#and its just a blonde twink taking a call

[ladymoonstardust]

Enjolras is the kind of guy who would casually blurt out singing the Marsailles

[jedi-starbird]

Rex: So General Kenobi, how come you speak mando'a?

Obi-Wan: I've always been interested in the culture and I spent a year on Mandalore for a mission in my youth :)

Rex: I see, what about you, General Skywalker?

Anakin: Huh? Oh Obi-Wan used to drop me off in mando daycare when he went to get laid in little Keldabe, fun times, they taught me how to headbutt someone.

[stawberrypimpsimp]

Alastor x Reader: The Radio Demon Enjoys a Treat

Word Count: 2,321

You were sick of working for Valentino. He was an asshole, a terrible demon. He has you working non stop but at least you aren't his favorite toy like Angel. You didn't have it as rough as him, he had it bad, but you two formed a quick bond. The mutual hate and restraints Valentino had brought you closer. Angel was able to escape Vals grasp just a bit. He moved out to a hotel, called the Happy Hotel, he said. You envied him. How you wish to escape the clutches of that monster.

Angle cared for you deeply. You wanted to ask him if there was room for you in this hotel. If you could have the temporary escape he gets. You decided to meet up with him at Consent, a sex club.

“Hey there sweet tits!” Said Angle walking up to you at the bar.

“Angle! How’s being a dick sucking slave going for you?” You said laughing

”Oh its great.. Vals got me doing gang bangs back to back. Fuck Im tired!!” Angle said, waving the bartender over for a drink.

“Two twink cosmos”

Next thing you know your 8 shots in and grinding on some random ass sinner. You forgot to talk to Angle about the hotel, to drunk to even remember what the night was about. Out of the corner of your eye you see Val. What the absolute fuck?! Can’t I get away from this sex fiend pimp. You dance your way over to Angel nudging him and slyly pointing out towards Val.

”Ugh.. I don't want to deal with this right now.. Let’s fucking go.” Angel says

You nod in agreement following his lead out, luckily you both sneak past without being seen.

“See ya tomorrow Angel!” You say walking away waving you hand and stumbling into a pole.

”Look youre way too drunk to get home and I'm pretty drunk as well. The hotel is right around the corner. You can stay the night there! I mean Charlie would be happy to meet ya.” Angel says grabbing your hand.

“Thanks Angel I owe ya one.” You say stumbling along his side.

He wasn’t nearly as drunk as you but hey at least you were able to let go for a bit and enjoy yourself.

You both walked up to the hotel, and oh boy was it a bad stay. Extremely disheveled and musty. Angel opened the doors for you and you both walked in. Inside wasn’t as bad as outside you guess but absolutely not what you were expecting when Angel talked about residing in a hotel.

A blonde girl in a red suit comes up to you grabbing your hand and shaking it profusely.

“Hello! My name is Charlie, welcome to the Happy Hotel!” She gets all sentimental and teary all of a sudden. “Angel, I can't believe you brought someone here!”

She was loud, a lot to take in but hey it helped you sober the fuck up but obviously still head ache inducing.

“Uhhhh Hello?” You said with confusion.

“Okay Okay let me show you around! Here we work on rehabilitation and bettering yourself. Let me Introduce you to everyone!!” Charlie said, overly excited.

”Okay sooo you already know Angel! So that introduction is off the list.. Hmm.. OH OH THIS THIS RIGHT HERE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN ALL OF HELL! VAGGIE! She is my girlfriend and here to help” The blonde demon said with pure excitement and love. She grabbed the hands of a girl with gray skin and hair that resembles moth wings.

”Hi.. Uh yes I’m Vaggie nice to meet you.” She says with an awkward smile.

Once Charlie stops looking and admiring Vaggie for a little longer she takes my hand dragging me over to what you can describe as a bar. It most certainly does not fit in with the color and decor of the place but you kept you mouth closed.

“This is Husker he is the bartender! He comes off all grumbly and grumpy but I swear he has a soft spot!!”

Husk who appears to be a cat like creature with a theme of playing cards to him. He looks up from the glass he is pouring then looks back down grumbling to himself. Oh well guess grumbly was the perfect word to describe him.

“Hello…?” You say hesitantly. He only gives you a look up again and a nod taking a swig of the glass of booze he just poured.

You look over and see a small little creature running with a knife stabbing bugs. You cant take your eyes off her as she takes the knife and impales a bug. Ew but at least keeping the place.. clean..?

”That over there is Nifty. She is the maid and in charge of keeping the place tip top shape.” Charlie says smiling avoiding watching her stab a few more bugs.

”Do you know any bad boys? You're just a girl.” The short girl said, wide eyed in excitement.

“Sadly yeah, work with a whole bunch of them but thats a topic for another time..” You say looking down trailing off your sentence.

Thankfully that stopped the conversation between you and her and she went back to stabbing bugs. Out of nowhere a black shadow witha green smile appears next to you forming into the shape of a demon. A handsome one at that. Tall and lanky in a striped red suit, a cane resembling a microphone right at his side.

“Well hello dear, I am Alastor the host of the hotel, an absolute pleasure to meet you!.” The demon says charmingly with a grin so wide it almost reaches his eyes, but his voice was off. It sounded like his voice was being broadcasted over a radio.

“Oh, hello?” You say a bit nervously as this man just came out of nowhere.

He grabs your hand bending down giving it a soft kiss. Everyone stopped and looked mouth open and shocked.

”What the fuck freaky face?! You ain’t never done that before.” Said Angel with a surprised look and then a laugh.

Charlie clasped her hands together and gave a long aweeee. You had no idea what was going on why everyone was acting so weird.

“Heh?” You say loudly looking confused and into Alastor glowing red eyes as you try to study what the schlock is about over him.

”Well I've never seen him be so… so gentle?” Charlie said still in awe with hearts in her eyes.

“Charlie my dear, I am simply just being a good host!” Alastor says keeping his smile wide and letting out a chuckle.

“Suuuureeeeee…!” Charlie says teasingly as if she could convince Alastor that she believed him.

“Now let me show our new guest around the hotel. Shall we?” He says in his static voice putting his arm out for you to hold onto.

You look at Angel and he gives you a wink and big grin. Looking at Alastors arm you grab it and begin to walk with him. Using his other hand holding his cane he starts to point out where everything is giving you a tour.

“..and hear darling we have my room!” Alastor says with a smirk.

You feel your face go a bit red. Why is he showing me HIS room?! You deal with horny men all day but this demon is getting you flustered. He opens the door letting you walk in first. There was a dark forest at the hall way point leading to who knows how far. Although it was beautiful. You stand here admiring it till you feel something behind you.

Alastor has his hand on your waist the other on your thigh. Slowly he slides his hand to your upper thigh, leaning into the crook of your neck.

”Well yes it's quite true I put everyone in awe over my affection, but I just simply couldn't stop myself. You are quite a cat my dear. Let me show you how a lady like you should be treated.” Alastor said with his radio voice but in a cooing tone.

Your face goes absolutely red. Shivers go up your spine all the way to the tip of your head. You could melt in his arms with how gently he is touching you. Shaking your head slowly you give a soft nod not even able to get out a word.

He glides his hand up your thigh to your crotch, he takes his hand and slowly starts rubbing it back and forth applying just enough pressure to have a decent amount of friction. The hand on your waist turns into him gliding his finger tips up your stomach making you do a soft gasp. He then reaches your chest and cups your breast. He slowly massages it in the same pace that his hand is going at. His face now buried in your neck kissing it softly. Then you feel a sharp pain letting out a small yelp. He lifts up his head slightly and whispers in your ear with a low radio tone.

”My apologies dear, I couldn’t help myself with how tender your skin is.”

He goes back to your neck licking it softly tending to the wound he left you. You didnt mind, it felt good and exciting. He moved his hand now to the rim of your pants.

“May I show you a good time darling?” He says in a static coo well running his fingers around the rim of your pants playing with them.

You give a simple nod. How does he have you in his clutches so easily? He takes his hand and slips it in your pants.

“Oh my, look how soaked you’ve become.”

He takes his hand and begins to feel your pussy. Running his fingers around your lips then pressing a finger on your slit going up and down slowly well his thumb rubs your clit.

God damn what the hell. You could hardly think, just focusing on all the sensations Alastor is causing you to feel. Your body entranced by the places he’s touching.

“Bed..?” Is all you managed to get out with a moan. You've been holding the moans in your throat as if they were trapped and couldn’t escape but that wasn’t because you weren’t feeling good it was because you were feeling so good. He raises his head to your ear once again.

”As you please my dear.” He says in a deep tone that broadcasted through your ears.

He removes his hands and swoops you off your feet. Holding you in his arms bridal style then setting you gently on his bed. You keep your eye on him, staring into his deep glowing stare.

“Let’s get these off of you shall we?” He says witch a chuckle.

Taking his finger he rips the seem of your pants making them fall off, now on to your panties. You look at him with lust as he returns the same look.

“Now be quite we dont want the other curious of the noise my sweet doe.” He says in his charming radio voice.

He gets on his knees and sets your legs on his shoulders. Alastor begins to kiss your inner thighs. Softly sucking on your skin then gliding his tongue up a bit to the next piece of flesh he is going to tend to. Unspoiled another sharp pain is felt. You knew what it was of course, but oh did it feel good. Between the bites, kisses, and licks he makes his wary up to your pussy. Extremely wet all ready for him to dine on. He wrapped his arms around your thighs digging his hands into them and leans his face in your aching wet crotch, not licking it just yet. He lets out a few heavy breaths causing you to shiver in delight, finally he takes a lick of your slit. His nose nuzzling your clit. He takes his tongue from the back of your pussy gliding it between your lips then finishing it off with a flick of his tongue on your clit. Quickly you took your hands covering your mouth choking back a moan you so desperately want to let out.

“Oh dear.. it appears you may need some help staying silent.”

Next to you a black hole appears on the bed and a tentacle slithers its way out. Black and slick it wraps around your mouth muffling the sounds you cant help but let out.

“Back to business..”

He thrust his head back between your legs licking your increasingly wet slit. Moans attempt to leave your lips but they cant. Arching your back indicating your about to cum he pulls away just barely enough to where you can only feel the tip of his lips.

”Not yet dear” He says smirking.

Damn that smile never leaving his face, that old times radio voice, he is driving you crazy.

Once he knows you won’t reach your peak just yet he wraps his lips around your clit. He starts sucking on it softly, nibbling on it unlike his hard bites, using his tongue sliding back and forth providing flicks. As he does so he slips two fingers inside of you. Dear god. Yes god, this is pure bliss. Alastor begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, now adding a curl to his fingers touching your sweet spot. He continues to pull them in and out. You arch your back and feel sweet realese. You cum on his fingers, him still sucking your clit and slowing down his pumps letting you ride out your orgasm. He pulls out his fingers and licks them clean.

”Im not usually one for sweets but this was a dessert I deeply enjoyed.” Alastor said standing back up looking over you taking in what he will now claim as his darling doe.

[ggjunkie]

Chained

A look on different anecdotes involving your developing relationship with Adam.

(College AU)

Everyone on campus knew Adam, and everyone knew about his necklace. It was a constant presence around his neck, an accessory as essential to him as the air he breathed. Legends whispered that he once ended a relationship because his girlfriend dared suggest he remove it. Some said it was a matter of principle for him, a line he wouldn't let anyone cross.

Personally, you believed he broke up with her because of the fact that he caught her cheating on him with some blond twink… but to each their own. Gossip was a staple of campus life, and stories had a way of morphing over time.

The necklace itself was a curious thing. One of his guitar picks, golden and shimmering like a tiny beacon of light. The chain, sleek and black, provided a stark contrast against the metallic glow. You, being Adam's science lab partner, had spent enough time around him to notice its significance. Yet, despite your proximity, you couldn't understand why it held such importance for him. But then again, you weren't exactly eager to strike up a conversation with him to find out.

Adam was, for lack of a better word, a dick. He had a way of rubbing people the wrong way, and you had little interest in getting on his bad side. But despite his less-than-endearing personality traits, you prided yourself on being a decent person. So, when you noticed his necklace lying abandoned on his desk with Adam nowhere to be seen, a sense of obligation stirred within you.

As you carefully lift the necklace, the broken chain confirms your suspicions. Adam's infamous temper must have flared, leading to an outburst that resulted in the necklace being flung aside in frustration. It's a familiar scenario, one that you've witnessed in passing before.

Yet, despite your less-than-favorable opinion of Adam, or at least the opinion you try to convince yourself of, the image of his meltdown tugs at your heartstrings. Beneath his prickly exterior lies a person with vulnerabilities and struggles, just like anyone else. And in this moment, imagining him upset over this piece of jewelry stirs a surprising wave of empathy within you. Your thumb glides over the smooth surface of the guitar pick, the golden hue catching the light in a mesmerizing display.

But now comes the dilemma: do you intervene, stepping beyond the boundaries of your relationship with Adam, or do you respect his privacy and simply return the necklace back to the desk without delving deeper into the situation like a normal person would?

—

You winded up going through with it.

And what is “it”, you may ask?

Well, repairing Adam’s necklace, of course. It might not have been the most conventional move, but you've never been one to follow the crowd. Some might call it foolish, but you prefer to think of it as being true to yourself, even if that means taking idiotic risks.

Sure, you and Adam have your differences. Okay, maybe more than just differences. You practically exist on opposite ends of the spectrum. He likes to piss you off by making crude comments catered towards your body, and you like to piss him off by threatening to spill chemicals down his shitty band t-shirts. Your dynamic is more like oil and water than anything resembling friendship.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension—a spark of something that neither of you quite understands. Maybe it's the adrenaline of sparring with someone who matches your wit, or maybe it's something deeper, something you're not quite ready to acknowledge.

And maybe, just maybe, you've entertained the thought that fixing his necklace could be your way of extending an olive branch. A peace offering in the form of a repaired chain, a silent plea for a truce between two sworn enemies. Or maybe, if you dare to entertain the idea, it could be your ticket to something more—a chance to explore the uncharted territory of a potential romance.

Of course, you're not naive. You're well aware that your fantasies might be nothing more than wishful thinking. Adam might not even appreciate the gesture, let alone reciprocate your feelings. But hey, a little delusion never hurt anyone, right? And who knows, maybe—just maybe—there's a glimmer of hope buried beneath all the snark and sarcasm.

Relief washed over you when your crafty friend finally returned with the fixed necklace. It had taken a few days, but their skillful hands had worked wonders, restoring Adam's prized possession to its former glory.

As your friend handed over the repaired necklace, you couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude mixed with embarrassment. Their knowing look spoke volumes, and you quickly averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. It was as if they could see right through you, understanding the significance of this seemingly simple gesture.

"Thanks," you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rush of emotions. "I owe you one. Seriously."

Your friend just smiled, a knowing glint in their eyes, before waving off your gratitude. "No need to thank me. Just make sure you-know-who appreciates the effort, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard as you pocketed the repaired necklace. With a silent promise to repay your friend's kindness, you made your way out of their workshop, the repaired necklace burning a hole in your pocket. Now all that was left was to track down Adam and deliver it to him, a task that suddenly felt much more daunting than you had anticipated. But you were determined to see it through, come hell or high water. After all, you had come this far. There was no turning back now.

As you approached the Music Hall, you couldn't shake off the sense of anticipation that tingles through your veins. Each step brought you closer to Adam, to the moment when you would finally hand over his repaired necklace and, perhaps, put an end to the tension that had simmered between you for far too long.

The familiar sight of the Music Hall greeted you as you pushed open the door, the air thick with the scent of wood polish and old instruments. You nodded in greeting to a passing friend, their smile barely registering as you focused on the task at hand.

With determined steps, you made your way down the narrow hallway towards the practice rooms, your ears straining for any sign of Adam's presence. But to your surprise, the practice rooms appeared deserted, the usually bustling space eerily quiet.

Frowning in confusion, you peered into each room as you passed, your heart sinking with each empty space you encountered. Where could Adam be? Had you missed him somehow, or had he found some secluded spot to escape the chaos of campus life?

Just as you were about to give up hope, a faint sound caught your attention—a soft melody drifting from one of the rooms at the end of the hallway. With renewed determination, you quickened your pace, following the sound until you reached the door of the practice room.

Peeking in, you were greeted by the sight of Adam, alone in the dimly lit space, his guitar cradled in his arms as he strummed gently. The absence of an amp gave his music an intimate quality, as if you were witnessing a private moment meant for his ears alone.

For a moment, you hesitated, struck by the vulnerability in Adam's posture, the way his eyes were closed in concentration and his lips moved silently with the lyrics. It was a rare glimpse into a side of him you had never seen before, a reminder that beneath the tough exterior lay a regular person.

Adam's eyes snapped open at the sound of your knock, the irritation evident in his furrowed brow. With a few muttered curses, he carefully leaned his guitar against the wall before wrenching the door open.

The moment the door swung open, you were met with a wave of his frustration, the tension in the air almost palpable. His scowl deepened as he glared at you, clearly not in the mood for any interruptions.

“No I’m not doing that stupid fucking evaluation. Mrs. Farring can suck it if she thinks I will. Fuck off—“

“That’s not why I’m here.” Your hands raised in a placating manner, a silent plea for him to lower his guard.Your voice was steady despite the rising tension. Adam's temper was like a simmering pot threatening to boil over, and you desperately hoped to prevent it from spilling into a full-blown confrontation.

At your words, he doesn’t seem to calm down though. “Then again, fuck off. Get the fuck out. Adios, sayonara, goodbye. Now leave!”

“Adam, chill out—“

“Chill out??” Adam bristled at your words. “I’m gonna bite off your fucking nipple if you think I’m gonna just roll over for you, you fucking bitch. I am not some kind of fucking dog or pug or fucking whatever else.”

Despite Adam's continued hostility, you refused to let his insults affect you. With a roll of your eyes, you brushed off his aggression, determined to stay focused on the task at hand.

You reached into your pocket and retrieved the repaired necklace, holding it out to him with a flourished gesture. His eyebrow raised in skepticism, but he extended his hand nonetheless, allowing you to drop the jewelry into his waiting palm.

The necklace landed with a soft clatter, the sound echoing in the tense silence that hung between you. Adam hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and the necklace in his hand. It was clear that he was surprised by your gesture, his guard momentarily lowered by the unexpected act of kindness.

“What the fuck is this?”

You blinked at Adam's sudden change in demeanor, his aggression giving way to bewilderment. His reaction caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but furrow your brows in response.

"Wait, what do you mean?" you asked, your confusion evident in your voice. You really hope you didn’t fuck upl. "Isn't this your necklace?"

Adam's lip curled in a snarl as he scrutinized the jewelry in his hand, his intense gaze never leaving the gleaming surface of the necklace. "No, no it is," he admitted, his tone begrudgingly acknowledging the truth. "It's just... not broken."

“Yeah, there’s a thing called ‘fixing it’”

He stares at you, his expression suddenly unreadable. This was unusual, as Adam was an open book. That, and he had two default emotions: angry, and horny. There’s this weird vulnerability in his eyes and it’s freaking you out.

“You fixed my necklace.” It’s not a question, but you nod anyway. “Why?”

“It was broken.”

His expression flattens out, and that familiar temper starts making itself known. “Yeah no fucking shit, dipshit. Why did you fix it.”

“Because…” you rack your brain for an answer, but come up empty handed. “I don’t know. I just know it meant a lot to you.”

“So you paid to get it repaired?”

“My friend did it actually, free of charge. I didn’t trust anyone else to touch it.”

You shifted on your feet, the sensation of nervousness coursing through your veins like a jolt of electricity. There was something in the air, something intangible yet undeniable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of something unknown.

As Adam's gaze remained fixed on the necklace in his hand, his thumb tracing over the golden guitar pick with a touch of reverence, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. The image of his fingers caressing the smooth surface of the pendant sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a desire that you quickly pushed away.

You berated yourself for the dirty thought, for the forbidden longing that stirred within you.

“Can you…” he continued looking at his necklace. “Can you help me put it on?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but you refuse to let the opportunity pass. “Of course.”

With a hesitance you haven’t seen from him, he hands the necklace to you and turns around. Without a word, you took the necklace from his outstretched hand, the metal cool against your skin as you held it delicately in your palm. With a gentle touch, you reached up and brushed the short ends of hair out of the way, your fingers lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. The sensation of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, a reaction that mirrored the fluttering in your own chest.

Ah. So he feels this…thing… in the air, too.

As you placed the necklace around Adam's neck and clasped it together, a sense of relief washed over you. The tension that had lingered between you seemed to dissipate with the final click of the clasp, replaced by a fleeting moment of connection that left you both feeling strangely vulnerable.

But as grateful as you were that the necklace didn't somehow break on you, creating an awkward situation, you knew that it was time to create some distance again. With a reluctant heart, you took a few steps back, putting space between you and Adam once more.

He waits a second before turning back around, his hands coming up to fiddle with the necklace. It looks like he’s about to say something, but you beat him to the punch. “I think I should get going.”

He thins his mouth into a line before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah of course. I should… probably get back to my guitar.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

“Yep. See you.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

With a final glance back into the practice room, you watched as Adam remained fixated on his necklace, his expression a mixture of contemplation and fascination. Despite his earlier insistence on getting back to his instrument, he seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the gleaming pendant hanging around his neck.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed him from afar, a strange sense of fondness settling over you.

What a weirdo.

—

As Adam slid into the seat next to you in science class, you couldn't help but notice the absence of his usual crude remarks or inappropriate comments. Instead, he greeted you with a simple head nod before turning his attention to Mrs. Farring, the science professor.

It was a stark departure from his usual behavior, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was different about him today. His focused demeanor, rare for someone who typically paid little attention to the lecture, raised a red flag in your mind.

Despite the nagging curiosity gnawing at you, you decided to follow Adam's lead and redirect your attention to Mrs. Farring, determined not to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was a small victory, perhaps, but a significant one nonetheless, and you were grateful for the respite from his usual antics.

The sight of Adam's subtle glances in your direction during class had left you feeling uneasy, a knot of worry forming in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe you had overstepped your boundaries by fixing his necklace, fearing that he might see your actions as intrusive or unwelcome.

Lost in your own thoughts, you were jolted back to reality when a torn piece of paper suddenly slid your way. Startled, you looked down at the note, your heart racing as you unfolded it to reveal a single word written in Adam's handwriting:

"Thanks."

With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you glanced up at Adam, who was pointedly avoiding your gaze, his attention focused elsewhere in the classroom. Despite his attempts to appear indifferent, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth at the sight, knowing that your gesture had not gone unnoticed.

Determined to ease any lingering tension between you, you reached for your own pen and quickly scribbled a response on the torn piece of paper before sliding it back across the table to Adam.

"What kind of lab partner would I be if I didn't help?"

He quickly writes back.

��A normal one. But I’m glad you’re not.”

The unexpected response from Adam caught you off guard, and a warmth spread through your chest at his words, even if they were somewhat cryptic. His acknowledgment, though brief, felt like a small victory.

Before you could formulate a response, Adam swiftly took the paper, crumpled it, and tossed it into his bag with a nonchalant gesture.

—

"So, what's the deal with the necklace?"

Adam glares at you, his eyes narrowing with a mix of irritation and something else you can't quite place. For a moment, you think he might actually respond, but instead, he diverts his attention back to the paper packet in front of him. He brushes off your question with a dismissive wave of his hand, the same hand that now holds a pencil, poised above the page.

The room is silent except for the faint scratch of pencil on paper as Adam writes down an answer. You watch him closely, noticing the slight furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenches in concentration. He pauses, eyes scanning what he's written, then sighs and erases it. The tapping of the pencil against the desk becomes a rhythmic punctuation to his thoughts.

You inch closer to Adam, closing the gap between your desks with a mischievous glint in your eye. With calculated precision, you deliver a well-aimed elbow jab to his ribs, a playful gesture that's become something of a tradition between the two of you.

"Ow!" Adam hisses through clenched teeth, his hand instinctively moving to the spot where you struck him. He shoots you a reproachful glare, but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes despite the pain. "Bro. For once, I’m actually trying to do the work. Be grateful, you dickhole.”

You elbow him again.

“What?” Adam hisses through clenched teeth, shooting you a warning glance to keep your antics in check. The library is hushed around you, filled with the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional whisper of students studying in pairs. You can tell he's trying to maintain a semblance of composure, not wanting to draw the attention of the librarian who patrols the aisles like a hawk.

You were honestly surprised when Adam had suggested meeting at the library. It wasn't his usual haunt for studying, and his sudden change in venue piqued your curiosity. But what surprised you even more was his demeanor lately. He seemed... different.

Adam had been nicer, more accommodating, and surprisingly patient, especially when it came to working together on the science project. He'd even offered to help you with some of the more challenging aspects, something you never would've expected from him before.

It wasn't just his actions that had changed; his words had softened too. He was being friendlier, more open in his conversations, and there was a noticeable lack of his usual snark and sarcasm. It was as if a switch had been flipped, transforming him from the brash, abrasive guy you'd come to expect into someone... well, someone you could actually tolerate spending time wit

“Answer my question.” you whisper back, raising your arm in threat to elbow him once more. His eye twitches, yet he makes no move to brush you off. Instead, he deeply sighs.

“It was a gift from my dad. Happy?” He mutters, rounding his attention back to the paper packet.

“Aw, that’s cute.”

He writes something down, applying more pressure than necessary. “Shut the fuck up.”

you notice a subtle twitch in Adam's lip, almost a smile yet not quite, a tiny crack in his carefully composed facade. It's a small victory, but it fills you with a sense of satisfaction to know that you've managed to elicit a reaction from him. Grinning mischievously, you lean in closer, your fingers gently curling around the piece of jewelry that hangs from his neck. “Is this your dad’s pick?”

He takes a moment to reply. That makes you tilt your head to see his face– and woah. You’re a whole lot closer than you realized. For a second, you’re breathing in the same air. Adam's eyes dip down for a moment, his gaze lingering on your lips before darting back up to meet your gaze. It's a subtle movement, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

Adam nervously clears his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he also realizes your proximity. You take the hint and slowly retract your hand, letting it fall back to your side as you give him some space.

"Uh, yeah," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, "He actually introduced me to guitar." His admission catches you off guard, and you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. There's a vulnerability in his voice that you've rarely heard before, a rawness that tugs at your heartstrings.

As he continues, his words come out in a rush, as if he's been holding them back for far too long. "He knew he was getting sick. And this was the last gift before he passed."

The small bit of guilt settles in your chest, weighing heavy with the realization that your earlier teasing might have crossed a line. "I'm sorry," you murmur softly, the words tinged with sincerity as you meet Adam's gaze.

"Why?" He tilts his head, genuinely bewildered by your apology. "You helped me fix it," he adds, his tone laced with a hint of gratitude. For a moment, you see a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps surprise, or maybe even warmth. He starts to reach for your hands before seeming to think better of it, opting instead to cough into his fist, a subtle yet telling gesture of restraint.

Adam's voice is soft, almost hesitant, as if the words he's about to speak are unfamiliar territory for him. "I know I don’t say it much– or at all, really. But uh." He pauses, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance, avoiding direct eye contact. "Thank you. For uh, bringing my dad back to me."

His vulnerability catches you off guard, and for a moment, you're rendered speechless. It's a rare glimpse into the deeper layers of Adam's character, a side he rarely reveals to others. Despite the gruff exterior he often presents to the world, here he is, opening up in a way that feels almost fragile.

Without a word, you reach out and place your hand on top of his, offering a silent reassurance.

–

As you made your way through the chaotic college party, dodging drunken revelers and avoiding the various unsavory activities unfolding around you, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of discomfort. College parties had never been your scene, and tonight was proving to be no exception.

After witnessing one too many couples engaging in …public displays of affection… on the poor owner's couch, you decided that you'd had enough. Chugging down the rest of your water, you made a beeline for the stairs, desperate for some peace and quiet away from the chaos below.

Your search for solace led you to try several doors along the upstairs hallway, hoping to find an unoccupied room where you could take a much-needed break. It took three tries before you finally stumbled upon the master bedroom, and as you hesitantly cracked the door open, you were surprised to find only one person inside.

Adam.

He had brought his guitar with him— which of course he had. At the sound of the door opening, he swung his head up and furrowed his brows.

“Get the fuck out.”

Ignoring his command, you pushed the door open further, revealing yourself to him. His furrowed brows relaxed slightly as he strained his neck to look past you, checking to see if anyone else was behind you. When he realized you were alone, a visible tension seemed to melt away from his shoulders.

“Sup, bitch. Trynna get some?”

As Adam reverted to his crude demeanor, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. His sudden shift in behavior left you feeling taken aback, wondering why he had returned to his usual abrasive attitude after showing a glimpse of something different.

However, upon closer inspection, you noticed the insincerity in his smile, the falseness that lurked behind his facade of bravado. It was clear that his crude remarks were merely a defense mechanism, a way to mask his vulnerability and keep others at arm's length.

Deciding to trust your instincts, you chose to ignore Adam's crude remarks and instead focus on the bigger picture.

“What’re you playing?”

“What?” He asks, genuinely confused.

You gesture to his guitar. “What’re you playing?”

“Oh. Uh. Not really anything. Got any requests?”

You pretend to think. “Hot cross buns?”

He levels his expression, unimpressed. “Seriously?”

“No, I’m just fucking with you.” You smile. Somehow, that gets him to smile back. “You know ‘Mean To You’?”

He scrunches his nose, which is honestly a cute look. Mentally, you take a picture and save it for later to swoon over. “By that Brightman bitch?” He asks.

As Adam adjusted his finger placement on the frets and began to strum the song on his guitar, you found yourself instinctively humming along to the familiar melody as it flowed from the strings. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment as Adam abruptly stopped playing, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made you squirm slightly under his scrutiny. Had you been off-pitch? Were you intruding on his moment of solitude with your humming?

“What?” you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Adam hesitated for a moment, one hand instinctively moving to fiddle with his necklace as he averted his eyes, pretending to busy himself with tuning his guitar. "You can sing along, you know," he said finally, his tone softer than before. "Hearing words makes it easier to keep my place."

As Adam restarted the song and you joined in, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise. You hadn't expected him to actually want to hear you sing, especially given his usual sensitivity when it came to music. But despite your initial reservations, you couldn't deny the thrill of the moment as your voice mingled with his guitar in a harmonious duet.

Your voice may have been a bit breathy and unsupported, lacking the polish of a trained singer, but Adam didn't seem to mind. In fact, as you sang, he closed his eyes and seemed to lose himself in the music, his fingers deftly moving across the frets of his guitar with practiced ease.

If you looked closely, you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the final chord of the song reverberated through the room, Adam slowly opened his eyes and turned to look at you, his gaze locking with yours in a moment of shared understanding. And then, to your surprise, he smiled—a genuine, heartfelt smile that seemed to light up his face and soften the hard edges of his demeanor.

Caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in his expression, you couldn't help but return the smile, feeling a rush of butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the sight of the softness in his eyes.

As Adam's eyes flickered down to your mouth, a sudden heat ignited between you, his gaze turning intense and smoldering. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his eyelids drooped slightly, his desire unmistakable in the way he looked at you.

When his gaze returned to meet yours, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and wanting more. And then, in a rush of heat and anticipation, you felt yourselves leaning in towards each other, drawn together by an irresistible magnetic force.

The first touch of his lips against yours sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, a surge of desire that threatened to consume you both. And as your lips moved together in a heated embrace, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his mouth against yours.

Adam was a damn good kisser, his lips moving with a practiced ease that left you gasping for air. It lasted only a few seconds before he pulled back, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue slipped into your mouth, igniting a firestorm of passion between you.

As your hands slid up Adam's biceps, tracing the contours of his strong muscles, you couldn't help but admire the power and strength that lay beneath his rough exterior. And when you felt him flex in response to your touch, a small laugh escaped your lips, the sound muffled by the heat of the kiss.

But any amusement you felt was quickly replaced by a surge of desire as Adam playfully sucked on your tongue, sending a shiver of pleasure coursing through you. His lips were hot against yours, his tongue teasing and tantalizing in a way that left you breathless and wanting more.

Your hands continued their exploration, moving up his arms and over his shoulders, applying gentle pressure before wrapping around his neck. One hand toyed with the short ends of his hair, eliciting a low groan from him as he pressed you back into the mattress with a hungry urgency.

As Adam peeled himself off of you, his arms still supporting his weight as he hovered over you, you couldn't help but notice the way his necklace caught the light, shimmering and reflecting the soft glow of the bedroom.

Wrapping your hand around his necklace, you gently tugged on it, using the delicate chain to pull him back down towards you.

–

One second, you were immersed in the quiet ambiance of the library, the scent of old books and faint whispers surrounding you as you poured over your final exam notes. The next, darkness enveloped your vision, a warm, steady pressure pressing against your eyes. Instinctively, your hand shot up to remove whatever it was that had obscured your sight, only to encounter something oddly clammy.

"Guess who?"

“Adam,” you frown, bringing your hands to cup over his own. “You know it’s cringe when you do that.”

You feel, rather than hear, him snicker in delight at your disgusted reaction. Ever since that memorable night at the college party, the two of you had found yourselves in an unexpectedly steady rhythm. Adam, it turned out, was a surprisingly good boyfriend—caring, attentive, and, well, a little bit of a shit. But you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Can you stop blinding me so I can get back to work?” you ask, a twinge of annoyance at his interruption.

“Yeah, just one second. Keep your eyes closed.”

You do as he asks, keeping your eyes obediently closed, though curiosity gnaws at you. The shuffling of fabric and the soft clinking of metal fill the air, accompanied by the faint scent of his cologne. You resist the urge to peek, letting the anticipation build as seconds tick by.

Finally, his hands retreat, and you feel a slight shift in the air as something is placed before you. The anticipation is palpable, like the charged atmosphere before a thunderstorm. Your heart pounds with excitement and a hint of nervousness, wondering what Adam could possibly be up to.

“Okay, baby,” he sounds nervous. “You can open them.”

Slowly, you crack open your eyes, expecting to see some prank or jest. But what you find leaves you speechless. There, nestled atop your meticulously arranged notes, lies a necklace, its golden chain catching the soft glow of the library lights. It matches Adam's. The guitar pick is the same shade as Adam's eyes, and for a moment, you're struck by the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

“You like it, baby?”

You look at him, feeling happy-tears prick the corner of your eyes. “I adore it.”

[bucketspammer4life]

what i think your favorite PO boxer says about you

based on my biases and a year of experience (if you get mad over how i talked about your fave im going to turn you into a can of spam)

first time ive ever maxed out the tags

if i missed your fav tell me ‼️

doc louis - you have good taste and are starving for content about him, you really are a survivor

little mac - you either project onto him or just like calling him your son

glass joe - you have a thing for pathetic men (understandable tbh) and like calling him a wet cat since he fits that desc well

von kaiser - same thing as joe but add a hint of "oh no hes hot"

disco kid - you literally have no enemies i love you so much its not even funny (platonic)

king hippo - my god you are good at making up lore, how the fuck do you make a solid personality for a character that only roars and grunts

piston hondo - im 100% youre a saint, no hondo fan i met has ever been unpleasant to talk with

bear hugger - you either see him as a father figure or just think hes hot or (secret third option) you like making jokes about him being a disney princess, either way youre cool

great tiger - oh you have been here for a long time, literally every great tiger fan i know has been in the fandom since 7.000 BC or something, also youre prob really good at art

don flamenco - you use the word "cunty" on a daily basis or just like making fun of his stupid bald head, also yes he has eyeliner on 100%

aran ryan - you'd overthrow a goverment for this greasy rat, youre extremely extremely gay and/or neurodivergent and thats very good for you, you also like making him say lad and have had to go ankle deep in irish slang when making him speak in fanfics

soda popinski - ive never seen someone have soda as their fav, hes always 2nd place somehow so im just gonna go take a shot in the dark and say you like the color pink (mental gymnastics who??)

bald bull - you are a mixed bag, i gen cant put a finger on what kind of personality bull stans have but i can say you either find him hot or like making fun of him, maybe both

super macho man - least serious people ever with some traumatizing lore for the boxers & their own ocs, you prob make him say bogus 88268292 times in a sentence and i can respect that

mr sandman - ive only seen 2 (two ) ppl who have him as their fav and its kinda sad, youre starving for content of him and i wish you the best

birdie mac - hes your son (im not elaborating)

gabby jay - same thing as joe but you went over the top with liking dilfs

narcis prince - gay. gay gay homosexual gay. you went for the self obsessed blonde twink and you thought it wasnt obvious?? you fucking homosexual

heike kagero - youre 1000% queer, sorry to be a broken record about the gay thing but ur fav is literally a man with long hair & makeup that has to be some flavor of queer

hoy quarlow - you are/were another ancient punch out fan, you def shitpost a lot

bruiser bros - where are you??? ive gen never met a bruiser bros fan and its concerning like dude where did u go

texas mac - im sorry but you dont exist, ive never ever seen a texas mac fan, not even someone who mentions him

mad clown - you foul clownfucker. you have weird taste in characters you find hot and tbh im all here for it

masked muscle - same thing as texas mac but theres a slight chance you exist, if you do please show yourself

dragon chan - another punch out ancient fan, you probably were most active in 2013-2019 and kinda miss old shitposts and have either moved on or dont participate much anymore

spo aran - (this is mostly for Charlie but i have hope that theres some other spo aran fans out there) youre probably looking for other spo aran fans, goodpeed soldier, goodpeed

mask x - you arent getting away with this fuck you

[vigarioamelia]

there are a lot of tragic characters in elden ring (pretty much everyone lol) but godwyn exudes a kind of Shakespearean tragedy that just makes me feel so bad for him

godwyn the... betrayed

do you guys remember that trend? jupiter was supposed to be a star but failed?

alexa, play the old doll audio

i'll be talking a lot about godwyn so uh big words trigger warning i guess

Godwyn the Golden, the first child of Godfrey and Queen Marika the Eternal and also the first Demigod known to ever perish.

He was the first descendant of the Golden Line and one of his traits is *literally* being friends with dragons.

Whenever he's mentioned, grief is involved. Both the grief of a Mother and the grief of the people.

He was part of the Golden Order, but we know for a fact he was no maniac for its fundamentals, given the genuine bond he had with Fortissax, for example.

I know we can't really Know this stuff but come on, Godwyn seemed like a certified Big Bro™. He gives the feeling of how pure a person should be. Royal blood – of the purest kind! From the lore we have of him, it appears that he really was The ideal prince.

I like to believe he was particularly fond of the Omen Twins and that, even though they grew up in completely opposite worlds from each other, he was always sort of There. Better than Marika, that's for sure. Just imagine big bro Godwyn taking his baby bros for a tour around the capital. They spend the entire day running around and Godwyn looks so peaceful that the twins can't help but feel that too, if only for a moment.

Not to mention the tender relationship he probably had with the cursed twins.

When Godwyn's spirit was slayed during the Night of the Black Knives, he received a fate worse than death itself: the curse of living in Death.

He who should be crowned golden as the Lord among them all was crowned in ruin as the Prince of Death.

Godwyn will not only never die, but he will never live again. His existence is a terror that punishes the roots of the Erdtree, a thing that not even Miquella was able to stop or help in any way.

This once sweet and kind and beautiful lord is now nothing but a creature spreading across the land.

When both Miquella and Fortissax failed to give him a proper death and rest, what then remained of his body was laid under the roots of the Erdtree. A bit fair, isn't it? First of the Demigod, ruined and buried under the Erdree, where he will slowly but certainly cause destruction and despair all across the land, bringing death to all it touches.

It kills me that the place where he's buried is so dark and lonely and scary. The Godwyn before the Rune of Death was assured to have dozens if not hundreds of statues and paintings and churches and whatever to honor him.

But Godwyn the Golden ceased to exist. There's no one left to adore or admire or cherish. The only thing left is Godwyn the Prince of Death.

He's now worshipped by the undead, Those Who Live in Death, as D calls them. Is there a more tragic end for a royal who was once beloved all across a golden capital?

The only way to change his fate is to make things even WORSE.

Restore the Elden Ring with the Rune of Death and he supposedly comes back again, but. Oh. My. Fucking. God. I would literally go fucking insane if I first opened my eyes to the world I cherished and grew up on completely destroyed by MYSELF without my damn consent.

If he became Prince of Death by his own choice? Fucking sexy. I would support him. SLAY (literally).

But this? My man was ROBBED.

Imagine being "reborn" (in death) and realizing that EVERYONE from your life is dead. The place where you ran around as a kid? Fucking demolished, DIRTY with ashes. ASHES OF DEAD PEOPLE.

AND YOU'RE THEIR MONARCH.

There's NOTHING to rule and most of all THERE'S NOTHING TO PROTECT.

Literally the worst thing that could happen to a dude.

look what the fuck they did to my baby holy shit there truly wasn't enough room for a blonde twink in the lands between was there

Ohh... Oh,  Lord Godwyn... Such cruelty, such humiliation... My poor, sweet lordling should have died a true death. As the first of the demigods to die. As a martyr to Destined Death. But why must it yet bring such disgrace? A scion of the golden bough, sentenced to live in Death...

i really only have two things left to say:

1. godwyn was too sexy to be in the game so miyazaki gave him the worst fate known to humanity (godhood?)

2. this happened to my buddy eric

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: Flirtations

G/N. You, a lil dense. Ryuhei is Ryuhei.

Ryuhei hasn't made up his mind whether you're dense or deaf... Or selective hearing is more like it.

When he turned his so-called charms on you, you always plastered on an innocent smile and asked him to repeat again what he said.

Well, doesn't that lose its impact the second time round. He rarely repeats his words and slinks away, pride and ego wounded.

Other times you would just outright ignore him. Which is fine, he supposes. He's used to that after pining after Mitsuki for years.

Yet sometimes he would catch you watching him with a look that would make his own face burn.

Sigh. What is a Kagiroi supposed to do?

Am I losing my touch, Ryuhei thinks, Did I even ever have a touch? He looks down at his crotch glumly. Looks like it's just you and me.

.

.

"Hey cutie~" Ryuhei grins, leaning over your desk and wanting attention.

(Ryuhei's style of flirting is less harassment and more playful with you. Sorta.

Him and Mitsuki are one thing, but even Ryuhei knows where to draw the line with most people. It would be a pain if HR got involved, or god forbid, that little bastard Eugene.

Why that twink has taken such a liking to you, Ryuhei would damn well like to know. Hell, why Ryuhei himself has taken such a liking to you, he can't figure out either.)

Brushing his tie out the way, you don't bother peering up at your blonde coworker. You're this close to finishing the document. Just a couple more paragraphs and you can clock out for the day.

You hear him chatter away over the top of your head but your focus remains firmly on the papers. Eyes skimming over the last line, you sign it with your signature and breathe a sigh of relief.

Done.

His voice drifts over as soon as your pen lifts from the page, "You're finished?"

A nod. Ryuhei returns your gesture with a smile. He was aiming for salacious but it comes out sweet.

Then returning back to form, his eyes greedily rove over your figure as you stretch, elongating your body and hands reaching high over your head, hearing your joints crack and pop.

The smile on your face matches his, a bit too sentimental for his heart to take. Your words, however- "So all those times you said you wanted to play, what did you have in mind?"

"W-what?"

"Wanna go for a ride?"

Goddamnit, those are his lines. Did he hear you right? You wanna ride him? Ride his d- "Ride?! Right now?"

"Yep!"

"Me and you?!"

"Sure!"

Ryuhei looks down, feels the first stirring since forever of his little attack dog-

You stand up, legs stiff after sitting down for hours, and pull on your jacket, "You're always going on about it, let's go get your bike!"

Shit.

You meant an actual ride.

Fuck!

Ryuhei plops down on a nearby chair, crossing his legs to hopefully conceal his growing interest.

"...Give me a moment." He mumbles as you tilt your head in confusion.

[romaine2424]

Weekly Blog July 21, 2023

Well, I didn't mean to take this long to get back to my blog, but priorities. LOL. The priority was my WIP fic. I've yet to find a beta, but what I did find was Grammarly Pro. My daughter has a subscription. She uses it for final papers for school. I'm sorry, but I'm old and didn't know this AI app existed. So I ran each of my 20 chapters (110K) through the app, and wow, did I learn a lot. As I said in previous posts, what I needed help with was SPAG, sentence structure and word usage. My alpha and I cover the plot continuity and canon issues. It's canon divergent after HBP, so sometimes things slip in that happened in HPDH. *oops* I also ran my the @hd-fan-fair fic through it.

The app does have its problems with what it suggests sometimes. But it's easy enough to work around those. As it doesn't understand the content, it continuously dings me for using pronouns, especially He. And no, I don't want every time I use the word order to be Order or cloak to be Cloak. But thank you for showing me that I use the words just, that, and over a ridiculous amount of times. And thank you for fixing all the double spacing between sentences in the chapters I wrote in 2007 with a simple push of a button. And thank you for reminding me that when someone is going to sit that I don't need to specify that they are going to sit down, or rose up from the chair, or walked over to the exit door.

So, that's what I've been doing, along with a bit of reading. I have two recs! One Drarry and the other Narcissa with a side of Drarry. Both fics are new!

What I've been reading:

The first fic comes from @hd-wireless, which is currently posting. About This Place (10K) by Anon. Here's the Summary:

Harry left everything, including Draco. Harry’s returned to everything, including Draco. Things are never quite so simple, though perhaps they could be. Based on ‘You and I’ by Lady Gaga for Wireless 2023.

This fic is dripping with atmosphere. The majority of the story takes place in a small burlesque bar called Ronnie's. Well, the author is much better than me in describing it:

Within the tiny burlesque bar (or, not-quite-burlesque bar, as Ronnie would say) are the queers that are a shade too queer for the regular gay clubs. Trans butches are ogled by confused twinks, a pretty femme in the middle of the room teases salivating straight women who came here just for fun, and a tall drag queen with an auburn wig flowing down to her waist is on the main stage, singing with a sea of androgynous dancers behind her, winking at her pianist as she launches into a song they most definitely did not rehearse beforehand. The pianist looks annoyed, but really, he’s good enough that he can handle anything Ronnie throws at him. His long blond hair is half up in a bun, and despite his winged eyeliner and red lips and high heels, he’s probably the most unassuming person in here. He’s very pretty, but also concentrated in a way that doesn’t invite people in; you would feel intrusive saying hello, or asking for his number. He’s wearing all black: high waisted jeans, a well-fitted turtleneck—his uniform.

The story, as the summary stated, is about Harry returning to London after travelling for a few years. He and Draco had been in a relationship before he left, and now Harry wants him back. Love this trope. Draco was hurt that Harry left, really hurt. And now, when Harry walks into Ronnie's, he knows he'll succumb to Harry's wants, but there will be resistance. Working through the turmoil of misunderstandings and being scared to take a second chance can sometimes be frustrating to read with this trope. BUT NOT HERE. The author's writing is so beautiful and poignant you become fully immersed. Harry's revelation about his time away, why he went away, and why he's back is just guh! Draco doesn't stand a chance. LOL. Still laughing about the couch!

About This Place by Anon on AO3

The second fic is Night Dragon, Dawn Bird (20K) by Xenjyn (AO3). As the author says in her notes, this is the story that gives Narcissa the agency she deserves. And it is pure poetry. The Summary is just two lines:

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?" "Yes."

It begins with the time period right after the war but before the trials. The location is Malfoy Manor, where Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco are living in the midst of the destruction left by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Narcissa is lying in bed as Lucius sleeps soundly next to her, and she's contemplating all that came before that led the family to this point in time. Draco is traumatized and coming into his own revelations.

Draco is alive and hidden in one of the midnight dark parlors, knees drawn to his chest, sitting in a chair which used to swallow him when he was young. Now he’s too tall for it, his long legs curled to his chest and his hands clutched tight around them, his face hidden in his knees. He’s sleeping, or weeping. Shoulders rising and falling. Or trembling.

...

Perhaps he sleeps less than her, now. The blanket she conjures flutters around his shoulders, weighted, warmed with a charm. It barely touches him but his eyes open, a frightened start, and then her hand is in his hair, thicker than she remembers it, curling at his temples, stroking over his scalp. “It’s only me, my darling. Sleep.” “Mum,” His voice is so small, so rasping, like he were ill, in the deepest clutch of a fever. His hand finds her wrist, squeezing tight. “ Mum . ”

There is a dreaminess to this story. We're immersed in Narcissa's thoughts, and they flit from the past to the present and conjecture of what's to come. And there is a background voice in her thoughts: Bellatrix. She's always there pushing Narcissa with her comments. It's quite creepy but oh-so-delicious.

Bellatrix spins, pulses at her, a star-shine fading in and out, closer and distant, like the voice that used to sneak into her room, like the whisper of a laugh when they were girls, like the hiss of madness outside Severus’s door. Cissy, Cissy, Cissy. She calls, I can ’t sleep, Cissy. I’m bored, Cissy. Play with me, Cissy.

There are four relationships (Narcissa/Lucius, Narcissa & Draco, Narcissa & Harry, Harry/Draco) that we are privy to, and the most surprising is the one between Harry and Narcissa. That forest scene was a nexus point for both. They're connected. But the most heartbreaking is between Lucius and Narcissa. We're treated to their past and how they got together. How much they were in love, but then, Lucius fucked up. I won't give it away, but it was one of the most insightful scenes I've read in dealing with their marriage. There is a side of Drarry in the story, and it's like a soothing balm with everything else that is going on.

I feel like I'm failing to say how good this story is in how beautiful it is to experience Narcissa and her path to her agency. Never forget she is a Black witch. Bellatrix says it best. Cissy, not a threat?

Night Dragon, Dawn Bird by Xenjyn on AO3

I hope you get a chance to read both these fics and please give them comments of love.

I would love to know if you use or have used Grammarly and what you thought of it.

That's all for now,

Rom

[27-liter-horse]

11.10.24.

I cant exactly say today was a good day but it was VERYY enjoyable. First of, we had a physics detention and there was a literal ocean of kids who had to attend to the point some of us had to give up our seats to the other kids and just stand up for 45 minutes. I was one of the kids who had to stand. We had to write our names on a list because there were 3+ classes of kids and this one boy who I cant fucking stand in the slightest threatened to beat me up because I pushed him slightly because he wouldnt fucking move and I had to write down my name too. Which I would take seriously if he wasnt blessed with the looks of a gay porn actor (a bottom at that). He is shorter than me, has twink blue eyes, wears cheap off brand golden chains and has a dirty blonde buzzcut. If that wasnt enough my voice is deeper than his which is fucking hillarious. And him and another dude literally kissing one another on the cheek WITH THE DUDE RESTING HIS HAND ON THE TWINKS SHOULDER solidified my belief in him being a bottom. Also I confronted the girl who set me up and the way she was desperately trying to make me unblock her and then tell me that the harasser is 15 year old after I called him a pedophile...OKAY?? That doesnt make it okay. Also I had to lie that my cat scratched me after the same girl who set me up YELLED OUT LOUD that I have scars on my arm. Jesus Christ. Two classes later I bought the regular african monster because there werent any caucasian ones and while I was at the store there were two dudes next to me and they deadass commented ''Damn look at that chick'' and I swear to God this has been the third time I have been harrased this month and it hasnt evem been two weeks yet. I want to say I despise that kind of attention and I really do but it almost feel euphoric because of it. I feel like my identity is getting validated especially because I am not allowed to express my femininity as much as I want to. Becoming a metalhead has made me so much more secure and appreciable of my masculinity. I even plan on sewing metal band logos and album covers on my texas jacket. Also I keep the receipts and tabs so I can make a drawing using the receipts and a cool metal necklace with the tabs with a little nameplate with the tabs. While buying the monster I asked for cigarettes ''for my mom'' but the store clerk said I needed an adult with me for that purchase </3. I like the clerk he has this weird energy and look to him. He is this older dude with a gigantic forehead and receding hairline coupled with long greying brown hair, an anorexic face and ashtray blue eyes. He looks like if the word ''nicotine ashes'' was a person. However, this girl in my class told me she will buy cigarettes at her place for me and that I just have to give her the money. I requested Marlboro and I cant wait to give her the money in a couple days. It has been almost 2 months after I smoked for the first time. I got a C in anatomy and the teacher let the kids who got graded go home early so I bought a hot chocolate with the small amount of money I do have and that shit burned my tongue and mouth so bad that theyre still numb. My mother came home with my sister and they had a massive argument over some bullshit and I couldnt care less but seeing my mom so pissed off and my sister finally experiencing some form of a blow at her ego made my day that much better especially because all of this happened on a Friday. Also I have inspiration to write another song and this one is going to be heavily focused on cocaine (the closest to coke I've ever tried was pepsi) and its inspired by Sky Ferreira again. I really like Sky and her music, its the exact kind of teenage angst I long for in my life and I'm so excited to be making music like her someday.

[aestheticsuwu]

Blurrin' the lines between real and the fake

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell

Mafia x Hitman/FBI Au

(Click pic for better quality)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💸💎💸~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IceMan ; One of the top most wanted criminal in the world. Known for the successful running legacy of being the coldest and feared mafia boss in Russia and now expanding his name in United States in all its glory.

Each day theres a different price for his head. The reward get higher by the second but the task becomes harder to accomplish. After all no one has seen his face, and the ones that do , Are now 6 feet under the ground.

The overachiever hit-man Pete Mitchell, ‘Maverick’ ,that has been hired by Charlie Blackwood an FBI agent, takes on the task thinking of it as a challenge . What he doesn’t know is that Ice is always 2 steps ahead and is already waiting for him.

Ice is not going to get wiped out in his watch, especially for his youngest sister Carole wedding .

—————————💸💎💸———————

“Behave.”

Maverick wanted to bite his hand , wants to scream and disrupt the guest but he knew better and having the man hand squeezing the back of his neck in warning made him clamped his mouth shut . Maverick still threw him a hard glare.

A young women , dressed in a floral white dress, shoulder length blonde hair and a big smile on her face spots them and comes running towards them. She screeches when she sees Ice. She throws herself into his arm . Ice twirls her around making her squeal and sets her down.

“Tommy , You promises not to bring none of your boy toys . It’s my engagement dinner.” The blonde woman whines , her arms crossed on her chest with a frown adorning her beautiful face. Her kind blue eyes flicker to his and he wanted to protest . He was not a twink nor Ice boy-toy but Maverick just averted his eyes down to his boots and stayed quiet. Biting his tongue . Tom. The long mystery of the real name of Iceman. And all for what. He might never get to tell anyone.

The poor woman was about to get scolded , she didn’t need Mavs.

“Carole , This one special. “ Ice brings back his hand to Maverick neck . Maverick can taste blood from how hard he’s biting his tongue.”Didn’t i promise you that I wouldn’t work or do anything that will prejudice your wedding. Aren’t I a man of my word“ Ice spoke gently and in a tender voice . It gave Maverick goosebumps. It was like a different person in contrast to Ice, the man holding him hostage and holding his neck like he was some damn puppy( and threaten to kill him once his baby sister has gotten married .

“You did gave me your word and in writing.” Carole sunny smile appears making Ice content .

“Where’s Nick ?” Ice smiles proudly , looking around for the man.

“I will go get him. Oh - I forgot where’s my manners. I’m Carole , soon to be Mrs.Bradshaw” Carole waited for his response but Maverick was having a quick debate in his head.

He didn’t know if he was allowed to speak but if the pressure of Ice thumb on his jaw making his sister wait was anything. Mav wasn’t sure what to say , does he say Maverick or Pete Mitchell?

“Im Pete Mitchell but your brother likes to call me Mave-rick , Nice to meet you . Congrats on your wedding .” Maverick mimics the way Iceman pronounced his name. He decides to be honest. He doubts Carole will try to search him up and look at his background. Besides he has a feeling Slider had already wiped his info off the system by orders of his boss. He gives her his best smile which she returns . She looks like a sunshine compared to this cold criminal man beside him.

The last name spiked a curiosity in him, he knew a Bradshaw but it couldn’t be the same person , Goose was dead. He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he feels Iceman press behind him.

“See,” Ice deep voice has Maverick nervous “It wasn’t that hard to be a good boy”

Maverick hates himself for his body reacting to those words. It send a shiver down his spine. He just hope Iceman didn’t see. Iceman goes to take a seat , front and center, assigned for him only. Maverick stands there dumbly not knowing what to do. “Sit” Ice pats his thighs with an amused smirk . This was embarrassing. He refuse to do it. He silently glares at the man making Iceman lose his patience. He moves forward and speaks lowly just enough for both of them to hear,”I wasn’t asking. Sit now. “ Ice tone of voice left no room for discussion.

Maverick balled his fist . He was fuming from the inside . He swung his leg over and sat down on the mans lap. He felt the blondes large hand grab his hip and pulled him closer. Maverick could feel the eyes of everyone on him making him flush down to his neck. He turns to his right, ‘Slider’, Iceman’s right hand and bodyguard ,snicker at him making Maverick feel embarrassed .

Carole comes back with a drink on her hand , vodka on ice , and on the other, a man. A man that makes Maverick go pale . He was dead. How could he be here? Goose?

The man hasn’t notice him yet. He sees his lip moving and feels the rumble of Ice voice against his back . He look exactly like him. The eyes, the height and the stupid porn mustache . It was him. His only family he had left. Here he was marrying the sister of a cold hearted criminal . Nick Bradshaw.

Slider stands up and put his arms around Goose and Carole and begins flirting with them both. Something that looked like something they did . He’s saying something along the lines that he wouldn’t mind being part of the wedding. It’s kind of mushy in his brain, he snaps out of it when Ice laughs at his friend. He doesn’t know why , but he hands go straight for the hand on his hip , needing the reassurance he wasn’t hallucinating . Ice goes rigid behind him.

Maverick takes a strong grip on Ice fingers . He feels eyes boring holes to the side of his face . His breath quickens , he feels like his heat had leapt out of his chest. He hears a glass clink against a surface , then suddenly he feels three cold fingers on his jaw making him face Ice. Who looked laser focused on him, his brows furrowed and eyes high on alert.

Ice opens him mouth to ask him something but Goose beats him to it. “ I didn’t realize you brought someone new. Let me introduce myself I’m Goose .”

“I think he’s shy . “ Carole says making Slider snort at the ridiculousness .

Ice has gone deadly silent and still holding his jaw . His blue eyes flickering all over his face, trying to read him. Suspicious on what was going on, he turns to Goose . With a sharp smile he answers for him, “This is Maverick. Why don’t you say hi , Sweetheart.”

Maverick turns around and faces Goose. Now is his turn to look like he just saw a ghost. Ice clenches his jaw , not liking the situation , He looks at Slider, whose already catching on , and gives him a sign to take Carole and Goose away. They had to deal with this later .

“I was promised a dance . Shall we ?” Slider doesn’t let them answer and is dragging them away . Maverick just listens to Carole laugh and watched Goose look over his shoulder with a fallen expression.

“Mitchell, Your dangerous , and I can’t have you going around behaving like that. Can’t have you snooping around in my business .In the meantime , your going to keep that pretty mouth shut and be on your best behavior until I decide how to get rid of you. Got it.” Ice says in a cold tone , a void of emotions. Like he was randomly talking about the weather.

“What if I don’t . Your going to kill me? I’m not scared of you …Iceman.” Maverick is not backing down. They stare at each fro way too long. His chest is still heaving and Iceman is just calm and collective . It made him tick.

Ice moves his hand up to Maverick face with a mocking smile. The man was hard to read but clearly he was angry.

“You should be , Baby.” Ice thumb touch Maverick’s bottom lip, slightly pulling it down making Maverick freeze , his greens eyes widen. “You’re in enemy’s territory. No one’s going to help you, Not even …Goose.” Ice chomps the air showing perfect rows of teeth. The man still remained dispassionate and composed like he didn’t just threatened to end his life .

The words felt like a slap to his face. He wasn’t expecting the chomp , the action reminded him of a feral dog wanting to bite him. Wreck him. Ice picks up his glass , the one Carole had give. him , and takes a huge gulp trying to shoo away the migraine that was try to creep up on him ever since Maverick appeared. Ice smiles at Carole who’s looking at their direction as Slider twirls her . He keeps his smile when Goose make eye contact with him, he looks away when Slider is trying to get his attention .

“Smile. Everyone’s looking.” With no other option , Maverick smiles that doesn’t reach his eyes . He really wants to kill the guy. Right about now. Like if he was devil , the man mutters, “Keep those thoughts for later , Nobody is dying today. What your pretty little head should worry about is that your sleeping in my bed tonight.”

———————————-💸💎💸———————

Sidenote: okay so I saw in a fic where Carole is Ice sister, so I had to use this opportunity to add it in here. Goose and Maverick were best friends and worked together until one day a mission goes haywire and Gooses is presumed dead. But In reality , Slider finds Goose in the middle or fight with another drug lord and Slider gets injured and Goose helps him. Making Slider feel gratitude towards Nick , he takes him in and does everything he can for Ice to let him (Goose thinks Mav is dead too)

The FBI thinks they have a lead on Ice and know who it is , (they think it’s Slider ) Charlie knows Mav (they’re dating or hooking up or whatever ; either ways Mav still ends up with Ice) and she gets him on the deal .

Ice gets all the information back to him. He done his research on Mav by the time he has him close. Ice can’t kill him yet since it’s Carole wedding . He decides to have him by his side 24/7 to keep an eye on him. Literally. And uses this excuse to have Mav sit on his lap like all the time. (Slider sighs because the one time Ice is acting like love sick fool and it’s for the idiot that they’ve taken hostage. He rants about to Goose and Carole )

Maverick is just trying to find ways to escape but at the same time he struggling from keeping himself from throwing himself at Ice.

(Also if anyone writes a fic , can you guys write a scene where Maverick is lying in thousands of dollars and Ice is just having his brain go offline. Mavs wants to have sex on the money even though the money is dirty.)

[torotoro0]

⟬ Childhood Comrades ⟭

Henry Creel x Reader

•Part 2•

[Click this for the chapters]

Summary: Being friends with an odd ball is weird enough, how about collecting dead spiders?

A/N: I think tmblr. is broken it keeps deleting the drafts for part 2.

Summer break

1959

Hawkins, Indiana

7:48 a.m.

For the past 3 days, you've tried and tried to become close with Henry but nothing seems to work. Wanna play tag with him? No. He prefers to play with his dead spider army, Want him to play something better than that? GO HOME.

"Henry!" I beam as I approach him. He was, as usual, on the swing reading a book. "Your here.. again" He shrugs not looking at me.

"How rude, Does my beauty blind your eyes that you refuse to look at me?" I tease. "Go back to your house or whatever L/N" he nagged.

"Henry got a girlfriend!~~" His sister yells from the door. "W-what! No! Mind your own business Alice!" He yells back.

"Mom! Henry's girlfriend is here!" I laugh at her remark. "I love your sister" I lean on the swing. "Back off L/N" He rolls his eyes.

"But I'm your girlfriend you shouldn't be treating me this way" He glares at me.

Although Henry isn't much of a talker outside, I know, I KNOW. He is keeping it, he's just too shy to let it out.😎

"Hey fuckers" A small group of boys approach us. "What do you want Moris" I roll my eyes. "Awww, are we interrupting a cute little date of baby bun buns?" He laughs.

"Sure you can say that" I stood my ground covering Henry. Despite Henry's spiky attitude, I don't think he can stand Moris and his minions. I mean- look at Henry.🥲.

"Why don't you just hang out with me instead of this twink?" I scoff, who does he think he is? Calling Henry a twink when he looks like a fat clown. 😒

"How dare you say that when you look like a fat clown yourself!" I tried to push him but he was just to fast and I got pushed myself.

"Hey, leave her alone" Henry slams close his book looking at Moris.

"Hey guys, did you hear that? the twink said something"

"Fucking pi!-" Before I could even finish my sentence Henry slaps Moris hard on his face with the book.

"Let's go" He whispers as he grabs my wrists and ran in his house "That's was so cool Henry" I laugh uncontrollably.

"That was refreshing hahaha" He pants as he laughs. I've never seen him laugh or even just a simple smile, He looks so happy.

"Stop staring like a creep" He glares at my direction. "W-what? No- no ones staring" I look away blushing.

"Pft- Can't take a joke?" he laughs as his dirty blonde hair sways as a breeze passes, a tear falling off his eye as he continues to laugh. He puts his hands on his knees panting.

"Still looking?" He looks at me. "I-I, uhm, no, no" Shit I'm blushing!.

"It looks like MY beauty is making you stutter" He chuckles. He looks so hot.

"W-what! No! I guess its getting hot in here, don't you have air condition or something?" I look around the house.

"Wow your house looks so big on the inside" Their was stairs on our right spiraling to the second floor. I caught a glimpse of their living on our left, It looked very warm, their ceiling had a chandelier, while their was sofas surrounding a tea table.

"Wanna look around?" He goes in front of me. He finally approached me first! I'm so excited!.

"Sure!"

⟬Time Skip⟭

"Your house is so confusing" I tiredly sat on the sofa. "I guess, but if your used to it it'll be much easier to roam around." He sits on the opposite.

"Henry's girlfriend is here!" A voice beams behind us. "Ah, hello Mrs. Creel" I bow to her direction. "No need to the bowing dear." She looks stunning today.

"Ah, I see you've taken a liking to the girl?" She smiles glances to Henry. "What! no! I just gave her a tour that's all".

If this was a dream, I wouldn't want to wake up.

A/N: I see you loved part 1 so I made part 2! Chapter 3 coming soon!

[gailytine]

FNF Family AU/Headcanons!

Quick reminder: I do NOT consider the monika mod as “canon”. Not all of the mods are automatically canon in friday night funkin just because, you know, its a mod!

I am stating this because some people say “they are not siblings because senpai called monika ‘a hot chick’”. Which it is completely understandable! You do you bro. Just don’t ruin the fun for the others who likes to headcanon them as siblings or friends!

This also applies vice versa! If they want to ship them, sure! Let them be. That being said, this AU will bend some of the rules of canon and is completely self indulgent.

Strawberry blondes!

the epitome of “you can’t sit with us”

Do Not Separate Them At All Cost™️

hopeless romantics

every saturday they go shopping together and drink at starbucks while gossiping about their classmates

they all ordered a grande pink drink

they are all binary

Monika

hehe oldy

“nobody can mess with them except me!”

she is the class president, also the president of a club, and is always the top of the class

actually the most long tempered among the three

in college taking up creative writing

really good at coding, for evil purposes

she’s only genuinely kind to the younger two!

does giffany, senpai, and her own hairdo

have a crush on miku

lowkey tired of senpai’s pettiness

“horrible job everyone”

tries to stop senpai’s bullshit

GIFfany

Middle Child Syndrome

ask about how her name is pronounced correctly and she’ll pronounced you dead

to senpai, “a twink with homophobia in his eyes 😻”

she’s always get compared to Monika but she never lash out on her. She actually looks up to her!

dyed her hair pink with matching pink eye contacts

her actual hair color is strawberry blonde like Monika and Senpai and her actual eye color is blue

really loves pink

wishes to be a star idol!

ironically uses cat emojis

probably has a squirrel fursona hidden in her sketchbook idk

goes to claire’s

encourages senpai’s bullshit

Senpai

don’t hurt him! he’s just baby!

possessed by a demon

“you know what? Fuck you” unballs your cock*

is a bit meaner and vulgar than the two

dont fuck with him, he has simps on his side

Monika and GIFfany refuses to call him senpai so they just call him “Sen”

heterochromia! one is green and one is blue

wears fake ear piercing at home

always get baby talked by the older two

very cheesy and romantic, likes to mimic the people in romcoms

potential theater kid

causes bullshit

Bluberry heads

always chants “Mcdonalds” every time they are on the backseat of the car

has a band and it only has a guitarist and two singers

musically inclined

usually very busy so every time they are able to get together, they make the most of it!

they are all bi as well

Miku

“Mikudayo :)”

VERY intimidating

cause you know?? everybody knows her! everybody loves her!

the oldest

is taking a rest from concerts and is spending time with her lil buddies!

childhood friends with Monika

likes to style Sally and BF’s hair!

The Hypewoman

teaches the lil dudes some music stuff!

Sally

“Excuse me, they asked with no pickles”

GNC AS FUCK

Larry is still his step-bro

the least popular of the two but he’s genuinely fine with it

The Translator

is really into supernatural stuff

uses “:|” as an emoticon for. every. emotion.

something funny? XD is old :| is better. genuinely happy? fuck smiley faces its :| now

goes to hot topic

Boyfriend

“beep boop skeed bo bop bep bo”

only speaks english with the people he is comfortable with!

has an energy of a toddler with sugar rush

hehe manlet goes brrrrrr

The Quiet Kid

when he noticed that he’s getting popular, he choose to stay a bit anonymous

he decided to not to use his real name in public

this led to his many nicknames and many debates about his name

[toshio]

been rewatching “Durarara!!” lately, and it’s one of my favorite animes (biased from nostalgia but whatever). the show is a bit complicated to explain, but to sum it up:

it follows the story of a “headless horseman” or “Dullahan” (irish mythological creature) which is basically a “headless rider” who carries their head while riding on a black horse [said to be the embodiment of a Celtic god or something like that]. anyway, it sounds crazy, but bear with me for a bit. the anime makes its own rules of course, so the headless horseman is a badass chick named Celty Sturluson (she wears a cute yellow kitty helmet) and she’s easily the most lovable character in the series who could do no harm. the premise of the story is that she’s an immortal entity that traveled from Ireland to Japan (Ikebukuro) who came searching for her missing head that she lost centuries ago. will she find it? watch Durarara!! and find out (no but she’s got super OP powers like being able to create weapons like scythes and knives out of thin air with her mysterious powers).

the entire show takes place in the restless city of Ikebukuro, Japan and there exists an online + anonymous gang called “Dollars” and you really feel immersed into the setting, because they somehow are able to make you feel involved in their online chat rooms as they gossip about city drama. i’m always a huge fan of anime shows that take place in big cities because i’m naturally a city person, so i find it very chaotic, yet rhythmic and soothing compared to those quiet, boring suburban neighborhoods.

aside from Celty, the entire cast is pretty diverse, the opening theme tells you all of the main/minor characters names and you learn more about each character’s life every few episodes which build character development - tying the overall plot of the story together while giving enough context. there’s 2 openings and 2 ending songs (25 episodes total) and the first ending song was my absolute FAVORITE because it shows all of the characters holding each other in one really long image, it’s super wholesome and awesome because of how symbolic it is (it even became an internet meme template that people still love today).

i could honestly go on about this anime for hours, but two of the most fan-favorite characters at the time were Shizuo (blonde) and Izaya (smug twink with fur hood jacket) who absolutely despise each other (more context will be given after you watch just a few episodes). if Shizuo sees Izaya on the streets, he starts going FERAL and chases after his little skinny ass. their relationship in itself is comic relief genius, and 100% my type of humor. i love these two. any OG anime fans will remember this - they were a cultural reset for the yaoi fangirls in 2010, their ship name is “Shizaya”. good times.

in conclusion, this anime just...hits home for me. it’s nostalgic, it had a way different/unique animation style for 2010 at the time. i’m a hipster weeb nowadays who mostly rewatches old stuff. i seldom indulge myself into newer mainstream animes due to personal reasons. however, i highly recommend Durarara!! if you haven’t seen it. it’s a /must watch/ if you enjoy cityscapes, fictional gang violence, supernatural elements, and the like.

[joshslater]

Permafrost

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

He changed my hair. It's such a small thing I almost feel embarrassed complaining about it, but that just makes it worse. It's driving me crazy, and I can't complain to anyone because they would just tell me others have it worse. Rightfully so, because I'm healthy, I'm employed, I have a place to sleep. But it's just so fucking in your face every morning, literally.

"I hope everyone will see you for who you are! A fucking desperate twink whore!" he shouted, stormed out, and slammed the door. I ran to the kitchen and opened the window in the hope of seeing him exiting the building, but the street was empty. "It was only a blow job! He did it to me!" I shouted back, hoping he would hear me. I don't know if he did. I never saw him again, but he left something behind alright.

The next morning I stared in disbelief at the mirror. At first I thought there was something stuck in my hair, like shampoo foam, and almost instinctively I grabbed it with my hand. It was just hair, my hair. Same length and cut as when I went to bed, but now partially bleached. I tried to think back to when I saw myself last in the mirror. I might have been too upset to brush my teeth before going to bed. I had more questions, of course, than when. How did this happen? Was this what he was referring to by everyone would see who I really am? But it's just... hair.

I had a quick shower, and predictably looked just the same after, only wet. I didn't really feel it was a big deal. I mean I didn't particularly care for the look, but not knowing how it happened kind of bugged me. I can't say that I dwelled on it, and I quickly got used to my new reflection, as did everyone around me best I could tell. But something was subtly different.

I met up with Tommy again a few days later. If you lose your possible boyfriend because of another possible boyfriend he kind of owes you, I reckoned. He was startled at first when he saw me, only to break out in a big smile and a long, deep kiss. "Love what you've done with the hair!" he said when we broke free. Everything was like before until we got to the bedroom when he asked if he could top me. He'd never done that before.

My old friends and colleagues behaved as before, mostly. It was new encounters that became decidedly different. My lean but tight, muscled body usually got stares from all the hot twinks when out and clubbing, but now it was more the bigger guys that oogled me or came with suggestions. It was a small shift, but noticeable. I was feeling almost uncomfortable with the attention, but the worst was everything they proposed was shallow. A quick fuck out in their truck or a men's room's stall. And they all talked like I had shits for brain.

After two weeks I realized my hair didn't grow longer. It did grow, but then fell out when it was getting too long for my hairstyle. I looked exactly the same though, bleached hair with like an inch of black roots. I pulled a short, black strand of hair and placed it in a jar. After a week half of it had turned bleach blonde and after another week all of it had switched color. It was like it had its own delayed chemical reaction.

My relationship with Tommy deteriorated as he kept treating me more and more dismissive until finally he stopped inviting me. He did take my call though, and after the usual "he didn't feel it anymore" he said that he couldn't take me seriously. I specifically asked if it was the hair, but he just said he didn't know.

I must give props for an expertly made curse, if that is what it is. I could dye the hair, I could keep it below an inch, or keep it as is, but no matter what I can't escape being reminded of what he has done to me.

[deniigi]

hi I have something for y’all called a disaster.

I wrote an Inimitable!Spiderman/Modern Star Wars AU because no one can stop me, not even myself. it is like 47 pages long. I am handing it tenderly to y’all.

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

Title: impossible scenario

Summary: Peter runs into some drunk assholes arguing, calling each other Han and Luke. He lets it roll off him until he can’t anymore and eventually finds himself for the first time on the other side of someone more chaotic than himself.

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

There was an argument happening under a fire escape. Peter knew about it because a concerned dude wearing a fuckin’ Yankees cap had flagged him down with waving arms and told him that someone needed saving, Spiderman. Some tall asshole was kidnapping a young blond dude, the guy  and his too-cool-for-him girlfriend explained. They’d heard the two scuffling.

Peter maybe stared for a beat too long at them because the gal pointed two blocks behind him and said, “That way. I think the blond guy might be drugged. He’s slurrin’ something strong.”

Peter liked her shoes. They looked like Miles’s, but blue.

“Spidey?”

Miles told Peter all the time that he wasn’t cool enough to wear Jordans. MJ and Johnny had agreed. Such sad times.

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

“Man, you’re too young to be this jaded,” she said.

Peter sighed.

“You’re the third person to say that this week,” he said. “You think I should go back to therapy?”

There was a pause.

“You know that answer, dude,” cool-gal said. “Go save the twink.”

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

 --

 Two blocks away, there was indeed a man with dark hair trying to lift a violently intoxicated twink up onto the first steps of a fire escape. Peter examined his options. There were many ways to ruin a potential kidnapper’s day. His favorite involved coke and mentos, although he’d received feedback that that was a waste of perfectly good food. Down the list was also the option to walk over and scream bloody murder so that the kidnapper shat themselves and dropped their target.

That was good, but Peter was tired and the thought of mustering up the energy to scream at a noticeable volume made his thighs turn to Jell-o.

That left snark and violence.

Today, he would not choose violence. Only for today.

He strode out of his dark temporary residence between two dumpsters directly towards the tall dude and his mark. The mark was a messy one. Bless his heart, he was unwittingly making himself the most noncompliant victim to have ever victim-ed. Every time the tall guy got him almost vertical, he gave up his corporeal form to become drunk slime and ooze back to the ground with various moaning sound effects.

It would have been funny if not for the kidnapping context.

The fact that Peter had been standing there under the beams of two separate side-building security lights and neither of those two had noticed yet was also objectively funny—or would have been, if Peter had the capacity for processing humor at the moment.

Alas. This was what he got for telling Tony that he’d evolved beyond the need for sleep. He got caffeine-pilled. And there would be no true rest until that shit wore off, exhausted as Peter’s body yearned to be.

“Kid, work with me here,” the tall guy said.

“I can’t, I’ll die,” the shorter one moaned.

“Luke.”

“I’ve done my time—thirty years in AZKA—”

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

“Why’s it always me? Why’s it always gotta be me? The hell did I do to piss off the whole galax-galaxy? HA. My bad, my bad. The whole universe?”

God, what a mood.

The tall guy dropped his grip on the smaller one and loomed over his puddle of ooze with poison in his gaze.

“People are going to die, Luke,” he said.

“So what? They’re always dyin’. Everywhere I go, people’re dyin’ and when it’s not them dyin’, you know who is?”

“Kid.”

“ME.”

“So you’re just gonna wallow there, feelin’ sorry for yourself?” the tall dude snapped.

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.  

This was not a kidnapping. This was a come-to-Jesus in the back alley of a bar. Peter was not needed here. He turned around on his heel and stopped when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that?” someone whispered.

“Don’t mind me, pal, just your friendly neighborhood—” he started.

“Look what you did,” Tall and Handsome hissed at Ooze-Man. “Someone went and called Spiderman on us.”

Peter lifted a brow as Ooze-man ripped its chest up from the asphalt and composed itself back into a human shape with fluffy blonde hair and huge wide eyes.

“Omigod, it’s Spiderman,” the guy said. “Wait, no. Gimme a hand. No, not that one, fuck off, nevermind, I don’t need you.”

He drew himself up to standing, only leaning slightly on his buddy there and gave Peter as lopsided smile.

“Hi, there,” he said with a twang that Peter couldn’t place. “Were you lookin’ for someone, handsome?”

Ah, they had reached the time of night when all the drunks needed to tell Peter things he already knew about his ass. He loved this time.

Not to mention that this dude looked eerily like Johnny. Scarily like Johnny. So much like Johnny that Peter almost wanted to take a picture of him to send to Sue so that she could print up some lost and found posters.

“Just lookin’ at you, babe,” he said. “This guy botherin’ you?”

The tall guy blanched and then grabbed at his face in horror. Peter swallowed his laugh.

“He sure is, hon. You got time to rescue me?” Blondie crooned.

“Luke, please. Please.”

“Because I’m in real distress,” ‘Luke’ said with a pout mighty enough to fell Thor.

“You sure seem like it,” Peter said. “C’mere. I’ll walk you home. Leave that tool, he ain’t worth your breath.”

He held out an elbow like proper gentleman and was pleased at the hand that Luke laid over his heart in response.

Peter could imagine Johnny’s face in six different expression of jealous horror at a selfie taken with this look-alike. Each was beautiful in its own special way. As payment for being referred to counseling by the public, he at least deserved to receive at least two of those faces.

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

“He doesn’t,” his tall companion said.

“I sure do, where do you live? I’ll walk you,” Peter said.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry, he’s gonna escort me,” Luke said, all choked up and fanning his eyes lightly.

This tall friend grabbed him before he could escape, though, and pulled him back behind his own body.

“Listen, Spidey, this is a misunderstanding,” he drawled. “I know this idiot—he is technically my idiot— and I’m the one escorting his ass home. Thanks, though. You’re a real menace. Beat it.”

MMMMMMM.

And here Peter had been planning on being jaded and miserable this fine night. How could he now when this dude was ticking every box that made him feel alive?

“What’s your name, dollface?” Peter asked across the short distance.

“None of your business,” Tall Guy answered abruptly.

“Luke,” Luke said around him. “Are you gonna save me?”

“In just a minute,” Peter said, striding forward with a hard roll in his shoulder and deep drop in his knees.

It was amazing how Tall Guy wanted to take some steps back all of the sudden. Peter couldn’t help but let a smirk widen his face as he advanced.

“Okay, hang on now,” Tall Guy said with both palms out in front of him. “You don’t know what this is about, Spidey. You don’t want to get involved with this, trust me. He’s just bein’ dramatic. No need to get testy.”

“You sure do a lot of talkin’ for your friend there,” Peter noted through his grin.

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

Han. Han and Luke. Ned was gonna be enraptured when Peter told him about this later.

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” ‘Han’ finally snapped. “I’m not doin’ this because I want you to suffer, alright? I don’t want nothin’ to do with it either, okay? No one does. But it’s this or—”

“Or everyone else,” Luke finished for him in a strangely toneless voice.

Han sighed.

“It’s always everyone else,” Luke said.

“Not here.”

“Why’s it always everyone el—No, no, here. Why not? We’ve got fucking Spiderman in our midst, how much more surreal can this moment get? No. You listen to me, Han—”

“I’ve been listening to you all damn evening and you know what I’m hearing?”

“—I lost my life for this. I lost my home, my aunt, my uncle, my hand—”

“I’m hearing you making this about you.”

“—everything I ever knew, and I tried to make it right, didn’t I? I made the school. I gathered the kids—”

“And it’s not just about you this time, kid. It’s not about you, it’s not about me, or Leia, or Chewie or—”

“—I lost my kid and the love of my life, and I finally get a second chance at finding them and giving them the goddamn happy ending they deserve, and the next thing I know—”

“Luke, you’re the only one,” Han said.

“I WAS NEVER. THE ONLY. ONE, HAN,” Luke roared out of absolutely nowhere, sober as a saint. “I was never the only one. EVER. Ahsoka. Go find her. She’s everything that I’m not and more. She’s the real—”

“Luke.”

“Stop saying that name. I HATE that name. I would do anything for twenty goddamn seconds where I didn’t have to be him.”

“You don’t mean that,” Han said quietly. His shoulders had rounded out and become black and heavy under the weight of their shadow. Luke’s eyes, however, looked like topaz.

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

So shit had gotten real tense, real fast, so Peter about to make a decision that was gonna make Shelley so proud of him she would weep when he finally slunk back in through her office door.

He was leaving. He was turning around and taking a wee jog. Maybe turning a corner, having a little jump over a fence, up a wall, to a place as far away from this one as superhumanly possible.

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

“They need you,” Han repeated. “And I need you.”

Peter slowly looked back to see that Luke’s face had twisted sharply out of the light, towards the alley wall.

“I’m sorry that we met again like this,” Han said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s always you. You don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

“Shut up,” Luke said.

“But if you don’t do something, then it won’t be just me and you and all these random others sliding back into that cesspit we all barely crawled out of.”

“Stop.”

“You’ll never find him if things go back the way they were.”

“You—you don’t know that. There—maybe—”

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

“Luke,” Han said reaching out and putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder and clenching it hard enough that Peter should see the bunched fabric, “Do you want Din to live through this shitshow a second time? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

Peter shivered. The pressure at the base of his neck was building. The Spidey Sense wanted to hiss in his ears like white noise. It pinned him where he was, staring over his shoulder at those two solid shapes, one digging a hand into the flesh of the other.

His stomach turned.

Luke said something that Peter couldn’t hear. Han pulled him toward his own body by the grip he had on his shoulder. At first, Luke seemed to stagger, like he was walking on black ice. He stopped a single step away from Han’s body, still with his face angled severely away. Han said something to him.

There was a long pause, then Luke seemed to fall forward. Han caught him and crushed his head into his shoulder, lowering his own until it was almost touching Luke’s ear. They clung to each other.

Luke was crying.

The Spidey Sense started to crackle and pop in Peter’s ears.

“I gotchu, kid,” Han said in a rasp. “I gotchu. We’re gonna get through it.”

Peter blinked once and finally unlocked the muscles in his neck. He wasn’t meant to witness this. He held out a wrist and fired a line.

  --

It was weird.

It was just weird.

Something wasn’t right. And Peter couldn’t make his stomach not writhe about it.

Luke.

Han.

An offhand mention of like, characters. Character names. They were character names. Leia, Chewie.

Peter had heard of people who lived their lives honestly believing that they had been other people—fake people—in past lives, but like, damn man. Why would you put yourself in a position like that were you were moved to actual tears for some elaborate street-drama?

Maybe it had been a joke? That was the only thing he could think it could be. Maybe the universe had gazed upon his hubris at work and gone ‘ah yes, I know what this young man needs: emotional confusion at midnight on a Thursday. That’ll fix him.’

If that was the case, then yeah. Good job, universe. Good job, larpers. Y’all are equally sick.

But if not—and Peter no longer lived in a world where he could rule out any possibilities—then he had just witnessed—Dude, he’d just witnessed—

He couldn’t even think it. It was beyond him. It was so far beyond him that like he might have a real stroke taking the thought seriously.

There was only one person who could hold that kind of information unscathed.

Only one.

  --

PP: Ned. I need you to listen to me and tell me I’m not crazy.

NL: no promises but go on

PP: I think? I just saw? Luke Skywalker? And Han Solo? In an alley behind Kitty’s?????

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

PP: I can’t there’s a nerd in here and it’s vibrating at the wrong decibel. SECURITY???

MJ: yeah?

PP: I’m trying to have a breakdown. Can you remove Matchstick please?

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

NL: Peter can you name three things you can see.

PP: I am not manic. I am in touch with reality. I’m just having anxiety because I just fucking saw two people calling each other Luke and Han fighting behind Kitty’s. Like real fighting.

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

PP: Johnny I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. never leave my side

JS: 😊

MJ: wow that’s cringe. Imagine naming yourself after SW characters

NL: does kitty do a cosplay night now????

PP: idk it was wild. People thought that ‘Han’ was trying to kidnap ‘Luke’ but when I got over there, Luke started flirting with me and then shit got real and they started arguing over like him hating his name and not wanting to do something and losing everything or some shit

NL: that’s a lot. I’m sure it was nothing, though, peter.

PP: yeah it was. My SS has been going nuts ever since I left. You think they bugged me?

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

JS: after MJ has finished prelim checks, I will then search your body for you out of the kindness of my heart ❤

NL: that’s weird, the SS doesn’t usually freak out about cosplayers

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

JS: well now we have to lean in. thanks ned

JS: they were definitely real. God they were so real. You hear that Fate? You got us. They’re definitely real.

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

NL: that would be so fucking funny. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo trying to save the world from the hellscape of nyc. The rats alone would thwart them.

PP: ned I’m freaking out

NL: oh you mean you’re actually freaking out?

PP: deeply

NL: oh shit sorry. I’ll be over, have you slept yet?

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

JS: one day our love will build a bridge, peter. In the meantime I am stroking your ear comfortingly from midtown

  --

Need and MJ’s weight pinning him to a mattress brought sleep but not necessarily comfort. They both thought that this was a sick joke someone had played on him that was now destroying his psyche. They thought that the couple pointing him back towards the cosplayers had been in on the joke.

Peter would have agreed with them if it wasn’t for the Spidey Sense. Everything else lined up perfectly.

Ned sighed in the morning and told Peter to go talk to Wade.

 --

 Wade’s hallucinations were, by far, more auditory than visual, but he stayed quiet while Peter talked his ear off over the phone in his locked office. He waited until Peter had run out of words to describe the feeling of impending doom and then huffed a bit of a laugh into the receiver.

“Them Star Wars people are unreal, Pete, you know this,” he said. “Look at Ned.”

Ned was perfect.

“Take off those rosy shades, hon. Now, look again.”

Ned had perhaps memorized the entire scripts of the first three movie and 90% of the spaceship names and the jedi lineages.

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

“We all gotta do shit we don’t want do.”

Fine.

Ned’s goal in life was to go to his wedding in a stormtrooper suit.

“Keep going.”

Every Lego project they’d built together since 13 years-old had been a Star Wars-related one. When Ned had decided to move out of his parents’ place, he’d shed actual tears over MJ and Peter mutually suggesting that he sell some of his memorabilia.

“Will this delightful buffet before our very eyes, what is the likelihood of your two pals being drunk larpers in too deep to quit?” Wade asked.

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem. Although, now I gotta see this. You said they were behind Kitty’s? You think I can get a stormtrooper costume in 8 hours?”

“They’re not still gonna be there, Wade,” Peter huffed. “It’s 10 am.”

“You ain’t know that. What if Luke Skywalker’s a useless drunk, huh? You ever think of that?”

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

“He looked like Luke Skywalker,” he said. “Blond hair, blue eyes—sort of like a chipmunk that forgot its stripes.”

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

Peter hung up to Wade’s cackle. He slouched low and tapped his pen against his desk. Then against his fingers.

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

“What’s the weirdest thing you could imagine, Pete?” he asked himself.

 --

 PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

SC: like spiritually or culturally? I know I was a cult-kid for a min there but before that we were Buddhists and like, past lives are part of the package

PP: that’s cool. What do you think of people being reborn as themselves again like, 500000000 years later? From a galaxy far far away?

SC: I don’t think about those people

PP: okay well, hypothetically. Let’s say that you were going to imagine someone who embodied that whole spirit. Who would it be?

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

PP: THOR. Thank you this has been helpful ily bye

  Mr. Stark asked him over a cup of viciously black coffee why Peter was seeking out the demigod of his present nightmares.

That usually meant that he and Thor had disagreed on basic physics principles again. Peter took that also to mean that the demigod was still in the building. Possibly loose.

“He’s with Banner,” Mr. Stark said scathingly.

“Thanks, you’re amazing,” Peter said as he sailed out of the room.

 --

 Thor was sitting on Dr. Banner’s lab table, despite Dr. Banner telling him to get off no fewer than two times in the five minutes that Peter was in there, schmoozing and making pleasantries. He warmed Thor up to the home-run hit by asking him all about past lives and present lives and what the soul was on Asgard. Thor was only too happy to explain a load of nonsense that made Banner roll his eyes and poke at his muscles with a thermometer.

“So, hypothetically speaking,” Peter drawled in a very casual lean, “With the infinite galaxies and universes, etcetera, there could be one where Star Wars people exist. And so hypothetically, they could get reborn into a universe like ours.”

Thor blinked at him.

“You remember the laser swords?” Dr. Banner deadpanned.

Thor lit up.

“I suppose it’s possible,” he told Peter indulgently. “But if that was the case then it would be a long tragedy, no?”

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

“Well,” Thor said with a big, happy smile, “The series of events that unfolded in that story seemed to me to be one of triumph and tragedy. With one would come the other—that’s how these stories work, yes?”

…yes.

“So if Master Luke Skywalker and his companions arrived into our space here, then they must experience the same in order to be themselves,” Thor said, bobbing his head in pity. “Perhaps what would look like a new start for such people would result only in terror and disappointment until the same conclusion was reached.”

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

Both Thor and Banner looked at him quizzically at the same time.

“Peter?” Dr. Banner asked. “Is this coming from somewhere?”

Peter’s grin twitched so violently, it turned into a grimace that even superstrength would not let him maintain.

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

 --

 Wade was not happy to be met outside of Kitty’s in the middle of the day, especially because his stormtrooper outfit, in his words, ‘did no justice for the size of his balls.’

Peter was ignoring that. He dragged Thor past Wade’s righteous anger until he was standing on the place where the other two had stood the night before. Thor stood there gamely.

“There,” Peter said. “Any like, energy signatures?”

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

Wade scowled at him and hounded him off the spot so that he could stand there instead.

“I feel nothing,” he said, devoid of emotion.

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

The Spidey Sense smashed through all of Peter’s sense and screamed at him to get to the street.

Get to the street. Get to the street. Get to the—

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

That was the guy from the day before. He was on the opposite sidewalk smashed in with the crowd, dragging a hand through his hair and laden with a backpack and two separate totes. He was wearing a strange set of clothes—a mash of casual and formal—and seemed to be in a hurry, the type of hurry that involved pushing past folks at a half-jog and not stopping at streetlights.

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

“I see him, too,” he said. “What incredible energy, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

“Don’t you fucking say that,” he warned. “I’m gonna go distract. You two, on my six.”

 --

 Peter broke four traffic laws on his way around the block. He swung himself around a corner and fucked up the collar on his labcoat and counted to four before stepping out right into ‘Luke’s path.

They collided. Luke stumbled back and dropped one of his totes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Peter blustered. “Are you okay?”

Luke swore and dropped down without answering, collecting the odd ends of metal that had clattered out from his bag and now rolled loose over the pavement. Peter stooped to join, gathering rings and pipes of all sorts of sizes in his hands. Oncoming folks gave them a wide berth.

It took a moment for Luke to realize what Peter was doing, but when he did, his shoulders went stiff as a board.

“DON’T TOUCH THOSE,” he snapped, just as Peter made to pick up a little plastic bag with a wad of tissue inside it.

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

“Oh, Jesus. No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Luke blustered, “Thank you. I’ll—I’ve got them. Thank you, though. It’s okay.”

He took the metal out of Peter’s hands and stuffed them back into his bag. He snatched the plastic bag before Peter could touch it and put that on top.

“Excuse me,” he said as he stood. “Thanks again.”

And just like that, he hurried off past Peter down the pavement.

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

“Negative,” Peter said, reaching into his sleeve and holding up the thin aluminum tube he’d hidden up there by the edge of his shirt-sleeve.

It was shiny and longer than he’d expect for any plumbing project. The inside appeared to be coated with some sort of heavy, non-reactive material, and half of the outside had grooved bands carved into it.

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

“Mid-century sink?” Wade asked, taking the tube.

“Nope,” Peter said.

 --

 NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

NL: where did you get that? It’s like mega accurate. Was it etsy?

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

PP: I can’t I stole it from Luke Skywalker.

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

PP: He’s Luke Skywalker. I swear on the grave of my mother

MJ: this is a problem. This is now an intervention.

PP: I will prove it. If he’s Luke Skywalker, then he will do ANYTHING to get this thing back.

NL: and if not?

PP: then I will wait two days before politely tracking down his home address and then I will return it via wall crawling

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

JS: are you sure??? Because there’s a guy in Reed’s lab right now talking to him and Sue, asking SUPER politely for access to—I shit you not—the crystals we picked up from that space trip the other day???

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

JS: I can’t I’m gonna cry I didn’t ask for this

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

JS: right. So like. Awkward. But you uh, know that hilt thing you have?

PP: …is Obi-Wan Kenobi about to beat my ass, Johnny?

 --

 There was something about putting the hilt into the palm of someone more famous than Captain America that made Peter’s knees weak.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker had flirted with him the other night.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker didn’t recognize him as Spiderman.

Nothing helped, really, especially when those big topaz eyes lifted and Peter could see that their rims were red and raw.

“Thanks,” Luke Skywalker—the embodiment of hope itself—said in a soft, defeated rasp.

Every alarm in Peter’s head said to save him. Save him from what? How? Who knew.

Ned and MJ seemed to feel the same way, if the pressure on each of his arms was anything to go by.

“Well, that’s all cleared up, then. Thank you so much for your help; it is deeply appreciated,” a stupidly pleasant gentleman with a perfectly combed beard and lovingly coifed light hair said to the room at large.

Obi-Wan Kenobi—pardon, Ben Kennedi—was far more handsome than any movie could ever dream to make him. What they’d done to him in the 1970s, Peter saw now, was a fucking crime. He watched as this beautiful human being set a warm hand on Luke Skywalker’s—pardon, Luke Naberry’s—shoulder and used it to steer him towards the Baxter Building’s front entrance.

He watched as the two of them, like true Master and Padawan, stepped out onto the landing and opted for the stairs. For one fleeting, unbelievable second, Luke looked back over his shoulder at all of them before taking the next step after his Master.

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

“So that just happened,” Sue acknowledged for everyone after the door had clicked closed and the sound of footsteps had faded off to nothing.

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

“This is single-handedly the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Ned said.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into our kitchen,” Reed told Sue like she hadn’t been there right next to him.

“The empire is trying to establish itself under our very feet,” Sue said back a little viciously.

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

Sue and Reed looked back at the rest of them and then exchanged a look.

 --

 Peter was sad now. Depressed and laid out on his side staring back at Valeria’s huge eyes on the floor while Ned and MJ and Johnny asked Reed and Sue two hundred clarifying questions.

Peter didn’t need the specifics. He was thinking back on the conversation that he’d witnessed between Luke and Han Solo—Han Solo who was tall with dark hair and dark eyes and an accent straight out of New Jersey. Solo who had probably been charged with forcing Luke to face the facts in front of all of them because he was the one who Luke trusted most.

But it had shattered them—both of them.

The New Hope had given up everything. He was tired. His heart was torn. He was jaded just like Peter had been that same night. He’d been avoiding the tightrope that Peter had already started crossing, though, probably looking for every possible way to not have to set the first foot on that wobbly line.

He’d walked it before.

Valeria reached out with a chubby, round hand and touched the side of Peter’s face.

“Spiderman,” she said with terrifying understanding, “Someone needs help.”

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

“Baby Storm,” he whispered, “I think you’re right.”

  --

MJ thought that Peter needed to leave things alone. She pointed out that he had plenty of problems without getting involved in universe-saving. She gestured to Johnny and volunteered him for the job.

Johnny refused on account of needing to be the prettiest blond in any room. He claimed that if he wasn’t, he had to fight for dominance.

Ned was on the other end of the spectrum. He had 43 reasons why Peter should get involved with things, and 40 of them ended up in the same place which was ‘it would be cool.’

One of Ned’s better reasons, however, involved pointing out that Peter had already stolen half of a lightsaber. He was good and involved now, whether he wanted to be or not. And that was enough for Peter to decide to go on a hunt to give a formal apology.

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

They ended up going through every possible iteration of every Star Wars name they knew and then filtered out the people who’d been named by exuberant parents and then filtered out anyone who didn’t live in New York and they ended up with fat lot of still nothing.

It was like Luke Skywalker didn’t truly exist in this world.

Until MJ found his Instagram by typing in ‘guys who look weirdly like Luke Skywalker.’

She held the phone aloft in triumph and they all gathered round to gape in awe at her intelligence and research skills.

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

He had one selfie and this selfie was enough to have gotten him onto a BuzzFeed article. In it he was holding—you guessed it—coffee. Iced coffee. One in each hand.

He was shaking them, and one had been labeled with his name—hence the public connection made.

“Someone needs to tell him that coffee is not a food group,” Johnny observed.

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

Some snooping revealed that Luke was an honest to god food website editor. He was a cameraman.

Repeat. Luke Skywalker, cameraman. He filmed all the food hosts for his company’s Youtube channel. He edited videos. He more or less blended into the background of everything, while having his finger prints on damn near everything.

This was a man after Peter’s own soul. They were kindred spirits in hidden identities, content creation, and suffering under a boulder of responsibility too great to cope with.

He had to find him now.

And after they had his Instagram it wasn’t too hard. He seemed to hang out in various parts of the Bronx and Peter just so happened to know some folks out that way.

 --

 Louis told Peter that he would never speak to him again if he found, befriended, and then didn’t share Luke Skywalker (the man, the real man, I’m not fucking with you, Louis). But he also recognized a place on Luke’s instagram that he seemed to be working his way through the menu of. He sent along an address and told Peter not to forget his promises.

Angel asked why he was looking for Johnny Storm in the Bronx.

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

He took a walk on Saturday morning. A long walk. A long train ride, then a walk, then a half hour of squinting, and then, lo and behold, he found a blond guy banging his head into the center of an out door metal table across from a woman with heavy braids trailing down the sides of her neck. She was much older than him and drummed white-painted fingernails across her cheek as she thought.

Peter hid and called Ned and MJ for an ID. He peeked the phone’s camera out enough for them to see the other two and then snatched it back.

Ned was about to flip a table.

“That’s clearly Ahsoka Tano,” he said. “She—the braids, dude. Dead give-away. And she put ribbons in them, like what even is discretion?”

Peter didn’t know that person. He continued not to know this person, even as Ned dragged him through a trainwreck of Star Wars lore.

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

“She’s like a jedi, but not like a jedi, she was a jedi, but then she said ‘fuck the order’ and—”

Great. Peter was approaching.

Ned held his face in his hands. MJ told Peter to report back on his findings. Peter ended the call and inched closer, weaving through the crowd and slipping into the coffee joint to see what nonsense they were selling.

It was nonsense with lots of syrup. He could never say no to syrup.

He watched the two outside while waiting for his order. Luke gesticulated to his friend and she spoke, giving reasonable gestures back. He stopped her and dug out his phone and that little plastic baggy full of fluffy material. He answered his phone. His friend took the little bag and held it up to the light.

She frowned at it.

Luke pushed away from the table and walked away to take his call. Peter’s order was called. He grabbed it and swerved out towards the patio.

“Hello,” he said at the edge of Luke and his friend’s table. “Is this seat taken?”

Luke’s friend stared at him.

“It is,” she said. “Move along, hon, you’re ten years too young.”

Wow.

“For your friend?” Peter tried. “Could I leave my number?”

He had this lady’s attention now. She was looking him up and down, appraising. Peter tried not to flex. He stayed cool. Matt-levels of cool. He smiled winningly.

“Alright, why not?” she said, digging through her bag for a receipt and a pen. Peter beamed as he leaned down to scrawl his number down on the back. He got halfway through before he heard a step stop nearby.

“Look alive, kid,” Luke’s friend said. “Hey, Luke, this guy was just—”

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

“Hi,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

There was a long silence.

Luke’s friend looked between them and then gave Luke a long, judgmental stare.

“You don’t have to,” Luke said. “Thanks, though. How did you find me here?”

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

“Here,” Peter said, offering his number on the receipt. “If you ever need someone to talk to who gets it.”

Luke’s friend bit her lip and looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Peter ignored her for now.

“Thanks,” Luke said. “You don’t and you won’t. But you’re very pretty.”

Nice.

“You’d be surprised,” Peter told him. “Gimme a text. I’ll leave y’all alone now. Enjoy your coffee.”

He left. But not before hearing, “but that ass, Luke.”

 --

 Ned told him that there was no way that Luke was ever going to text him and he was disappointed in Peter’s hostage-taking skills.

But he was proved wrong two hours later and, for his crimes, had to admit Peter’s brilliance publicly.

 LS: hi sorry. This is Luke. This morning when you stopped by our table, did you happen to see a little plastic bag on it?

 Why yes. The one in Peter’s pocket right now? That bag?

 PP: hi!! I did, actually. You guys aren’t very subtle 😏

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

LS: no, it’s not coke, I swear. It’s something INFINITELY more important. Did you happen to see if it had fallen on the ground?

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

PP: oh my god I’m so sorry, I think I took it with me when I accidentally took your friend’s pen.

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

LS: I’m starting to think that you want something from me. And listen, you’re a handsome guy, but I’m not available and my type isn’t kleptomaniac. What do you want for it?

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

PP: mostly about why you look like you’re a wet phonebook in a bad gutter

LS: a phonebook???? What era are you even from????

PP: I could say the same to you, sir.

LS: I

LS: wh

LS: alright touche. The point is that I’m not going to talk to you. I just need that bag back. It’s a life and death situation.

PP: what are they? They aren’t coke crystals.

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

LS: NO. This is going nowhere. What. Do. You. Want?

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

PP: then why did you ask me to rescue you?

 He held his breath.

 LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

LS: I didn’t ask you for shit. This is it. What’s your last name.

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

PP: oop, nope, sorry. That’s someone else.

LS: …so I’m calling the police, now. That’s what we’re saying?

PP: depends. Do you still need to be rescued?

 Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

 LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

 Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

 PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

PP: it’s okay, you don’t have to say shit. The main thing I wanted you to know was that I hear you. And if you need it, I’ve got you.

LS: You’re literally trying to rescue me??

PP: it’s my job

LS: IT ISN’T. How have you never been arrested? how did you find me? Did you track my phone? Is it some kind of spider thing???

PP: yes

LS: I am legally obligated to kill you with the force now

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

LS: oh my god Han is going to lose his gourd

LS: I’m sorry I just I can’t believe you of all people stole my damn hilt

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

LS: no I didn’t mean that sorry that’s a thing with me and my sister. I mean, okay. You got me. Hero of NYC.

 Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

 PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

LS: Please do, Ben’s about to have a stroke.

PP: you mean obi-wan?

LS: he’s convinced his cat ate them. There’s a staring contest happening. No one has blinked in two minutes and I don’t want to be here for the internal investigation.

PP: where do you live?

 Luke sent an address. Peter held his phone high and walked it into the living room where Ned was bitchily composing an Instagram post. He and MJ looked up at the same time.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Peter said. “Luke Skywalker and Co. live in a cemetery.”

 --

 It wasn’t a cemetery. It was a funeral home, but close enough.

Luke was waiting outside on the stoop in a cardigan about four sizes too big for him. It was there probably to protect him from the equally large ragdoll cat in his arms.

Peter smiled. Luke stared at him and then shook his head and went through the screen door. Ned gave Peter a biting look.

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

“We’re doin’ great,” Peter told him, hopping up the stairs. “Look at us, totally—”

“Insidious.”

Peter stopped and turned nervously to see through the screen door where Obi-Wan Kenobi had seized both of the cat’s cheeks. Luke continued to hold it with maximum doneness levels.

“Where have you been?” Obi-Wan asked the cat seriously.

“We have guests,” Luke said. “Take your beast.”

Obi-Wan snatched the cat out of Luke’s arms with contempt all over his face.

“You are a villain of the highest order,” he told it.

“Ben. Guests. Please evacuate. I am hosting negotiations,” Luke said.

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

Peter was not going to laugh at Obi-Wan Kenobi. That was too surreal.

“Come in,” Luke said, returning to hold open the screen. “I hope you’re not allergic. There are two of them.”

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

Peter stepped over the threshold and found himself in a room that looked like a human birdhouse. It was full of surfaces that were almost completely empty, as though an enrichment object had once lived there but had been removed as punishment. Luke waved Ned and MJ in and accepted their apologies on Peter’s behalf.

Peter ignored them to lock eyes with a creature more stunning than any he had ever encountered. It sat on the kitchen counter by a single clear jar labelled ‘Not Spice.’ It blinked grumpy green eyes.

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

They all looked behind them to see Obi-Wan peering around a doorframe with the first cat draped over his shoulders.

“Kleptomaniac,” Luke said, pointing at Peter. Peter waved.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan said simply. “I will distract Ahsoka.”

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

“Let’s go talk in the back,” he said. “There are no bodies, I promise.”

 --

 The funeral home had a little deck and a yard small even for this far out in Queens. It was crammed full of plants that appeared to be in a competition to bloom. Luke invited them to sit and then left to make coffee.

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

He peeked over the side of the deck down where there was a large stone set in the center of the garden.

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

Peter swore that Obi-Wan hadn’t opened that sliding door. How had—what—

Ned was at a loss for words in the face of one of his greatest heroes.

“I—uh. M-movie? I mean, sorry. It was in The Mandalorian, second season, with the—”

“Yet more television,” Obi-Wan said derisively.

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

“I thought you were bothering Ahsoka?” Luke asked, from inside. He squeezed past the man and his cat with three glass mugs in hand. He set them down on the little square table off to the side of the desk railing.

“I was, but then I got curious,” Obi-Wan said. “And I lost Junior.”

Luke stared at him.

“I’m going to lock you in the basement,” he said.

“Try, try, and try again,” Obi-Wan told him, petting his beloved cat’s head.

“Do you even know who Spiderman is, old man?”

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter had to keep a conscious watch on his jaw, lest it fall open in the face of the most handsome, clueless man on the planet. He watched as Obi-Wan, disgusted with all this ‘television’ nonsense skulked back off into the guts of the home. Luke shut the door behind him.

“So,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’re talking. Fork ‘em.”

Ah.

Fair was fair.

Peter produced the plastic bag from his pocket and handed it over. There was a shout somewhere inside followed by someone going ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Ben keeps our home ghost free. He terrifies all the wannabee haunters,” Luke said simply. “Thank you for these. I imagine it’s somewhat of a shock to learn that it’s all real.”

It was, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing Peter had encountered by far.

“How long have you lived in New York?” he asked conversationally.

Luke gave him a weird brow.

He seemed smaller than before in that enormous cardigan. Certainly smaller than the movies made him seem. His face was a little thinner too, and his lips seemed to slope into an almost permanent pout.

“About twenty years,” he said. “We were born in California, but Anakin moved us here when we were eight.”

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

“’Luke, I am your father’—yeah, that guy,” Luke said with a scoff. “Except, you know, he ain’t dead. And he’s the only one who can make Ben remember that tea isn’t a meal, so we keep him around for that and to scream back at Leia.”

Peter was already completely lost to the dynamics of this household. It wasn’t like the books and movies—Ned’s twitching for his phone to take notes was proof enough of that.

“That’s awkward,” MJ said. “So did y’all do like, collective counselling for the past life shit?”

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

“It’s not past life shit if your damn name is the same,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

It sounded like it.

Imagine growing up with your apparently-Star War-obsessed father and uncle who’d built a home and a business (presumably) around that shit, only to find out later that they’d done it because it was literally their religion.

What a trip.

“When did you find out?” Peter asked gently.

“Oh, you know. Last week,” Luke said with a bitter grin. “Quit my fulltime job. Dumped my ex. Broke my lease and now here I am. Once again. Back at this place.”

“Do you want a hug?” Ned asked into the awkward silence.

“You’re very sweet,” Luke said. “If I touch another human, I will start crying and never stop.”

Yikes.

Barely holdin’ on by a thread there, buddy? How’s the hyperawareness going?

“Why does it matter, is my question. For you, I mean,” Luke said with a suspicious squint. “You fought a goblin guy, didn’t you? With a hover board?”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

“And like, the bird dude? Didn’t you down a plane?”

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

“These things are not equivalent,” Luke said flatly. “I joined a rebel alliance. There were loads of us.”

Mmm. Perhaps so.

“God, how old are you even? You look 22.”

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

“That’s a lie,” he accused. “Tell the truth or be compelled.”

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

Luke blinked at him. He pointed at the glass sliding door which revealed Obi-Wan holding Junior the cat above his head by the kitchen sink.

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

“Do we not have the Force, here?” he asked.

Luke flinched.

“Listen,” he said abruptly, “We’re workin’ on it. This isn’t our original galaxy. The rules are all different. The only one who’s managed to make even a spark happen is Obi-Wan so far, but as soon as we find Master Yoda, it’s over. We’ll already have won.”

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

“We lost a lot of people,” he snapped. “It happens when you shift galaxies. Anyways, that’s what the stone is for.”

MJ glanced back at the stone and then leaned her forearms onto the small table.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You jedi folks all popped up over here by some cosmic accident. You don’t have the Force. Most of you don’t even remember who you are. You lost your most experienced Master, and you’re going to fight the Sith?”

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

“We don’t need the others,” he said. “We only need the Force. To fight the Sith. Yes.”

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

“So you need the thing you for sure don’t have the most,” she said.

Luke opened his mouth, but not before the window by the door snapped open and Obi-Wan leaned out to say, “We always have the Force.”

Luke covered his face in despair.

“I was listening from the kitchen window,” Obi-Wan told him lovingly.

“GO FIND CODY ALREADY,” Luke roared at him.

“I did, he’s right here,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, stroking his angry cat.

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

Star Wars had really left out the part about Luke’s explosive temper. Peter winced, but Ned laughed and the sound seemed to have a calming effect on Jedi-on-Jedi crime about to take place in the kitchen. Obi-Wan appeared pleased with this development and emboldened. He wove past Luke out onto the desk and came over, cat and all, to point down to the seeing stone in the middle of the garden.

“Others who feel the Force’s energy will be drawn to it,” he told Ned fondly. “It’s how we got Luke back home.”

“It’s not,” Luke said. “You called me.”

“And so others will also come,” Obi-Wan said with confidence. “The most important thing is that we believe in the Force. And from that, we will find guidance and power and—”

“He means Yoda,” Luke translated. “He’s been putting frogs on it as an offering, even though me, Ahsoka, and Anakin told him that this is a human’s world. A human’s world, Ben. Even if he did eat them, he’s not eating them raw.”

“Don’t be discouraged by Luke’s attitude, he is very stressed,” Obi-Wan told Ned and Ned only affectionately. “I told him not to be, you see there are four of us here already, and the Chosen One is among us.”

“Anakin told you to stop calling him that,” Luke moaned, massaging his temples.

“He was the first to be aware of our present situation,” Obi-Wan said.

“He took a hallucinogen and had a paranoid breakdown,” Luke pleaded. “Ben, please. Go inside. Think of your blood pressure.”

“Perhaps, but it was a useful breakdown, was it not?”

“I am so sorry for him, he’s getting senile,” Luke said to the rest of them.

“Your energy is different,” Obi-Wan informed Peter out of absolutely nowhere. “Are you also Force-sensitive? Were you drawn to the stone?”

Er.

No.

Sorry?

“He’s Spiderman,” Luke said, gesturing pointedly. “Remember Spiderman?”

Obi-Wan did not. Peter suspected, actually, that Obi-Wan still used phonebooks, if he used phones at all, that was.

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay, let me just lay it out,” he said. “We’re doing the best we can with what we have. You don’t have to get involved with this. We appreciate your help, but what would help us even more is if you stay out of it, alright?”

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

“Amazing. And don’t tell other people.”

Understood.

“Unless they’re Force-sensitive,” Obi-Wan said. “In which case, ask them how they feel about rocks.”

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

“You didn’t used to be like this,” he said dangerously.

“No, I used to be stressed,” Obi-Wan told him. “But you and Ani are doing that for me, so I have resolved to be a free spirit. Nice to meet all of you. Have more coffee. I don’t like this one; I will have it out of the house by sundown.”

He left, and possibly for good this time. No one knew what to say in his absence.

“So,” Peter tried, desperate for something to break up the tension. “You said a few days ago that you were looking for someone?”

Luke finally stopped making growling faces towards the sliding door. He lit up like a bulb.

“I am, actually,” he said.

 --

 Luke was looking for a very particular person named ‘Din.’ He described him as ‘six feet tall and covered in armor.’ He asked if they knew of such a person.

Peter had to shove a hand against his mouth in case he made an unwanted connection between this description and Obi-Wan behavior.

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

“You have a husband?” she asked. “I would have remembered a husband in that series.”

Luke leaned his chin on his palm and gazed sideways over the city. He seemed to sigh.

“I don’t know why he isn’t connected to me in the media created here,” he said. “It’s probably because he’s always been very shy.”

Oh, aw. Peter loved that. The contrast between them was heart-warming.

“We had a son together,” Luke said. “His child. He brought him to me. One of my students, at first.”

Hang on a minute here.

Peter exchanged a glance with Ned. Ned tried very hard to pick a way to approach this sensitively. He landed on asking, “What was his name again?”

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

“He was a Mandalorian,” Luke explained. “Very, very, very shy. Like, he would rather chew off his own leg than make small talk with a stranger. I think, before I knew all this, I was still subconsciously looking for him. All my exes are the same type.”

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

“Do we look like we own a TV?” Luke deadpanned. “No. If Ben senses anything bigger than a datapad happening in this place, he’s driven to madness and breaks it.”

UH?

“He doesn’t actually break it,” Luke sighed. “He just finds a way to make it unusable—putting clothes on it, disconnecting the monitor, that kind of thing. He thinks they waste electricity.”

What a guy. Peter wanted to put him and May in a room and see what conspiracies they could spin together.

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

���Do you have a, uh, datapad, then?” he asked.

 --

 “DIN. That’s DIN. He’s got his own show. Oh my god, that’s—stay right there. Don’t move.”

Bless this man. Peter wanted to hug him so bad. They’d lost him to the staircase leading up from the second floor to the attic. Peter wondered who he was showing the tablet to.

Maybe Obi-Wan?

“I told you this already,” a voice up there said.

“LOOK AT HIM.”

“You’re killin’ me, smalls. We had this exact conversation last week. Did you forget?”

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

Anakin fucking Skywalker came down the stairs with a handful of Luke’s shirt in one hand and the tablet shoved under his other arm. He paused and frowned at the three of them in the kitchen frozen in shock, and then apparently decided that that didn’t matter. He carried on dragging Luke with him towards the kitchen counter. He dropped the tablet onto it and Peter realized that the lower half of his sleeve on that side was empty.

He watched as the guy let go of Luke and chased the not-angry cat off the counter, cursing.

“Alright, this?” he said, tapping on the tablet. “Is the link I put here.” He rapped the same finger on what Peter now saw was a whiteboard covered in rows upon rows of symbols that he’d never seen before.

“Din here? Din here. You see?” Vader told Luke with untold patience.

“I can’t read that,” Luke moaned. “You lied to me.”

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

“You’re a liar and a cad. Do it in Basic.”

“This is Basic.”

Oh, dear. All that fanfic about Luke meeting Darth Vader and having a breakdown was looking real embarrassed now, wasn’t it?

“If it’s Basic, why can’t I read it?” Luke demanded.

“Because, like I told you last night, the night before, and the night before that,” Vader said painstakingly, “It doesn’t all come back at once. It’s going to take time.”

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

Vader leaned his head back with half-lidded eyes. Luke didn’t look even remotely like his kid, even with him looking all pre-quels-like now.

“We talked about this, too, remember?” Vader asked.

Obviously not. Luke was distressed. He had eyes only for the tablet now.

“No, of course not, silly me,” Vader said. “Why are humans here?”

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

“Son, I will kill you if you continue to act like Obi-Wan,” Vader said without missing a beat.

“You can try,” Luke said offhandedly. “But only one of us has two handed grip.”

There was a long stare.

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Vader told him. “Why do we have living guests?”

He gestured back to Peter, Ned, and MJ like they were flies on a set of blinds.

“Oh, because that’s Spiderman and he stole your kyber crystals,” Luke said.

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

“This may as well happen,” he decided somehow placidly. “I’m going back upstairs. Where did your grand-master go?”

“Into the mist,” Luke said. “Can you feel Din?”

“Negative, ghostrider.”

“When the Force chooses you first out of favoritism, can you feel for Din?”

“Ah yes, can I feel for your Force-repellant life partner with all of the Force energy that I do not have? Yes, I sure can.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

This felt a little hostile for Peter’s tastes. Not that it wasn’t earned. Clearly it was earned. It was just horrifying.

“Guests, you are dismissed,” Vader said in their direction. “Unless you’re drawn to the rock outside, in which case, you may stay. Otherwise, do not darken this doorstep again, or else we will leave you with the other dead in the morgue.”

“Thanks for bringing the crystals,” Luke said from behind him. “And for talking. I do feel better, actually.”

 --

 They left the funeral home. Obi-Wan was outside by the mailbox as though waiting for them. Peter wasn’t sure he had any emotional energy left to approach him with.

“Thank you for speaking to Luke,” he said as the three of them attempted to pass unnoticed. “It’s good for him to talk to others his own age.”

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

“Good night, Peter, Ned, and Michelle.”

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

 --

 Ned wasn’t sleeping for two years. He made this clear with a lot of clapping gestures and then rolled around on the floor, talking about all kinds of shit that Peter couldn’t decipher. MJ watched him and flicked her eyes up to Peter with concern on her forehead.

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

Peter wasn’t sure. The best he could think of was to just keep an eye on the situation. Maybe check in every couple of weeks?

“If you say so,” MJ said. “I think you made Ned’s life, by the way. Good job.”

 --

 Peter tried checking in every two weeks. It started because he happened to hear of a tunnel collapsing in Queens nearby the funeral home. He texted Luke to ask if he needed a save and all he got back was a ‘well, not anymore.’

After that, Peter kept a close eye on happenstances occurring around the city. There were more than he bargained for. And when he glanced at Luke’s Instagram after the first week after the tunnel collapse, he noted that two of the nails on the hand Luke held his coffee to the camera with had gone completely black.

That was worrying.

Peter was used to be the danger-prone asshole in his friendgroup. He did not like this role-reversal. MJ asked him sarcastically what the problem was.

He texted Luke again.

 PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

LS: we put a hole in one to release the pressure

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

LS: the most predictable thing ever has happened. The Vader has regained force power

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

LS: ah, no. He fucked up and raised me and Leia with Ben this time after our mom died. He had his chance to go dark and traded it for 8 consecutive hours of sleep instead.

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

LS: It’s fine we did 12 years of family therapy after the accident so we are no longer on the DSS watchlist

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

LS: aren’t you supposed to be spiderman or something? Don’t you have chaotic things to say?

PP: you know normally I do, this is literally out of character for me. but I think you also might be absorbing my chaos.

LS: that’s fair. I have that effect on people. Hey, is your buddy Ned available to chat? He knows more than I can remember about my old life. Can I borrow him?

 That sounded like a horrendous decision.

 PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

  --

Ned reported a few days later that his services were needed at the funeral home. He was leaving them all now to befriend Luke Skywalker as was his true destiny.

He came back a few hours later and reported that his services had been helpful and he was pleased to say that Darth Vader was now the official herder of ‘wans’ in the house. This included all Obi-Wans and padawans.

He seemed to be the only guy there who could like, retain information given to him for some reason. He accepted this as his lot in life and went around repeating the same things to the others ad nauseum until they finally stuck for them.

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

Ned didn’t think so. He thought the guy was pretty chill about it and had probably been doing it for a while now. He did it more for Ahsoka Tano and Luke than he did for Obi-Wan. Although that was probably because Obi-Wan appeared to be on a hunt that made all non-relevant information given to him slip off his back like water.

 --

 Another two weeks. Another text.

 PP: hey luke, I saw you drowning on the news. You okay?

LS: GOD my ex-workplace keeps calling welfare checks on our house. We’ve had more cops here then flies these last few days.

PP: ex-workplace is one way to refer to your old job. Sounds like they cared about you. What did you do?

LS: preschool teacher.

 Peter was going to lose his shit right here on this bed.

 PP: was that your calling?

LS: that was Luke Naberry’s calling. Luke Skywalker’s calling is to make the lightsaber go vrrrrrrm

PP: you honestly terrify me

LS: thanks han says the same thing. OH. HE FOUND CHEWIE.

PP: no shit??

LS: yeah I told Ned, not you. But yeah. He found him lugging boxes for a bodega. And now they both work at the same bodega. Which like, objectively, is a bad thing because Han was a UN translator.

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

LS: I know he was all respectable and shit. It was awful. I can look at him again without feeling like I’ve failed in every part of my life.

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

LS: we’re not old enough to be senators.

PP: every moment becomes more concerning than the next. You fascinate me. This is why they put you in like, all the films.

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

LS: not to you. I’m off-limits bub. I’m married.

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

PP: that’s so romantic. Hey you should watch that series. They gave him a little green yoda in it. Really cute.

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

 There was no winning here.

 --

 MJ asked him a few weeks later if he was still keeping up with the Jedi drama since the whole city had recently decided that Peter was a snack.

Obviously he hadn’t.

She told him not to worry, Ned had. She told him to talk to Ned, so he went and talked to Ned with a heatpad in one hand and a coldpack in the other.

Ned patted at him sympathetically and informed him that Luke had reunited with the Force. It was going poorly for him, mostly because the Force wasn’t used to people being in touch with it in these parts of the universe. It kept telling each of the jedi that there was a disturbance and then luring them to each other to fight to the death.

Luke described it as the Force-equivalent of an auto-immune disease.  

They’d taken to gathering in the living room of the funeral home to meditate in a circle, as though to calm the Force’s anxiety while scenting each other for protection.

It had a 40% success rate. Everyone was sleeping in locked rooms for the time being, just in case someone got compelled to do something rash.

Peter asked Ned if he’d finally lost his crown as King Chaos of NYC.

Ned patted him on the knee more firmly than before and said that he could regain his crown by introducing a calming element into the jedi household.

Peter had his pride to defend, so he asked what that element ought to be.

  --

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, the leader of all Mandalorians, was bound to have a name that looked nothing like the one they had for him. Luke nearly exploded when Peter approached him to asked him (and his taped fingers) more about who Din Djarin was outside the name.

They proceeded with caution, however. So far, Peter and Ned had discovered only dissonance between Luke’s account of his life partner (his ‘heart, stars, sun, and sand’) and the guy on the screen for the tv show. That was to be expected, given that they had met Luke now and learned of his somewhat explosive personality.

But even still, Luke’s description of Din Djarin as ‘kind, compassionate, tender, shy, emotionally stable, dependable, sweet, caring, and hunky’ seemed slightly biased.

Peter just wanted to know how tall this guy was. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Blood type. That kind of shit.

Luke said that Din had brown hair, brown eyes, Type Who Knows What blood, and was about six feet tall. He had no idea how much he weighed. He’d never had need for that information. He knew that Din was human, which was probably helpful in a galaxy far, far away. He knew that he spoke Mando’a as his first language, then Basic, then a whopping fifteen others. And he knew that Din was probably looking after their son.

Vader asked Peter over a mug of coffee (also labeled in the funeral home’s cabinet as ‘not spice.’) if Spidersenses could overcome a dearth of information. It took Peter a few moments to realize that he was sympathizing with him.

“You’re not going to find Din,” Vader told Luke. “You need to look for the kid. You’ll find the kid first, you always have.”

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

Peter decided that he didn’t want to get in between that burgeoning battle. He told Luke to text him if he remembered anything else.

  --

Wade was pissed that Peter had been meeting and ‘cavorting’ with Luke Skywalker without him. He claimed ownership of the Din Djarin mystery in order to cram himself into Luke’s good graces. But quickly, he ran into the same stumbling blocks as Peter.

Din Djarin was six feet tall with brown eyes and brown hair.

That was what they currently had to go on.

Wade would have torn out his hair if he had any, but he stopped himself and accepted the challenge. Peter watched over his shoulder as he chicken-pecked his way into a list of social security numbers held by the NYC State ID issuing department and started methodically filtering names that did not sound like ‘Din.’

He started broad with all ‘D’s and then narrowed it down further and further and further until he was left with a shitload of Daniels.

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

It helped. Wade started filtering by height, then by eye color. Then by hair, and only ended up with several hundred people.

He vibrated again, but this time, Peter couldn’t help him.

He sighed. Wade said that there had to be a better way to do this. He got up.

  --

Wade made about four thousand missing posters with the name Din Djarin on them which he recruited the whole team to plaster up around NYC. This was not a request.

Miles asked him why they were doing this for a tv character and had to be let in on the gig.

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

Angel still didn’t know how the whole jedi thing worked.

Dave hummed and haw’ed and took his time in calling bullshit. Wade asked him to look deep into his eyes and ask if he was entertaining bullshit that fine evening.

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

  --

There was no way that shit was supposed to work. There was just no way. A) because Wade had the worst ideas of all mankind and B) because Peter had the worst luck of all mankind. So the two of them together should have destroyed all the prospects of success for that job.

But instead, while they were hatching a new plot involving setting up a sham sociological study for people who responded to Star Wars names, Wade’s phone went off.

He grabbed it and opened the message and lo and behold right there was a note that read,

“I hope you are not a reporting body because this is going to sound certifiably insane, but I think I might be the guy you’re looking for?”

Wade screamed.

Peter scolded him not to get too excited too soon. They had to see the man first.

Wade texted furiously, asking for a picture and got a message back that said, “please do not dox me.”

They got no answer until Wade promised not to dox the guy.

And then they got an image of a man with brown hair and brown eyes with olive skin. His face was remarkably square. The picture wasn’t just him, though, he had in his arms a little boy with a head covered in tight ringlets. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black and he was maybe two years old.

The caption said, “apologies, my son needed to be in the picture.”

Wade cooed and entered Dad Mode to ask how old the baby was and what he liked to do and Peter lost the fathers to that small talk for a while before Wade oh-so-casually asked, “So you feel like you’re from outer space?”

“It sounds strange,” the guy on the other said wrote back, “But I do. Like every day I wake up and look in the mirror and something is wrong. I feel like I’m always forgetting something when I leave the house. I watched the tv show of the guy who’s name was on your fliers and the kid in it reminds me so much of my son. It’s eerie. They make the same sounds. He made the same sounds before we even watched that show.”

Wade whistled.

“I think this is him, Pete,” he said. “He called Baby Yoda a ‘kid’ not a yoda.”

Peter stared. He hadn’t even caught that. That was smart as hell.

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

“Get Skywalker to send you a selfie,” he said.

  --

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

LS: cannot do that. Face is intact is a baseline situation. Let me find an old one. Oh, they all have my ex in them. This is awkward.

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

LS: no I have to be cute or I’ll perish hold on

PP: are you sure you’re not Johnny Storm?

LS: yes, he’s got loads of muscles. Sent.

 Selfie acquired.

Luke looked very smiley in it. His eyes were blown out from the lighting, but it showed his sloping smile and his low, back-set dimples. Peter sent it to Wade. Wade sent it to his new friend.

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

And finally, Wade’s phone rang. He picked it up and set it on speaker so that Peter could hear.

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

“Where did you get that picture?” a low, almost smoky voice demanded on the other side.

“A friend,” Wade said sleazily. “You know him? He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?”

It took the dude on the other side of the line worryingly long to respond.

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

“What’re you willing do to?” he asked.

They waited. Peter didn’t know what was taking this guy so long to—

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

“What’s his name then, pal?” Wade asked.

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Peter clutched the back of the couch. Wade was grinning so hard, Peter could see it through his mask.

“You want him, you need to show me that you know who he is,” Wade said. “I ain’t got ‘im here, but I know where he is. Come on, big boy. Who is he?”

Peter could hear the man take in a deep, shaky breath.

“His name is Luke,” Din fucking Djarin, the Mandalorian himself, said.

  --

Din fucking Djarin’s name at the moment was Danny Jabaran. He stood six feet tall with a medium build and that baby of his in his arms.

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

The suits didn’t scare him; this man was a space warrior. The leader of the space warriors. Peter was humbled to stand in his presence, old jeans and tattoos and all.

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

“Deadpool,” Wade said, offering a hand. “And this is?”

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

Baby Yoda lifted his big liquid eyes up to Wade and blinked twice. Then he wriggled around and hid in Djarin’s neck. Djarin put a hand on his back and didn’t drop eye contact.

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

  --

Ned screamed. Michelle screamed. Peter reminded them that he had neighbors and invited Mr. Mand’alor to sit on the couch for a bit while he called Luke.

Michelle claimed the spot next to Djarin and asked Baby Yoda Grogu for his little hand. He studied her and hid again, making a prolonged sound of distress that Djarin cut off by saying, “Hey. Manners.”

This somehow made baby Grogu turn back to Michelle to stare at her offered hand.

He took it. She shook with him and then took hers away.

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.  

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

Peter left them to call Luke in his bedroom. Luke picked up on the third ring with the start of an ingrained greeting that sounded a whole lot like a customer service recording. He caught himself, though.

“I have someone I’d like you to talk to,” Peter said. “I think you might want to sit down.”

Luke’s unusual quiet on the other side made Peter grin.

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

“Alright, one moment,” Peter said, walking out into the living room. Djarin had edged far, far away from Ned, as far as he possibly could without being rude. He looked up when Peter came over and sat down on the arm next to him.

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Peter waited. Djarin lifted his head over to see the phone’s screen.

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

“Shit,” Djarin said, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “Goddamnit. Jesus.”

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”  

Baby Grogu’s face snapped toward the phone with huge eyes. He grabbed at Djarin’s collar, then his jaw and started bouncing a little in his arms.

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

“Grogu?” Luke asked. “Hey, baby, is that you, bubba?”

Grogu grabbed Djarin’s face urgently, so that he couldn’t hide his raw eyes anymore.

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

“Ah. That’s not ours. We don’t grab. We ask,” Djarin reminded as Grogu pleaded for the phone. Peter snickered and gave it to him. He just held it, staring.

“Do you wanna see him?” Peter asked. “Luke, can we maybe video chat?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke said. “Hold on. Oh god, my face. Uh, hey Din are you still near-sighted, hon?”

Djarin huffed a laugh that turned into a whole-body tremor.

“I got contacts,” he said a little hysterically.

“You got WHAT?” Luke yipped, “Okay, no. No, I gotta. Be still, this heart. Okay let me just take off the butterflies. On moment, Grogu, Daddy’s just gotta dunk his face in the damn sink.”

MJ bounced her eyebrows at Peter as he gently took the phone back from Grogu and tapped on the camera. He offered it back the kid and received a deep gaze of wonder in return. Djarin turned the screen right-side up in his hands.

Luke finally turned his camera on and revealed himself to be very swollen in the jaw with damp hair and a cut very close to the rim of his left eye.

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

“Look at you,” he said, “I’m gonna cry. Oh my god. Where’re your ears, pal?”

Grogu analyzed this reaction for 2 full seconds and then shoved the camera right into his dad’s forehead. Djarin took it from him and liberated himself so that he could see Luke who was clutching at his face, absolutely already sobbing, bless him.

He looked up to see Grogu and instead got Djarin and finally just broke right in half.

Peter swallowed back the growing lump in his throat. His eyes were starting to warm a little.

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

“I know you’re not cryin’ because of me,” he said gently.

“Where’s your helmet?” Luke sobbed, wiping viciously at his eyes. “People are watching, you harlot.”

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

“This is all my fault. I should’ve—I should’ve—”

“Luke,” Djarin said again, full of warmth, “You died for us.”

Luke shook harder than ever.

“There is no greater sacrifice a warrior can make,” Djarin told him. “I was honored for you to have made it for me and our son. This has always been the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

“I missed you,” Djarin said. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

“I was a preschool teacher in the Bronx, man, I dunno what happened,” Luke said tipping his face up to force the tears back in.

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

“I work off Laconia and Mace,” he said.

“You what?”

“We’ve been blocks apart this whole time.”

Awwwwww.

“I’m going to stab myself,” Luke moaned. “I’m going to stab myself in the arm. I was right there and I sold out for my part-time gig barely weeks ago. Oh my god. I’m going to—move, old man, I’m suffering—Wait. Din, did you find your parents?”

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

  --

Look at all these people hugging each other.

Look at them crying all over. There was a baby in there, wailing because he was so happy to be back in the arms of his other dad.

Aww. AWWWW. Peter was getting emotional again, he was going to see himself out.

“Wait. Peter.”

He looked up to find Luke holding a hand to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You really are a superhero, you know that?”

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

 --

 The city had plenty of problems as it was, yeah, more now with a bunch of jedi running around, linking up with each other and spreading memory like mushroom spores. But it didn’t feel that much different.

What it felt like now was Ned showing Grogu how to hold his hand at the seeing stone in the funeral home’s back yard to make the Force happen while Obi-Wan reported cheerfully that the cat perched on it was still not levitating.

It also felt like watching Luke freak out over text to Ned and Michelle about his ex losing their mind at him dumping them after two years to marry this random mechanic within a week of getting together.

Peter got to see this from new angles, too, one of which was the bottom of the funeral home’s attic stairs, which Anakin Skywalker liked to sit on while his grandkids—both Grogu and Han Solo and Leia Organa (pardon, Leia Naberry)’s son—came over to show him things that he was very well aware of. These were stolen from him by Auntie Ahsoka and her friends who Ned knew and Peter did not.

And there was something warming about how even these folks—people from a galaxy far, far away, occasionally needed a Spiderman.

   --

[agent-cupcake]

just curious, what’s your favorite and least favorite character design? my least fav for sure has got to be female byleth for reasons i don’t want to get in to yep ok have a good day 😁

IOops this accidentally became a rant, sorry

Okay so, to preface this all, I’m not a character designer and I’m actually pretty bad at it, but my rule of thumb with really unappealing or fan-service outfits is whether or not it makes sense character-wise and how much it tells the player about the character. For example, I think we can all agree that there’s quite a bit of fan-service elements in Hilda’s design. Boob window. However, it’s not unrealistic to imagine Hilda picking out those clothes for herself. Her costume tells you almost everything you need to know about her character on a visual level. She’s confident, pretty, attention-grabbing, and high maintenance while the gloves and laced girdle give a nod to her Viking-maiden roots.

Taking it to female Byleth, I don’t think that her outfit works on either front. Her design is definitely my least favorite and it’s not helped by the fact that you have to look at her at all times. Whatever. The huge, solid mass of boobs, the buttoned bib, the big eyes, the feather hair, the bellybutton, the ripped tights, the booty shorts. She’s a merc out in life and death situations with an accessible, pale, tacky 2000′s “stab me” stomach cut out and a wedgie. Which could be excusable if, like Hilda, there was reason to believe that that her costume was character choice. But she doesn’t really have much character, and what there is gives the impression of a very stoic, dry, blunt person. I have no idea why they’d have gone that route when the sexual appeal of more “utilitarian” costuming (aka, form fitting armor that at least pretends to be functional) for characters like her is scientifically proven AND would say more about the singular personality trait she possesses. Okay, well, I know why they didn’t do that and I think it’s lame. This dysfunction of “character designer wanted a sexy girl but it’s kinda random and just shoved in the game without any thought” actually reminds me a lot of Xenoblade 2′s leading ladies, Hikari and Pyra. Although considering that their bad designs led to a lot of people hating the game for superficial reasons while accepting female Byleth’s design, I guess I’m just bitter. Jumping to a different comparison, then, look at 2B from Nier Automata. Her design is fine as hell which is kinda hypocritical of me considering that it's explicitly fan-service, but I think it also shows the most damning thing for female Byleth. Her whole look, despite having a dozen different element thrown in, is boring. Maybe it’s the colors (dressing her in all black and white would have been really interesting considering the colors of the three lords are so heavily emphasized as a part of their characters) or maybe it’s just the way the desperate elements come together. But, like I said, I'm not even slightly knowledgeable about character design and I know that despite Three Houses being mostly separate, they had to appeal to a larger aesthetic brand to which I have little experience with. And, ultimately, a lot of people find her cute or sexy which...To each their own, I suppose. I don’t pretend that fan-service doesn’t work on me (2B... Cloud’s arms in the remake... Seph's shirtless Smash skin...) but when it’s this obviously inserted in by the character designers rather than feeling organic in any way AND looks bad I'm just not super interested.

The other worst designs for me would be all four of the Ashen Wolves post timeskip. I don't think it's controversial to say that they didn't try with the clothes, even if I love their designs from the neck up (Yes, even Balthus. He looks like the type of guy that would let you sit on his shoulders at a rock concert so you could see the stage). While there are other designs I think are unappealing, those are for purely aesthetic reasons and so I can't maintain the opinion that they're actively bad or that I even truly dislike them.

As for favorite looks... I actually have a few so sorry you're getting all of them because despite the shit I'm talking, I actually really really love the character designs in Three Houses. 

Ferdinand's post timeskip is one of my favorite designs, if not my favorite. The hair, the coat, the armor, the spurs, the colors. You know exactly who Ferdinand von Aegir is just by looking at him. He’s wealthy, handsome, confident in his appearance, a hero, a princely type character, his battle form is mounted combat which is traditionally aesthetically reserved for nobility and leaders... I love it. The only reason I cannot say he IS my favorite is because of the three Lords. But before them, my honorable mentions include post timeskip Hilda, Dorothea, Lorenz, Felix, and Hubert. Granted, I could make a case for why I like almost all of the student’s post timeskip looks.

For the Lords, I obviously have to start with colors because, weirdly enough, Persona didn’t invent primary colors but are actually used as shorthand. Blue is the color of honor, loyalty, sincerity, sadness, and depression. Something I’ve always found very interesting is that blue is very rarely found in nature. To me, that’s always made it seem more lonely which, at least in this case, is thematically relevant. People call Dimitri boring pre timeskip and while I won’t defend his hairstyle (okay, actually, I probably would because he tucks it behind his ears and idk why but that’s one of the cutest things ever) I really like how unassuming he is. Bland. He’s supposed to be the plain shortbread cookie to caramel deLite Claude and strawberry meringue Edelgard. It is not in his character to draw attention to himself or stand out. To me, he kinda looks like an old Barbie prince, like he should have been named Dominic. Also I love the blue eyes/blonde hair thing and his more angular features. It really helps to sell him as the fakeout chivalrous prince type. Post timeskip, Dimitri's black armor is amazing. I love the fact that it’s a lot more intricate up-close with the different little shell-like pieces and the fact that his boots are furry. I love the big cape and the black and white fur around his shoulders. It’s really cool how they used his costume to change the shape of his in-game model to match the bodily proportions of the character art. It’s easier to see when you change his costume into the DLC ones, but the fur and cape build up his shoulders and chest look more broad while keeping that tiny little waist. The choice to give Dimitri an eyepatch is probably my favorite thing about this design. It’s genuinely inspired. Such a simple detail yet it tells the player everything they need to know about adult Dimitri when they see him post timeskip, in one frame the player can begin to understand the extent of his loss over the past five years. The subtle shadow under his eye in the first few Azure Moon chapters and the messy long-ish hair really help to sell the feral prince aesthetic as well, as it’s from those small cues the player gets that he’s exhausted (in more ways than one) and doesn’t maintain himself. None of these things are intentional choices by Dimtiri, they’re the result of what his character has been through.

Yellow is an intense, energetic color. Mostly, people think of it as being warm and inviting, the color of the sun and positivity. That intensity can be overwhelming, though, too visually demanding when compared to its primary counterparts. Don’t stare at the sun too long. Buuuut, it’s okay to stare at Claude. Claude not wanting to wear tight pants in either of his costumes is not only a mood, it is iconic. Pre timeskip, the softer lines of his silhouette makes him look kinda slouchy, kinda lazy. Like he’s not too concerned with appearances. But those adorably messy curls, the little braid, the clearly tended eyebrows, and earring make it clear that he DOES care about appearances and is very aware of his allure. And that’s before he even starts winking. It is honestly so in character that as many people picked him first on the basis of being thirsty, that feels like an intentionally Claude thing even if it was inserted by the designers. The contrast of his complexion with his seagreen eyes is gorgeous and instantly adds a kind of mystery and intrigue to him considering the setting... but it’s sf funny that nobody looked at bronze god Claude among a sea of white faces and thought something was up. Post timeskip, they used the same trick like they did with Dimitri to change Claude’s in-game model to match his canon appearance. The way they designed his uniform makes him not look as twink-ish, like he’s actually muscular and imposing and has the strength he’d need to shoot a war bow with a 120lbs draw weight. Also like Dimitri, you can instantly tell what Claude’s been up to. Like, he was very pretty pre timeskip but when he shows up in the Goddess Tower after those five years in all that gold, he demands your attention. Like a gentleman general with the excessive aesthetic ideals of the Alliance and details to imply his heritage. The quilted pants are amazing from both an aesthetic and practical standpoint. He’s a mounted unit riding a creature with scales, of course he’d want something on his legs for protection. And the chinstrap. I love that so much, it definitely makes him look more adult. He’s got such a cute soft baby face, it’s fun imagining him experimenting with different styles during the five years to get the most desired physical reaction to him as a leader. 

Frenchfries, meet forehead. No, actually, Edelgard’s design is really fantastic. Claude and Dimitri both have realistically colored eyes and hair and then there’s Edelgard. Dimitri shrugs off attention physically and Claude shirks it with a wink but Edelgard commands the players attention from the very start. Although I’m sure there’s a lot of things to associate with white hair and purple eyes, my first thought was Daenerys from Game of Thrones. Otherworldly beautiful by with an edge. Red, of course, is The power color. Strong emotions, love and hate. Red is also associated strongly with blood, which is very important to Edelgard’s plot. Granted, I think the red and black association is even more powerful than JUST red and red is the cheapest play to make in regards to displaying villainy (I mean, there are some pretty universally recognized associations with red and black and it led to people making some unfair comparisons between Edelgard and a famous dictator) but I think it was effective and well used and I genuinely enjoy its use in her case. Anyway, if I had a major complaint about her design it would be the weird ashy color of her hair whereas Lysithea’s hair is pure white. Which doesn’t even matter with the AMAZING hair horns. Ram horns can actually symbolize quite a few things, but their association with power and strength is pretty universal I think. They’re also used in demonic imagery. I love that THIS was her alternative to a crown. Edelgard views herself as a force of war and power before she thinks of herself as royalty. She also mentions that she isn’t super vain, but she loves to do her hair, so the hair being the most elaborate part of her look is entirely in-character. Edelgard’s ensemble is, like Claude, very militaristic. I love that they kept her in a dress that embraces femininity without showing skin as that wouldn’t really suit her Also, again, Edelgard demands your attention. She’s dressed all in bright bright red waving around a giant axe. She is a symbol as much as she is a combatant, someone to follow. I didn’t really mention their secondary lord costumes, but a girl in sexy armor is literally everything and I love that they had the balls to put their main sexy waifu girl in full body armor.

Okay I’m sorry I realize this was excessive and probably didn’t need explaining and I’m not sure I even articulated my thoughts properly but anyway I love their designs so here is the positivity I’ll put into the world.