ratted, ball cap. His lips held a full mustache while the rest of his face had what was probably week old scruff and the brightest smile of the group. It didn't hit him until they were embraced in a tight hug just how much he had missed the man.

"How' you doing?" Pope asked, patting him on the shoulder.

"Hanging in there, I guess." Frankie nodded, finally letting go and moving to sit on the bench opposite of Will. "Is Tom coming?"

"Yeah, he said he would be here," Pope nodded looking at all of them in front of him. "You assholes get my texts?"

All of them looked in various stages of guilt, rubbing the back of their neck, adjusting their ball cap, not meeting Pope's eyes. Of course they had gotten his texts and by the tension in the room none of them had responded.

"Yeah," Frankie finally broke the silence. "Yeah I got your texts."

"And? I need a pilot." Pope looked at his best friend.

"I don't do that anymore, man." Frankie shook his head and sighed. "Besides, I lost my license."

"I don't need a pilot with a license, I need a pilot I can trust. And that's you." Pope pointed at his chest and held his gaze.

Frankie rubbed his hand over his face and stood up, leaning back against the lockers and looking up at the ceiling. "Will, you in?"

"I told Pope, if Redfly was in, then so was I." Will turned his sights to his friend and shrugged.

"And what about you, Benny?" Pope said, asking the man who had been quiet the longest.

"Of course I'm in."

Pope ruffled his short, dirty blond hair roughly with a smile and a word of praise and Benny shoved him away with a grin.

"Fuck," Frankie sighed and shook his head. "So, what's the job?"

"Can we talk details later? It's fight night--I got other shit to think about." Benny pleaded, looking around to the other three as the crowd cheered again through the concrete walls.

"Sure, wouldn't want you to be late," Will scoffed and stood, offering a hand to his brother and helping him up off the bench. The three men left the locker room and started down the concrete tunnel that led out to the arena. Benny was in front, holding his fists out in front of him like a true heavyweight and mumbling what sounded like a well rehearsed pep-talk to hype himself up.

Frankie and Pope hung back a few steps beside the other two, falling into step with one another like they shared the same brain. The other boys often joked that they did. Frankie put his hand on Pope's shoulder and rubbed his own beard in thought before he broke the silence.

"So, I got busted. That's why my license lapsed. It's not a big deal." He let the sentence hang in the air before he shook his head and sighed. "Okay, so it is a big deal."

Pope turned and looked at him. "Coke?" When Frankie nodded in agreement Pope rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Cat."

"It's still pending. But I'm clean now--I swear."

Pope nodded as they kept walking. He believed him. Frankie was a man of his word, and he knew he didn't have to prove anything to him. If he said he was clean, then he was clean. And cocaine or not, Frankie was the best damn pilot he had seen in his entire career, he wanted him for this job. No one else was going to cut it. Not when the objective was this important.

"Hey," Frankie said, trying to act casual but sounding anything but. "Have you talked to (y/n) lately? How--uh, how's she doing?"

There it was. He had to hand it to him, it took him longer to ask than he would have thought, but where it was normally endearing how much Fankie was still in love with you, this time it made Pope sick to his stomach. Did he tell him? He should tell him--even if it was just him. It was the right thing to do. Instead, as they approached the arena, the lie fell from his mouth.

"She's uh--she's good. Took a job down south, but I haven't heard from her this week." It wasn't a total lie. Pope didn't look at him and he could feel his friend staring intently at him.

Frankie let it go, even though his expression said he didn't want to. "So, what is this job really? What aren't you telling me?"

Pope looked over his shoulder, "It is what I said. Simple recon. We can talk details after the fight."

"Sure, whatever you say, man," he shook his head as they walked into the crowd and Benny greeted Tom with a cheer and a hug as the taller man started passing out beers he had just gotten from the concession stand. "I'm in." Frankie said flatly and walked passed Pope, taking a beer from Tom and giving him a clap on the shoulder.

Pope stopped short and watched the other man smile and interact with the rest of his friends. Frankie was his oldest friend, and lying to him hurt worse than that time he was shot down in Peru. Frankie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember, and if Pope was being honest with himself, he was the only man that deserved you and that he trusted to take care of you. He thought you guys would really make it work, and the day you called it quits hurt him too. Why wouldn't he want his best friend to take care of his sister? Protect you when he couldn't? Make sure you spend the rest of your life happy.

The four of them sat in the front row as Benny walked up the steps to the raised fighting platform, ducking under one of the ropes and bouncing around like there were springs on his feet. Pope looked back at Frankie and when the other man smiled, Pope returned it but it was a lie. He knew he was going to be crushed when he found out why the gang was really back together. When Frankie found out you were missing, nothing was going to stop him from getting you back--that's the real reason Frankie was the most important part of this crew. Because just like Pope, Frankie would get you back...or burn the whole country down trying.

--

Two years earlier

It was just supposed to be drinks and pool, maybe some darts if he talked you into it--you were a terrible shot and it made him laugh until his eyes watered. Frankie had asked you to go to the bar while he was in town and you had happily said yes. You missed him. And by the look on his face you knew he missed you too.

It was never awkward when you were with Frankie. No matter how much time had passed, as soon as the two of you were back together it was like picking up right where you left off. Gentle touches, knowing each other's drink order, holding hands, it was all so natural. He opened every door for you, bought every seven and seven you ordered, and paid for every round of pool, shoving more quarters into the metal slot and racking up the balls the second the previous game ended.

The first part of the date ended when Frankie tried to teach you how to do a trick shot in the corner pocket. He leaned his pool cue against the table and stood behind you, wrapping his arms around yours and putting his large hands over yours on your own pool stick. He smelled like fresh air, like the woodsy smell of recently cut grass, clean earth, and just a hint of campfire smoke--musky and comfortable and safe. He spoke in your ear telling you where to aim, and even though he had to speak over the other patrons and the juke box it felt like he was whispering just for you. When he pressed himself against your ass, your body erupted in goosebumps. He must have felt it too because he asked, "Wanna get out of here?" And all you could do was nod.

The both of you fumbled into your apartment, he barely got the door closed by kicking it, as you dropped your purse and keys on the floor and started unbuttoning his shirt. Of course all of this would have been easier if either of you could pull away from each other's lips, but that wasn't happening.

"Bedroom or couch?" You said as you shoved his shirt off of his shoulders.

He grabbed the hem of your own shirt and pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. "Both." The two of you laughed and kept kissing as he walked you backwards towards the hallway. "Kitchen. Floor. Shower." He kissed you after each word and you blushed, laughing again at his suggestion. This was the Frankie you remembered. This was the Frankie you fell in love with.

"Got big plans for this weekend, do ya?"

"Yup," he bent slightly and gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. "And they all involve you."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard on the lips. His tongue slid into your mouth like it had so many times before, exploring, tasting, moaning softly into you. He knew where your bedroom was, walking down the hall like he lived there and nudging the door open with his hip. Some summers, back when both of your lives were simpler, it was almost like he did live there. He had his own drawers, his own side of the bed, and you made sure his favorite coffee was always in the cabinet.

"Frankie," you breathed against his mouth and his grip tightened on you. You slid your fingers into his hair, removing his ball cap and tossing it behind you.

"Tell me, baby," he mumbled back, putting you down on the bed and crawling over your body.

"I missed you," you said and he froze, looking down at you with those enchanting brown eyes.

He swallowed hard and tried to slow his breathing. "I missed you, too."

The both of you took a moment just staring at one another. He leaned down and gave you another soft kiss before moving to trail his lips down your jaw, moving to your breasts and unclipping the snap in the front. He took each of your breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them as you closed your eyes and carded your fingers through his hair again. When he took one of your nipples between his teeth you gasped, arching your back off of the bed and holding him against you.

"You still like that?" He mumbled, moving to the other nipple and repeating the motion, sucking it into his mouth along with as much of your breast as he could. The feel of his teeth against your skin was exquisite and you could have let him do what he was doing all night.

"What do you think?" You laughed as he moved from your breasts down your stomach, biting and kissing his way to the edge of your jeans. "You always were a boob man."

"For your perfect tits? Absolutely." He undid the button and zipper, grabbing opposite sides of your pants and underwear, shimmying them off of your hips.

"Charming." You scoffed, raising your hips to help him as he stood and did the same to his own.

"You always thought so."

He knelt on the bed, stroking his half hard cock before he fell on top of you, making the mattress bounce gently. You gripped his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back, enjoying the surprise on his face and the absolute adoration as your breasts hung directly in front of his face. He started to raise up to put them in his mouth again but you pressed his shoulders back into the bed.

"My turn," you grinned and he nodded, letting you move down his body, kneeling off to the side.

As soon as you wrapped your hand around his dick, his eyes fluttered closed. You worked him slowly before bowing your head and letting some saliva pool in the front of your mouth and letting it drop slowly onto the head and down the shaft. Your hand worked the liquid down, making it slide easier as you pumped him.

"Fuck, (y/n)," he sighed as he watched you. "You're killing me."

"You still like that?" You asked, playfully, mocking his earlier question and he chuckled.

"Smart ass."

You smiled again before taking him in your mouth and you revelled in the way he moaned softly and slid his hand into your hair at the back of your head. You bobbed in tandem with your hand, working the entire shaft as you sucked the head of his cock and his grip on your hair tightened. You took as much of him into your mouth as you could, your lips meeting your fist and a small sound escaped you as he hit the back of your throat. He thrusted up involuntarily and when you gagged slightly, he opened his eyes and looked at you worriedly.

"I'm sorry," he breathed and you shook your head, continuing to suck him off, running your tongue along the large vein that ran the length of him. There was no apology needed, you were just as desperate to remember his body as he was yours. He held out for a few more pumps, rock hard in your hands before he sat up and grabbed you by the arm. "Come here. Come here, baby."

You let him pull you to him as he leaned his back against the headboard and pulled you into his lap. He reached his hand between the two of you and ran two thick fingers along the slit of your pussy.

"Shit," he cursed quietly as he felt how wet you already were. He loved how quickly you were ready for him, it had always been like that. He could have you dripping for him before he even got you undressed and he loved reaching up your skirt or your dress and feeling you against the lace of your thong. "You're so wet."

"You love it," you said as he continued to stroke you and you straddled his hips, putting his arms around his shoulders.

"Always have," he said and it was in a voice tender enough that you weren't sure if you were talking about the same thing any more.

You leaned up on your knees as he took his cock in his hand and lined it up between your thighs. You lowered yourself on to him, sinking down slowly and letting your body adjust to his length. He throbbed inside of you as you paused, letting yourself adjust to his girth. The stretch was intense and you wanted it to last forever, feeling every inch of him as the bottom of your thighs touched the top of his and you settled in his lap. Your fingers found their way into his dark, soft hair. It was a little longer at the ends and you liked the way it curled around his hat, but that hat was currently on the floor with the rest of your clothes so you could touch the soft locks as much as you wanted.

"You ready, baby?"

You nod and hold him close, your breasts pressing against his chest, your foreheads coming together as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Fuck me, Frankie. Please, please." You whisper the last few words over his lips as he started to thrust up inside of you.

You both released a contented sigh at the same time and it made you smile. Even in your worst days, it always felt like you and Frankie were in sync, two halves of a whole. How your body had missed him, missed the soft way he said your name and the way he held you close to him like he wouldn't be satisfied no matter how close you were.

"I missed you," he said, closing his eyes as he guided your hips up and down, rocking against him as your stomachs brushed together.

"You said that already," you smiled, moaning softly as he hit a particularly sweet spot deep inside of you.

"And I'll say it again," he grinned, pressing his nose against your cheek and kissing your lips.

"Charmer," you kissed him back, soft and slowly.

He dipped his head and kissed your neck, sucking along the soft skin of your throat. You wanted him to leave marks like you both were in grade school, making out in the back of the movie theater, kissing in the bed of his truck, back when things were simpler. His arms tightened around your back as you nosed his hair, breathing him in and kissing the top of his head.

"Fuck," he cursed quietly as you ground your hips down on his lap. "You feel so good, baby."

"Don't stop," you moaned softly in his ear as he picked up the pace. "Harder, Cat, harder, please."

He held you tightly as he looked up and put his hand on the back of your neck. "Look at me." You opened your eyes and leaned back slightly to look down at him with heavy eyes. "God damn, you're so beautiful," he whispered and it made you blush. You kissed him hard and slid a hand between the two of you, frantically searching out your clit as his thrusts started to get sporadic and uneven.

"I'm gonna cum, Cat-" you watched as he looked at you and nodded encouragingly.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me. I got you," he panted close to your face as his cock hit the end of you, pumping up inside of you.

Your orgasm took you suddenly and completely. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you clenched around his cock and squeezed your thighs around his lap. You felt the heat rise up from your core to the rest of your body in a way that made you curl your toes against the bedspread. You threw your head back and groaned out your pleasure to the ceiling, his name falling from your lips with sweet ecstasy as you clung to his shoulders.

He followed right behind you, spilling himself inside your cunt, the feeling of him hot and wet around his cock and starting down your thighs. He thrust hard, and spaced out, a few more times, grunting a mixture of his pleasure and your name with each movement.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, leaning back against the headboard and pulling you against him.

You pressed your cheek against his chest, breathing hard as you ran your hand up his neck and played your fingers against the scruff along his jaw. He was still inside you and you clenched your thighs again, an afterthought of a muscle twitch left over from your orgasm. It made him groan again and tighten his grip on your hips.

"Sorry," you laughed softly and he chuckled.

"We still got it, don't we?" He asked, looking down at you with a boyish grin.

"I never had any doubts." You crossed your arms on his chest and laid your head on top of them, looking up into his eyes. You shivered as he lifted your hips slightly and his softening cock slid out of you and you both got more comfortable. It was definitely quicker than the two of your normally liked it to be, but after being apart for so long, you had a feeling anything that happened tonight would be desperate and fast.

He dipped his head and kissed you softly, each kiss punctuated but a soft pop in the silence of your bedroom. He brushed your hair away from your face and smiled.

"You want me to head out soon?" He asked, trying to hide the fear in his face of the possibility that you would make him leave.

"No," you said quickly, shaking your head and staying firmly planted on top of his lap. "No, stay the night. Please." You added the last word sweetly and his face relaxed.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He nosed your hairline and kissed your forehead.

You knew this couldn't last. You knew he was leaving tomorrow for another mission, another pilot seminar, and you were headed upstate for your job as well. You loved Frankie Morales with all of your heart and he felt the same way--life just always seemed to have other plans. And yet, life was just as cruel as it was sweet because somehow, someway, it always brought you two back together.

---

Present Day Some where in the jungles of Columbia

You weren't sure how long you had been traveling. In fact, when you thought about it, you didn't know much of anything. You twisted your wrists in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure the zip ties were leaving on your skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whispered, leaning your head back against the side of the van. The bumps and potholes in whatever shitty road you were on caused the back of your skull to bump against the metal. How had this happened?

The last few days had been a blur. You and a group of journalists were having dinner in a local village. You had teamed up with a group of doctors and, in between travel, were lending a hand providing basic medical care to anyone who needed it in the surrounding towns. You cut bandages, gathered clean water, played soccer with the children, and took photos to add to your collection and publish when you got back to the States. It had been a pretty uneventful trip, enjoyable actually, until Lorea's men had shown up. No one seemed to know what the dangers narcos drug lord would be doing in a place like this.

Before you knew what was even happening, there were guns pointed at your crew, men yelling in Spanish that you only vaguely understood, and you raised your hands above your head shouting back, pleading them to calm down. Did they want money? No, that would have been too easy, and as a traveling journalist that dabbled in humanitarian efforts, money was not something you had a lot of anyway.

A rather large man grabbed you by the wrists and even though you struggled, even though you screamed, it didn't make any difference. A hand on your head made you duck as you were shoved into a van along with a few of the others on your crew and the door slammed shut behind you.

"Stop, stop," you tried as the van revved and pulled away down the street. "You don't have to do this--" The man who grabbed you ignored your words, if it was because he didn't understand English or because he didn't care, you weren't sure.

He jerked your wrists in front of your body and wrapped the zip tie around them, pulling it tight. Your heart was beating way too fast and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears and on instinct you pulled your hands away from him and screamed again, turning towards the door. He yelled something in Spanish and pulled his arm back before punching you in the side of the face. Your world exploded into flashes of white as you hit the floor of the van. With the wind knocked from your lungs, you gasped for air and coughed, your eyes burning with hot tears.

The man driving turned and yelled something over his shoulder, obviously upset at his partner for roughing up the merchandise. Your stomach felt nauseous and the last thing you remember was some kind of scratchy material being put over your eyes and the rest of the world went black.

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