#oh absolutely love these designs especially distant voices

[leclerc-hs]

the blueprint - cl16

pairing: architect!charles leclerc x coworker!reader (fem) summary: in which you and your co-worker can't help but constantly butt-heads on projects warnings: 18+! SMUT! (obvi), kinda mean!Charles, squirting, language, some French (badly translated prob) word count: 4.1k author's note: hi I absolutely LOVED writing this. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. i didn’t proofread so if there’s any typos please let me know!!! xoxo!! please let me hear your thoughts!!!! don’t be shy

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YOU COULD’VE SWORN you’ve never been so irritated in your life. 

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, ferme ta guele for once!” Shut the fuck up. You stood in the door of Charles’s office, a crescendo of emotion echoed in your voice, almost reaching a fervent shout. Your face, now tinged with a reddish hue, reflected just how frustrated you were. 

For a little over a year, both you and Charles had been integral parts of the same company. You, an interior designer, who occasionally delved into architecture every blue moon for fun. You never got the degree for architecture, but you loved to sketch building ideas from time to time just for fun. And then there’s him, an architect, with a stick too far up his ass sometimes.

Anger painted Charles’s demeanor, evident from the subtle reddening in his ears and the clench of his jaw. With matching frustration, he strolled behind his desk, easing into his chair. His green eyes narrowed at you, a silent yet potent communication.

“Moi?” Me? His tone was incredulous at he pointed his own fingertips at him, tapping them directly into his sweater covered chest. “Porquoi tu ne le fais pas?” Why don’t you? His voice dropped lower at the end of his sentence, while he directed his fingers to now point at you. 

You took a step further into his office, not bothering to shut the door behind you. “Tu es incroyable!” You’re unbelievable! The sarcasm dripped off your tongue as you ran a hand through your hair, your chest slightly heaving up and down. 

To which, Charles only smirked at, ignoring your sarcasm, and responded with a cocky “J’ai beaucoup entende cela.” I’ve heard that a lot. 

The memory of the initial cause of the argument had become hazy but it was likely that it stemmed from the inherent clash that seemed inevitable whenever the two of you worked together on a project. The two of you were constantly perplexed by the company’s decision to consistently pair you two together, especially because it was not a secret that you didn’t get along. However, the undeniable reason might be rooted in the remarkable success followed. Almost every building, house, or structure designed by the both of you stood out as some of the company’s best creations.

Charles couldn’t help but trace his eyes along every crevice of your face while you ranted on. He honestly wasn’t even listening as you bitched on about something you claimed he did. Instead, he was too enraptured with the way your cheeks reddened, the way your eyes narrowed at him, and the way your breasts moved with every exclamation you made. Because really, he is still a man after all and the tight button up shirt you wore was almost sinister. Like seriously, he could’ve sworn the buttons were about to pop open with each breath you took.

“Mon dieu! Even now, you’re still not listening!” You noticed the distant look in Charles’s eyes as he leaned back into his chair. It was like he was looking at you, but not at you. 

You snapped your fingers repeatedly, leaning over the desk, your breasts even more in Charles’s face now. He swore it took everything in him to look at your face, and not your perky breasts dangling in front of him.

“What?”

You stormed out of his office immediately with a loud groan. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

-

“Mamma mia,” Oh my god. Charles exclaimed to no one except himself as he stood tall, his hands tapping the sides of the heavy machine before him. It felt like an eternity, although it had only been about 5 minutes. The matter at hand was perfecting the model of his latest project, but the 3-D printer seemed to be malfunctioning. 

Taking a step back, he began to stare at the machine as if it were his enemy, one hand rested on his hip. A million thoughts ran through his mind as to what could possibly be wrong with the machine. No matter how many times he tried, the layers seemed to be separating far too much, deeming each piece of his model printed earlier as garbage.

The fragrance of sandalwood, laced with a subtle sweetness of vanilla, announced your presence before he could even lay eyes on you. The warm and captivating scent enveloped him, much like it always did. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger in annoyance that he knew it was you without even having to turn around. Without turning his head, he spoke up, catching your attention abruptly.

“Sais-tu comment réparer cela?” Do you know how to fix this?

It was one of the rare occasions when he addressed you without any trace of hatred in his words.  Your mouth hung slack in surprise, and you almost felt the need to rub your eyes in disbelief at the fact there was no back-handed comment involved.

For a few moments, you just stared at the back of his head. Unable to understand why he was even asking for your help in the first place. When he got impatient of waiting for a response, he spun his body around, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, and eyes pointed at you. 

“Hm?” Snapping out of your surprise, you urged him to continue, seeking clarification on what he was referring to. Charles couldn’t help but take note of the tight black jumpsuit that you wore, a black and gold belt cinched at your waist. He felt his heart pound in his chest just a little bit more than normal at the accentuation of your curves as you stepped in front of him, acknowledging the curve of your ass before him.

“It, uh..” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed away his thoughts of your ass. You turned to look at him, waiting for him to finish his words. His cheeks slightly tinted pink as he offers a sheepish smile to you, “it keeps separating the layers too much.”

You nodded your head slowly, “Je déteste quand ça fait ça.” I hate when it does that. You quietly agreed with him, before playing with some of the buttons on the machine. Without any luck of fixing it on your own, your eyes lit up like a light bulb as you remembered Josh, one of your other co-workers, solved this issue before.

“Let me get Josh!” You uttered the name with such excitement that Charles felt an involuntary growl building within him. Josh, a fellow architect at the firm, seemed uncomfortably close to you for Charles’s liking. Not that he cared or anything, but few things irked him more than witnessing you and Josh together in the office like two peas in a pod. The way Josh shamelessly flirted with you constantly only added to his irritation. Not that he liked you or anything, but that didn’t mean he hasn’t thought about shoving you face down over his desk and stuffing you full of his cock. Or that he hasn’t thought of you pressed against the windows of his office, your bare chest against the glass as he slips his cock into your wet folds. Or that he hasn’t thought about shoving his cock so deep into your throat just to get you to be quiet sometimes. 

It was like the flip of a switch, Charles’s irritation pouring out of him, as he spontaneously stomped away from the printing room. Trudging back to his office, leaving you behind in confusion. The last thing he wanted to see was you and Josh fixing something for him.

-

“She’s such a fucking know it all,” Charles groans to a group of his co-workers, bringing the neck of the beer bottle to his lips before taking a swig. His eyes have been following your every move since you stepped foot in the banquet hall tonight.

 It was the 42nd annual office party, which may sound boring at first, but it always ends up with some chaotic story. Last year it was Jane, one of the executive assistants, who got way too drunk she vomited right by the CEO’s feet. The year before that it was Nick, a man who is part of the custodial staff, who went almost too crazy on the dance floor that he knocked a handful of people down and resulted in multiple broken glasses around the place. All in all, the office party is usually the opposite of a bore.

And tonight, Charles decides that it’s definitely not a bore when he spots your outfit for the night. Charles doesn’t miss the curve of your ass as your back faces him, or the fact that Josh’s hand rests lightly against the small of your back either.

You’re dressed to kill tonight. A long silky black gown rests tightly against your skin, aside from the bottom that fans out much like a mermaid tail. The neckline wraps around your neck much like a scarf, a long tail of it falling at your side. 

Charles was so focused on Josh’s hand on you, that he didn’t even hear his co-workers speaking to him until they shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Dude, do you like her or something?”

“Or something.” Charles said with such disgust and hatred laced in his voice. “I don’t know why I always have to get paired with her.” He finished his beer in a hasty speed as you head towards the bar, excusing himself from his friends as he made his way to the same area.

The grip he had on the neck of the empty bottle was so tight, it was close to breaking in the palm of his hand. He leans against the bar, staring straight ahead as he waits for the bartender to acknowledge him.

“What’s got you all wound up?” Sandalwood and Vanilla.

He turns his head, to you and a smiling Josh at your side. He wants to roll his eyes almost immediately. What he would give to be able to punch him right in the face for even being able to touch you. He doesn’t bother to respond to you, turning his head back to the bar.

He’s sick in the head, honestly. He knows he approached the bar only to be closer to you but then ignores you as soon as you’re near. To get some glimpse of you. To smell you. To hear your voice. 

You hate the rejection. No matter how much he grinds your gears, you always try to be polite. You don’t want to argue with him. It’s honestly exhausting to stay arguing with him almost every day. On your first day of work, you actually thought you could be friends, until he opened his mouth and rudely dismissed you. It only made you work harder.

Charles got his drink and made his way back to his group of ‘friends’. He didn’t look at you the rest of the night.

At least until you both crossed paths outside the venue. Josh had left earlier in the night due to not feeling well, leaving you alone, with no jacket, as you tried to call for a ride home. 

Charles’s hands were shoved in the pockets of his dress pants as he approached you, awaiting for the valet to pull his car around. “Where is your jacket?” He questioned, simply curious.

“Why do you care?” You remarked back, a hint of annoyance in your voice. “You ignored me earlier and now you want to talk to me?” 

Charles felt his patience wearing thin, especially at the sight of the goosebumps all over your skin and the chatter of your teeth between each word you spoke. Your nipples were rock hard, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Charles. He felt the blood rush to his cock as his eyes quickly glanced at them. 

He rolled his eyes before shoving his suit jacket off and tossing it over your shoulders. “Can’t have my partner getting sick.” He began, “The project is due too soon for you to call out.” He pulled the excuse out of his ass. Because really, how was he supposed to say that he cared? That he cared about the woman he’s an absolute dick too.

You wanted to argue, he could see the detest in your eyes, but you snuggled into the jacket anyways. Appreciating his gesture and the warmth of the jacket.

The valet pulled his car up, opening the door for Charles, to which Charles handed him a crisp bill for fetching the car for him. You stood on the sidewalk, Charles’s jacket swallowing your body whole, a small breeze blowing the front pieces of your hair off your face. You looked beautiful, and Charles’s knew it was a complete lie if he said other.

“Get in,” He motioned the passenger door open, not bothering to wait for your response before he grasped your small forearm and ushering you into the seat. The car smelt just like him. A smell you wanted to bury yourself in, regardless how annoying he was.

Charles wove through the streets at a leisurely pace, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his knee. The radio volume was low, playing a song you couldn’t remember the name of, as you stared out the window and directed Charles to your home.

He wanted to argue that he knows where it is. That he’s already been there before because one time he went to check on you because you didn’t show up to work without calling in (which was very abnormal). That it’s the building right next to his. But he doesn’t say it and just lets you direct him anyways, just so he can hear your voice a little more. He was greedy when it came to you.

Within a few minutes, he pulled in front of your building, placing the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt. You sat silently after unbuckling your own seatbelt, trying to decipher his mood. You never knew what mood you were going to get, but most of the time it was annoyance and anger.

You turned to look at him and your eyes instantly met with his, as he was already looking at you. “Merci.” Your words were soft as you spoke, reaching for the door handle, he stopped you.

“You should dress warmer,” His lips lifted into a small grin, “It’s too cold and I can’t handle this project without you.”

Although it was work related, it was probably the closest compliment you’ve ever received from him. If you wanted to count it as a compliment. You felt your cheeks turn pink at his confession. Who are you? You don’t blush at Charles Leclerc. The architect with a stick up his ass. The guy who grates your every nerve. The guy who is undeniably hot and smells so good, you think about it more often than you want to admit.

“I’ll remember that.” Your hand goes to reach for the car door handle, but he stops you. His muscular arm stretches across your lap, grabbing the door and holding it in place from opening. He’s now practically stretched across the small space of the car, his scent enveloping you, the warmth of his body heating you right up. A small smirk formed on Charles lips as he noticed how flustered you were getting towards his proximity.

“Are you and Josh dating?” It was a simple question, but the words felt like acid on his tongue. You couldn’t help but notice the displeased look on his face as he straightens his body, providing more space between the two of you.

Your eyes widened in shock before muttering a quick, “No!” You coughed slightly, almost choking on your shock. 

“Bien.” Good.  Was all he said, before unlocking the doors, giving you the go ahead to get out of the car. It was when you were about three steps from the car door that he rolled down the window and said, “You can return the jacket at work.”

-

It’s today, that Charles decides he has had it up to here. If he must witness Josh’s fingers graze your skin one more time, he swears he will combust. So, to make himself feel some relief of his anger, he starts a fight with you. Naturally.

“It’s a shitty plan and even you know it!” 

Honestly, it is a shit plan. And Charles knows that it’s a shit one too, but he would never admit that to you. Not when he is this pent up over fucking Josh. Not when it gives him an excuse to spend more time with you.

Which is what led you into his office, the clock nearing midnight, as you both are sprawled (as much as you can be) around his desk. The current plans of the project are scattered everywhere and not one other person, beside the both of you, are within the offices floor.

Your hair had made its way into a clip, leaving your neck uncovered and exposed. Charles’s found himself often staring at the nape of your neck when you weren’t looking. His desire to litter marks all over it was growing with each second that he spent in your proximity. Sandalwood and Vanilla.

“Is there a reason you’re always so mean to me?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he lifted his pencil, leaning back in his chair to face you more. You looked beautiful, like always. He could feel the burn in his chest as the words left your lips.

He was silent for a moment. Contemplating if he’s supposed to tell you that he’s mean to you because he doesn’t know how to act around you. That he’s mean to you because he wants to fuck you so badly, it consumes his every thought. That he’s mean to you because you are mean to him too.

“You’re not innocent either,” He remarks. His eyes shifting back to the drawing in front of him. Honestly, the plans weren’t looking much better but you both refused to give up.

You nodded your head slowly in agreement. You couldn’t deny that sometimes you were snippier towards him for no reason. It probably had to do with the fact that almost every week since you met, you’ve had to use your vibrator to the thought of him to ease the burn in your stomach just enough to get through the day.

You both didn’t know what it was about each other. You got under each other’s skin like no other.

And it wasn’t until he brought his eyes back to you, green meeting yours, that he noticed the dilation in your pupils. He could no longer pretend that he didn’t want you. It was killing him.

His hand grasps the back of your neck in a tight grip, asserting his dominance, as he pulls you into him. Your lips smashing into each other. He wasted no time before slipping his tongue directly into your mouth, moaning in the process as you let him in with such ease.

Your taut nipples poked through fabric of your bralette underneath the silk top you wore. Charles kept one hand on the back of your neck, pressing you into him, while the other slipped into the buttoned shirt, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

He groaned hotly into your mouth as he grabbed a handful of your breast, something he’s always wanted to do.

You crawled your way into his lap, the short skirt riding up your waist as you straddled his lap in the desk chair. You grinded against his thigh, moaning into his mouth. He swallowed every moan you gave, his hands eventually sliding down to your hips and guiding your movement.

“You drive me fucking crazy, chérie.” He spoke the words in between kisses, the sentence sounding broken as your tongue swirled around his.

“Are we really doing this?” You pulled away, unable to stop the motion of your hips as you stared at him. His hair was in complete disarray, lips swollen from kissing you so hard, and his eyes were half-shut like he was drunk off of your kisses.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he places his hands onto the backside of your thighs and lifted you as he came to a stance, placing you directly on the edge of his desk before him.

You both were frantic, ripping off each other’s clothes as fast as you could in between the wet, hot open-mouthed kisses. It wasn’t long before you were almost completely nude, aside from the mini skirt bunched above your waist, and sprawled along his desk with his hard cock stretching the velvet walls of your pussy with a delicious burn. His thumb pressed tiny but firm circles on your swollen clit, leaving you delusional on his desk.

His lips trailed all over your body. They moved from the spot right below your ear, to the underside of your jaw, up to the corner of your mouth.

“Feel so fucking good, chérie.” He groaned. His hips moving at a fervent pace, you don’t think you would last much longer, especially with his hot words whispered into the shell of your ear.

He pulled away from you for a moment, just to stare at how fucked you were. Your hair was no longer in a clip, seeing as he pulled it out of your hair and tossed it across his office just mere minutes ago. Your cheeks and chest were flushed, and the bounce of your tits almost had him cumming on the spot.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” He confesses. The words jumbling off his lips as he ruts against you, the large wooden desk pushing forward with each powerful thrust of his hips into you. The office walls echoed your moans, you were practically screaming in pleasure for the entire world to hear.

You nodded your head repeatedly, unable to form the words, too drunk off the feeling of his cock pressing against the very spot that ached the most for him. Because you too, wanted this for so long.

“Yeah?” He smugly asks. “You wanted this too?” He slows his hips down, but it doesn’t lessen the effect of just how good his cock feels against you. Your walls are clamped around him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

“Mhm,” you groaned. “Needed this so bad….needed you” You words were almost incoherent as he spits directly onto your clit, his thumb now speeding up the little circles he’s been doing all this time.

He had to pinch his eyes shut at the confession, almost sending him to release his cum right into you. “Mon dieu,” His voice grumbles, reverberating in his chest as he leans over your body on the desk, trailing his tongue and sucking on your nipple.

“I’m gonna,” you begin. “fuck, fuck,” It takes a few seconds of Charles sucking on your nipple before the burn deep in your stomach completely takes over, sending your legs spasming around his waist. Your orgasm was explosive and wet. You don’t think you’ve ever experienced this before as you squeeze around Charles’s cock so tightly, he feels like he can barely move his cock. 

“Fucking, mmm,” He can barely get full sentences out as you squirt all over his cock and onto the papers of his desk. “That’s a good girl,” He stands up tall, watching you thrash around on his desk, and the now soaked plans beneath your body.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Feels so fucking good”

“So fucking beautiful”

“Does my cock feel as good as you feel to me?” 

With a few more mumbled phrases spewing out of Charles’s lips, his own orgasm hits him, as he pulls out quickly, his hot cum landing directly across your stomach in a gooey string.

You both were panting, unable to form words as he collapses his chest down onto you. The ability to stand lost on him as his pants rest at his ankles. Your chests move in sync as you catch your breaths, Charles’s cum pressed to both of your skin.

“Looks like we need to re-do the plans again.” Charles jokes which quickly earns a soft chuckle from your lips in response.

[blackghostm2o]

New "Phantom Ramblings" post (oh wow!)

I'VE FINALLY WATCHED PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE!!!

The soundtrack is really good, i really enjoyed its songs (listening to the soundtrack rn, haha)

It is really fast paced and chaotic (especially when Winslow hasn't become the Phantom yet), not a bad thing I just wasn't expecting it, but it works well.

This version is really distant from it's original, however its aim is not being a PotO adaptation, but more of a critique towards the music business while using the PotO story to convey its message.

Yk... With predatory contracts, getting to perform only because you sold your body to a powerful mf, the unhealthy relationship between the performers and the public, the constant search for sensationalism (like when Swan wanted to kill Phoenix, or when no one batted an eye when Beef died), prioritising everything else but music (with greedy execs that change the whole soul of a song to make easy money), etc...

Leaving all of this sad stuff behind, heh... Spoilers ahead.

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE WINSLOW!!!! (Already on the 15 min mark I was "I love him sm") SWAN DID HIM SO SO DIRTY!!! NOOOOOOO!!!! Not only he took his music, but then he got also HIS VOICE (thus taking his soul, even tho he literally takes his soul with a contract, but I digress). Swan being: "Plugged here you can sing" while giving him a robotic voice to talk was really cruel >:(. Here idk if we can say that he is in love with Phoenix... He did want her to sing... Ok, now that i think about it he rewrote his songs with her in mind and was destroyed when he saw her sleeping with Swan... Yeah he loved her, but in a totally different way from the original. The way he got his music stolen and got disfigured while trying to destroy copies of his work (here Faust iirc) is really similar to what happened in the '62 PotO movie. The Phantom's design here is really cool, I like it (but also so fucking hard to draw rhaaaaa). Also him tryng to stop Phoenix for going to Swan's house T.T THE WAY HE DIES!!!! NOOOOO!!!! *sobs and cries*

FUCK SWAN that mf sold his soul to remain always young (obviously takes inspo from Faust, but made me also think of Dorian Gray, especially because of the whole tape thing and eternal beauty). Acting a lot like your typical phantom, talking from behind mirrors, having hidden passages, asking for THE VOICE of Chr- ahem Phoenix.

Ngl I loved Beef, he didn't really deserve to die, he just did what he was asked to do, he even wanted to go away... Ohh! I just realised that he is this movie's version of LaCarlotta (sorry guys, I'm dumb). He was such a DIVA, haha.

Loved Phoenix's singing, such a beautiful voice <333. A bit sad to see her being lured by Swan, but I don't really blame her... Imagine receiving so much praise and attention for the first time... Obviously you will want more. Fortunately she ended up unscathed from this whole deal (thanks to Winslow).

Btw the movie is really fun, I highly suggest watching it :)<3

I'll try to draw THE SILLY, wish me luck. We need more potp art around here, ngl.

[borreloadsavagedragon]

Guess whoo, our butterfly girl Droite/Dextra for the ask meme 👀🦋

DROITE!!!! I'm so sorry this is so late omfg, I have the attention span of a squirrel gdjsakljkg

First impression: I'm the worst so when I first saw her, I was like 😳😳😳 Oh she's gorgeous Her design and color palette both are impeccable I needed to know more about her immediately

Impression now: Oh my god I love her, I was not disappointed for what we were shown, in fact I'm rage-induced because of how LITTLE we saw her One, her design is SO good, I've considered cosplaying her before omg I love how strong-willed and all business she is, I know it's like trope-y that the one woman is the voice of reason between all of the just unhinged members of the Heartland government but she also gets things done, she's got a coldness to her, I really vibe with her gjdsklaj I'm also so unbelievably salty she only got so much screentime to show off!!!!! Like honestly the Zexal girls were too strong and got shafted too quickly for the plot's sake bc it would be 100 episodes lighter, but Droite especially felt cruel because she was shown to be SO smart and cunning, but she wasn't allowed to show it off more and of course one of the duels where all of her tactics were on full display had to be against the main villain of that season, agh In a perfect world, she put Tron in the hole <3 Also she can just casually fly a helicopter? Sign me UP

Favorite moment: God, her duel for Gauche is just so touching, genuinely that tag duel is one of my favorites in all of Zexal, and the Spartan city episodes in general are some of my favorite to rewatch anytime I feel like throwing on some Zexal because you see how far the pair of them both come from their backstory, their shared trauma being under Heartland's training, and then also the stress of being put under government operations It's her push that is the first true crack in Alito's hold on him The only thing I'd change is having her win, but it's a yugioh show so we can't have that, aggressive side eyes at gallop

Idea for a story: I'm a sham and I don't have any ideas for her specifically at the moment BUT I need to find an excuse to put the three of trainees somewhere..........

Unpopular opinion: I think we all agree she was shafted and underappreciated so I'm not sure omg I guess I as a person am afraid of butterflies and therefore am creeped out by her deck so that's... a thing We're not gonna dissect that today GJSDAKLGJAGK

Favorite relationship: I LOVE her dynamic with Gauche, I absolutely love them, I love that she went with him and how much he cares about her in return, I love how clearly you can see what they've endured as a pair, like they're the definition of soulmates and that's without giving a romantic context, while I'm also on board with them as a pair, I also love that without needing to label anything, they're just two people who will find a way and will stay together in any lifetime I also like where her and Kaito end up after the fact, I wish they'd somehow squeezed one last private conversation into the Spartan City episodes like in the WDC when she calls him out, but I do love he came around on her and Gauche both and how he recognizes her strengths and her spirit, like even vocally defending her skill to Rio and Ryouga is a huge step for him since the last time we saw Kaito consider Droite, he was relatively in different, because even when he was playing the part of the aloof, distant soldier who didn’t need help, he was watching and taking note of her in his own little gremlin way However I'm also beating Kaito with my bare hands for his initial treatment of her, he literally fumbled the bag

Favorite headcanon: Oh you KNOW she keeps in contact with Kaito, she'll video call him when she knows he's working long hours in the lab, sometimes to vent about Gauche, sometimes to make sure he's not spending his entire life working

[herrlindemann]

LEGACY - October 2005, Interview with Oliver

'Rosenrot' is the name of RAMMSTEIN's latest work, which will be released exactly four days after this issue of Legacy on October 28th. A top placement in the charts shouldn't be taken away from this album. Everything the band has touched has turned to proverbial gold. Where is it going, the motor ship RAMMSTEIN, in 2005? The predecessor 'Reise, Reise' was just under a year ago and questions were allowed to be asked.

After the music journalists present were allowed to listen to the album twice in the morning, everyone later turned up for their interview. I met bassist Oliver Riedel for an intimate meeting in private. I hope I do not disturb you? “No, everything is fine.” Already a year ago I heard - at least that's what I think - one or the other song here, which didn't make it on 'Reise, Reise' at the time. The most urgent question first: How much of 'Rosenrot' was there at the time 'Reise, Reise'? “For 'Reise, Reise' we recorded 18 songs. A total of seven songs remained, and we quickly came up with the idea of ​​making another album next year. But seven songs is a little bit for an album! In any case, the tour plan was already in place at that time and so the idea came up that we could write four more songs in the intervening, counter-free time. It ended up being quite difficult. Really new are 'Benzin', 'Mann gegen Mann', 'Spring' and 'Te Quiero Puta'.” Oh, the Spanish song is new? I thought this one in particular was left over from the last recordings in Spain. “No, that has to do with Till's interest in Latin America. He's in Costa Rica a lot and always annoys us backstage before the concerts with his Mariachi songs. Of course, it made sense that we would also write a Spanish song at some point.” Especially in this song I find the female singing successful. This is how witches should sound! “We said to the record company: We need a deep and smoky female voice. A bit 'slutty'. Suddenly a lady from South America was sitting in our producer's studio, singing her part and then she was gone again.”

All of the songs on 'Rosenrot' seem to take a step back compared to those on the predecessor. “Most of the songs that we don't release on 'Reise, Reise' are definitely quieter ones. ‘Reise, Reise’ had to be powerful for us! The idea then was to make the new album quieter overall.” Is it the calm before the storm? Is the MS RAMMSTEIN stranded, as one might assume from the new cover, or is she on her way to new shores under full steam? “Actually, the album should be called 'Reise, Reise Vol. 2'. We quickly forgot about that title. Since we see the new album as an independent one, we needed a new title. That was a bit unfortunate, since the cover was already finished. So the ship on the cover picture is now called 'Rosenrot' and everyone can think about what it stands for. Opposites? The cold world? Where has the love gone? No idea. But the ship does not symbolize the now and us as a band.” So on the one hand both albums belong together, on the other hand they don't? "Exactly. At the moment we are not planning an actual tour with our own stage design for 'Rosenrot' or anything like that. That will certainly change again in the distant future.”

Already with the last album I noticed that everyone can now show what a good musician they are. In addition, the band itself seems more relaxed to me. “In the end we were bored at times by the old and traditional Rammstein sound. Sequencer is running, drums play 'uff uff uff', guitar and bass play the same thing too. We didn't want to do that kind of groove anymore. It is also clear that the drums are looking for new rhythms. Our real strength is certainly the 'march', but you should always do what you feel like doing. Then you are authentic.” But you obviously have more fun together than when you were doing 'Mutter’, right? “Absolutely! 'Mutter’ was our darkest chapter. After a long time of touring we were at our limits, there was a real imbalance in the band. For example, it's nice now that Richard can make his solo record. There he can express himself musically in a way that he would never be able to within the band.” Was the band ever near the end? “No, it was only briefly put on hold. However, we quickly became aware of what we had already achieved and how the band can be missed.” Like in a marriage? "Somehow. But in a marriage, it's rare to just take a break. The positions are probably a bit harder.” How often do you bother? “If the points of contact allow it. Paul and I have children of the same age - that's where you meet. During rehearsals we see each other every day, on tour sometimes only in the evening and Richard is in New York right now — that's why you don't see him at the moment.” So more like a meeting in the living room. You come and go and if someone is there, then you are happy. "Exactly.”

'Benzin', the first single with a brutal video, fits like a glove to the current oil crisis. But it could also be a biker song. What does ‘benzin’ stand for exactly? “This is certainly a multiple topic. But fire is actually a part of our band history. It has been with us the whole time. Paul just went to Till and said 'petrol' would be a cool word. Can't you write a text about it? And that's exactly what Till came up with when he heard this word.”

'Mann Gegen Mann’ apparently has a same-sex background. It should be great when thousands of metalheads sing this song together at concerts. Because actually, in the metal scene in particular, prejudices are extensively cultivated. So why this topic? Is it just about the taboo or breaking it? “We don't want to discriminate against gays. The song is more for gays. We simply wanted to take the weight off the topic and make it more natural.” What should the fan take away from this song? “A normal understanding of the other.”

For example, the lyrics to 'Ein Lied' would force me to write a proper rock number. Then this piece turned out to be extremely quiet, with a nasty kid melody. How did music and lyrics come together here? “The lyrics are always hanging on the wall in the rehearsal room or studio and 'Ein Lied' was created in just 10 minutes. There was the riff, Till took the lyrics and sang. We recorded the piece and it was done. The text of 'Mann gegen Mann', on the other hand, already existed in the ‘Mutter’ times, for example.”

I could already read it in advance: the Brothers Grimm and Goethe connect in 'Rosenrot'. For me actually - as far as RAMMSTEIN is concerned - it is somehow obvious. “The news naturally wants to give us a level or a depth that we don't actually flirt with. Till has always used this old and romantic form of verse. That's why he doesn't just deal with the Brothers Grimm or Goethe all the time.” Are Till's texts untouchable? “Nothing is untouchable. If someone in our company spends a long time grappling with an issue, they are of course anxious to push it through. But it can also lead to tunnel vision and we only try to correct that a little. A lot of people had to listen to that.”

'Spring' not only has a wall of guitars, but also lyrics dealing with the topic ‘boss’ or 'the mean mob'. Is there a connection to the band? Is the song a criticism of the mob who are on the prowl and treating others unfairly? That's how RAMMSTEIN went before. "Clearly. The mob creates its own creature. He wants to push you in a direction. Therefore you are right.” Looking back, let's take the discussion about your first cover. “We hadn't dealt with this topic before. We were naive. Of course, that was good for us in the end. Otherwise our own aesthetics might not have come about at all. The discussions about Rammstein have never hit the core, but only aimed at the surface.”

'Rosenrot' masterfully knows how to damage surfaces and perhaps also penetrate deeper to the core. The ice has broken and the MS RAMMSTEIN is picking up speed again. Let's wait and see what kind of waters the men will sail into in the future. Perhaps sails will be set, perhaps there will be kerosene propulsion. You can be curious, because this band always causes discussions between love and hate. Where would the (music) world be today without RAMMSTEIN?

[heyitsyn]

MANAGER!SEIJOH AU

a/n: this is kind of an au like what if you were

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

anon:

- 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 i would like to request a seijoh!manager reader who’s a first year and is siblings with ushi and the team’s reaction to finding out that she was supposed to go to shiratorizawa with ushi and their reaction with her getting along with the shiratorizawa volleyball team and maybe the manager is a small cute soft little energetic ball of sunshine 🥺🥺 also hewwo, hope youre doing well! ☺️ -🎷🐛

- Ir seijoh manager series is so gooood. Can we get something where by some weird reason yn-chan is close to ushijima and tendou and the seijoh boys dont know about it and how they'd react to her being so affectionate w them ahahwindkdn

EVERYONE SHUT UP AND LOOK AT HOW FREAKING PRETTY TENDOU IS LIKE AKLFDJLASKFJDLSKFJDSFLKD

okayokayokay

so this is a what if thing

like what if ushijima was your older brother

SLKFDJADFLIJSDKLDF I CAN ALREADY IMAGINE OIKAWA SCREAMING

you didnt exactly have the best relationship with your mom

you remember when you were younger that she used to yell at your brother for using his left hand and you got angry a lot because you were fiercely protective of your brother

this caused her to yell at you too for being nosy and being involved in something you shouldnt be in

duh we know that ushi’s dad takashi actually supported him for this and protected him too and you were also a papa’s girl so you always ran to him

he understood you both better and while your mother worked, he was at home taking care of you two

then when they mentioned wanting to separate, you were very sad but somewhat relieved

mostly because you hated hearing your parents arguing and you felt bad for your brother as he constantly did whatever to get you out of the house

thats what brought on your love for volleyball

you werent exactly the best player but you were interested in it and often watched matches with him

but you also liked volleyball because your brother liked it

you liked whatever your brother liked

he adored you too and he was a boy who didnt talk much due to your mother but he was always a talker with you

especially when you couldnt sleep, he would sneak you out of your room and you both would run to the kitchen and eat ice cream

even with just a 2 year age difference, he looked as if he was older than you due to his massive height

‘just wait nii-chan! i will drink enough milk to reach your height!’

*insert lenny face*

AKLDJFSLDKFJDF I HATE MYSELF

CAN I PLEASE DIE

however

when they divorced, you thought your father would take both you and ushi

like the lady at the court even asked you where you wanted to go and not a breath of hesitation you chose your father

you weren’t very concerned because you knew your brother was going to choose your dad as you both were closer to him

so imagine your surprise when he said he didnt care and naturally, the mother would get the child

lowkey you felt hella betrayed and when your dad whisked you away overseas, there was this grudge you held against toshi

yall youre like 5

i would be hella mad too if my brother chose the person who yells at him all the time

in california, your father made sure you still remembered your brother and you tried to detach from the japanese lifestyle to your new one but you just couldnt

maybe around 6 years you were already fed up with the hot california heat and you wanted to go back to japan to see toshi again

you got over that grudge years ago but your mother refused to have any contact or anything to do with your father and so that included you too

she refused to let you both video chat and any type of connection

your dad obviously noticed your sad expressions and your obvious longing to go back to your brother again and so he arranged something

you shut the door gently before taking off your shoes by the doorway

the large house was often quiet except for the constant typing of a keyboard in your father’s study

‘tadaima’

you meekly mumbled but his sense of hearing never wavered so he heard your voice

‘oh? y/n?’

his voice echoed through the hallways and you heard his chair squeak as it was moved back so he could stand

your sock-cladded feet padded against the hard wood floor and you walked towards his study where indeed he was standing there

your father has definitely aged yet his job as a coach made him as fit as he was decades ago

as much as it disgusted you, you could tell what your friends meant when they said your dad was good-looking

they actually said your dad was hot but you refuse to acknowledge that

you and your friends are like 12 tf

you closed the door and sat down on the loveseat at the corner of the room as it was your designated spot

‘hey, papa’

you greeted with a smile and he gave you the same grin

‘i ordered f/f (favorite food) for dinner tonight so try and listen for the bell to ring, okay?’

you nodded

there was bit of small talk and you asked about his team while he asked about school and you both arranged to hang out over the weekend at some ice cream shop

the conversation dragged on until you heard the doorbell and you ran to the door to answer the delivery man

your dad put out the plates on the table and you excitedly dug in

‘also, you remember your grandmother? and her terrible back?’

oh god of course you did

they lived about 30 minutes away from your house in japan and she constantly worried your father bc the woman was approaching 90 and was still picking peppers!

with old coach ukai

‘what did she do now?’

your father chuckled at the exasperation in your voice

‘she misses you. says something about the family’s princess needing to go back to her country or something’

there was a smile in your face

your grandmother was your favorite and she always said you were the princess

she hated your mother because of how insensitive she was so she only acknowledged you as the only other female in the family

obviously your brother was also liked but there was just a special bond between you and your grandmother

‘so when are we going back?’

you asked and it was clear that you were excited at the thought of going back to japan as you havent been back since you moved due to your father’s busy job and your school

takashi swallowed his food before revealing the news

‘actually, if you want, you could finish your schooling there. but only until college first though because your old man needs you over here too’

nah bro you didnt even care about the last part

literally your fork fell to the table and you shrieked 

‘WHAT?! SERIOUSLY?!’

and thus brought you back to japan

you stayed with your grandmother on your dad’s side and you quickly got accustomed back to japan life

OH

your BROTHER!

okay

so waka-chan def heard you coming back

your mother was grumbling about it the other day and he was sure he heard your name in there

‘sdkfjkdslfjdkslfj y/n dkfjlsdkfjldkf’

LMAO THATS ME TRYING TO SAY THAT WAKA COULDNT UNDERSTAND WHAT SHE SAID SINCE SHE WAS MUMBLING SHE WASNT KEYBOARD SMASHING LMAO

there was a mutual giddiness in there too and he was excited to see you again after many years without contact

however

there was a bit of fear in there that thought back to when you were younger and his choice of not really having a specific parent despite your pleads to stay together with him

but he was going to make sure your bond was still intact!

he would do anything in his power to do so!

when you arrived

your dad accompanied you back to japan and you both were walking out to the exit of the airport when you saw your grandmother excitedly waving a sign around

in bold sparkly letters, it said ‘USHIJIMA’

okay wait i love grandma usui 

you quickly ran over to her and she grasped you into her arms

‘nana’

you sobbed and she hugged you tightly

‘im so happy youre back home’

your father shook hands with the friend she brought to help drive you guys back home

old man ukai was basically the chauffeur but hes really good friends with your nana so it was okay

the entire ride you guys basically caught up with each other and you couldnt help but laugh whenever your dad would go on a rant about your grandma being too reckless and your nana defending herself

‘oh stop it, takashi. i was only given one life and if it’s over, it’s over. for now, ill live it how i see fit!’

your old family home was exactly as you remember it but you didnt expect the 6′2 boy in the living room

‘nii-chan’

you meekly whispered and he let out a soft smile before opening his big arms

you ran into them and he held you tightly

‘i missed you. so much’

he whispered and you nodded 

it was def such a nice thing to have your brother again

oooo your dad been knew that you would be sticking to waka like you did when you were itty bitty young

so when you practically begged waka to stay at your nana’s house the entire summer, he couldnt refuse you

duh your mom went to see you but you just quietly sat there and smiled at her

polite but distant

due to being around waka so much, you naturally went to his volleyball practices and their training camp

there

you met his friends and you guys quickly got acquainted especially with tendo bc he was just so fun

and he was your brother’s boyfriend best friend

the others were still kinda distant with you ahem ahem im looking at you shirabu

but they were mostly amazed at how powerful the genetics played in your appearances because wowza you were beautiful

lmao dont let waka hear them say that bc they would be benched all season in a single snap

during training camp, you usually sat at the sides or you would be their stand-in manager

goshiki absolutely LOVES you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOSHIKI MY SON MY BABY

him and you were the same age so there was an easier way of being friends and your energies just matched so well

he would run up to you whenever he got a play right and you would ruffle his hair affectionately

LADKSJFLDSKFS FLASHBACK TO TENDO!SISTER X GOSHIKI

‘y/n-chan!’

‘y/n-chan!’

‘y/n-chan!’

hell even ushi was getting annoyed at goshiki’s constant need for you

tendo would steal you away and he would be giggling to you about how adorable you were and you just giggled along bc wow this beautiful man is really talking to me right now

ALKSDJFLKSF CAN YOU TELL IM ALSO A TENDOODOO SIMP?

‘cmere, y/n-chan. i taught toshi this the other day and he was very impressed and wanted me to do it again. okay so it goes in a rhyme, ya ready?’

you nodded along and he shot you a close-eyed smile before starting to draw on the dirt with a stick

‘there once was a man with-’

lets just say

you were definitely your brother’s sister

sometimes though

you would try and go towards the calmer players to get away from the rowdiness from baby daddy tendo and baby goshiki

you would find them at the gym just doing drills and at the sight of you, they would turn red but continue playing

they didnt really mind seeing you there bc youve always been such a positive energy and cheered them on which gave them strength

‘NICE ONE OHIRA-SAN!’

‘WAHHH SO COOL YAMAYAMA-SAN!’

you were like a cute ball of serotonin >o<

‘wah, of course its expected for you guys to be the top in the prefecture. youre like,,,,, silent but deadly~!’

duh a compliment from a girl?

dead

shirabu’s bangs would get in the way of his vision sometimes yall i will never stop making fun of that ridiculously adorable haircut so you would use a clip and tuck it away for him

this big babie is so awkward that he turns red when you whisper in his ear that you were done

semisemi baby and you got along bc you guys had a similar taste in music and because you lived in california, he was fascinated that you were in the music capital of america

‘did you see celebrities down the street?’

he asked you excitedly one day during lunch

you stopped then smiled softly

‘semisemi-kun, i didnt live at that part of california’

nah to him, america is just filled with celebrities

OH DEAR BABY BOY KAWANISHI

taichi is a generally quiet guy

like you thought he was actually selectively mute when you first met him

but you gradually got him to talk and you would help him whenever he would want to practice

usually it was during the ungodly hours of the morning

you woke up and went to grab a drink from the common room but you noticed his large build exiting the door so you followed him into the gym

‘kawanishi-san?’

you called out and felt guilty when he jumped 

‘oh, hey’

he aknowledged

‘wha-’

you stopped to yawn causing your eyes to close making you miss the brief second of softness that flashed in his eyes

‘what are you doing?’

you tiredly asked

taichi dusted off his trackpants after kneeling down to rummage through his bag and you couldnt help but gawk at his height

‘im training early’

he answered

‘why? is it because you want to keep up with the others?’

you mumbled and he was surprised for a second but reverted back to his stoic expression

‘i have to make sure i am able to reach my seniors level for next year’

taichi turned away to grab a stray ball and you moved to go to the storage room for the ball cart

‘oi, what are you doing? go back to bed’

he said from the other side of the gym but you just looked back at him with a tired grin

‘meh, i want to spend time with you, senpai’

you reasoned

he shook his head before walking over to you then ruffled your hair

‘no wonder youre so tiny. you dont sleep enough and let your body grow’

yep that was the closest youve gotten to taichi joking with you

usually, hes training and when hes in the zone, nothing else has his attention but the ball

maybe thats why the others ahem goshiki has said that he was very scary

his game face was practically a mean face

basically you spent the entire training camp with them and then soon, you were going back to school

duh everyone hmm maybe not shirabu bc he most definitely read the school book of rules thought you would be going to shiratorizawa with them 

but you broke the news to them one afternoon and imagine the tears from both tendo and goshiki

‘WHHYYYY!!!!’

‘NOOO!!!!!’

‘why can’t you?’

semi asked and you were about to answer when shirabu beat you to it

‘the school doesnt allow late transfers’

oh right

the american school system was set in a different schedule than a japanese school system

it was considered the summer for them yet school already started a few months ago

since shiratorizawa was a very academically and physically prestigious school, they refused anyone who would potentially be late or behind their curriculum

‘so where ya headed to then, chibi?’

tendou pouted and you leaned against his arm

‘hmm some school named aoba johsai? i dont know its near my grannie’s so that’s all that mattered’

oh dear

USHIJIMA NO Y/N WILL NOT ASK TOORU TO GO TO SHIRATORIZAWA

they consider seijoh a rival bc theyve played against them practically in every prefecture tournament and they were worried for that infamous setter

‘ne, y/n-chan, promise us that you won’t be swept away by them! especially a guy named oikawa tooru!’

uhhh

well

tendou’s warning was kinda ignored bc you ended up being seijoh’s manager

hehe

surprise?

but they weren’t really really shocked tho bc they knew you liked volleyball so you would naturally be in the volleyball team

even as a manager

meanwhile in seijohhh

OooOOOoOoOooooo sEiJOOhHHHH~~~~~~

okay so you were actually registered under your father’s last name usui rather than the ushijima last name

therefore you werent exactly immediately known as HEY! USHIJIMA’S SISTER!

you still became the manager the way you did as mentioned in part 1 

and you still are their adorable baby manager

you were aware of their oikawa’s hatred for wakawaka so you try not to talk about him even though youre literally the closest person to him

was it traitorous? 

maybe

but you actually even help them when they practice

duh the boys are like eyebrow raise emoji 

‘wow youre really into volleyball, huh, manager-chan?’

matsukawa commented and you just smiled

‘hmm, my family likes it so ive picked up a thing or two’

LMAO

little do they know your brother is literally the best volleyball player around and is a member of the under 19 team and your father is a volleyball coach in america and would someday be someone iwaizumi hajime (19) would apprentice under

there was a lot of times you thought you would slip up like your home screen was of you and waka but youve been careful to cover it up

BUT

you cant always be sneaky

it was during the first day of the tournament and you were filling up their water bottles I SWEAR WHY IS MANAGER-CHAN ALWAYS FILLING UP WATER BOTTLES when you found a familiar bunch of boys at the end of the hallway just chatting

you havent seen tendou and the boys in so long so you placed the bottles down and rushed over there so quickly

‘TOMUTOMU!’

you shouted and the oddly-haired boy turned and he gasped before grabbing you into a large hug

this grabbed tendou’s attention and he cheered then hugged you too

your giggles and happy cheers were so infectous and they just absolutely missed you so much 

these tall boys were at a advantage so someone scooped you up and you were just affectionately being talked to and hugged and LKDSJFSLDFJ SO LUCKY SO LOVED

meanwhile

the plant babies were wondering where the heck you went to 

‘y/n-chan?! where is she?!’

oikawa panicked quickly while iwaizumi hit him to shut up

‘be quiet! you won’t find her if you’re too busy freaking out!’

‘ill find her’

matsukawa volunteered and they nodded, feeling at ease of him being capable to find you if you were in trouble

but when he returned empty-handed and with large eyes, they knew something was up

they ran behind mattsun to stop and copy his shocked expression at the sight in front of them

is that

you?

with

shi

ra

to

ri

za

wa

oh my god

‘y/n-chan!’

oikawa shouted, being the first to speak

you jumped and your own eyes widened

‘oh. oh no’

you mumbled

the others were so stunned and seijoh itself was so hard to make speechless but they were just shocked

period

‘what is happening’

iwaizumi mumbled

yea the others were just shocked period

‘hey guys’

you waved and you motioned them closer

‘uhh,,, well,,, um they are my friends’

you smiled uneasily and they could see that

‘aaand?’

oikawa signalled you to say everything bc he knew it wasnt the whole story

you sighed

‘ushi,,, jima is my brother’

you mumbled the last part

but they heard you

‘HAH?!’

you cringed and the shira boys were about to move to protect you but they saw you glare at them

‘what? what about it? hes my brother? and?’

you babbled

‘but,, why are you,, in seijoh? dont get me wrong! its just,, youd naturally go to shiratorizawa right?’

mattsun waved his hands around and asked the question thats bugging the team

‘i came to the country late’

‘THE COUNTRY?!’

well,,

turns out you havent exactly told them everything about you yet :/

even when youve cleared the air and introduced waka as your brother, seijoh still didnt say anything

they were stuck in this shocked and surprised moment even at the end of the day and when you went straight to the shiratorizawa team,

they watched with wide eyes as you laughed with goshiki and was jumping around with tendou

‘AH! TOMU! MY HAIR!’

‘TORI-SAN! SATORI-SAN! TAKE THAT!’

wow you were actually really beautiful when youre happy

‘i dont think ive seen her this happy with this much energy’

makki said and they nodded

it was true

you were usually calm and collected and was the perfect balance to this chaotic team

so seeing you so free and loose with them was so refreshing, even if it was with damn ushiwaka

you finally went back to the seijoh boys and they all sent glares to the violet team before sending you a smile

‘you ready to go, manager-chan?’

watari ruffled your hair before handing you your bag to start walking to the bus

‘yea. lets go home’

as you all walked, oikawa was already starting his tantrum

‘y/n-chan~! why aren’t you that happy around us? are we not enough for you?’

oikawa whined and pouted

but you just turned to smiled at him and stopped walking to pat his head

‘im not their manager, therefore im not pressured to act like anyone except as a friend and a spectator. but i try to be as professional as i can with you guys to make sure you dont appear bad to others. and you guys are perfectly chaotic enough, adding me into the mix will just about kill coach’

oikawa didnt seem satisfied though

‘but! thats not fair! they get to see you smile and i dont!’

iwaizumi growled at him to be quiet but you beat him to it

well

you smiled at tooru but your eyes shone maliciously

‘i knew you would act like this, oikawa-san. as punishment, i gave nii-chan your phone number. good luck avoiding him now’

oikawa screamed

a/n: AAWWWWW LETS NOT KILL COACH IRIHATA OKAY? HES LIKE OUR GRANPAPA AND PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE OIKAWA ALONE WAKAWAKA-KUN!

[pokesplendor]

rosa’s team from sword as gijinka! info about them beneath the cut.

Ella - Cinderace - she/her - lesbian Black - cis woman - age 21

Ella is full of joy and life, she’s smiles and cheer, she’s happy to be here! A young soccer pro drafted into League battling for her fiery passion and clear leadership potential. She has a natural charisma about her that brings people together and execute plans correctly, as evidenced by her time on the field. She stayed briefly in the Champion’s guard, where she met Graves as a Sobble, and the two became friends, despite being from different walks of life. That’s Ella for you, making friends wherever she goes, and that is a pervasive fact through her journey for the league. Of course, she never expected to have to face down a God like Eternatus, but she didn’t let that stop her.

Besides soccer, she’s passionate about cooking and loves to fire up the stove with curry! She’s all about that curry! She’s also always down for some pre-dinner stretching, some pre-dinner fighting, just a little brawling here or there. She never thought she’d be so into competitive battle, but there’s something intoxicating about it she can’t resist. She feels like she can make friends through an exchange of fists!

Ella just loves making friends, exchanging numbers, becoming pen pals, it’s all so fun! She didn’t expect to find those she considers her family through her journey but here she is! Thomasin is her best pal, she might even consider her a sister! And where would she be without Connie, she’s been there the longest. Sometimes she steals Connie’s hand to hold, and other times, she steals her lips.

Connie - Sandaconda - they/she - queer Mexican-Japanese - nonbinary woman - age 30

Connie is a sleepy individual. They’re always in a bit of a haze, like they just didn’t get enough sleep, or maybe they got too much sleep and they can’t snap out of it. They just love naps! Is that such a problem? Their manager certainly seemed to think so. Connie is an accomplished model who would often sneak off to the wilderness to camp for a few days at a time to get away from the busy city. This is how they met Ella and were swept into a gym challenge. They didn’t expect to like it, but you know, if you have to be awake, they don't mind giving a deserving individual a good bop. Their striking gaze sent shivers down the enemies spine, assisting a great deal in a tough spot.

As stated, Connie is a model, and being a model means you have a lot of responsibilities that you can completely ignore and run off at the drop of a hat to do whatever you please. Their manager is not too fond of them, but they can’t find it in their heart to care. They do care about the fashion they have to wear, it’s been their dream job since they were little to wear the fanciest clothes you can. They’re good at their job, they’re good at looking pretty in nice clothes, and that’s how they keep it.

They love the friends they’ve made along the way, Thomasin is always stubbornly trying to knock them off balance and prove herself superior, but it’s all good fun. And they quite enjoys Sybil’s attempts at music. And Minerva and Ella’s combined efforts to produce excellent cooking! Oh, Ella, she’s a darling, isn’t she. Connie is smitten with her, that’s for sure.

Matilda - Hatterene - she/they - lesbian Japanese - nonbinary - age 27

Matilda is a witch from the swampy areas in the Glimmwood Tangle. She would happily live there for the rest of her life and not interact with other people if necessary, but she unfortunately happened to leave the safety of her bog for family reasons (if she had a choice she never would have, but ugh, relatives), and during that time, ran into Ella and the gang, who excitedly recruited her to their great quest across the land. At first, she only intended to be along for the ride back to the Glimmwood Tangle, but for reasons she’d never admit to, she stuck around.

She is a calm, collected individual, keeping her emotions in check constantly and disgusted by those who freely express themselves for the world to be known. Little known to others, her emotions bubble beneath the surface, and if pushed too far, they boil over and she gets extremely overwhelmed and unable to control herself. Not that she lets that happen ever (often). She mostly deals in potions of various uses, and magics that stir nature in a pot to boil much like her emotions.

Matilda isn’t looking for anyone to date, she isn’t looking for friends, she isn’t looking for anyone at all. Especially men. Stereotypical mean man-hating lesbian right here. She’d never admit she has feelings for Ella (the feeling is friendship) and wishes Sybil will just leave her alone (she gets flustered.)

Sybil - Toxicitry - she/her - bi White - trans woman - age 20

Look out, here’s team baby! And she’s loud, she’s proud, she’s here to rock and roll! And, oh, that didn’t rhyme, did it? She’s working on that, she swears. From a family of successful doctors and midwives, she had big dreams to get out of babysitting newborns, and get out there and get her voice heard! She wants to rock people’s faces off with her awesome guitar solos! Granted, she’s not that good at guitar, she’s better on base, and she’s not the best at singing, but she swears she has sick lyrics. When Ella’s group stopped at her family’s nursery, she could tell there was greatness on its way up, and she figured she could ride it to success!

Sybil can be very explosive about her interests, launching into long spirals of talking, one topic to the next, she can’t control herself. She’s autistic and she just wants you to know! Things she likes! That’s not bad, right? She never stops to ask if they want her to stop, she really can let it get away from her. It’s fine though, her new group of friends are so supportive! More than her family had been, she’d even venture to call this new group more family than she’d known.

She gets along real well with Ella, the two can be seen playing ball or sparring at any given time, gotta keep up with them gains! And when running into Graves’ group, she’s in talks with Thrasher to start a band together! And then there’s Matilda, she once witnessed her emotions boil over and it was so cute she just has to see it again. Sybil can be a little menace.

Minerva - Appletun - she/they - lesbian White - trans woman - age 45

Minerva certainly isn’t old enough to be considered a grandma, but she is, actually, a grandma. She’s got a few kids from back in the day before she transitioned, and those kids had a few more kids, and here she is, grandmother at a young age. What this means to say is she’s definitely team mom when it comes to Ella’s group. She’s surrounded by children nearly the age of her own, and someone’s got to mother them! She ran into the group when they were visiting the nursery with her newest grandchild, and what was a small agreement to help with the upcoming gym turned into an adventure she didn’t expect! She never traveled when she was younger and found she loved it.

She also loved the kids that came along with it. She loved feeding them especially. Ella was a little prodigy with food, and Minerva just wanted to feed that flame and love of food. Minerva loves food, she’s a cook by trade and she loves filling a meal with love. Other than that, she collects old books, out of print editions, and keeps them in her sturdy little home up by Circhester. She was content being alone for so long, long distant contact with her children, she didn’t expect to need company.

But that company she definitely had. She found an old soul resonating with her in Iosefka, the two oldest of the group, the old Frosmoth always seemed to have just the right ingredients for her stews. Something stewed between the two of them, there’s for sure. She also enjoyed running into Graves’ group and meeting Grevious, a fellow designated mom.

Iosefka - Frosmoth - she/her - lesbian Black - cis woman - age 48

Iosefka was but a simple traveling merchant. She’d seen all shades of Galar over the years, seeing it’s darkest underbelly, to its brightest sun shining peaks, and she loves her home region with all her heart despite knowing there’s some people that it would be better without. But she’s not one to comment on that, not unless asked, after all, she’s just an unassuming merchant here to stock you up for the road and not give her opinion, heavens no! So wasn’t it so surprising that she was absolutely swept up from her solitary traveling live into Ella’s little group, something about the little girl was just so charming, she wanted to see where her journey took her.

She loves collecting the rarest of the rare, the sweetest of delicacies, there’s nothing better than traveling to a little unknown spot to get the hardest to find ingredients growing where you might not expect them, and roll into town and being overwhelmed with the local restaurants vying for her samples. She’s not opposed to finding shiny things as well, but something about food, it entices her. She loves providing for a good meal. She’s a bit of a shit cook though.

Iosefka isn’t exactly guarded with her feelings, but she’s not open either; it comes with being a merchant, she gets her feelings across in a sly sort of way. But she’s found a family with Ella’s group, a place she doesn’t have to hide her blunt rudeness. And in traveling, found new love with Minerva. The two are quite a pair of old gays.

Thomasin - Dubwool - she/her - lesbian Black - cis woman - age 23

The first to be recruited to the great quest across Galar in hopes of taking the Championship title, Thomasin is exactly what you’d expect of the league battler. She trained for years hoping to get picked up by someone in the circuit and show off her skills. She’s always down to fight and dominate in the field, and prove her worth. Not that her worth needed to be proven to Ella, who was happy to accept someone so eager. Even happier to call her a friend! Thomasin felt kinship with her right away and the two set off with pure confidence. She didn’t shy away from a League fight, and she certainly didn’t show fear when facing down a god.

Outside of battling, she (secretly) is a dedicated poet and songstress. She can’t sing, but she loves writing music and ballads, about grand adventures of pirates, and heaty thrists between ever gallant knights and fair princesses in the midst of complicated politics. She’s been working on her magnum opus for quite some time, an epic combining all her favorite things to write about… in that it’s still a work in progress. She’s got the characters, the world, she just doesn’t know how they fit together!

Thomasin and Ella are nearly inseparable, they’re always running around, full of energy and love and they can tumble down in the grass covered in stains and laughing without a problem. She lets Sybil in on their love, the three youngest getting along swell. And she won’t lie, she is slightly interested in Maverick from Graves’ team. (She just might have a thing for knights.)

[manuscripts-dontburn]

Darkdawn

Author: Jay Kristoff

First published: 2019

Rating: ★★★☆☆

A satisfying enough ending to an elaborate revenge story, that I enjoyed but there is no denying this is hardly quality literature. In any case, I was more interested in this than the second volume, which just dragged. What cuts the book in its knees especially is the unnecessary, artless baseness with which the physical love, as well as physical suffering, is treated throughout. I do love Mr Kindly though. Also, all the points to the book designer.

The Dutch House

Author: Ann Patchett

First published: 2019

Rating: ★★★★☆

A book about relationships, familial loyalty, hurts and the possibility of forgiveness. Beautifully written, but one should beware there is not much of a plot. An ideal book for a quiet, calm afternoon as you sip a large cup of delicious tea.

The Book Smugglers

Author: Anna James

First published: 2021

Rating: ★★★★★

Yet more delightful goodness from Anna James. This is the ultimate book-loving series for kids to fall in love with reading! Every volume is just lovely and I feel like falling into it likeinto a comfortable blanket.

Katia: Wife Before God

Author: Alexandre Tarsaïdzé

First published: 1970

Rating: ★★★☆☆

The main strength of this publication is the many letters, presented without shortening, that were exchanged between Alexander II and his beloved "Katya". that said the author made some maddening decisions of inserting a million footnotes which should never have been footnoted, but information incorporated into the main text. The rest of the footnotes are often so random and unrelated that they baffled me (what good is it to me to know a distant relation of a random courtier mentioned in the book was living in the US in the 60s?). Add to it that there are some inaccuracies regarding names and ages, and all that remains is my ardent wish that this should have been just a published correspondence.

The Betrothed

Author: Alessandro Manzoni

First published: 1827

Rating: ★★★☆☆

I am in two minds about this one. On the one hand, the whole thing is incredibly slow, the characters rather superfluous and their plight left me cold. On the other hand, when the author decides to leave those characters behind and instead focuses on the historical events and general populace, I was hooked and truly impressed and felt both compassion as well as horror. The parts dealing with the war and plague were actually incredible. (And oh gosh! The parallels of the populace reacting to it were too similar to our own experiences with covid it just hit me right in the face how unchanging humans are throughout the ages!) I understand the characters are needed for us to travel with them, but in the end, this is the story of a region, not the two lovers and their friends/enemies.

Daughters of Chivalry: The Forgotten Children of King Edward Longshanks

Author: Kelcey Wilson-Lee

First published: 2019

Rating: ★★★★★

Fantastic, immensely readable family portrait from the depth of the medieval age! Stands to show that even though their voices are often so muffled by the male censure of history, the women of the past centuries (even if only the ones born into privilege) were very much present during pivotal moments, wielded influence and claimed their own spaces.

The Last Graduate

Author: Naomi Novak

First published: 2021

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

*deep sigh* The whole idea of this is great. The characters all have potential. It is definitely something that just deserved a tighter approach or a merciless editor. The amount of pages where the main character just goes on and on and on about things we already know is just devastatingly high. I love Naomi Novik´s previous books and I really was intrigued by Scholomance, but unfortunately reading should not feel like a chore and this book felt exactly like one.

The Pillars of the Earth

Author: Ken Follet

First published: 1989

Rating: ★★★★☆

There is absolutely no better review of this book than THIS ONE.

The Nature of Witches

Author: Rachel Griffin

First published: 2021

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

Look, there is nothing particularly wrong with this book, but I was bored out of my mind for most of it. This is a great pity because the idea of "seasonal" witches definitely struck me as new and original and the writing itself was not half bad either. And the shallow me loved the cover. However, there really is no plot unless you count a very vanilla and done-to-death romantic relationship.

999: The Extraordinary Young Women of the First Official Jewish Transport to Auschwitz

Author: Heather Dune Macadam

First published: 2020

Rating: ★★★★★

Why would anyone ever be content with any fictional book about Holocaust, when there are nonfiction books like this out there? Beautifully, and sensitively put together to commemorate a specific group of young women who suffered in Auschwitz, this is a dignified tribute to those who died and those who survived.

The Adventures of Pinocchio

Author: Carlo Collodi

First published: 1883

Rating: ★★★☆☆

A wild trip of imagination that somehow did not make me feel like I was on drugs (looking at you Alice in Wonderland), had some genuinely laugh out loud moments and delicious sarcasm sprinkled on top. Is it the best children´s classic I know? Not, but I would choose Pinocchio over Peter Pan any day.

[therealvinelle]

Maybe this is bold of me to ask, but are there any deleted scenes from your fics, or scenes you had consideted writing but didn't? And if yes, would you be willing to share them someday?

Oh no problem!

Usually when a scene is deleted it stays deleted, so I don't have a lot to give you. There are a few things that were cut in betaing for various reasons, I can put a few of them below a readmore in this post.

There's the prologue that never was to Nebuchadnezzar's Dream, from back when the fic was supposed to be told alternately from Bella and Carlisle's respective points of view. In the prologue we saw how Bella, Alice, and Edward came to the point where they decided to overthrow the Volturi. Or, we would have, except I didn't actually like that prologue, and found myself jumping straight to writing chapter 2, the "Carlisle is at a party and gets attacked by a werewolf" chapter instead. My good beta @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin asked why I didn't simply make the whole fic from Carlisle's point of view, I realized she had an excellent point, now here we are.

For that matter, this is nowhere near the only significant change that happened to this fic during writing. One example, in the original outline I never brought up Carlisle's gift. Two significant things in the last chapter were not planned until after I published chapters twelve and thirteen, respectively (Luckily for me it'll look like I plotted them all along, so yay for that). For a tightly plotted fic, this one has had a lot of leeway.

Slight caveat, as I’m self-conscious: with most of these you will probably be able to tell why they’re deleted scenes. Especially the prologue. God, that prologue.

(Also, for the record yes I do write other things, but due to 1. being betaed, and 2. being long, I really only have examples for Nebuchadnezzar's Dream.)

The prologue that never was. Apologies for the fluff saturation:

The Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II once had a dream.

There was a statue that was gold on top, then silver, then copper, then iron, then clay and iron. As he watched, a rock struck its feet, and soon the whole statue crumbled, leaving nothing but rubble. The rock then grew into a great mountain that covered all the world.

This, the prophet Daniel told the king, was a message from Jehovah.

The statue represented five great human empires, the golden head being the Babylonian Empire, and the following three being those who would come after. The last would be both iron and clay, a divided kingdom. It will fall, and then the kingdom of Heaven will come, crushing those empires in its path.

Thousands of years later, in 1453, the Byzantine Empire fell. The last of the Roman Empire, a divided kingdom, had fallen.

The Christian world trembled, because reckoning was surely near. With the fall of this last, great human empire, all the world would fall to rubble.

-

Fifteen years had passed.

The Cullens had left Forks behind, settling in the small town of Grafton, Idaho. Carlisle had quickly settled into the new hospital, and Esme had designed a beautiful new home for them while the rest attended the new school. Jasper and Rosalie were Carlisle’s younger siblings while Bella, Edward, Renesmée and Esme comprised another set of siblings. Alice and Emmett were the fosters.

Jacob wasn’t far, he still lived with his old .

«Did you hear they all scored an A on Mr Rosen’s test? Seriously, all of them!»

The words were uttered by Jenna Gilbert, a blonde sophomore who reminded Bella very much of Jessica Stanley. She was sitting on the opposite end of the cafeteria from Bella and her family, though

«Jen, it’s the Cullens, that’s just what they do. You should stop comparing yourself…» her friend said soothingly.

Bella ducked her face into her hand to hide her smile, and winked at Alice, who grinned back at her.

It was Bella and Renesmée’s first time going to high school as a vampire. It was exactly what Edward and Alice had said it would be, for better and for worse.

For the worse, because she spent her days pretending to be a human girl, never using her strength or speed, pretending Edward wasn’t her husband and Renesmée wasn’t her daughter.

For the better, because she got to spend every day with Edward, Renesmée, and the rest of her new family. The others had done the high school routine too many times to see things the way she did, and Renesmée had never known a life without the Cullens, but to Bella, attending high school as one of Dr. Cullen’s adoptive kids felt like she had truly come full circle since that first day she spotted Edward in the cafeteria. She was one of them, truly, irrevocably, and high school was nothing if not a promise of the countless years to come surrounded by the people she loved.

Edward caught her eye, and she smiled back at him. She lowered her shield briefly to show him how happy she was to be with her family.

His face softened into that beautiful, lop-sided smile of his, and he leaned in to whisper into her ear, «You’ll be less happy when you’ve been through English 101,» he said.

«Hey, hey,» Jasper said quickly. «Don’t you dare, Edward, I need all the happiness I can get in this place.» He locked eyes with Bella. «Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.»

Bella laughed, and rested her head on Edward’s shoulder. He placed his hand above hers on the table, and she smiled. «Not a problem, Jazz.»

Jenna’s voice caught her notice again. «Look at how they’re sitting! Try and tell me they’re not incestuous, Cam. Just try.»

Her friend didn’t reply to that one, although a quick glance informed Bella that the girl was staring at the Cullen table with a frown on her face.

Bella and Alice caught each others’ eye again, and this time they couldn’t hold back the giggles.

***********

Later in the day, Alice’s eyes lit up. «You’ll receive a letter from Stefan and Vladimir a week from now,» she chirped.

«Oh!» Bella exclaimed. «What does it say?»

«The usual,» Alice replied, her eyes slightly distant as she concentrated. «They hope we’re all doing well, and they included a new story of how things used to be before the Volturi. It’s the story of how they once built an entire temple for themselves in just one day. Oh, and they have a new phone number. O-seven nine six five nine six.»

Bella’s eyes widened as Alice talked. She hoped they had included drawings of that temple, it sounded incredible.

Bella hadn’t expected the Romanians to stay in touch, when they left after the thwarted battle with the Volturi she thought they would slink back into the old European shadows they had cloaked themselves in for that past several thousand few years, not to be heard from until some new threat to the Volturi loomed.

But no, that very next Christmas Bella had received a gift from them. It was an old, if flaked painting of Ivan the Terrible looking a lot like Vladimir, and a note from Vladimir explaining how he fooled all of Russia into believing he was their ruler for decades, all right beneath Aro’s nose. Carlisle had broken into a fit of uncharacteristic giggles when he heard that, and even agreed to put the painting in the hallway. To this day, he’d huff with silent laughter whenever he walked past it.

After that, Bella and the two Romanians had been in touch. They’d send her gifts, stories, and their own observations about the Volturi, and she’d respond fondly.

It was a very unlikely friendship, but she was was eternally grateful to all those who had stood with her family when the Volturi came. The Romanians were no exception,

«Are you going to call them?» Alice inquired.

Bella nodded. «They were going to tell me about their visit to Thebes.»

(Outline: Prologue of sorts. Status quo update, everyone’s happy except for the part where the Volturi are waiting to kill them. Alice, Bella, and Edward form their plan. Alice sees that she’s going to have to send Carlisle away, and coincidentally his hospital colleagues are having their Christmas weekend in Montana. PERFECT. She talks to him.)

***********

Heavily altered scene from chapter 7

Carlisle makes more jokes than he did in the final product, they're unfunny to the point where my beta said "you can't publish this", the plague joke in particular is a bit too dark for him so I gave it to Jane instead. More importantly, the chapter itself has a very weird, clunky start:

«Is it the gift of being profoundly unimpressed by ridiculous claims?» Carlisle deadpanned. «Because if so, Aro, I think you might be on to something.»

Several seconds had passed since Aro made his ridiculous claim. At first, Carlisle had burst out laughing. Then, as he realized he was the only person in the room laughing and Aro was staring at him in full seriousness, his laughter had trailed off and he’d been left to stare dully at Aro for several long seconds, waiting for Aro to crack up and say «gotcha!».

Aro never cracked up.

Carlisle had absolutely no idea what Aro was playing at, especially not immediately after Carlisle had very reluctantly decided against shutting him out of his life.

«You can’t be serious,» he’d said.

Aro had sighed. «I’m afraid I am.»

And now, at Carlisle’s deadpan guess, Aro only shook his head. «Not quite.»

Carlisle stared at him for another second, before he ventured another, scathing guess. «Are you hoping it’s the power of being highly suggestible? Because I definitely don’t have that, or I would have abandoned my diet centuries centuries ago.»

Aro just looked at him. «If you would let me explain-» he began, but Carlisle cut him off.

«No, no, you want to try and convince me I have some sort of gift, then I want to guess at what you’re going for,» he said, crossing his legs at the knee and propping his chin up on his knuckle in a faux-pensive look.

«Now,» he continued, even as Aro gave him the world’s most unimpressed glare, as if Carlisle was the one who was being ridiculous, «I’m pretty sure I would have noticed the power to throw fireballs by now, so it can’t be that,» he mused aloud. «Same goes for the power of…» he searched his mind, «turning into a bat. That one would definitely have come up at some point. Or maybe I should suspend myself upside down in a cave. See if it triggers anything. Just to be sure.»

«Carlisle,» Aro murmured, but Carlisle wasn’t done.

«Maybe I spread disease. My father certainly thought demons did. Maybe that’s why I get so many interesting patients. Those brain fungi,» he nodded towards Renata, who was still sitting with the book open in her lap, «I’ve had two in one year. That’s a lot.»

«Carlisle-» Aro tried again, but Carlisle held up a finger, a wide grin spreading across his face.

«The power to change my eye color. You see, yesterday they were black-»

Aro actually rolled his eyes at that. Of course, he made the insolent gesture look like a fluid, enchanting movement.

«Yes, quite funny, now if you would let me explain…» Aro tried again while Carlisle tried not to snicker at his own joke.

***********

Two deleted paragraphs from chapter 9. The alteration was made because it was a bit on the nose about what Renesmée does.

Humans were mammals, and mammals were hardwired to protect their young. This extended across species, making mother cats care for puppies and humans care for anything that was small and cute. The instinct to love and cherish anything cute and helpless was an evolutionary necessity, and had to run deeper than anything if a species wanted to survive.

Enter Jane, who was the smallest, cutest thing Carlisle had ever seen, but from a species humans instinctively knew to fear. Maybe the very fact that she was something that humans knew they should want to care for made their fear exponential, made it impossible to deny that something was very wrong about her, that they were looking at a predator.

Perhaps too there was something to vampires having retained some of that human instinct to protect their young, if the countless stories of covens dying to protect their immortal children was anything to go by. Carlisle himself had been no exception when the Volturi came for Renesmée, even as he found himself risking the lives of countless friends.

How far things had come, he thought, from preparing to die along with his loved ones at the hands of the Volturi to sitting across a café table with Jane and pitching costume ideas.

***********

Chapter 9 was heavily altered, mainly as it was too funny the first (and second!) time around and I kept having to return to insert more existential dread. A side effect of this is that Carlisle in the original draft was still undecided on whether he had a gift up until the very end of the chapter, whereas it's proven beyond a doubt much earlier in the published version.

Jane was looking a bit daunted, though it was nothing compared to how Carlisle felt.

Silently, they went to stand in front of one of the many sports stores that Whitefish had to offer.

«This could still be confirmation bias,» Carlisle whispered, and leaned against the wall. For all the human blood that was in his system, his knees felt oddly weak.

Jane let out a startled laugh. «You’re seriously still in denial?»

Carlisle shook his head quietly. «They reacted pretty reasonably, just because they didn’t run away screaming…»

«Reasonably?» Jane echoed dully. «Carlisle, you can’t actually…» she shook her head. «Remember that bubble we talked about?»

Carlisle put his head in his hands, and let his fingers move up, under the wig, pulling it off in one neat motion.

Jane shook her head at him. «You look even more glamorous with your real hair.»

Carlisle still said nothing, balling the wig together in his hands.

Could it be he actually had a gift?

***********

The chapter 11 outline originally had Renata and Carlisle failing to communicate like normal people because they've spent too much time with Aro, and unintentional innuendo keeps ruining their attempts to make polite small talk. Sadly (or happily) this is a lot easier to conceptualize than carry out in actual writing, and their conversation wound up being far too serious for that, so it was cut. Luckily for you I did pen Carlisle flashbacking to a time his foot got in his mouth:

The moment after the words were out her face scrunched up.

Carlisle snorted. «Aro is a horrible influence on us all.»

He remembered one of his first talks with Jasper, when they were still getting to know each other.

Jasper had been a little starstruck when he learned Carlisle’s friends in Italy were those Italians.

He’d asked Carlisle a lot of questions once he got past a misplaced sense of awe, wanting to put a face to the eternal, petrified, leaders of the vampire world.

During a hunt with just the two of them, Jasper had been asking about Aro’s gift.

«What do you even think about when you’re with him?» Jasper had marvelled aloud, and he would later explain that the way he say it, this was like the way the Egyptian gods supposedly measured souls.

Place your heart upon the balancing scale against the weight of a feather, and if your heart weighs heavier it is devoured by the demon Ammit.

Place your hand in Aro’s, and if he deems you guilty of breaking his law, you will be torn to pieces in the space of a second.

Being friends with the man sounded unbearably stressful to Jasper.

Unfortunately, Carlisle’s mind had gone in the opposite direction, and what came out of his mouth before he could stop himself was, «England.»

He’d covered well enough for that, or he hoped he had. Jasper never asked.

***********

Chapter 11 was also supposed to have Renata being brave enough to ask for a selfie with Carlisle when they're both in black robes, this because I just really want Edward to sift through the Volturi group chat after all this and finding that. Alas, I couldn't work it in there. (Determined to not lose the joke, I had Aro take the photos in chapter 12 instead.)

***********

Chapter 12, the fandom ghost requested I include another butt slap and offered me fanart if I fulfilled her wish.

And so:

He held up a hand, presumably to touch Carlisle’s arm in comfort, but just then Alec started retching.

«He ate human food,» Jane deadpanned to Demetri, Felix, and Renata. Shaking her head, she brushed Alec’s hair out of his face as he hurled into the river.

Aro grimaced slightly, his hand hovering in the air.

Carlisle felt all the bread, corn flakes, and water that he’d swallowed press uncomfortably against his esophagus. «I’ll do you one better, Alec,» he choked, before he span around, fell to his knees and started retching, much like a cat.

Aro, evidently not sure what to do with his arm but not about to let it drop purposelessly, gave Carlisle a supportive pat on the bum before kneeling beside him to hold his hair as he hurled.

It was funny, but simply didn't fit the tone considering what happened after. It had to go. But hey, I got the art.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Same Smile

Huge thanks to my wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian and my amazing friend @minky-for-short for the inspiration and listening to me reigniting my widomauk obsession.

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Caleb Widogast did not know his husband, Mollymauk Tealeaf, had an identical brother.

He didn't know his husband had two identical brothers.

He didn't know one of those identical brothers is on shore leave and was sitting on his couch. Not until he kissed him, anyway.

Basically a Modern AU where all of the tenants of the Tealeaf body are identical triplets!

------

Caleb dropped his satchel on the floor with a dull, heavy thunk. He tried to find it in him to care when one of the overtaxed buckles popped open and a pen, some student’s papers and a handful of crystals spilled across the hall rug. That could be a problem for tomorrow morning.

But for tonight he’d had a very, very long day. He’d had two seminars where none of his students had done the reading, a lab demonstration that had gone horribly wrong and made him smell like ammonia all day, he’d had to eat lunch on the train to make it to the bookshop on time only to find the day’s delivery was wrong and he’d ended up with hundreds of copies of a medical textbook that was very informative but probably weren’t going to sell very well. All in all it had been a pretty shit day and a burst buckle was not going to muscle its way in on top of all that.

Caleb had a very narrow, very selective list of what was going to be allowed in the rest of his day. And top of that list was finding his husband, slumping down next to him and pressing his face to the curve of his neck where the scent of his perfume was the strongest. Next on that list was letting his son sit on his lap and do that adorable thing he’d been doing lately where he rubbed his head all over his papa while babbling contentedly, almost like he was just telling Caleb about his day. Next was his daughter curling around his shoulders and purring loudly right next to his ear.

And that was about it, honestly. Maybe a cup of tea.

Caleb hung up his coat and scarf, both of them still dusted with drizzle from outside, kicking his shoes into the corner. He half considered going and putting his pyjamas on but that wasn’t on the list, he just needed to have Molly run his fingers through his hair to work the knots out of it and tell him everything was okay, that he was home now.

Molly was curled up on the sofa, the slightly tatty one with it back to the door. He had his hair loose, just pushed back from his face with a thin leather headband. It looked nice, Caleb made a vague mental note to tell him so.

“Hey,” Caleb leaned over the edge of the sofa, already smiling just from the closeness, “You would not believe the day I’ve had…”

He didn’t give his husband a chance to answer, just kissing him softly, catching his lips halfway through forming a word. Caleb melted into it, putting his hand to his face, stoking his thumb across a cheek that was slightly rougher than he remembered it being that morning.

Caleb froze, eyes snapping open.

He yanked himself backwards, face completely expressionless as he stared at this person he’d just kissed. This person who absolutely, definitely was not his Mollymauk.

That person grinned crookedly, “I think you’re still having it, Red.”

Whenever Caleb was confronted by sudden panic, his brain chose to cope with it by shutting down entirely, by going into some kind of distant stand-by mode like a computer overwhelmed by a virus and choosing to simply crash in response.

Which was probably why he responded to this stranger that looked exactly but not exactly enough like his husband, sitting on his sofa and who he’d just passionately, mistakenly kissed, by opening his mouth and saying, “You’re not on the list.”

The stranger’s lopsided grin didn’t fade, the same sharp teeth that lived in Mollymauk’s mouth flashing but a few of these were cracked, one entirely made out of dentist’s acrylic, like this person had been punched in the face a few times. They were also wearing black leathers mostly, a sleeveless tunic that billowed out into a coat, a tight white shirt underneath and close fitting pants. And the tattoos weren’t right, he had them for certain but the designs and placement were wrong, these were heavily done in stark black and showed mostly waves and coordinates and compasses. They looked like homemade stick and poke jobs. The jewellery wasn’t as heavy either, seaglass threaded onto leather and thin gold chains.

Not Mollymauk. Definitely not Mollymauk.

“You must be Caleb,” they chuckled knowingly, “Nice to finally meet you.”

Caleb was saved from having to think of where to go from there by footfalls on the creaky floorboards in the hallway and Mollymauk appearing in the doorway. His actual Mollymauk, he glanced up and down him and confirmed it- the heavy gems hanging from his horns, the bright flowing coat and high boots, the scars that littered his neck and collarbone, the stretch marks that peeked between the waist of his leggings and his crop top.

What threw Caleb for a moment was the slightly harried, slightly exasperated expression on his face. He could count on both hands the amount of times he’d actually seen Mollymauk look stressed like that. Also the fact that he was holding a tray on which he’d actually gone to the effort of arranging two mugs that almost matched, sugar in a little bowl, a milk bottle, a handful of spoons.

Molly’s red eyes flickered between them for a moment before his face slumped into an expression of equal parts guilt and defeat. Like the face of someone who’d forgotten to water someone’s beloved houseplant and had been caught in the middle of replacing it.

“Oh,” he said in an attempt at cheeriness that was edged with too much tiredness to be convincing, “So you’ve met already…”

“A little more than that,” the Not Mollymauk laughed, leaning back casually and kicking their boots up onto the scuffed coffee table, “Your husband’s a good kisser, Moll.”

Caleb gave a strangled squeak of alarm, all that he could come up with in his own defence while his brain was still in static mode, feeling his face flush a hot, prickly red.

Molly just shook his head, an exhausted kind of realisation tightening his already tight smile, “Um...Caleb, this is Kingsley. Kingsley is, uh...he’s my brother.”

Caleb stared at him blankly, metally tearing through his files for any hint that his husband had mentioned a brother before and coming up empty, “Your...he’s not on my list, Mollymauk.”

Molly tilted his head slightly and gently skipped over that, shooting Caleb a brief, pleading look that promised an explanation later. He moved past Caleb to set the tray down on the coffee table, his tail giving an irritated flick to move his apparent brother’s feet out of the way first.

Kingsley moved, apparently completely unfazed by anything that had happened so far, “He’s cute, Moll, where did you find him? When you told me you’d shacked up with a professor of all things, I was expecting someone a little more-”

“We met at one of my shows,” Molly cut across him, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence, “We were friends for years and then we got together. And he isn’t just a professor, he’s got the bookshop too.”

“Gods, your band!” Kingsley laughed, folding his legs up underneath him instead, “I remember that, you and Yash and that busted old guitar you had...I mean, fuck man, if he still married you after hearing you play, you know it’s true love.”

Molly gave a noncommittal grunt, pushing one of the mugs at him perhaps a little harder than he needed to.

Caleb hesitantly moved to sit in a chair off to the side, still quite unsure what to do. He was so distracted he almost sat on Frumpkin, who huffed and slithered into his master’s lap, glaring through slitted eyes at this doppelganger of someone he already wasn’t fond of.

“But yeah, like I was saying,” Kingsley, cradled the tea between cupped hands as scarred as his brother’s, “The Revelry’s got me running this cargo to Nicodranas and I thought hey, if I’m going to be in the area, why not drop in on my favourite brother?”

“Why not,” Molly repeated, a little thinly, “Without calling or sending a letter or anything to let me know you’d be stopping by…”

Caleb winced a little at the undercurrent of annoyance underneath his love’s voice but Kingsley only laughed, like it was a joke.

“C’mon, you know that’s not how I work, Moll. I never know where I’m going to be heading or when. I’m just glad I got to see you! Especially seeing as apparently you got married since I last saw you? And popped out two kids, what the hell?”

“Una is adopted,” Molly mumbled, like that was the important point.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Kingsley continued brightly, now smiling wide enough that Caleb caught the wink of a gold tooth, “I mean, you’re easily the most responsible out of all of us but still, married with kids, that's actually insane…”

Caleb’s eyebrows rose. He adored his husband but one thing he’d never be able to call him was responsible. Molly caught the movement from where he was sitting next to Kingsely and his cheekbones coloured.

Feeling a sudden stab of guilt, a sudden need to rush to Molly’s defence after he’d done it for him, Caleb blurted out, “Mollymauk is a great dad.”

Kingsley looked over to him, smiling crookedly, “I bet. He was always running around after me and Luce, making sure we didn’t get into trouble...well, as much trouble, I guess. Hey! Have you heard from Lucy lately, Moll? I haven’t spoken to him even longer than I hadn’t spoken to you.”

Molly tensed instantly at the question, jaw growing taut like a bowstring, his quietly simmering frustration igniting into full blown, barely concealed fury.

“I don’t speak to Lucien,” was all he said, voice tight and tense and, above all, final.

Even Kingsley seemed to pick up on that, backpedalling quickly, “Sure, sure...so where are these sprogs of yours, then? I’m so excited to meet them...”

“Yasha offered to take them for a few hours after I realised we had our unexpected guest,” Molly bit off the end of the sentence sharply, clearly struggling to maintain his control. He shook his head tightly, standing up and sighing, “Excuse me…”

Kingsley opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, finally falling silent as he watched his brother disappear in a swirl of his coat. Caleb didn’t hesitate, getting to his feet and moving after him, throwing Kingsley an apologetic glance.

“I’ll just, uh...see what he needs.”

Kingsley just nodded, flashing him a quick smile that didn’t quite shine as bright as his other ones, then just staring into his drink. Frumpkin jumped up next to him, eyeing him suspiciously.

In the kitchen, Caleb found Molly with his head in his hands, in the middle of a long, deep breath. Caleb tried to remember everything his husband did for him when he got overwhelmed, coming up behind him and gently wrapping his arms around his middle. Instantly he felt Molly lean into his touch, aching into it.

“I’m an asshole,” he heard him groan, muffled by his palms.

“You’re not,” Caleb murmured into his purple curls.

“I am,” Molly dropped his hands, “Gods, I haven’t seen my brother in years and he comes here and I didn’t even tell my husband or my kids about him, what does that make me look like to him? To you?”

Caleb shrugged, “It was a bit of a surprise...um, why didn’t you tell us? Just out of curiosity…”

Molly turned in his arms, pressing his face to the curve of his neck, having to bend as Caleb was just a little shorter than him. It was long enough that Caleb had accepted he wasn’t ready to talk about it, content just to hold him and let it pass, but then he felt him murmur.

“I hardly ever see him. He’s a pirate with the Revelry, he’s always off sailing somewhere and...and I try, I used to try but he never replies and I’d spend ninety percent of the time having no clue where he was before he’d just pop up suddenly and I’d have to bend my life around him for however long he’d stay and then have him just run off again…”

“And...Lucien?” Caleb asked hesitantly, “He’s your brother too?”

Molly moved back, eyes suddenly solid and serious, “Caleb, I need you to promise me, if you ever hear anything from Lucien, if you ever see him or he contacts you, you ignore him completely and you come straight to tell me. Don’t let him get anywhere near the kids, don’t listen to a word he says, just ignore him and find me. Understand?”

Caleb swallowed hard, more than a little taken aback, he’d never seen Molly like this, “I promise.”

At that, Molly relaxed a little, “He just...he’s not a good man, Caleb. He’s in deep with this cult shit, just...we’re having nothing to do with him anymore.”

Caleb nodded but a question was pressing irritatingly at the base of his tongue, wanting to push forward, as much as he worried it would upset Molly. His husband noticed, reading his face as easily as he ever had, a tired but fond smile chasing the last of the severity off his face.

“Go on then,” he prompted gently, “Ask me.”

Caleb almost groaned in relief as he nearly blurted, “How do you know they’re your brothers?”

Molly gave a rough laugh, “You mean aside from the obvious, that they look enough like me that you sucked Kingsely’s face thinking it was mine?”

Caleb’s face went up like flashpaper as he started to splutter, “It was an accident!”

Molly grinned, looking a little more like himself, putting a gentle hand on his cheek, “I get it, babe, don’t worry, I’ll take an IOU...but I get what you mean. You’re right, I don’t actually remember growing up with them, I don’t remember actually being their brother. And that’s kind of why it kind of hurts having him around, honestly.”

Caleb nodded sympathetically, “So they just sort of showed up after you woke up again?”

“Yeah,” Molly huffed out a laugh that didn’t have much humour in it, “Imagine you’re just walking down the street one day and some guy with your own face runs up to you and hugs you so hard it knocks you off your feet.”

“I can see how that would be...disconcerting?”

“Somewhat,” Molly sighed, moving to look at his reflection in the microwave door, trying to sort out the mess he’d made of his makeup, “Kingsley just...he’s a sweet enough guy even if he is a flit but...when he looks at me he sees this big brother he thought he’d lost, someone who apparently looked after him and ran around after him and held things together for him. Someone I absolutely am not. And he can’t seem to get it through his skull that I can’t be that person.”

Caleb gently but firmly stepped in front of Molly, taking his hands in his own. He didn’t seem to realise how badly they were shaking.

Molly gripped his fingers tightly, like he was holding on for dear life, like he hadn’t even realised how deep the water around him was until Caleb reached out.

“Honestly,” his voice was a shaky exhale, “I’m kind of glad he doesn’t stick around. He’d realise his brother’s gone for good.”

Caleb took a moment to consider his words, wanting desperately to say the right thing, willing his brain to kick into gear and let him help.

“Maybe if he met you now he’d realise he liked the brother he has?” he murmured gently, running his thumbs soothingly across Molly’s knuckles, “I am biased but I think you’re pretty fantastic.”

Molly smiled softly, leaning forward until he was resting his forehead on Caleb’s, “Thanks…”

“I don’t think you need to pretend to be anyone else,” Caleb promised, shifting slightly so he could press his lips to his forehead. It wasn’t quite the kiss he was imagining but he could tell it made Molly feel better and that was all that mattered.

Maybe so he couldn’t lose his nerve, Molly quickly returned the favour with a gentle kiss to the cheek and moved back into the living room. Caleb decided it was best to give them a moment, making a cup of tea of his own. He lingered over it, holding the warmth between his hands, watching the light outside of their small window turn from the full, deep orange of sunset to a cool blue.

Only then did he pad into the living room, not entirely sure what he was going to find. Of course he trusted Mollymauk but still, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little prepared to break up a fight. He mentally catalogued the components in his pockets, just in case.

But when he stuck his head around the corner, there were no flying feathers or drawn swords. The two Tealeafs were sat on the sofa together, Kingsley in the middle of another ramble, hands moving through the air as he gestured widley. Molly had an expression of bemusement and vague surprise.

“-and I was thinking I could show them how to tie knots, I swear man, you don’t even know how many godsdamned knots there are,” Kingsley was saying, eyes alight with excitement, “And maybe, if it was okay with you and Red obviously, I could take em out on the ship sometime! Just a little day trip and you guys could come too, there’s a place where you can always see dolphins and there’s seals and I even saw a whale once! Kids would be into that, right? Kids like animals, don’t they?”

For the first time, Kingsley looked something other than blithely amused. For the first time, a kind of hopeless uncertainty edged into his eyes.

Molly clearly caught it, something in him softening, “You...you really want to spend time with my kids?”

“Of course I do!” Kingsley blinked, “I mean, okay, I’ve not been the best brother on the planet but I’m an uncle now. Like, I’m someone’s actual uncle! That’s the most incredible thing and I just really want to do a good job at it. I want them to like me.”

For a moment, Molly looked startled, like he hadn’t expected him to say that. But once it had sunken in, his face cracked into a smile.

“I’ll be honest, Kingsley, I don’t think you’re going to have to work that hard to get them to like you. You’ll see.”

Kingsley looked like that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him, his face lighting up like the dawn.

“And look,” Molly shrugged, “You’re not a shitty brother or anything just...just call more, damn it.”

“Okay, I promise,” Kingsley was back to laughing, looking like he was a second away from pouncing on Molly and hugging him, “I mean, I'm gonna be checking in with my little niece and nephew all the time, right?”

“Yeah,” Molly grinned back at him, “I guess you will.”

For all the broken teeth, they really did have the exact same smile.

Caleb leaned against the doorway, eyes warm as he watched them, as he watched Kingsely loudly announce that he’d even brought a present for his new family members before pulling an entire cutlass out of a holster neither of them had noticed under his coat, as he watched Molly choke down a laugh and start to explain why, as cool as they’d find it, a pirate sword really wasn’t an appropriate gift for two toddlers.

None of this had been on his list. But there was something to be said for surprises.

[pogokitten]

Lost and Found

By @pogokitten for @lost-lunar-wolf

Rating: Teen (for swears)

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, Ben Parker, May Parker

Summary: People lose things all the time, keys, toys, favorite socks. It happens, it’s just a part of life. But sometimes these lost items make their way to soulmates. It’s phenomena as old as civilization itself. You lose your favorite hair tie and poof, it just appears near your soulmate for them to find and eventually return. Romantic or Platonic, it’s expected that everyone stumbles over some of their soulmates' lost items here and there. Some people just end up waiting longer than others.  

Or: The platonic soulmate AU where Tony and Peter find and hold onto a lot of each other’s stuff over the years.

Tony is speed walking through his mansion the first time it happens. He’s not paying attention, tie barely on straight and coffee almost sloshing out of his cup as he rushes for the door. He’s late for a meeting and usually he wouldn’t care, but Obie has been up his ass about this one. Something about a grouchy general that thinks Stark Industries weapons are overpriced and overhyped needing convincing.

So when Tony stumbles on something caught under his dress shoes, he finds himself cursing colorfully as splashes of coffee dot the marble floor. He glares down at the offending object when he has his footing, fully expecting it to be a tool or something that migrated out of the workshop.

The engineer stops short and stares however, when he takes in the soft blue baby binky on his floor.

Tony is no stranger to having strange things in his house, being an eccentric billionaire and all, but he has absolutely no clue how a pacifier of all things has ended up on his floor.  

Tony scoops the binkie off the floor examining it, completely baffled.

It looks new if the bright color and barely chewed appearance is anything to go by. Tony wracks his brain for any possible reason a pacifier could have made its way into his home. This wasn’t a week for the cleaners so it wouldn’t be something of theirs, and the only other people who have been in his house since yesterday were Happy and Pepper.

The engineer knows Happy himself is allergic to children, but doesn’t he have a sister or something? Does she have a kid? Maybe it got mixed up in Happy’s things? It’s not the most plausible explanation.

As for Pepper, Tony’s pretty fucking sure she doesn’t have a kid. He knows from her comments that she doesn’t have much in the way of family anymore and that she’s single. Maybe one of her college friends has kids? Could one of their kid’s binkies have ended up in her purse during a visit or something?

The theory’s not great, but that’s at least more believable than Happy being the culprit, and for the life of him, Tony doesn’t know where else the thing would have come from.

Tony stuffs the pacifier into his pocket and continues out the door resolving to ask Pepper about it later.

---

Tony never ends up asking Pepper about the binky.

He came home from an extremely long day at the office spent schmoozing the stuffy general and tossed the thing out of his pocket along with his keys onto a cluttered table in the workshop. He then proceeded to drink the night away to dull the built up tension. When JARVIS wakes him up the next morning, the pacifier is a distant memory due to his ragging hangover and Obie calling to talk business.

It’s not until a few months later that the binky even crosses Tony’s mind again.

It’s another typical day in the life of a party addicted billionaire genius, when Pepper pages him through JARVIS to help her into the house. Tony finally emerges from his lab for the first time that day, muttering equations under his breath. He’s lost in his own head, still focused on the designs he’s been hammering out downstairs.

So Tony nearly falls on his ass when he steps onto something that slides under his feet in the entryway. The engineer is quick to catch himself, heart still racing from the near drop, and looks around irritably for damn banana peel or whatever it was that almost killed him.

He quickly spots what looks like a scrap of fabric nearby. Grumbling, Tony snatches it off the floor and realizes it's not a pocket square or a tie like he thought.

No, it’s a lovey.

He gapes at the toy with wide eyes.

The blanket bit of the toy is a soft yellow fabric, the stuffed animal portion a smiling dog with floppy ears. It’s a bit love worn and could probably use a wash, but it doesn’t seem especially old.

It also absolutely shouldn’t be here.

No one else has been in the mansion for the last two days except for him, and Tony knows the lovey wasn’t there this morning.

“JARVIS, did someone break into the house to leave baby toys for me to trip on, and you just neglected to tell me?” Tony asks.

“Of course not, sir,” the AI says, sounding almost offended, “No one has been inside of the mansion aside from yourself and I would have alerted you to a perimeter breach.”

“Then how is this here?” Tony questions, holding the toy up to the nearest camera.

“It simply appeared in the foyer, sir,” JARVIS tells him.

“That’s impossible, things don’t just appear.”  

“It is possible, sir. I thought it would be obvious,” the AI refutes, a hint of a smirk in his tone.  

Tony rolls his eyes. “Not in the mood right now, J.”

“I believe that your soulmate has lost both the toy in your hand and the pacifier you found approximately three months ago,” JARVIS explains.

Any sort of snappy retort dies in Tony’s throat and he snaps his gaze back to the lovey he’s holding.

Soulmates were not something that Tony Stark had thought about often in the past two decades of his life.

Growing up he’d been as intrigued by soulmates as any child his age, waiting to find mysterious clothes or toys like many of his peers. He’d waited and hoped and looked for years, anything to ease the loneliness of the Stark Mansion. Only to find himself at the age of fifteen without a single lost and found object to his name. That had been when he started to doubt, when he stopped looking for items that weren’t his and steered away from conversations about soulmates.

It’s not unheard of to not have a soulmate until adolescence and beyond, but after he hit twenty-one, Tony had concluded that the cosmos hadn’t bothered to give him one. That, or his soulmate had died before they’d had anything to lose besides their life.

He is well past the age where he would have gotten a romantic soulmate bond, but a platonic or familial one…

It’s pretty common knowledge that a lot of parents and children share a familial soulmate bond, and it’s not like Tony is the most...celibate...person in the world. He’s been careful about his fun, but could it have happened? Or was this some random kid who had gotten stuck with Tony Stark as their ‘shared soul’ by the misfortune of fate?

Tony stares at the lovey in shock while his thoughts race for a long enough amount of time that Pepper irritably rings the doorbell again. Still practically in a trance, Tony opens the door for her on autopilot.

Pepper bustles into the mansion carrying several packages of mail and one of his freshly dry cleaned suits, strands of her vibrant hair escaping the usually tidy bun they’re usually pinned up in.

“Finally! I’ve been standing out there holding all these boxes for ages! Really, Mr. Stark what in the world did you order that’s so-?”

“Pep…” Tony manages to choke out, the nickname and his tone catching her attention.

His PA puts the mail and dry cleaning on a side table and turns back to him, concern on her face.

“Mr. Stark?” she asks.

With a slightly trembling hand he holds the lovey out to her. “I… I found this. And a binky a while ago. I’ve got… I’ve got a soulmate.”

“Oh… Mr. Stark-” Pepper’s mouth opens in shock as she takes in the toy, before her eyes crinkle in a smile, “Tony, that’s wonderful.”

“God look at this thing,” Tony chuckles, and to his slight horror, it’s a bit of a wet sound, “Between this and the binky, the kid can’t be more than half a year, huh?”

“I’d say so.” Pepper says smiling down at the little plush toy.

Tony swallows. “Do you think he’s mine?”

His PA looks back up at him, eyebrow raised slightly. “He?”

“Just a feeling.”

“A feeling, huh?” Pepper smiles, “Well he is yours. Your soulmate. It doesn’t matter if this child is yours biologically, because you’re going to care about them either way right?”

Tony nods, unable to voice any of his vulnerable thoughts. Too many emotions are still swirling inside, crowding his mind.

“Besides I don’t think he’s blood related to you,” Pepper tells him.

“How do you know?” Tony asks.

She gives him a bit of smirk. “Just a feeling.”

Tony gives a little laugh, giving her a grin in return. But eventually he looks back at the toy in his hands and feels it slip off his face. In his bones, he already knows that the bond he and his soulmate will have is going to be a familial extension of a platonic soulmate bond. Or more accurately, a paternal one. And that absolutely scares the shit out of Tony.

“What’s wrong?” Pepper questions, peering down at his whitening knuckles.

“Even if he’s not mine by blood, I don’t want to be like my dad,” Tony confesses in a rush, “I can’t keep the cycle going… I-”

“You won’t,” Pepper cuts him off, “The fact that you’re worried about that at all is proof enough that you care, and that you want to be better than Howard. So you will be.”  

Tony doesn’t say anything to that, gaze dropping back to the lovey in his hands. He wants to be better than his father, but can he be? He’s been following in Howard Stark’s promiscuous alcoholic shadow for a long time now. But he owes it to this kid, and Pepper, and hell, even himself to try and be better.

Pepper eventually clears her throat. “Will that be all Mr. Stark?”

Tony gives her a genuine smile, the kind that is reserved only for the few people he trusts and cares for. “That will be all Ms.Potts.”

***

Peter sits on the couch in his aunt and uncle’s apartment pouting. The adults are standing near the doorway, talking. Sure he loves Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but he loves his Mommy and Daddy more, and they’ve been going on trips so much lately. They just went on a trip a few weeks ago and now they’re going on another one. And this one is so far away.

“We should probably head out. Thanks so much for looking after Pete this week,” Peter hears his dad say.

“Of course, we love having Peter,” May tells him.

“Don’t go!” Peter jumps up from the couch and tackles his mom’s leg.

“It’s not for long sweetheart,” she soothes, brushing his hair back, “Daddy and I have to go to a few boring meetings. You’ll have more fun here with Uncle Ben and Aunt May.”

“But I’ll miss you!” Peter whines.

“And we’ll miss you kiddo, but we’ll be back before you know it,” his dad says, kneeling down to hug him.

Then his dad picks him up so his mom can hug them too. Peter likes it when they all hug like that, it makes him feel warm and super safe.

“Love you. Bye-bye,” Peter mumbles into the embrace sadly.  

He knows by now that no amount of begging will get them to stay, but that doesn’t stop him from trying at least a little bit every time.

His mom kisses his forehead. “And we love you Peter.”

Peter’s parents set him down and hug his aunt and uncle before they step out of the apartment and are gone. Peter’s eyes feel hot, but he doesn’t want to cry. He’s six, so he’s almost big now. Mommy said it was okay to cry no matter how old you are, but most of the other boys at school just make fun of Peter for it.

Aunt May cards her fingers through his hair. “Why don’t you go get settled, sweetie. Then we’ll all go to the park so you can play and feed the birds?”

Peter nods, subdued, and shuffles to the small guest room with his backpack and suitcase.

He sniffs back tears while he makes quick work of his suitcase, throwing his clothes haphazardly into the dresser, but takes much more care with his backpack.

Peter unzips it, double checking that all of his prized possessions are there. His dumb inhaler that he has to carry everywhere, check. His GameBoy and the handful of games he has, check. Toebeans, his stuffed snow leopard, check. His three favorite action figures at the moment, check. And… Peter panics for a moment before he feels his hand close around cold metal.

With a sigh of relief, Peter pulls the tool from his bag.

The screwdriver is small, the perfect size for Peter’s little hands. It’s old and its red handle is worn. Uncle Ben told him it’s for putting together small delicate things since it’s way too small for normal sized screws. Daddy said the screwdriver had turned up in Peter’s crib when he was just a few weeks old. He had explained that it belonged to Peter’s soulmate and that they must have lost it.

Peter’s soulmate must usually be good about not losing things though, since Peter hasn’t found that much stuff. So far it’s just been things like nuts and bolts or a couple of pretty neckties. Peter’s pretty sure his soulmate must be a grown up, since they never seem to lose fun stuff, like toys. Ned’s soulmate always loses toys, like My Little Pony dolls and plastic dinosaurs.  

Still Peter keeps all the things he finds, even if they’re usually kinda boring. Uncle Ben and Daddy always say it’s important to return lost items, and there’s no way Peter would ever be mean to his soulmate. Especially when holding his soulmate's screwdriver makes him feel better whenever he’s sad. It’s familiar and it makes him feel safe, like his parents’ hugs.

Staring down at the screwdriver, Peter wonders what lost stuff his soulmate has from him.

...Maybe they’ve got that bouncy ball he lost two weeks ago? It was a really good one. He hopes they have fun with it.

Still Peter can’t wait to meet his soulmate, even if they are old. Mommy told him to be patient, but Peter’s never really been the best at that. Daddy said they would meet when the time was right and he and his soulmate needed each other most. Whatever that means.

“Peter! Come on, let’s hit the park!” His uncle calls.

The boy quickly puts the screwdriver back and zips his bag closed, swinging it onto his shoulders. “Coming, Uncle Ben!”

His aunt and uncle lead him from the apartment, his little hand clasped in his uncle’s calloused one.

Uncle Ben gives his hand a squeeze and a gentle smile when Peter looks up at him. “Buck up champ, your parents will be back before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Peter smiles and never once that week did he think Uncle Ben would be wrong.

***

They’ve just finished a meager dinner of mostly tasteless stew, and Tony wants nothing more than to collapse after another day of hard labor. He’s lost track of how many days he’s been in this godforsaken cave, no longer having any concept of time after being hidden away underground. Since that first week, most days have been the same. Tony and Yinsen desperately trying to craft the instrument of their escape without being caught, all while making their captors believe they’re cooperating.

It's a terrifyingly fine tightrope they’re walking.  

At least he’s finally getting used to the constant pain of the reactor in his chest, something he’s very likely to live with for the rest of his life. However long that may be.

Tony has just stood and turned away from the fire, intending to finally sleep, when he stumbles over something in his exhausted state. He glances down half-heartedly, expecting a rock or a divet in the cave floor only to freeze when he sees it.

It’s an action figure of some sort. Clearly a superhero of some kind, his outfit is red and white with a helmet that hides his face. Tony thinks he’s flicked passed this show on TV once or twice. Power...Something. Power Riders..? No that’s not quite it.

Tony picks the toy up, feeling his lip quirk slightly despite himself.

“Stark?” Yinsen questions, coming over to look at what he’s holding.

“My kid...my soulmate,” Tony explains with a sad little huff of laughter at the other man’s raised eyebrow, “They must have lost this.”

“My children are the same, always misplacing their things,” Yinsen tells him with a nostalgic smile, “What are they like?”

“Well…” Tony heaves out a breath, blinking away the sudden urge to cry, “He’s a little boy if I had to guess, probably around seven or eight since that’s how long I’ve been tripping over his toys. He likes action figures and Legos, considering how many he loses, but I don’t...really know. I… I never got to meet him.”

And it’s true, he hasn’t. And god it feels like everything’s been a waste. He never even got to meet the little kid who’s stuff he’s been stumbling over for years. And now Tony’s in a cave held captive by terrorists with shrapnel near his heart, the only thing keeping him alive being the electromagnet in his chest and the knowledge of a missile his captives want him to build.

Yinsen puts a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You have not gotten to meet him yet.”

The engineer nods then, his jaw set. “Not yet.”

After that, Tony makes sure to keep the action figure close during his time in the cave with Yinsen. It’s almost obsessive how many times he checks that it’s still in the same place. But it’s like a little spark of hope in their dark cavern, a tangible reminder that there’s a life out there for him to return to, if he can just escape this hell.

Tony’s got to make sure he’s there to give all those toys back to the kid someday, after all.

***

Peter blinks awake sluggishly when May shakes his shoulder. “Come on. Get dressed sweetheart, breakfast is almost done. I know you don’t want to, but the two weeks the school let us have is up.”

Right. He’d been trying so hard not to think about it, he nearly forgot.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

Peter pulls his aching body, sore from tossing and turning, out of bed while rubbing sleep from his eyes. Last night was definitely one of the worst nights he’s had these past two weeks. The teen had spent the first half of it shifting restlessly, unable to sleep, then he’d cried for at least an hour or two before finally succumbing to his exhaustion.

The boy shuffles into his clothes, not even bothering to check what he’s wearing. Moving to the bathroom, Peter cringes at his reflection after he finishes brushing his wild curls. He’s pale as a ghost, but his eyes are red and watery. Dark shadows sit under them, marks of the past two weeks of mostly sleepless nights.

He looks horrible. Like he’s a zombie or is deathly ill. There’s no way people won’t notice. The teen is really not looking forward to all the pitying looks and whispers he’s going to get just from the news he’s sure has gotten around, let alone how he looks like a ghost. Peter really doesn’t want to go back to school today...or well ever. Going back to “normal” after Ben… Well, it just doesn’t seem possible.

Unbidden more tears spring to his eyes.

Peter sighs, dropping his gaze back to the sink.

To his surprise an unfamiliar pair of sunglasses are sitting on the porcelain edge. Peter picks them up examining them, already aware that they don’t belong to May...or Ben. They’re a nice pair of sunglasses from what he can tell. The lenses are a deep red so dark it looks black, the frames a dark burnished metal. Clearly some really expensive name brand that probably costs near the apartment’s monthly rent.

Impulsively, Peter slips them on and checks out his reflection in the mirror. To his relief, they do a great job of hiding his red rimmed eyes and the dark shadows underneath them, perfect for his first day back to school. And he can admit, although they’re a smidge big, he does look pretty cool in them.

Peter slides them off and slips them into his hoodie pocket so that May doesn’t see. She probably wouldn’t approve of him trying to wear them all day. But hopefully his teachers will give him some leeway since they’ve probably all heard what happened.

Worst comes to worst, he can just lie and say he has a migraine or something.

He eats a solemn and slightly charred breakfast with May, sharing a long and tight hug with her before he forces himself to head out. As soon as he’s clear of their building, Peter slips the sunglasses back onto his face.

On the streets, no one gives him a second glance, but it is New York after all and that’s just the norm. The real test starts when he finally makes it to the front steps of his school. There are some kids milling around outside chatting about their weekends in the few minutes before the first bell. He slips past them easily enough, with only a few brief glances thrown his way.

In the hallway some of the students and teachers do give him lingering looks, but he keeps the glasses on and his head down and the whispers are minimal. When Peter finally makes it to his locker, he breaths out a sigh of relief. The sunglasses do attract a few lingering looks, but no one has commented on his distressed state.

He keeps them on for the rest of the day, sighting a migraine when asked. None of the teachers seem keen to try and force him to take them off, as expected. Peter’s pretty sure it’s just because none of them want to be responsible for making him cry or have a breakdown.

He ends up wearing the sunglasses a few more days that week, on the mornings after rough nights. The sunglasses almost feel like a shield, protecting him from prying eyes. It feels a bit like his soulmate is there, letting Peter hide behind them. They make him feel safe, and like he’s not an open book for the first time since that fatal gunshot rang out.

Eventually, after the rubbed raw pain of Ben’s death has faded a bit, the glasses end up tucked away with the little red screwdriver in the box that holds his most precious items.

***

Tony really wants a drink, despite all his promises to Pepper. He really has been trying to lay off since they finally got back together after such a long break. Not to mention he’d gotten black out drunk so many times in the first few weeks after Siberia that the few people left in his life had come together and begged him to stop before he killed himself. Tony’s a lot older than he was when he went out drinking every night after his parents were killed, and the drinking isn’t nearly as gratifying as it was then.

He hates that it’s still a struggle to not seek alcohol out on his own.

Now more than ever, especially after Ultron and the media dubbed “Civil War”, Tony wonders if he’s even managed to do any good in the world as Iron Man. More and more it seems like he just makes bigger messes than the ones he tries to clean up. Sure, he’s had his good moments, but they feel like they pale in comparison to all his missteps.

Not to mention how even when it’s a group failure, most of the world is content in letting just him take the fall. Everyone else seems to get off scot-free while Tony and his loved ones are left in the blast radius of the aftermath.  

The engineer sighs, heading back to his lab after taking a stressful SI call in his office upstairs. FRIDAY opens the door for him without comment and he heads towards the single worktable he’s managed to set up so far in the compound. But then Tony blinks at the backpack that’s now sitting on top of the letter and dinosaur tech Rogers mailed him.

The bag is dark blue and little worn, something inexpensive that’s easily bought at big box stores. Feeling a bit excited, almost like he’s opening a present, Tony pulls the first zipper open. This isn’t the first backpack his kid’s lost, but it is weird that it’s happened at least four times this year alone.

Inside he finds a handful of pens and pencils, a mostly blank notebook with some pretty high level physics in it, an advanced calculus textbook that’s seen better days, and a change of clothes. There’s no name of course, because the universe hates to “ruin the surprise” as the saying goes, but it still tells Tony a bit more about the type of person his kid is.

Obviously the kid is incredibly smart, although Tony already knew that from finding the kid’s advanced biochem notebook in the first lost backpack and seeing the sort of stuff he was working on (Some of which seemed to be of the kid’s own initiative and was complex enough that Tony himself had needed to brush up on the subject to decode it).

He also knows that the kid must not come from a super wealthy household going by the cheap bag and worn clothes. Of course he already knew that too. Most of the stuff that the kid’s lost is generally well taken care of, but always inexpensive. That knowledge had certainly gotten Tony to fund a lot more scholarships for advanced school programs around New York City. Not that he knows where the kid is other than somewhere in America, but it still made Tony happy funding the future.

Smiling slightly, Tony puts everything back in the bag and is about to take it to store with the rest of the kid’s stuff when he catches sight of the pin buttons decorating the front. One is a Star Wars one with some nerdy meme on it, but the other one has the Iron Man mask on it. He lets out a surprised and almost wet laugh. Even after all these years he's still the kid’s favorite.

Tony will never forget the first Iron Man drawing he’d found that the kid had done, or the first action figure of himself he’d tripped over in the lab. Tony remembers preening like a peacock and showing the toy off to Pepper, Rhodey, and even Happy for the next week.

Somehow, despite all the shit he’s done, Tony must have done something right to end up as his kid’s hero. Becoming a superhero might not be why he originally set out to be Iron Man, but somewhere along the way he learned that he couldn’t just stand by and let people get hurt. Tony may not be as much as a pure hearted superhero as the spider kid, but it’s nice to have a reminder that he’s still got people to live up to.

Speaking of the kid, Peter is eager for sure. He’s smart as a whip and has a good heart despite all the times the universe has shit on him. And young as he is, the spiderling is using his superpowers with a maturity that most kids his age wouldn’t have. That and he did really well in Germany.

Tony looks back at the backpack frowning. Iron Man won’t be around forever, as much as Tony hates to admit it, he is getting old. And with almost all of the Avengers in the wind, he needs to make sure there are still heroes, real heroes, for the world to believe in.  

Tony nods to himself and pulls up the design for the Iron Spider suit.

***

Peter pulls himself out from under the rubble of the collapsed warehouse, gasping for breath, limbs still shaking. Behind him the rubble shifts and tumbles further and the teen is quick to scramble away from it, coughing at the dust it kicks up. For a moment he just stands there trying to catch his breath and still his shaking.

Holy shit, that just happened. The Vulture dropped an entire building on him and left him to die. Peter can feel the embers of his panic trying to crawl up his throat and reignite. He already knows this incident is gonna be nightmare fuel to rival the ones he has about Ben’s death. Just like that night, Peter feels like he lost something of himself, only this time it was lost under the rubble and not in a puddle of blood.

But he thankfully doesn’t have time to dwell on it.

There’s no telling how far Toomes has gotten while he was trapped under the warehouse. Peter needs to move now if he wants to stop the villain from stealing dangerous Avengers tech. If that stuff gets out on the streets no one in New York City, or maybe even the country would be safe. The thought of what kinds of people Toomes could sell those weapons to is horrifying.  

People are in danger, and even if Peter messes up or disappoints Mr. Stark again, he can’t let anyone get hurt when he has the power to stop it.

So, still trembling slightly, Peter raises his arm and shoots off a web, swinging into the night after the Vulture.

He doesn’t give a single thought to his Spider-Man mask, lost and left behind in the debris.

***

Tony is in the Avengers Compound again when he finds it.

Moving all the old Avengers tech to the compound has proven to be a nightmare. He’s still got the government up his ass after the “Civil War” debacle. Not to mention the modified alien weapons on the streets that both the DODC and FBI have been too incompetent to get a handle on, or even find the source of. But he’s still so busy with SI, the Accords, and the move upstate that he doesn’t have the time to track the guy properly at the moment.

And this Vulture guy really is below the Avengers’ pay grade like he told Peter. They were never really in the business of taking down arms dealers, not even high tech ones.

Tony sighs. He is starting to feel bad about taking back the kid’s suit. Sure, Peter was being reckless in it, but hadn’t Tony done the same in his? And Peter had the excuse of being an actual child. Not to mention sooner or later, the kid is going to remember that his powers don’t come from the suit. He’s going to run into a crime he can’t ignore and he won’t have the one thing that keeps him safe.

Tony had been telling the spiderling he didn’t want to be like his old man before the ferry shitshow, and what had he done as soon as Peter slipped up? Screamed at him, taken away the suit, and basically told the kid he didn’t want to have to deal with him anymore. And before that he had barely interacted with Peter after the whole thing in Germany, and yeah, Tony had some good excuses for that, but it was all still the exact same shit Howard would have done.

As much as Tony doesn’t do feelings, maybe he should call the kid up and apologize soon. It’s already been a few weeks.

Tony has just collapsed onto his desk chair in his workshop and started massaging at the tension headache sitting at the front of his skull when it catches his eye. A strange flash of red on his work table that wasn’t there just a moment before. Tony already knows it’s not something of his considering how little he’s been using this lab up until now.

His lip is already twitching up fondly as he reaches for it, wondering what the kid lost this time. He grabs the fabric object and pulls it out from under the stack of blueprints it’s ended up under.

For a moment nothing makes sense.

He’s holding Spider-Man’s mask.

The first one, from the kid’s onesie suit with the googly-eyed goggles sewn in. It’s soaking wet and covered in concrete dust. There are also a few smears of darker red that take a moment to register as blood to the engineer. All he can do is stare at it in utter confusion for a few seconds.

Then it suddenly makes so much fucking sense and Tony is so damn stupid. Of course It’s Peter, of course it’s always been the kid. Of fucking course his soulmate is the superpowered genius orphan with a guilt complex as big as his own. Of course it's the kid who agreed to help fight when Tony needed him the most. It was right in front of his face and he’s an idiot for not realizing that he found his soulmate nearly six months ago.

A soulmate who he’s been foisting off on Happy and refused to grow close to out of paranoid fear. A soulmate who’s looked up to Tony his whole life despite how shitty of a person Tony is. A soulmate who has obviously gone out in his homemade onesie of a suit and has obviously been wounded recently, if the fresh blood on the mask is anything to go by.

“FRIDAY, call the Forehead of Security,” Tony orders, vaguely realizing that his hands have started to tremble.  

As soon as the line connects, Tony is speaking before his friend can get a word in. “Happy, where’s the kid?”

“Tony- what?” Happy asks, sounding baffled, “Who? Parker?”

“Yes. What other kid do we both know? Where is he?” Tony questions.

“Why are you asking me? I don’t know. You have his number don’t you? Or just call his-” Happy cuts himself off, and for a moment Tony thinks the connection dropped until he hears Happy swearing, “Shit! Shit!”

“What?” the engineer demands.

There's a long moment of silence and Tony thinks he might actually hear Happy gulp. “The plane. It just went down.”

“Oh God, that’s what he’s doing,” Tony breathes out, heart clenching, “Peter’s there, Happy! He’s trying to stop it and he’s going to get himself killed!”

“What? How do you know? Besides I thought you took his suit?”

“I did! But I found his old Spider-Man mask covered in dirt and blood!” Tony practically shouts into the phone, the fear he feels coming out easier as anger.

Happy is silent for a moment, maybe stunned at the outburst. “Tony what are you talking about? You’re upstate-”

“You aren’t getting it,” Tony cuts him off, feeling panic starting to win over anger, “I just found it in the lab! The lab that Peter has never set foot in! On my work table that was clear about five minutes ago!”

“What..? But that means...” there’s a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line, “Oh God. Shit- Okay. Coney Island that’s where-”

“I’m on my way,” Tony says, shoving Peter’s mask into his pocket and stepping into a suit, hoping with everything he has that the kid, his kid, is okay.

Then he’s blasting out of the lab’s launchpad, streaking through the sky towards the glowing beacon of New York City in the far distance as fast as the suit can take him. He tries to call Peter from his HUD but it goes straight to voicemail and Tony tries not to lose it completely.

---

When Tony finds Peter, bleeding, battered, and unconscious on top of the Cyclone coaster he greys out. FRIDAY is feeding him info on the kid’s condition and giving him instructions, but even as Tony’s body moves to follow her recommendations, it’s like he’s not even there. Or maybe he is but only in flashes, like his brain is skipping.  

One moment Tony’s picking the kid up as if he’s made of porcelain and the next he’s shooting off into the air, streaking back towards the compound since he stupidly moved upstate and left Peter without support in the city. It feels like Tony blinks and he’s landing again and Helen and her team are taking Peter’s limp blood covered body from Tony’s arms. He thinks Pepper calls him, and then Happy.

He has no idea what he says to either of them.

And then, what must be hours later, it feels like Tony finally wakes up in the compound’s medby, sitting at Peter’s bedside. The kid’s old mask is still bulging out of his pocket. He pulls it out and stares at it for a bit before looking back at his kid, his soulmate, laid out in the narrow bed.

Peter in his hospital scrubs is smaller and paler than Tony has ever seen him against the crisp white sheets. Not that he’s seen much of the kid, a dark part of his thoughts remind him. The kid’s broken ribs and head wound are bandaged, and he’s got an air cast for a wrist fracture. Helen’s got him hooked up to a complicated IV drip of some sort and FRIDAY is keeping careful track of the spiderling’s vitals on a nearby monitor.

Tony doesn’t remember too much of what Helen said about Peter’s injuries, other than they were somewhat severe and he’d lost a good bit of blood, but they thankfully hadn’t had to operate. Although he remembers there had been a fair amount of stitches needing to be done on the kid’s torso. That and something about having to give him an insane amount of pain meds to even touch his metabolism.

Peter shivers in his sleep and Tony hesitates for a moment before pulling the blankets up higher and tucking the teen in. After a few minutes the shivering stops, and tentatively Tony takes one of Peter’s hands in his. The kid’s hand is cold and a bit clammy in his, but Tony doesn’t mind. His curls are adorably wild and the engineer has to resist the urge to brush them out of Peter’s face.  

Tony doesn’t know how long he sits there holding his soulmate's hand, going over in his head again and again what he could possibly say to the kid, before he feels Peter grip his hand back weakly.

“Finally back with us, Pete?” Tony asks with a softness he didn’t know he possessed when the spider kid’s eyes start to slit open.

“Mis’r S’ark?” the teen slurs still half asleep.

Tony manages a weak grin. “The one and only.”

“Wha’ are you doin’ here?” Peter mumbles squinting his eyes open a bit more.

Tony squeezes the kid’s hand. “Didn’t want you to wake up alone and freak out.”

The physical contact and words seem to get through some of Peter’s drowsiness and confusion because he blinks rapidly then snatches his hand out of Tony’s own. The engineer tries not to feel stung by the action.

“Oh my god, your plane! Toomes! Is he okay, is anyone hurt?!” the teen asks frantically.

Tony is quick to stop the spiderling from trying to sit up. “The only one hurt was you, kid.”

Peter slumps back against the pillows. “That’s good.”

“It’s really not. Peter, you could have-” Tony cuts himself off and breathes out a long sigh, not wanting to lecture the kid while he’s still recovering.

The kid is giving him a wary look, like he’s waiting for Tony to lose it on him again. It makes him feel like even more of a piece of shit. So he does the only thing he can think of and holds the Spider-Man mask out to the kid.

“I found this,” Tony says abruptly.

“Oh. At the old warehouse?” Peter asks, taking it from him without meeting his eyes.  

“No. In my lab.”

The spider kid’s head pops up at that, confused. “But, Mr. Stark, I’ve never been to your lab. And I had it for part of the fight with Toomes.”

Tony nods and clears his throat. Well, now or never. “I know. But you did lose it.”

Peter’s brow furrows in confusion. Tony sees it dawn on the kid after a few seconds, his eyes going wide and shooting up to stare at the engineer.  

“You… So you’re…” the kid stutters.

“Yeah, kid. I’m your soulmate and I’ve got several boxes full of old toys, clothes, and backpacks that I’ve been holding onto for a long time,” Tony tells the boy feeling a little choked up.

Peter doesn’t say anything, he’s still staring at Tony looking completely gobsmacked. When the silence continues to stretch on, the engineer feels his insides squirm with insecurity. After everything that’s happened, maybe Peter doesn’t want to deal with such a shitty soulmate. Tony’s not sure he’d be too forgiving after the last few months of no contact and a near deathmatch with a supervillain that probably could have been avoided.  

When Peter still doesn’t manage to get a word out, Tony lets himself deflate. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I know I’m not anyone’s first choice of well…anything generally, and you deserve a better soulmate and mentor... But give me another chance, Pete. It won’t be perfect at first but let me try and fix-”

“That’s-!” Peter bursts in suddenly, cutting him off, “That’s not true Mr. Stark. The whole ‘not anyone’s first choice’ crap, I mean. You were...one of my first heroes and- and you still are. Both in a science and superhero sense. And yeah you, uh, do really suck at the whole…emotional availability thing, but you just need practice. Probably.”

Tony finds his mouth twitching up, especially when Peter’s ears go red at the last bit. The kid is endearingly honest and awkward.

“What I mean is, that I’ve been trying to follow your footsteps for a long time now. And I forgive you for the whole…ghosting me thing, and I don’t blame you for taking the suit after the ferry. And I want to be your soulmate if you’ll still have me after I crashed your plan, and-” Peter cuts off his own rambling and looks down, still flushed with embarrassment, “Sorry, I’m totally still freaking out that it’s you.”

“You and me both kid, I don’t know what I did to deserve compassionate, responsible, superhero Peter Parker as my soulmate,” Tony tells the kid, and immediately shoots for a joke to cut away from the vulnerability of that statement,  “Even if you’re a little shit that gives me grey hair, especially with all the all the times I’ve nearly broken my neck tripping on your stuff over the years.”

“Well, I don’t know what I did to deserve Tony freaking Stark as my soulmate, even if he only loses boring crap like ties and metal scraps. Seriously, Ned’s soulmate lost Nintendo DS games and all I had to show from mine were socks or nuts and bolts. You made me so lame, Mr. Stark,” Peter whines dramatically, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, and it doesn’t ruin my very polished image as Tony Stark, billionaire genius, to trip over your Legos while out in public?” the engineer teases back, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Peter gives him a big innocent grin in response like the smartass he is and Tony just rolls his eyes.

The engineer leans forward and opens his arms in invitation. “C’mere spiderling.”

Peter lights up and gingerly leans into the embrace, careful of his injured ribs. He lets out a soft sigh of contentment and Tony won’t admit to anyone that the sound makes him melt a bit.

“Is this actually a hug this time, since there’s no door to get?” Peter questions with false innocence after a few moments.

Tony snorts. “Yes, you little shit it’s a hug.”

Peter’s laughter in his ear is the best thing he’s heard in months.

“So, when do we get to return each other’s stuff? Can we do it now?” the spider kid asks when they break apart, excitement shining in his eyes even as they began to droop with fatigue.

“Not till you’re healed, first of all. And we’ll have to take a day to do it. It’s a lot to go through. You’ve lost a lot of stuff over the years, kiddo,” Tony tells him, helping to settle the drowsy kid back under the bedsheets.

“We’ve got time,” Peter yawns, “Besides, if I didn’t lose anything, then how would you ever know to come find me and give it back Mr. Stark?”

Smiling fondly Tony finally gives in and starts combing his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I’ll always come find you, Pete.”

The spiderling gives a happy sleepy murmur in response before he slips back into sleep.

***

A few weeks later, after May had found out about everything, superhero alter egos and soulmates included, Peter is finally ungrounded enough to be allowed to go to the compound one weekend. May and Tony had talked a lot in the last few weeks and she had come to terms with everything. Well, after a lot of yelling at least. But now she was glad that Peter had another adult to care for him and watch over him.

Peter wasn’t just teasing about his not losing much over the years. He’s only brought over about three cardboard boxes worth of forgotten items. It’s a stark contrast to the eight or so big plastic bins that Mr. Stark keeps Peter’s things in. To be fair, he knows Mr. Stark has an eidetic memory which makes it pretty easy to keep track of most of his things, while Peter seems to be a bit more of a disorganized genius.

Mr. Stark starts in on his collection first, cooing over Peter’s baby toys and books while the teen sputters in embarrassment. In retaliation Peter just shoves the entire box of screws, nuts, bolts, and other assorted metal bits of various sizes at his mentor with a huff. Even Mr. Stark admits that it would be pretty boring stuff for a kid to find. Although Peter does confess to using a few spare parts in his refurbishing of tech he’d found in the trash.  

“Oh wow, I always wondered what happened to my red Power Ranger!” Peter exclaims when he spots the bright flash of red and white in the box of toys Mr. Stark has just opened, “I was so sure one of the other kids at school had stolen it.”

“I found that guy when I was in Afghanistan,” his mentor divulges quietly.

Peter freezes half way through grabbing the toy. “What?”

“When… When I was kidnapped, I tripped over it in the cave the Ten Rings kept us in. I carried him around with me the whole time after that. That little dude went through the ringer with me then,” Mr. Stark explains ruefully, his eyes locked on the battered action figure.

The expression on Mr. Stark’s face is hard to decipher. It’s sad and haunted, but there’s also some deep fondness as he looks at the plastic Power Ranger. Obviously there are a lot of heavy memories tied to the toy, good and bad.

“You should keep it, Mr. Stark,” Peter says firmly, gently pushing the action figure back into his mentor’s hand.  

Surprised, Mr. Stark seems to shake himself out of whatever stupor he’d fallen into. “You sure, kid?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Stark doesn’t have to say anything, but Peter can tell. His Red Ranger means a lot to his mentor. It’s not something Peter wants to take away from him. Mr. Stark gives him a warm smile, his genuine one that he saves only for a select few people, and sits the toy on his work desk in a place of honor.

“Are you good to keep going?�� Peter asks uncertainly.

He’s still not sure where the lines are with his mentor yet. They’ve slowly been getting closer over video calls and texts while Peter was grounded, but they’re both still waffling in that awkward phase when you first start actually getting to know someone.

Mr. Stark gives him a soft smile. “Yeah, kid. I’m fine.”

A bit later, after they’ve gone through and reminisced over all Peter’s baby stuff, Tony pulls a big binder out of one of the bins.

“I loved finding your drawings,” his mentor admits, “Rhodey, well you’d know him as War Machine, hung some up on the fridge as a joke when I showed them to him. And then, before I knew it, I was putting them up there myself.”

“You did what?!” Peter gapped, “Mr. Stark!”

“Oh come on kid, your artwork was adorable. Especially after the Battle of New York and I started finding a lot more Iron Man drawings. I even had a few of them framed,” his mentor grins.

Peter gives him a flat look. “You did not.”

In response, Mr. Stark  just raises an eyebrow and pulls a framed colored pencil drawing of Iron Man out of one of the bins. It’s not a bad likeness, done on lined notebook paper depicting Iron Man blasting a giant monster out of the sky. Peter vaguely remembers having drawn the thing when he was bored during math class a few years ago. The teacher confiscated it when she saw he wasn’t paying attention and Peter never did get it back.

The teen hides his red face behind his hands. “Oh my God.”

Iron Man literally put Peter’s childhood artwork up on his fridge like a proud dad. He doesn’t know if he wants to preen or hide from knowing that.  

Mr. Stark just laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t be like that, kid. Come on, I can’t not be proud of my kid’s artwork.”

Peter feels himself turning an even deeper shade of red. His kid.

Stuttering out something incomprehensible, Peter reaches for one of his boxes of Mr. Stark’s lost items. Still chuckling, his mentor leans over his shoulder to see what he’s digging through. He makes a surprised noise and reaches down to extract something from the collection.

It’s a very familiar small red screwdriver.

“Well, what do you know? That’s my favorite screwdriver from when I was in MIT. I put DUM-E’s circuit board together with that.”

“Seriously? That’s so cool, Mr. Stark. My parents told me they found it in my crib when I was just a few months old. I used to take it everywhere with me when I was little,” Peter recounts with a small smile.

Mr. Stark’s eyes crinkle, a subtle upward quirk to his lips. “I can see you took good care of it.”

“I’m glad I could finally bring it back to you,” Peter tells him earnestly.

He’ll miss the screwdriver a lot more than he wants to admit, but it’s something so important to Mr. Stark. This is the tool his mentor but his first AI together with. He deserves to finally have it back.

“Keep it, Pete,” Mr. Stark places the tool in Peter’s hand and fold’s the teens fingers over it, “You’ve obviously given it a good home.”

Peter looks up at him. “Are you sure?”

“It couldn’t be in safer hands, kid,” his mentor affirms.

Peter beams in response. He’d been so impatient to meet his soulmate when he was a kid, but now he knows it was well worth the wait. And there’s no one he’d want more as his mentor, father figure, or soulmate than Tony Stark.

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 14 reactions: HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWESOME BUT ALSO I’M CRYING edition

- the good good din characterization is back after all the weirdness last episode!!!! that soft way he says ‘no, no, I’m not mad at you’? THAT’S din djarin, he would not be fucking impatient with his son having just been informed and seen for himself that he is terrified, go away mr filoni I know you’ve got all of canon memorized but you don’t get this lol. this feels much more right in how din being conflicted and still thinking he should give the baby away for his own good plays out too  

honestly every line of dialogue for him in this one was perfect I was just whispering ‘I love this awkward clueless wonderful man just doing his best’ to myself any time he said anything. “...does this look Jedi to you?” sir I adore you more than words can describe

- we got din chuckling. asjdklfhsdkafghsdafsadhjkfsdahjkfh. fskahfksjad. side note: I can’t believe my joke post about din desperately trying to Force home school the kid with the one (1) jedi trick he knows about and the baby being delighted by it over and over anyway -- listen to his expectant excited laugh when din takes the ball and sets up the game!!!! -- was canon all along. and then the baby & mando music kicking in when he gently put the silver ball into the baby’s hands again and tells him he’s special (because he IS special. to din)? hmng. hmmmmnnnnn  

they opened on the height of softness so we would all crumple under the weight of the rest of the episode and that was very mean of them in a way I sincerely appreciate 

- nothing to see here... just a dad trying to walk through the literal manifestation of the unassailable underlying forces of the universe to get to his baby again and again........ the desperation in that, the love, the foolhardy devotion................... shit

- okay so I might be a dumbass, but I’d never noticed this before -- the silver ball has a blue spot on the top, like so: 

and in addition we get the room where the baby goes full darth grogu (I have to laugh so I don’t cry okay) on those storm troopers, and there’s a red light in there dominating the room (and it did even more in the concept art):

in star wars blue means light side and red means dark side (it’s very sophisticated that way), meaning the visual storytelling here is that there’s a battle for the baby’s soul and gideon and all his nonsense (and the trauma bb’s been through in the wider sense) is pulling towards the dark, while grogu and din’s connection leads him towards the light. just... the image of the baby looking at his own reflection in the symbolic representation of his relationship to din? the way children find their sense of self through being safely reflected and held by their caretakers? god help meeeeeee I will go in there and fistfight gideon myself for disrupting that in any way  

the smaller light seems to be blue too, like there’s still the presence of light even if it’s dimmed and small in that shitty horrible room, which is a change from the concept art!

- FENNEC SHAND SURVIVED BITCHES!!! I even called that she’d be back with new shiny robot parts back in season 1, could not happen to a cooler lady, I hope we get more backstory and interaction from her the next episodes -- sounds like she’s basically sworn herself to boba’s service in gratitude for saving her life, I wonder if that’s a cultural thing of whereever she comes from? does she live aboard slave 1 now too?? because that would be hilarious and amazing, it must be like two strange cats trying to get used to sharing the same space   

- everything I could ever hope for about boba fett in this series came true, they went down the much more interesting and nuanced route with jango and boba’s identities as mandalorians, he looked cool as fuck and made din as a character shine rather than overshadowing him... amazing beautiful yesss 

(I did 100% not anticipate just how ‘cool uncle boba here to help you fuck shit up’ he was going to be but I am delighted to get it anyway. uncle points deducted for getting someone to point a gun at the baby, but the main point still stands lol) 

the power and brutality of his hand to hand fighting too... a w e s o m e , I enjoyed the action scenes a lot in this one

- they even recanonized him actually wearing jango’s armour. what more could I ask for. I’ve had confused parent & child feels about these two since I was like eleven and here we fucking go again. and jango fighting in the mando civil wars too!

- so I’m grieving the razor crest (and I always will be, rip you magnificent jalopy, always in my heart) but also there’s the grim satisfaction that my reading on it was sort of true -- it is (...was. oh god it’s going to take a while to sink in huh) a symbol of din’s self and life, and at this point when they take the baby it tears everything else to pieces. the only thing that’s left in the ashes is the beskar and the thing that connects him to the baby. and there’s... a strange solace in seeing that that’s all he needs to keep going? he’s fucking obliterated from orbit but he still has his love for the baby and the beskar and that can keep him going until he finds something new, everything else can be replaced?????? weirdly healing, though he is probably going to have a solid breakdown at some point after they get the kid back (shut up they are getting the kid back) and the cold distant fog lifts 

also this scene/shot feels like it carries some Meaning, doesn’t it? I’m on record several times saying I never want din to be mand’alor and that’s still true, but there’s something about the framing of this and the way boba looks at him that’s like... hm. I’m not sure I have the words for it. there’s something heightened about it, anyway, for a moment he looks like something mythic there in the wreckage 

(something I would be much cooler with is our clan of two growing a little bit and those new people rallying behind him, actually, that might be neat. imagine if a force user does show up for the baby and gets adopted into the clan somehow??? so many possibilities.) 

- from the way he picks up the silver ball... din djarin is on his way to straight up murder some people huh

I think part of what reassures me about this scene is the music -- this mando flute is not distant, is not beaten, is not despondent, it’s clear and determined and strong.

- 

I love this. I love when we get explicit baby POVs, it makes it feel so real and intimate and... like home. (I especially loved baby’s point of view inside the razor crest, which just made me tear up again. baby lost the closest thing he’s had to a home in a long long time on top of it all. everything is suffering)

-

Emotionally Significant Thumb Grabbing tm; the show

- din djarin looking for the ‘on’ switch on a magic rock fhsdakjfhsadlfhsdjah I can’t breathe

 “Well, this is the seeing stone. Are you. Seeing anything?” fsafkdsajhfsa sdhfksjalhfkjsdahfkjsdhf

- the energy around the baby as he’s, in ahsoka’s words, ‘choosing his path’ is blue, and the force sort of works across time and space, right?? so there’s definitely still hope for our lil green bean to not have to come up with a really dumb unsubtle sith name for himself, as is regrettably yet delightfully tradition. darth babbu should never come to pass (I do like how they’re interrogating the normal dark/light side dichotomy in this series, seeing as this is a literal baby who can’t really be responsible for that stuff himself yet and has such capacity for both.)  

- listen. listen, the way din says ‘can you please hurry up’ with no sarcasm or real impatience whatsoever, more like a harried worry, to his force-meditating son as he jogs off to make sure no one’s trying to kill them. is hilarious and also YES this is what the character is!!! weirdly and incongruously polite under stress sometimes and with a slightly odd reaction pattern to things!!! he’s not just quiet and badass, he’s a little strange sometimes and it’s so good!  

- a friendly opening volley warning shot from boba there

also din uncertainly asking BOBA FETT if he’s a jedi... now this is the dramatic irony I’ve been looking for haha 

I guess neither shand nor boba actually know din’s name after this either. baby you gotta start introducing yourself at some point it gets real confusing when there are two mandos on screen 

oh the long weary sigh going through din’s frame when boba says he wants ‘the armour’ and he thinks it’s just someone trying to peel the beskar off his corpse again. sorry the galaxy’s so shitty dad   

- “But fate sometimes steps in to rescue the wretched” is a killer line well done mr favreau. I like that boba actually offers din a good deal as well and seems to intend to deliver on it from how things are going. 

- din using his beskar-covered bod to cover someone he’s fighting alongside!!! literal moving cover haha. also I love fennec’s costume design  

- I don’t know where din got more whistling birds from and I don’t care, it was really cool haha 

-

wow haha um so anyway -- 

(cue all the ‘who wore it better’ with cobb vanth’s ‘spiderman’s first home made costume’ look on one side and ABSOLUTE UNIT DADDY boba fett on the other side posts lol)

- aaaghh the music almost like a stunned desperate fluttering heart beat as din watches the razor crest be destroyed 

- for someone who has willingly worked for them in the past boba sure sounds less than thrilled about having the empire back in any capacity 

- oof the deadness in din’s voice when he says “The child is gone”. ooooh no that got me  h e l p 

- guessing next episode is at least partly a ‘gathering old allies and preparing the assault’ step before the grand finale, then! they cannot go for the season ender cliffhanger with this, I will fucking riot. anything can be up in the air except baby and dad being separated, I will not allow it

it would be very funny if the force user baby called out to comes stumbling into the middle of all this like the troy entering the room with pizzas meme too 

- the music in the darth grogu scene is partially a dark mirror of the baby & mando music :’( is nothing in this world sacred

also from how he reaches out for it baby might have used a light saber before in the past with the jedi? ngl the idea of baby wielding the dark saber not when he’s all grown up but in like two episodes -- with all the chaos a toddler holding a laser sword would involve -- is all that is keeping me sane here 

‘liable to put an eye out with one of these’ well gideon you sure have doomed someone to lose an eye with that one, here’s to hoping it’s you, for full dramatic payoff 

he is a deliciously smug awful force with great musical cues tho, you have to give it to him

- okay so this

is obviously awful and horrible and it makes me so sad... but it is undeniably also very very very funny in how it’s framed. you know what? after all this bullshit baby grogu can have a little dark side tantrum, as a treat, we’ve all been there right

(forget finding a jedi, we need to go out there and find a child psychologist who can help him deal with this without adding the fear that he’s on the path to become a two foot tall evil space sorcerer to the mix Y_________Y) 

- rip the razor crest except for the second time :’’’( gone but never forgotten

- the last thing din tells the baby is “I’m gonna protect you; I’ll be back soon”. and I hope that stays with the kid somehow and that it actually comes true, that din will be back for him as soon as humanly possible and all this pain and fear can be repaired. ggggghhhhh my emotions are too big for my dumb human body 

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

i've got a secret i've been hiding under my skin

Fandom: Kamen Rider Stronger, Kamen Rider Build

Characters: Kiryuu Sento, Jo Shigeru, Banjou Ryuuga

Song: "Mr. Roboto," The Protomen (playlist here)

Sento is so absorbed in his work that he barely hears the knocking at the warehouse door—doesn’t register it at all, really, until he hears the door opening and Banjou saying, sounding puzzled, “Hello?”

“Afternoon, young man,” says a voice that Sento doesn’t recognize even slightly. “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Kiryuu, would it?”

“Oh, of course you’re looking for Sento. No, I’m Banjou Ryuuga, hi, hang on,” and then the cheery shout of, “hey, Sento, there’s an, uh—shit. What’s your—”

“Jo.”

“There’s a Mr. Jo here for you?”

Sento frowns down at the diagram he’s been notating. “Jo? Do I know anyone named Jo?” Unsurprisingly, the diagram has no answer for him. “Hang on, I’m coming.”

It takes a moment for him to complete one last notation, and then another moment to make sure his hair doesn’t look a complete mess, and then he hurries down to the front of the warehouse, where Banjou’s shifting awkwardly from foot to foot at the door. Their guest is an older man, probably closer to sixty than fifty by Sento’s estimation. He’s wearing a dark suit with a bright yellow turtleneck and, unexpectedly, heavy gauntlet-style motorcycle gloves and similarly heavy motorcycling boots.

None of this helps clear up Sento’s puzzlement, and he approaches slowly, trying not to just frown. “Afternoon, Mr. Jo, I’m Kiryuu Sento. What can I help you with?”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kiryuu. A friend of a friend recommended that I come see you about some technical problems I’ve been having recently.”

Which raises even more questions than just the most obvious ‘how did you find me here’ ones, but these at least Sento feels comfortable asking. “Can I ask which friend? And, ah, what sort of technical problems? I hope you don’t need me to fix your motorcycle,” with a nod to the gloves and boots, “I’m good at a lot things, but I’m not an especially proficient mechanic.”

“The fellow who takes care of the Daitenku Temple, Tenkuuji Takeru, he gave me your address. And no, it’s not my motorcycle.” Mr. Jo pulls off one of his heavy gloves to reveal a hand that gleams silver in the light. “It’s this.”

Sento’s eyes widen, and he rubs his hands together in anticipation, barely even realizing that he’s doing it. “Oh. One of those friends. Absolutely I have some time to assist you, Mr. Jo, please come in.”

---

They’re set up in the lab, and Sento’s biting down the temptation to just spend the entire time examining the tracery of circuits embedded in Mr. Jo’s skin. Because there is skin, which he hadn’t expected. The modifications begin at the hollow of the throat and cover most of his torso and arms, and presumably also his lower abdomen and legs, but only his hands and an access panel on his chest are purely metal. Maintenance is difficult with the insulated gloves on, but given that the alternative is electrocution, Sento’s willing to put up with some difficulty.

“You don’t happen to have the schematics for your modifications, do you?” he says as he replaces a diode inside the access panel. “This is fascinating work. It’s a bit primitive, but it’s fascinating.”

Mr. Jo laughs. “I wish I did, but I didn’t think to collect them at the time that the work was done. They burned with the lab.”

“The work, was it…” Sento pauses, trying to find a way to phrase the question. “Was this…a voluntary procedure?” His hair is standing up just from proximity to so much electrical current, it’s a little distracting.

“For me, yes. For many others, no.” Mr. Jo gets that distant look again. “It was intended to be…disposable. We weren’t designed to last this long.”

“Well, you're not going to be breaking down any time soon if I've got anything to say about it. You were. Ah. Soldiers?”

“Yes. It was the usual plan, you know. Assemble an army of monsters and use them to take over the world, and only me and Yuriko to stop it.”

Sento frowns, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, setting a new capacitor in place. “Yuriko?”

“My partner. She received a similar procedure.”

“Do you still work together?”

“She was killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it was a long time ago.” The corners of Mr. Jo’s mouth are tight. “She’s got some peace now, at least.”

---

It takes another hour before all the repairs are completed, and then Mr. Jo stands up and stretches, blinking. “This is extraordinary work, Mr. Kiryuu, I feel thirty years younger.”

Sento grins, pleased with himself. “Happy to help, Mr. Jo. And you can just call me Sento, everyone does.”

“If you like, Sento, thank you.” Mr. Jo’s putting his turtleneck back on, tugging it down to cover circuits and wires, adjusting the collar to conceal the silver in the hollow of his throat, pulling on the long gloves to hide his deadly hands. “And I’m Shigeru. Maybe we’ll run into each other again someday.”

“I’d like that.” They shake hands, and even through the thick insulated gloves Sento can feel the grip of metal. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, sir.”

“Likewise. Hongo’s been telling me I should come around and meet some of you young people, I’m glad I finally did.” Shigeru glances back over his shoulder to where Banjou’s puttering around in the kitchen area, probably working on one of the weird pasta dishes he’s gotten into into making lately. “Your partner seems like a good fellow, too, I’d love to talk to him more sometime. Now, what do I owe you for the repairs?”

Sento grins. “Nothing at all.”

Shigeru frowns. “You’re sure?”

“Of course. You’re a colleague, aren’t you?”

At that, Shigeru laughs, and says, “I suppose I am. Then you have my thanks, and hopefully we’ll see each other again the next time I’m in town.”

He’s whistling as he walks out the door.

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Sorry if I’m rude, but I really don’t get the Ugetsu hype at all 😕, would you mind explaining it please, I would like to widen my perception of him

Hello, dear anon!

First of all, I’m so sorry for keeping your ask waiting for so long. You would think that as an Ugetsu fan, I would have been jumping up and down because of this question - and don’t get me wrong, I am excited. But much like with my previous Given ask, I found myself a bit puzzled by what to say, to be honest. Turned out this wasn’t as “simple” of a question as I originally thought. 

Secondly, don’t worry, your question isn’t rude. On the contrary, I think it’s admirable if you want to try to understand someone else’s bias and interests. It doesn’t mean you will start liking and being passionate about the same things, but I think it’s always welcomed to ask people why they like something. I’m not expecting you to start liking Ugetsu after reading how I feel about him, but your attitude is something I think we desperately need more of in this fandom.

“I really don’t get the Ugetsu hype at all 😕, would you mind explaining it please”

It’s interesting to me that you speak of “Ugetsu hype”. According to my time in the Given fandon, Ugetsu does have fans but he is probably one of the least liked characters. My gut feeling says that out of the main cast (Uenoyama, Mafuyu, Akihiko, Haruki, Ugetsu), Ugetsu is definitely the least liked among the fans. So, I can’t say I have witnessed any “hype” regarding him. Apart from a couple of hardcore Ugetsu stans, the closest to “hype” I have seen is people wishing he would find happiness after he and Akihiko broke up.

Also, I don’t think I can really “explain” anything either. Certainly not as some kind of fandom phenomenon. I can only speak for myself and myself only. The reasons why I love Ugetsu might not be why some other fans love him. I think that’s important to remember whenever talking about favorite characters/ships in general. We can never know why someone loves something, so I don’t think we should judge anyone on a personal level for liking something in fiction.

To give my answer some structure, I thought I would use some of my favorite Ugetsu illustrations. 

His character design and overall “vibe”:

As a reader/viewer/fan, I am more often than not interested in the somehow controversial characters and they usually end up becoming my favorites. Gotou Masamune (3-gatsu no lion), She Li (19 Days), Sing Soo-Ling (Banana Fish), Bakugou Katsuki (Boku no Hero Academia), Joker (DC Comics), Oikawa Tooru (Haikyuu), Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), and Oh Sangwoo (Killing Stalking) to name a few. I have always connected more with the antagonists and found them more interesting.

So, with a track record like that, I wasn’t surprised when my heart made a beeline to Ugetsu’s character. To me, it was pretty much love at first sight. I was instantly drawn to him: dark, sensual, and beautiful. In the anime, I absolutely loved his character’s mischievous and playful voice acting.

Ugetsu had an aura of solitude and distance to him, but he was also needy and affectionate in his own way. His frankness and mischief seemed to work as defense and yet he was also surprisingly vulnerable and even afraid. In many ways, he was like a cat who are often misunderstood as assholes when there is also a lot of character, affection, and intimacy packed in them.

Kizu’s choice of instrument for Ugetsu also fascinated me. To me, the violin is one of the most beautiful and intricate instruments, and it fits Ugetsu’s character perfectly. It's elegant, incredibly difficult, and kind of temperamental. The violin is sorrowful, seductive, and possesses loads of charisma. It sounds beautiful on its own though the more solitary it is, the more lonely it sounds. But it can also be a light, playful and mischievous sound, bouncing and chasing in the air. In either case, the violin won't allow itself to be ignored. 

To pair Ugetsu with the classical violin especially was also great. First of all, learning the violin on the level of becoming a soloist requires incredible discipline, dedication, and passion. Violin is a very unforgiving instrument, but it also gives you freedom. Things like intonation and phrasing are where a talent like a soloist could shine and express themselves. I think that kind of combination of disciplined precision and expressive freedom fits Ugetsu so, so well.

His softer and more vulnerable side:

I often see comments that Ugetsu didn’t really love Akihiko or care about him. Some readers think he was selfish, heartless, and abusive/toxic towards Akihiko in their relationship. And they feel sorry for anyone who later ends up in a relationship with him. To some people, Ugetsu came across as the lowest of low in his time with Akihiko.

Now, I am not going to try and claim that Ugetsu didn’t hurt Akihiko. He most certainly did, oftentimes knowingly when he was trying to push him away. Their relationship was no doubt turbulent and painful for both of them, and I’m sure they will both be happier now freed of their cycle. Even though I am an Ugetsu fan, I don’t want to make it sound like he couldn’t have done a lot of things differently.

However, I also see some parts of myself in Ugetsu. I relate to his certain type of uneasiness when it comes to letting someone/something occupy my priorities. It makes me restless and defensive easily, and I end up rejecting that someone/something which often comes across as being cold. That was an important part of why Ugetsu originally wanted to break up with Akihiko. His love for Akihiko grew so deep it posed as a “threat” to Ugetsu’s sense of “order” when it came to his passion for music. Despite of how their relationship ended, I don’t agree that Ugetsu is somehow incapable of loving someone, it just scares him and is something he needs to figure out for himself. Also, because I somewhat relate to Ugetsu in this sense, it kind of stings when people are so eager to proclaim that his kinds of people don’t deserve someone to love them.

I also believe Ugetsu cared about Akihiko and was worried about him. He did notice Akihiko had started to lose his passion for music and in a way, was giving up on himself. He wanted Akihiko to find his “trigger” again somehow. I have also read interpretations that Ugetsu probably felt guilty about how their relationship seemed to affect Akihiko’s drive. I think that’s an interesting point. Overall, it’s important to remember that partly why Ugetsu initially wanted to break up was to also “free” Akihiko from his suffering. I don’t think that is something that a heartless character would do.

I do think Ugetsu was happy with Akihiko in many ways, but it’s not his style to be flustered and lovey-dovey about it. Which is another thing I find myself somewhat relating to. Instead of being super romantic, I think Ugetsu shows his love and happiness by being clingy, playful/mischievous, and letting someone in his space both mentally and physically (by this, I don’t mean just sleeping with someone but actually letting them see him as a private person). Despite of the lack of proper communication being one of the problems in AkiUgetsu, I think Akihiko was one of the few people who really knew Ugetsu.

AkiUgetsu as roommates:

The beautiful coloring of the panel is by o_yang_o on Twitter.

I think it’s safe to say that most of the Ugetsu-hate stems from his time of being roommates with Akihiko. It was a very dark time for both of them despite the occasional islands of reminiscencing the good parts of their relationship. Ugetsu hurt Akihiko in many ways during that time and realized his behavior was hurting him.

But I think people often forget that Ugetsu was unhappy and hurting, too. Of course, it doesn’t excuse his actions but it explains them. Letting go of Akihiko was just as hard - if not harder - for Ugetsu as letting go of Ugetsu was for Akihiko. In his incapability of cutting the relationship off, Ugetsu resorted in trying to push Akihiko away by hurting him, but Akihiko wouldn’t give up on him. So, his actions didn’t come from some deep-rooted evil but rather being in pain and scared. He wanted the suffering to end but at the same, he couldn’t picture Akihiko not coming back and was terrified of everything, even the music, disappearing in the basement if Akihiko did leave him. 

I think the breakdown Ugetsu had when Akihiko finally broke up with him was telling of how difficult taking that last step had been for Ugetsu as well. He was scared of letting go and being let go of because surely nothing would be left behind. It’s true that it was Ugetsu who originally wanted to break up, but it was Akihiko who needed to walk away first when it finally came down to it. I think Ugetsu’s reaction spoke volumes of how deep his feelings for Akihiko truly ran. In short, AkiUgetsu ended up in a bad and painful direction, but I most definitely believe Ugetsu overall is capable of loving someone and he has a caring/affectionate side to him as well.

Overall, what I love about Ugetsu is his complexity and layers. You need to see deeper than his behavior to see his character as a whole. He’s not innocent and has many flaws, but he’s also not the cold and distant human monster he’s sometimes made out to be. I think Kizu put a lot of care and effort into building his character and did a beautiful job.

Liking a character like Ugetsu ultimately comes down to personal taste and preferences. I can understand that he’s not everyone’s cup of tea or if he evokes negative feelings. But I don’t think it’s fair to see some characters in a black-and-white manner if you’re at the same time making an effort to see behind some other character’s behavior. You don’t have to like every character and you can have biases, but if you catch yourself knowingly ignoring something, your reading probably isn’t the most accurate. A “lesson” I came to realize in my journey with AkiHaru.

Thank you for your question and patience, dear anon!

[nxrthmizu]

[Broken Hearts and Empty Ones]- Daminette Songfic: ‘The Only Exception’, ft. Paramore

---

When I was younger

I saw my daddy cry

And curse at the wind

Damian crouched outside the door of the office, hearing Bruce’s muffled sobs echoing softly in the secluded area of the manor. The fact that Bruce was crying was nerve-wracking enough- But crying over a woman? That was something else- Especially since that woman was his mother. 

He broke his own heart

And I watched

As he tried to reassemble it

Damian watched as his father kept a straight face at breakfast the next morning, the cries and tears of last night only a distant memory- Perhaps even a dream. He watched the way Bruce looked at Tim and Stephanie with that wistful spark in his eyes. He watched the way tears- Not happy tears, but broken-hearted tears- Gathered in his father’s eyes when Dick and Barbara got married.

And my momma swore

That she would never let herself forget

When Damian was still young, he remembered how his mother would put on the cold, uncaring expression on despite the fact she just caught the title of ‘Gotham Playboy Bruce Wayne Caught With (---)’ on the first page of the latest news. 

She raised him, telling him that no one was trustable, that giving out his heart would only result in it getting broken. 

And that was the day that I promised

I'd never sing of love

If it does not exist, 

She’d made him promise, she said: “Don’t you ever let love be your weakness.” and Damian had swore, Damian had squeezed every ounce of affection out of his system, had made sure he’d never develop a crush on anyone.

but darlin'

You are, the only exception

The first day he’d met her in college, he’d scoffed at the sight of a weak, frail girl- Clearly, this was someone who gave her heart away too easily- And got it returned, broken. 

You are, the only exception

But the next day, she’d brought him a paper bag of macarons and she’d told him to eat up. And then, out of sheer curiosity, he asked why she’d let her heart get broken. She took one look at him, and told him that his heart was as empty as hers was broken, and then pushed the paper bag closer to him. 

You are, the only exception

He’d been offended at first, and refused to talk to her. He’d given her the cold shoulder, telling himself it was better to have an empty heart than a broken one. But even though he’d ignored her, brushed her aside, and spat at her about keeping to her own business, without fail, everyday, he’d have a bag of fresh macarons on his table. 

There was even one day when he thought she’d stopped making macarons, but later, when he was at the library, studying, she’d dropped by, setting a bag of macarons on his table, walking away without another word. And although he didn’t want to admit it, he ate all of the macarons (Only because they were good and it was a pity to throw them away). 

You are, the only exception 

Then, after that, he’d find a bag of fresh, toasty macarons inside the mailbox of his hostel, everyday. But on a faithful Friday, two weeks after she’d told him his heart was empty- He found a sticky note on his bag of macarons. It read: Broken hearts take time to fix, but an empty heart takes affection to mend. 

One part of him scoffed at how cringey it was, how naive she was. But another part of him pocketed the note, another part of him held the note to his heart in the dark, and smiled like a teenager in love. 

---

Maybe I know, somewhere

Deep in my soul

That love never lasts 

If she was being honest, Marinette saw it coming. From the day she’d asked him out, to the day he broke it off, she’d always knew that he was too good for her, and that her love would never be enough to tie him down. 

And we've got to find other ways

To make it alone

But keep a straight face

She’d refused to be the girl who spent hours crying over her breakup, but that didn’t mean she didn’t shed a few tears while watching romantic movies, all alone in the apartment that she had spent so much time in with him. 

And I've always lived like this “You can keep it,” He said, tossing the keys of their apartment to her, his arm around his new, smirking girlfriend, who looked as proud as the cat who got the canary. 

She’d caught the keys with shaking hands, dripping tears, and a broken heart.  Keeping a comfortable, distance After one week of mourning the silence in the apartment, she got herself together. She made designs, she listened to breakup songs, she attended college while earning money off commissions. 

And up until now

Once in a while, she’d find something that was his, and then think: Wow, he’s been gone for three months now. 

I had sworn to myself 

“I’m happy,” She said, a sad smile on her face as her friends got engaged, one by one. 

that I'm content

“I’m happy,” She told her parents, a bright smile on her lips, a heavy weight jerking on her chest as she glanced at her mother’s wedding ring. 

With loneliness “I’m happy,” She whispered, sitting alone in a quiet apartment, knowing that the rest of her friends were shopping for wedding gowns. 

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

She cried and screamed when she found a framed photo of her and him, six months ago, his arm around her waist and matching, in-love smiles on their faces. 

But, you are, the only exception

When she looked at him, the new boy in her college class, she saw- Nothing. There was no love, no hate, no joy, no despair. And for some reason, a voice in her head told her that yes, she was going to help him. 

You are, the only exception

She picked up the spatula, hesitating, remembering all the times she baked home-made pastries for him until the day that she found the pastries she’d packed for him to eat at work in the trash can, all of them untouched. She shook her head, and told herself no, she would never again associate the thought of baking with him.

You are, the only exception

Everyday, without fail, she packed macarons for him, and everyday, she found her heart slowly, slowly piecing itself back together. And every morning, she found herself waking up with a smile, getting up to gather her ingredients and make more fresh macarons for him. 

You are, the only exception

It went to the point where she gained the courage to put a sticky note on his bag of macarons, and as she was writing, she glanced up, catching view of herself in the mirror. Her eyes had stopped being sunken; The dark circles beneath were gone; And most of all- A soft, genuine smile was stretched across her lips. 

---

I've got a tight grip on reality

Damian decided enough was enough. He asked around for her apartment address, and on a Saturday morning, he waited for her, right outside her door. 

But I can't let go of what's in front of me here

Oh, she’d been surprised, alright. Once the shock wore off, she’d smiled sweetly at him, and then Damian realised, as he looked at her, that she’d mended her heart. Sure, you could still see the little flaws and cracks in her once-full heart, but somehow, she’d gathered the million shatters of her heart and then stuck them back together. 

“Hey...?” She greeted unsurely, and he noted the recycled bags in her hand. “Good morning.” 

He nodded in response, his tongue absolutely tied. He fiddled with her sticky note inside his pocket, and gestured with his other hand for her to go on with her day. He was grateful that she didn’t ask any questions about why he was following her. The two walked to the subway, took three stops down, and emerged on a busy street. After another bit of a walk, they stopped at the grocery store. 

“So, why did you follow me to the grocery store?” She asked, arms crossed. 

He only shrugged and gestured for her to go on. He carried the basket as she picked up her usual ingredients, eyeing Damian with a wary glance. Flour, almond ground, meringue. When she was done, she went over to take the basket from him, but he held on firmly. She raised an eyebrow but never said anything as they made their way to the paying counter. When she was about to take out her purse to pay, he gave the cashier his credit card. 

When she protested, he had said: “The least I can do is pay for the ingredients.” She went quiet, and then everything made sense. 

On the way back to the subway station, he had insisted on carrying the bags like the gentleman he was. Sure- He might’ve never had a crush on a girl before, but Bruce and Alfred made sure he was raised right. 

I know you’re leaving in the morning, when you wake up

“You know, you’re really incredible.” He said, smiling at her. 

“Oh?” The corner of her mouth lifted. “How so?” 

Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream, oh

He took out the sticky note from his pocket, and the shock on her face was something he would never forget. “Remember this?” The note was wrinkled and stained- It was pretty obvious that he had opened it and re-folded it many, many times. “You said ‘A broken heart takes time to fix, but an empty heart takes affection to mend’.” 

She nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going. “You’re really incredible, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” He repeated. “In under two weeks, you managed to fix both a broken heart and an empty one.” 

They stopped walking, and she stared at him. 

You are, the only exception

”You actually listened to what I said.” She said, finally. “I didn’t think you would.”

You are, the only exception

He shrugged. “I thought I’d never fall in love, either, but look where I am now.” He smiled softly. “You really are something else.” 

You are, the only exception

She blushed. 

You are, the only exception

“You have to promise me something, though.” He put on a serious face. “Promise me you’ll never stop making macarons for me.” 

She hit him playfully, and then Damian knew in that instant, his empty heart had been mended. 

You are, the only exception

On a Friday evening, as she returned from the campus library, Marinette glimpsed something sticking out of her apartment mailbox. She opened it cautiously, afraid that it was a prank. A paper bag sat quietly inside, a little letter lying next to it. She peered into the paper bag, letting out a delighted squeal when she spied a container with disfigured-looking cream puffs. 

You are, the only exception

The letter, which she opened later in her apartment, read: This was my first attempt at making cream puffs. I know they probably aren’t the best payment to you, especially since your macarons always look perfect and let’s not mention you fixed my ‘empty heart’ (Your words, not mine). So... If the cream puffs aren’t good enough of a repayment, could I possibly make it up to you with a date? Tomorrow night, 6pm? Sincerely, your-once-empty-hearted-boy, Damian Wayne. 

You are, the only exception

Three months later, she’d decided that the apartment was still a little painful to live in, and after selling it off, both she and Damian had put together the money that they had from doing commissions and working at a cafe respectively, and they’d bought a little apartment not too far from the college. 

You are, the only exception

One evening, two years after they’d graduated- She’d dressed up nicely to go on a date- He’d said ‘dress extra nice’ in his text, then added: ‘don’t worry too much, you’d look good in whatever you pick’. Once the taxi had dropped her off, she looked around the lavender field that Damian had instructed her to go to- face brightening when she saw her beloved once-empty-hearted boy. 

It was difficult not to squeal as he got on one knee, taking a velvet box out of his back pocket. Both of them were shaking with emotions, and Damian hadn’t even gotten the first word out and he was already getting teary. Marinette was seconds from sobbing out of happiness. 

“Marinette,” He took her hand, his voice shaking. “When we first met, you told me I was as empty-hearted as your were broken.” Damian swallowed. “And even after I snapped at you, brushed you off, you still made those macarons for me.” Both of them shared a teary laugh. “And under two weeks, you fixed both your broken heart and my empty one. So,” He choked, his heart nearly bursting from the pressure. “Will you let me be your once-empty-hearted-boy forever, and let me marry you?” 

“Yes,” Marinette laughed, tears dripping down her cheeks. “A thousand times yes!” 

And I'm on my way to believing

Damian, standing at the altar with his father and brothers next to him, couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Just because this one girl in his college class had looked at him and decided that she was going to help fix his heart, he was getting married. Bruce, for once, didn’t look broken-hearted at a wedding as Selina smiled proudly from the front row seat. 

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing.

Marinette, in her beautiful, white ballgown, arm-in-arm with her father, bit her lip, trying not to cry and ruin her makeup. In their relationship, Damian was wrong about one thing- Marinette didn’t fix her broken heart on her own. Damian was the one who mended her broken heart- The thought of Damian eating her macarons- And when he told her to promise to make those macarons for him for the rest of their lives- That, was the very moment that Marinette’s heart blossomed again. 

They were each other’s exceptions. 

---

I am not kidding you I CRIED WHILE REREADING THIS that is how emotional i am people and whoop am i getting a hold of my procrastination! I wrote a chapter of lord bug robin and kitty noir- And it was a mighty long chapter, too, and then i wrote this. Whoaaaaa i did a lot of writing for one day~ I’ve been writing since like, after lunch, and now, it’s almost six (Where i’m from it’s almost six) and i’ve been writing for like... Six hours. *claps self on back and gives self reward sticker* and if i tagged you and you didn’t want to be tagged I'm sowy :( i just copied the tag lists from my lord bug and hogwarts au... Sowy if you didn’t want to be tagged... And I'm a hundred percent sure that some people were tagged twice... Anyways love y’all <3

(Tag list! @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog@constancetruggle@the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384@mystery-5-5 @black-streak@bluerosette23 @seraphichana @you-will-never-know-how-i-think@mikantsume @graduatedmelon@thebookwormfairy@crazylittlemunchkin@shizukiryuu @screamingtofillthevoid@serenacross200@zestyzealot@redscarlet95 @roseinbloom02 @beautym3@resignedcatservant@sizzling-fairy-oil @tinybrie @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry@lunar-wolf-warrior@northernbluetongue @dannyelric301 @daminett4life@loysydark @sparkle9510@erick-rose99-stuff @nataladriana9 @maya-custodios-dionach @myazael @sassakitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @emootaku-666)

Tag list: @kceedraws @constancetruggle  @ellerahs @2sunchild2 @mystery-5-5 @ki117h3dr4g0n @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @tbehartoo @resignedcatservant @im-here-for-the-content @mooshoon @darkened-flame @spicybelladonna @whomthefyck @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @xxmadamjinxx @rhub4rb @a-marlene-s @mochinek0 @zalladane @t-nikki10 @angelicbookfangirl  @politelyvicious @mikantsume @iggy-of-fans @shizukiryuu @littleredrobinhoodlum @thebananathatwrites @my-name-is-michell @7-sage-7 @linnyalou @ladylb @particularlygeeky @vivilakitty @iglowinggemma28 @alexzandria-747 @luciferge @lunar-wolf-warrior @aurordraws @urbanpineapplefarmer @clumsy-owl-4178 @creator-josie @driftingmoonlitpetals @fiendsangelical @mjisntme @two-faced-biatch @thecatnipmademedoit @northernbluetongue

[ssilverstreak]

Where Have All The Good Men Gone And Where Are All The Gods - Chapter 1

“I’m sorry about this, Papa,” Marinette said softly, idly fiddling with the hem of her shirt.  “I swear, as soon as we get back on our feet, I’ll-“

“Nonsense, Marinette. You know you and the kids are welcome to stay for as long as you want.  Much better than that hotel, at least.”

“I know, I just… feel like this all could have been avoided.  Like I should have realized earlier that Chris was… was…”

Her Papa gave her a soft smile through his gray-streaked moustache.  “It’s alright, Mari.  The kids are in the cab with your Maman, so you don’t have to pull any punches.”

Marinette shot her Papa a tight smile, then went back to fiddling with the hem of her shirt.  “I just… feel stupid that it took me this long to leave him.  That it took…” she trailed off, lifting one hand to gently brush over the makeup-hidden bruise around her eye.  Even a week later it was only just starting to fade.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself, Marinette.  He’s the one who did that, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Tom said firmly. “Though if he ever comes around the bakery, it will be me and your Maman he’ll have to deal with,” he added, voice deepening into a rumble that was almost a growl.

Marinette smiled, then winced as it pulled at her bruises.  “Still, it’ll only be for a little bit, I swear.”

“Marinette, it’s fine. You know we love having you and the kids over.  Besides…” They stopped at a light, and Tom sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. “Your Maman and I aren’t as young as we used to be.  We just… can’t quite keep up with orders in the bakery anymore.  We were talking about hiring on an apprentice, but they would need training, and then you called us…”

Marinette reached over to gently pat her Papa’s powerful arm.  “Is that why you and Maman asked if I could help out?” At his sheepish nod, she gave him a reassuring smile.  “You know I love helping in the bakery.  I could at least help out while you and Maman look for an apprentice or two.” She sighed and looked down.  “It’s not as if my clothing line is ever going to take off.”

“Oh, Marinette…” Tom had to refocus on the road as the light changed.  “Your designs are gorgeous, you know that.  As to the fashion houses that rejected you, that’s their loss.”

“You’re just required to say that because you’re my Papa.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.” Sensing his daughter’s darkening mood, he changed the subject. “We tidied up your old room for the kids, and Sabine found a bunk bed cheap online for the boys.  Emma can sleep where you used to, up in the loft. It’ll be a little cramped, but not too bad.  And we cleared out a lot of stuff from the office to make into your bedroom, though the closet is still full of a lot of junk I’m afraid.  I think at least half of it is stuff that your Maman inherited from her Great Aunt several years back.”

“You know I would have been fine with the couch.  It definitely beats the hotel room the kids and I were in.”

“We’re your parents, of course we’re not going to make you sleep on the couch, especially with everything else you’re going through.”  Tom slowed the truck down and turned onto a familiar street.  Despite herself, Marinette smiled at the distant sight of the bakery she had grown up in on the corner, a few blocks down.  A few things had changed since she had last been on this side of Paris, but the bakery was a wonderful constant.

A flash of shadow shot across the hood of the truck, and Tom glanced out the driver-side window, then smiled.  “Looks like Rena is out on patrol today.”

“Do you see the heroes often?”

“Now and then, I know they like to vary their routes.  Usually Chat Noir, we don’t see much of the other three.  They probably live in a different part of Paris.”

Marinette nodded.  A glance back at the taxi following them revealed some excited bouncing in the back seat, and she smiled softly.  It looked as if Hugo had spotted the hero on her way past.  If she knew her youngest, he was probably excitedly talking her Maman’s ear off about it. His love for anything superheroes certainly included Paris’s four real-life ones.

A moment later, and both the truck and the taxi had parked in the back alley of the bakery.  The kids burst out of the back door of the cab and quickly stormed up the rear steps to the home above, in a combination of pent-up energy from the drive and a desire to check out how their grandparents had set up their new room.  Marinette spared a small smile, then turned to help her Papa unload the back of the truck.

In truth it wasn’t much. She had had to pack light when leaving, so only essentials and a very few sentimental things had made the cut. Her attempt to go back to get more had swiftly ended when she found out that Chris had already had the locks changed. Hopefully her lawyer would be able to help her get the rest, once she got one, but for the time being…

Marinette shook her head to shoo those thoughts away and grabbed a suitcase and a backpack to carry up the steps.

“You and the kids can spend today getting settled in,” her Maman said as she followed up with a duffle bag and another backpack.  “If you don’t mind, tomorrow early we could use your help to get things going for the morning, but afterwards you can take the kids to get them registered in school.”

“Yeah, that was already my plan,” Marinette said, setting the suitcase in the bare bedroom she would be using before taking the backpack to the steps up to her old room.  From the rapid thumps overhead, the kids were already in there and possibly wreaking havoc.  At least Emma and Louis had the good sense to stay off the balcony for now, and Emma would be able to keep Hugo from going up there.  “Maybe take the kids out somewhere after lunch to let them burn off some energy.”

“After being stuck in that hotel room for the past week, I think they could use it,” Sabine agreed, carrying the small bag with the bathing supplies in it past Marinette to the bathroom.

It only took another trip to carry the rest in.  Marinette spent a couple of hours helping the kids put their clothes and the few things they had had time to grab away.  Her throat grew tight and painful as Louis paused over the mere three books and two dinosaur figurines he had been able to fit in his bag.  Silently she vowed that he would have his entire bookcase back again, and more. She promised the same to herself when Emma put up her two horse figurines next to Hugo’s dolls of the Miraculous Four, which Marinette had hand-sewn for him.  There were no tears, the kids had already gotten past that, but Marinette still felt guilty.

That evening, after ordered pizza had been eaten and the kids put to bed, Marinette sat at the end of the unfamiliar bed, flipping through the one sketchbook that she had brought with her.

So many designs, so much passion poured in, her heart and soul…

And not a one that got so much as a sniff from a fashion house.

Marinette closed her eyes and let out a harsh, shuddering breath as she closed the sketchbook.

Passion didn’t pay the bills.  Right now, her kids needed their mother to support them.

It was time to put away dreams.

She didn’t hate being a baker.  What’s more, she was actually good at it, and she would be able to provide for her kids doing it.

Marinette swallowed hard past the tightness in her throat and hugged the sketchbook to her chest, tucked safely away from her falling tears.  She knew she was making the right choice, and her kids would always come first, but…

She just needed one night to mourn the loss of her lifelong dream.  Just one.

******

It had been quite a few years since Marinette had last got up at the same time as her parents.  Four am and three cups of coffee later to get her moving, she was downstairs kneading dough and mixing batter and trying to stifle yawns into her elbow.  It took a couple hours, but soon old muscle-memory began to return and Marinette got more into the swing of things.  As the familiar smells of baking bread filled the air, Marinette allowed herself to relax into the hectic rhythm of a bakery before sunrise.

It worried her a little, how easily she fell back into helping in the bakery.  Sure, she had done it enough as she grew, but… was being a baker all she was destined for?

Marinette gave her head a hard shake and went back to piping out macaron batter into neat circles on a baking tray.  Well, if that was the case, then she would just have to make the most of it to provide for her kids.  Her parents’ bakery was a successful one, if not rich, and recipes she had long ago memorized were coming back with each glance at the battered old recipe pages in the binder her Papa kept in one of the drawers.

Once the bakery was open for the day and the initial rush had died down, her Maman gently nudged her with her elbow, her hands full of a tray of loaves destined for one of the ovens. “We’re good for now, Marinette. How about you go get the kids up and some breakfast in them?  We have a supply delivery coming at 8:15, so we’ll need your help with that.”

“I thought the deliveries came on Thursdays?”

“We had to change the day about a year ago, the old company we bought everything from changed owners and we noticed a drop in the quality, so we went with a new one.”

Marinette nodded and wondered what else had changed in the over a decade since she had lived at home. She knew about the new equipment, her Papa would gush anytime he got a new ‘toy’ to replace something broken beyond repair, which had happened more than once since she moved out.

Louis was already awake and quietly reading in bed, which was usual, while Emma and Hugo absolutely did not want to wake up, which was also normal.  Half an hour later, the kids were up and fed, and left under Emma’s watch.

“Why do I have to watch them?” Emma huffed, crossing her arms.  “It’s not fair!”

“No, it isn’t fair,” Marinette said softly, leaning down to hug her eldest in sympathy.  “And I’m sorry I have to ask you to.  Things are changing, and change is hard, and things aren’t going to be easy for a little while.  And I need you to step up and be a good big sister for a little while.  I swear that I’ll try and find a proper babysitter for your brothers soon, but for now, if you could just keep them out of trouble?  Grand-pere and Grand-mere and I will all be right downstairs if you need any help or need us to resolve any fights.”

Emma’s frown wavered, and she buried her face against Marinette’s shoulder as she hugged her back tightly.  “’S not fair,” she mumbled again, but with no fight in it this time.

“I know, and I really am sorry.  I’ll try and make it up to you when I can.”

A nod against her shoulder, and Emma stepped back, giving a shaky smile.  “Alright Mom, I can watch them.”

“That’s my girl.”

Marinette was back downstairs just in time to catch the delivery truck arriving, and the next hour was spent with her Papa helping bring in heavy sacks of flour and sugar, and tubs of butter and gallons of milk and all of the other assorted ingredients a well-stocked bakery needed.  Five minutes in of hefting large, heavy bags and her back was yelling at her, and she groaned as she plopped the bag of flour she was carrying on top of the quickly forming stack.  “Ugh, I’m getting old.”

“You and me both, Mari,” Papa replied as he placed a sack of sugar on top of its own pile.

And that was how it went until after lunch.  Carrying heavy bulk ingredients in, helping with the second round of baking to replace what the morning crowd decimated, resolving no less than four arguments that Emma had to bring to her, manning the counter and dealing with customers. The majority were regulars who were just happy to see Marinette again and she was grateful for their greetings and well-wishes, but they tended to hold up the line and there’s always that one customer and by the time her stint at the counter ended she was about to scream.

Finally, finally, after lunch her Maman turned to her.  “We should be good if you need to go and handle the school registration.”

Marinette gave a small sigh of relief and removed her apron before going to wash her hands and arms of the flour on them.  “Hopefully it won’t take me long to get them transferred into their new school.  What time do you need me back by?”

Sabine shook her head and gave her daughter a kind smile.  “We’ll be fine from here, Marinette.  Take the kids to the park afterwards.  I’m sure they could use the chance to play and burn off some of the stress they’re going through.”

Marinette smiled back at her Maman.  “You always have the best ideas.”

“Of course I do, that’s why I’m your mother.  Now shoo,” Sabine said with a laugh, lightly nudging her daughter towards the stairs.

Marinette took a deep breath as she headed up, already planning the rest of the day.  Louis would probably appreciate if they could swing by the local library as well and get him a new card.  She knew her middle child missed his books, and while they couldn’t afford new ones right now, access to the library would help.

***

The library trip helped, but not so much as the trip to the park.  Even Louis, sweet quiet Louis, was feeling cooped up in the converted attic that had once been her bedroom.

Emma didn’t even bother trying to pretend she was too old for the playground.  Normally Marinette had to give her the excuse that she had to keep an eye on Louis and Hugo for her eldest to let loose and go play, but not today.

Ah, to be ten and trying to come off as more grown up than you really are again.

Marinette found a bench off to the side to rest her aching feet and busied herself looking for divorce attorneys in the area on her phone.

Unfortunately, she was so engrossed in making notes on attorneys to look into that she didn’t notice the brief argument and scuffle that Emma got into after another kid tried to steal one of the dinosaur toys that Louis was quietly playing with under the slide, nor did she notice her youngest getting distracted and wandering away.

Emma noticed before her mother did, but even then it took her several minutes to realize that she hadn’t seen Hugo for a while, and several more for her and Louis to check the entire playground.

“… Mom is going to kill me,” she whimpered to Louis as they regrouped in the shadows of the slide platform.

Her younger brother shook his head, long gone non-verbal from the stress of the commotion earlier and his missing brother.  ‘She won’t.  She’ll worry, but not mad,’ he signed.

“Fine, Grand-pere and Grand-mere will kill me instead!”

Louis paused, considered, then signed.  ‘Grand-pere won’t.  Grand-mere maybe.’

“Helpful.”

‘I try.’

Emma took a deep breath, scrubbed at the hot tears stinging at her eyes with her wrist, then straightened up.  “Come on. We have to tell Mom before things get even worse.”

***

Maybe it was the looks on their faces, but when Marinette looked up as two of her children walked towards her, her blood ran cold.  “Where’s Hugo?”

Emma shuffled in place, picking at the hem of her shirt.  “We can’t find him.  Some other kids were picking on Louis and I scared them off but after I couldn’t find Hugo.”

Marinette shoved her phone into her pocket as she shot to her feet.  “Come on, he can’t have gone too far.”

‘Not on his short legs anyway.’

“Not an appropriate joke for the situation, Louis.”

Her son ducked his head and signed a ‘sorry’, then relaxed a little as Marinette shot him a reassuring smile in apology for her firm tone.

“Alright.  Emma, you have your phone?”

“It’s in your purse, Mom.”

Marinette dug it out and handed it to her eldest.  “Alright. I’ll look over this way, you two go that way.  Call me right away if you find him, or something happens, okay?”

Emma and Louis nodded and took off in the direction Marinette pointed.

Marinette took a deep breath, shoved down the fear making her nauseous, and went the other direction.

“Miss, have you seen a little boy?  Sir, have you seen a little boy?”

***

Hugo was lost.

Being five, he didn’t realize it right away.  There had been a bunny, and he really wanted to pet it, but by the time he followed it under a bush, realized it was gone, and squirmed his way out…

Where was the playground again?  All he saw was grass and bushes and trees and sidewalks and… and…

“Mama?  Emma?  Lou?”

Nothing.  No one was around, and certainly not his Mama or his big brother or sister.

Hugo whimpered, clutching his shirt tight for comfort.  Mama had said to find a ‘sponsible grown-up if he ever got lost, like a policeman or teacher or mom with kids, but there weren’t any grown-ups around at all! And it was getting dark out, and cold, and he was alone, and he didn’t know where to go, and he wanted his Mama!

So, Hugo did the only thing his 5-year-old brain could think to do.

He sat down and wailed at the top of his lungs.

Hugo didn’t know how long he was there crying, nor did he hear the soft crunch of boots on the sidewalk over the sound of his own wails.

“Hey there, kitten. What has you so upset?”

Hugo startled, then scrubbed at his eyes with his fists to try and clear out some of the tears, only to find glowing green eyes only a little higher than his own.  His jaw dropped, brain taking a moment to reroute from ‘lost-scared-want Mama’ to ‘that’s Chat Noir’.

The superhero crouching in front of him gave a gentle grin.  “There we go, no more tears.  Whatever’s wrong, I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“… kay.”  Hugo stared for a second longer, then blurted out, “You’re Chat Noir!”

Chat Noir gasped. “What?  Really?  Why did no one tell me!”

Hugo blinked, then burst into giggles at the shocked look the hero was faking, which quickly morphed into a smile.  A soft crunch of boots as the man stood, then he bent over and offered a hand.  “Come on, little kitten.  Are you lost?  What’s your name?”

“Uh-huh.  I’m Hugo, an’ I can’t find my Mama or Em or Lou.” Hugo took the hand, not noticing how the hero carefully kept his claws out of the way as he helped him to his feet.

“Well now, we can’t have that.  Here, I’ll help you look for them.  Do you mind if I give you a ride?  It’ll be quicker.”

Hugo stared up at Chat Noir, almost vibrating with excitement.  “Can I?!”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.  Here.” A few seconds later, Chat Noir had scooped Hugo up, settling him against his hip like his Mama used to do, but didn’t much anymore since he had gotten too big.  The blond superhero had no trouble, though, acting like Hugo weighed nothing at all. He must be even stronger than Grand-pere!  “Where did you last see your Mama?”

“We were at the playground,” Hugo said, neglecting to mention how he had wandered off.

“Alright, kitten, hang on!” Hugo blinked at the toothy grin Chat Noir shot him, then returned it with his own as he gripped tight, finding handholds on Chat Noir’s costume.  The hero tightened his grip around him, and then they were in the air in a powerful leap.

Hugo whooped, which was echoed by a laugh from Chat Noir.  Then they were falling, and Hugo barely had time to feel scared before Chat Noir was leaping off a tree branch and they were back in the air.

Chat Noir’s costume ears twitched, and he grinned down at Hugo.  “I think I hear someone calling your name.”

“Mama!  Em and Lou!”

“Well, probably your Mama at least,” Chat Noir replied as he landed on a lamp post, steadying Hugo. “Come on, let’s get you back safe.”

As much fun as Hugo was having, he suddenly wanted his Mama even more, and he sniffled a bit as he scrubbed at his eyes again and nodded.  “Uh-huh.” Wanting to look brave to the hero, he gave a shaky grin, which was met by a kind smile in return.

“It’s alright kitten, I’ve got you.”

***

“HUGO!  HUGO, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Marinette fought down the urge to panic, repeating over and over in her head that panicking would not help. Why did the ones with such short legs manage to go so far in such a short time?!

“HUGO!”

“No need to be worried, Ma’am!  I’ve got him!”

Marinette startled, spinning in the direction of the voice, then yelping as someone dropped to land in front of her.  Distantly, she recognized Chat Noir, but more importantly…

“Mama!”

“Hugo!”

Hugo squirmed, and Chat Noir quickly set him down.  Marinette crouched just in time to catch Hugo as he lunged at her, gathering him in her arms with a relieved sob, tension and fear releasing in hot, stinging tears.

Marinette buried her face against her youngest’s shoulder, clutching him tight as she whispered, “Don’t wander off like that again!”

“I didn’t mean to! But it’s okay, Chat Noir found me!”

A soft clearing of a throat reminded Marinette that they had an audience.  She gave Hugo one last squeeze before loosening the hug to look up at the hero.  What she didn’t expect was to find Chat Noir crouching on his heels at eye level and offering a surprisingly soft smile.  “Don’t worry about it.  I’m just glad I was able to get him back to you.”

Marinette tried to ignore how his gaze flickered, just for a second, to her makeup-hidden black eye. The light was fading, he probably couldn’t see properly.  Hopefully. She didn’t want to explain that to someone she just met, even if he was one of the Heroes of Paris.  “Still, I can’t thank you enough.”

Somehow, those glowing green eyes softened further.  “Trust me, I get it.  I don’t have kids myself, but I’m a godfather and honorary uncle to three.  I’d probably react the same way if one of them wandered off while I was watching them.” Chat Noir gave a wry grin.  “With a side effect of ‘their moms are going to kill me’.”

Marinette couldn’t help it, she giggled.  Releasing tension and relief combined into her laughing probably a little harder than she would normally, but seeing the mischievous quirk to Chat Noir’s mouth, perhaps getting her to laugh was intentional.

“Mama?  Where’s Em and Lou?”

Marinette straightened up, pulling back to look down at Hugo.  “They went the other direction to help look for you.  They actually should be getting back-“

“Mama!  You found Hugo!”

“And there they are.” Marinette stood, though she kept hold of Hugo’s hand.  She was fairly sure he wouldn’t wander off again, but she needed the grounding reassurance of knowing he was back with her and safe.

Emma and Louis slowed their run as they got close, eyes going wide and jaws dropping as they realized who was standing with their mother and little brother, having missed him in the relief of seeing that Hugo was safe.

Speaking of, Hugo puffed his chest out proudly.  “Chat Noir found me!  He got me back to Mama!  We jumped super high and it was like flying and it was so cool!”

“Really?!” Emma and Louis said in unison, if possible looking at Chat Noir even more starry-eyed than before.

“Yeah!  It was kinda scary but super fun!  We could have jumped over the moon!”

“Maybe not quite that high,” Chat Noir chuckled, gently ruffling Hugo’s hair, though by this point it was so messy that he didn’t do any damage.

Marinette let out a breath, the last of the fear and tension draining away.  “Thank you again, Chat Noir.  It’s getting late, so I need to get this hoard home and fed.”

Right on cue, Hugo whined “Mama!  I’m hungry!” Emma and Louis were less vocal, but their own expressions echoed what their brother had said aloud.

What none of them were expecting was the loud growl of a stomach.  It took a few seconds for Marinette to work out the source, helped by the embarrassed flush Chat Noir was sporting.

It took her only a few seconds longer, and sharing another glance with her children, to come to a decision.  “If you want, you could join us for dinner, as thanks for finding Hugo.  We’re staying with my parents right now, and they own a bakery, so there’s always extra for the dinner table at the end of the day.”

Chat Noir paused, and there it was again, that brief flick of his gaze to her makeup-masked black eye, surely he couldn’t see it with the light growing so dim, the sun already down.  Right?

“You know what, I’d love to.”

[gffa]

@ap-trash-compactor replied:

1/7 I wanna preface this by saying I agree with everything you’re saying here but I think there’s another layer to how Raffa’s story functions both textually and meta-textually, and to what it illustrates about how many people in the Galaxy /might/ perceive the Jedi, which I personally haven’t seen addressed yet. Sorry in advance if this is something you’ve heard/read/discussed ten million times already, but... 2/7 If you took Raffa’s story out of Star Wars and put it into a contemporary drama, changed the word “Jedi” to the word “police,” and made the particulars about a high-speed car chase? I think it would sound pretty believable. And I think this illustrates something Palpatine does through the mechanism of the Clone Wars to make the position of the Jedi especially vulnerable or precarious wrt to public opinion. 3/7 Even if every single Jedi engages w the power and authority of their military or police role only in the best intentioned, most good-faith way imaginable (which the Umbara arc tells us doesn’t always happen), any time you are in a role where you, even have without wanting or intending to, exercise the power of life and death other lives, you will cause pain and be a target for resentment. Someone will lose someone, and be angry. 4/7 No matter how good or how well-intentioned or how compassionate they are, during the Clone Wars the Jedi are forced into the role of a state authority exercising the power of life and death. They are not only a cultural minority during the Clone Wars. They are also a branch of the state, and in that role they sometimes either kill people, or are involved in events where people die and where, no matter their intentions, they are the face of the state and the voice of authority. 5/7 Many of the military and police actions shown in different episodes of this series leave destruction in their wake. The Jedi’s participation is barely by choice and almost never by preference— but if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your parents just died, the distinction probably does not matter much. I think this is a corner Palpatine absolutely wanted to paint the Jedi into, because it absolutely serves his goals. 6/7 There are not many Jedi during the Clone Wars. Certainly there are not many compared to the problems they are trying to fix. I have no doubt Luminara tried her best, wanted a different outcome, and gave Raffa all the comfort she had the time and the opportunity to give... But if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your only direct experience of the Jedi is like the one Raffa describes? You’re probably primed to consume all of Palpatine’s worst lies. 7/7 If you’re Palpatine, making the Jedi rush from violent crisis to violent crisis doesn’t just distract them from the fact that you’re a Sith Lord — it also makes the Jedi into the face of a lot of negative, hurtful interactions with the state, which is going to impact the way people see them.

I think you and I are very much on the same page!  I have discussed this before (the public’s turning on the Jedi), but I’m always down for discussing it again!  Especially when I love pretty much allllll of this. If you’re Palpatine, making the Jedi rush from violent crisis to violent crisis doesn’t just distract them from the fact that you’re a Sith Lord — it also makes the Jedi into the face of a lot of negative, hurtful interactions with the state, which is going to impact the way people see them. You are spot on with your summation, to the point it’s almost hard for me to respond with anything because I feel like all I can do is bang my fist on the table and go, “Yes!  This is what I’ve been talking about!”  Though, of course, there is a lot going on here that’s making it complicated. This post that you’re responding to is focused more specifically on the theme of unreliable narrators + the close associations this season has had with Revenge of the Sith (the moments that make us sit up and go, “Oh, that’s foreshadowing for stuff in ROTS!” like Padme’s pregnancy, Anakin’s advice to Rex, etc.), but there’s also what you’re talking about here--that it’s been a long-running theme in the GFFA that public sentiment turned against the Jedi and that the causes of that are fascinating. I said a bunch of times that Rafa’s hurt in this episode is valid, that there’s room for both the Jedi acting with honorable intentions and that people don’t trust them, don’t draw comfort from them, that these things are not mutually exclusive and you’re hitting on exactly why--because they were put into a situation where, if they’re not 100% perfect, then they’re going to fall off the pedestal they’ve been put onto.  That any flaw they have will then get magnified a hundred times. Luminara seems to have made a point to go back and try to talk to Rafa, to tell her a phrase that is narratively meaningful within Star Wars on a meta level, like, that says to me that she has really good intentions!  But that Rafa doesn’t draw any comfort from it, as a non-Force sensitive and someone who probably is left to the Republic’s shitty welfare services (which isn’t the Jedi’s jurisdiction, they’re not social workers and we can’t expect them to be), doesn’t undercut Luminara’s presumed good intentions, just as Luminara’s presumed good intentions don’t undercut Rafa’s hurt. And that it’s understandable--because, as the Maul arc in season 5 says, the Jedi aren’t doing the things that they used to do, that crime is flourishing because they’re being so busy with this war they’ve been drafted into.  Even Star Wars: Propaganda makes it clear that public sentiment turned against the Jedi because of a cultural absence, rather than anything they actively did. This is all by design from Palpatine, that he’s keeping them so busy putting out tire fires on Ryloth (who were being slaughtered by the Separatists), on Mon Calamari (who were being enslaved by the Separatists), on Kiros (who were being kidnapped and taken into the resumed Zygerrian slave empire), that they don’t have time to do the things they used to, like take care of a lot of the criminal elements or the outreach programs that we see hinted at in the supplementary material. The Jedi had to make a choice between fighting in a war where entire worlds were being enslaved, that there were only so many of them and they were dying, that they died in droves on Geonosis in Attack of the Clones and they’re dying every day in the war, that they were literally one out of six billion in the galaxy at their height, and that they had a million expectations placed on them.  They have very little political capital/power, yet they’re expected to solve all the problems in ways that will last.  They’re expected to police the Underworld, but also not police the Underworld because then they’re restricting people.  They’re expected to be social workers.  They’re expected to fight and die in a war that the public itself refuses to stand up in.  And when they don’t live up to those impossible perfections, they’re torn down. This is not to set aside that of course there are instances of people like Trace and Rafa, where the destruction wreaked by chasing down someone like Ziro is going to sometimes cause people to get hurt and, honestly, I don’t feel like Rafa really blamed Luminara for that, given the acknowledgement of the crowded platform she was trying to avoid.  But if she had?  That, too, would have been reasonable and understandable!  That it doesn’t matter if the Jedi were doing literally everything they could, that doesn’t mean there’s not also room for Rafa’s hurt.  And that, even if I think there was absolutely nothing that Luminara could say that would have given Rafa comfort, that doesn’t make Rafa’s hurt/viewpoint any less empathizable. My blog tends to focus on the Jedi side of things because those are the characters I’m interested in, not because they’re the only element that matters. In the meta we’re responding to, a lot of the focus is on Luminara and the Jedi because that’s my jam, that’s the part I thrive on, but we’re definitely in agreement that Rafa’s feelings are not wrong and it’s not hard to see where they come from! I do take issue with the idea of--whether it’s true or not, we can all argue about it all day long, but it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not--that if the Jedi are remote and distant from the galaxy, that that narratively is approved of how they then “kind of brought their downfall (aka, violent genocide) on themselves”.  That’s something I’ve seen skirted around in commentary from the creators and I’m wary of it leaking into the narrative in a more substantial way.  But that’s an entirely separate issue from the fact that anti-Jedi sentiments exist in the narrative and that they led to the Jedi Purge/Jedi genocide. As part of the propaganda and manipulations Palpatine did, yes, absolutely, that is one of the most fascinating things!  And that doesn’t mean that there’s not validity to those feelings, even if they’re rooted in propaganda and manipulation! But that, just as there’s room for Rafa’s hurt despite Luminara’s intentions, there’s room for the Jedi’s good intentions despite the public’s hurt and/or mistrust. My thing is that I tend to look at why the Jedi act the way they do and I usually come away with empathy for how they got into the situations they did.  Like, take their alignment with the Republic, which was an organization with corruption down to the roots by the time of the Twilight of the Republic, that that association absolutely led to their downfall/genocide.  But what else could they do?  Being part of the Republic in that way allowed them to actually help people, to have negotiating power, to form treaties that would be honored even when they were no longer on a given planet.  If they weren’t under the jurisdiction of the Senate, they could not have helped as many people as they did, especially because how would they even be able to afford starship fuel or housing costs?  Would they charge people for their services?  That’s a disaster waiting to happen! There’s room for both “the best option for the Jedi was to be part of the Republic and try to improve the system from the inside, which is what they did” AND “the being part of the Republic is what ultimately fucked them”, those things are both true! but if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your parents just died, the distinction probably does not matter much. I think this is a corner Palpatine absolutely wanted to paint the Jedi into, because it absolutely serves his goals. Spot on!  I have fun looking at what Luminara’s intentions likely were and what the context of the structure of the show entails, that Rafa’s character doesn’t have to be a reliable narrator to be valuable (and I say this as someone who actually really loves the unreliable narrators of SW, which honestly is almost literally every single character, very few are ones you can take at face value without seeing the circumstances for yourself), but to Rafa it doesn’t really matter what Luminara did or didn’t say, because that’s not what she was looking for or what she got out of that conversation.  I can’t say I would act differently in her position! And that’s exactly what Palpatine did.  He pulled the Jedi in so many different directions, made them responsible for things that literally no group could possibly have survived with public sentiment intact, and even if the Jedi had been literally perfect (which they weren’t), it wouldn’t have mattered, given that the entire point of the prequels is that you gotta choose between Shitty Option A and Shitty Option B. It’s the galaxy’s worst ever version of, “Which would you rather?” except its real and you have to play the game, because not playing gets you fucked over even faster, like it did with Mandalore.