#or even the ‘argument’ with el later; he absolutely doesn’t get everything right in that scene for sure | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deniigi · 3 years

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

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

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Title: impossible scenario

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

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

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

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

“Spidey?”

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

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

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

Peter sighed.

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

There was a pause.

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

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

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

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

That left snark and violence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke.”

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

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

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

God, what a mood.

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

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

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

“Kid.”

“ME.”

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

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.

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

“Is that?” someone whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke, please. Please.”

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

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

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

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

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

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

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

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

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

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

MMMMMMM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

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

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

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

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

Han sighed.

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

“Not here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke.”

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

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

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

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

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

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

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

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

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

“Shut up,” Luke said.

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

“Stop.”

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

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

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

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

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

His stomach turned.

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

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

Luke was crying.

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

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

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

It was weird.

It was just weird.

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

Luke.

Han.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only one.

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

NL: no promises but go on

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

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

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

MJ: yeah?

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

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

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

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

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

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

JS: 😊

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

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

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

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

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

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

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

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

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

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

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

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

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

PP: ned I’m freaking out

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

PP: deeply

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

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ned was perfect.

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

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

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

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

Fine.

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

“Keep going.”

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

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

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

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

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

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

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

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

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

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

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

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

PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

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

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

SC: I don’t think about those people

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

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thor blinked at him.

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

Thor lit up.

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

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

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

…yes.

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

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

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

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

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

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

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

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

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

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

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

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

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

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

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

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

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

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

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

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

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

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

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

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

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

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

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

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

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

“Nope,” Peter said.

NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

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

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

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

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

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

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

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

NL: and if not?

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

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

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

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

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

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

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

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

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

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

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

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

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

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

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

But it had shattered them—both of them.

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

He’d walked it before.

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

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

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

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

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

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

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

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

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

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

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

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

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

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

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

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

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

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

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

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

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

He had to find him now.

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

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

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

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

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

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

Ned was about to flip a table.

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

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

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

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

Great. Peter was approaching.

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

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

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

She frowned at it.

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

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

Luke’s friend stared at him.

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

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

There was a long silence.

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

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

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

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

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

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

Nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

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

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

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

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

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

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

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

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

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

LS: I

LS: wh

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

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

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

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

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

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

He held his breath.

LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

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

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

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

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

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

Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

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

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

PP: it’s my job

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

PP: yes

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

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

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

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

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

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

Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

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

PP: you mean obi-wan?

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

PP: where do you live?

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

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

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

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

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

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

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

“Insidious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

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

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

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

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

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

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

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

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

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

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

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

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

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

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

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

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

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

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

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

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

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

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

Luke stared at him.

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

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

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

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

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

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

Ah.

Fair was fair.

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

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

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

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

Luke gave him a weird brow.

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

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

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

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

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

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

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

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

It sounded like it.

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

What a trip.

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

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

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

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

Yikes.

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

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

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

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

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

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

Mmm. Perhaps so.

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

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

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

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

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

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

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

Luke flinched.

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

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

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

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

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

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

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

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

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

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

Luke covered his face in despair.

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

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

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

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Er.

No.

Sorry?

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

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

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

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

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

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

Understood.

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

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, actually,” he said.

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

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

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

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

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

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

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

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

Hang on a minute here.

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

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

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

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

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

UH?

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

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

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

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

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

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

Maybe Obi-Wan?

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

“LOOK AT HIM.”

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

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

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

“This is Basic.”

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

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

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

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

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

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

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

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

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

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

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

There was a long stare.

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

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

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

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

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

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

“Negative, ghostrider.”

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

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

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for speaking to Luke,” he said as the three of them attempted to pass unnoticed. “It’s good for him to talk to others his own age.”

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

“Good night, Peter, Ned, and Michelle.”

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

Ned wasn’t sleeping for two years. He made this clear with a lot of clapping gestures and then rolled around on the floor, talking about all kinds of shit that Peter couldn’t decipher. MJ watched him and flicked her eyes up to Peter with concern on her forehead.

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

Peter wasn’t sure. The best he could think of was to just keep an eye on the situation. Maybe check in every couple of weeks?

“If you say so,” MJ said. “I think you made Ned’s life, by the way. Good job.”

Peter tried checking in every two weeks. It started because he happened to hear of a tunnel collapsing in Queens nearby the funeral home. He texted Luke to ask if he needed a save and all he got back was a ‘well, not anymore.’

After that, Peter kept a close eye on happenstances occurring around the city. There were more than he bargained for. And when he glanced at Luke’s Instagram after the first week after the tunnel collapse, he noted that two of the nails on the hand Luke held his coffee to the camera with had gone completely black.

That was worrying.

Peter was used to be the danger-prone asshole in his friendgroup. He did not like this role-reversal. MJ asked him sarcastically what the problem was.

He texted Luke again.

PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

LS: we put a hole in one to release the pressure

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

LS: the most predictable thing ever has happened. The Vader has regained force power

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

LS: ah, no. He fucked up and raised me and Leia with Ben this time after our mom died. He had his chance to go dark and traded it for 8 consecutive hours of sleep instead.

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

LS: It’s fine we did 12 years of family therapy after the accident so we are no longer on the DSS watchlist

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

LS: aren’t you supposed to be spiderman or something? Don’t you have chaotic things to say?

PP: you know normally I do, this is literally out of character for me. but I think you also might be absorbing my chaos.

LS: that’s fair. I have that effect on people. Hey, is your buddy Ned available to chat? He knows more than I can remember about my old life. Can I borrow him?

That sounded like a horrendous decision.

PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

Ned reported a few days later that his services were needed at the funeral home. He was leaving them all now to befriend Luke Skywalker as was his true destiny.

He came back a few hours later and reported that his services had been helpful and he was pleased to say that Darth Vader was now the official herder of ‘wans’ in the house. This included all Obi-Wans and padawans.

He seemed to be the only guy there who could like, retain information given to him for some reason. He accepted this as his lot in life and went around repeating the same things to the others ad nauseum until they finally stuck for them.

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

Ned didn’t think so. He thought the guy was pretty chill about it and had probably been doing it for a while now. He did it more for Ahsoka Tano and Luke than he did for Obi-Wan. Although that was probably because Obi-Wan appeared to be on a hunt that made all non-relevant information given to him slip off his back like water.

Another two weeks. Another text.

PP: hey luke, I saw you drowning on the news. You okay?

LS: GOD my ex-workplace keeps calling welfare checks on our house. We’ve had more cops here then flies these last few days.

PP: ex-workplace is one way to refer to your old job. Sounds like they cared about you. What did you do?

LS: preschool teacher.

Peter was going to lose his shit right here on this bed.

PP: was that your calling?

LS: that was Luke Naberry’s calling. Luke Skywalker’s calling is to make the lightsaber go vrrrrrrm

PP: you honestly terrify me

LS: thanks han says the same thing. OH. HE FOUND CHEWIE.

PP: no shit??

LS: yeah I told Ned, not you. But yeah. He found him lugging boxes for a bodega. And now they both work at the same bodega. Which like, objectively, is a bad thing because Han was a UN translator.

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

LS: I know he was all respectable and shit. It was awful. I can look at him again without feeling like I’ve failed in every part of my life.

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

LS: we’re not old enough to be senators.

PP: every moment becomes more concerning than the next. You fascinate me. This is why they put you in like, all the films.

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

LS: not to you. I’m off-limits bub. I’m married.

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

PP: that’s so romantic. Hey you should watch that series. They gave him a little green yoda in it. Really cute.

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

There was no winning here.

MJ asked him a few weeks later if he was still keeping up with the Jedi drama since the whole city had recently decided that Peter was a snack.

Obviously he hadn’t.

She told him not to worry, Ned had. She told him to talk to Ned, so he went and talked to Ned with a heatpad in one hand and a coldpack in the other.

Ned patted at him sympathetically and informed him that Luke had reunited with the Force. It was going poorly for him, mostly because the Force wasn’t used to people being in touch with it in these parts of the universe. It kept telling each of the jedi that there was a disturbance and then luring them to each other to fight to the death.

Luke described it as the Force-equivalent of an auto-immune disease.

They’d taken to gathering in the living room of the funeral home to meditate in a circle, as though to calm the Force’s anxiety while scenting each other for protection.

It had a 40% success rate. Everyone was sleeping in locked rooms for the time being, just in case someone got compelled to do something rash.

Peter asked Ned if he’d finally lost his crown as King Chaos of NYC.

Ned patted him on the knee more firmly than before and said that he could regain his crown by introducing a calming element into the jedi household.

Peter had his pride to defend, so he asked what that element ought to be.

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, the leader of all Mandalorians, was bound to have a name that looked nothing like the one they had for him. Luke nearly exploded when Peter approached him to asked him (and his taped fingers) more about who Din Djarin was outside the name.

They proceeded with caution, however. So far, Peter and Ned had discovered only dissonance between Luke’s account of his life partner (his ‘heart, stars, sun, and sand’) and the guy on the screen for the tv show. That was to be expected, given that they had met Luke now and learned of his somewhat explosive personality.

But even still, Luke’s description of Din Djarin as ‘kind, compassionate, tender, shy, emotionally stable, dependable, sweet, caring, and hunky’ seemed slightly biased.

Peter just wanted to know how tall this guy was. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Blood type. That kind of shit.

Luke said that Din had brown hair, brown eyes, Type Who Knows What blood, and was about six feet tall. He had no idea how much he weighed. He’d never had need for that information. He knew that Din was human, which was probably helpful in a galaxy far, far away. He knew that he spoke Mando’a as his first language, then Basic, then a whopping fifteen others. And he knew that Din was probably looking after their son.

Vader asked Peter over a mug of coffee (also labeled in the funeral home’s cabinet as ‘not spice.’) if Spidersenses could overcome a dearth of information. It took Peter a few moments to realize that he was sympathizing with him.

“You’re not going to find Din,” Vader told Luke. “You need to look for the kid. You’ll find the kid first, you always have.”

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

Peter decided that he didn’t want to get in between that burgeoning battle. He told Luke to text him if he remembered anything else.

Wade was pissed that Peter had been meeting and ‘cavorting’ with Luke Skywalker without him. He claimed ownership of the Din Djarin mystery in order to cram himself into Luke’s good graces. But quickly, he ran into the same stumbling blocks as Peter.

Din Djarin was six feet tall with brown eyes and brown hair.

That was what they currently had to go on.

Wade would have torn out his hair if he had any, but he stopped himself and accepted the challenge. Peter watched over his shoulder as he chicken-pecked his way into a list of social security numbers held by the NYC State ID issuing department and started methodically filtering names that did not sound like ‘Din.’

He started broad with all ‘D’s and then narrowed it down further and further and further until he was left with a shitload of Daniels.

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

It helped. Wade started filtering by height, then by eye color. Then by hair, and only ended up with several hundred people.

He vibrated again, but this time, Peter couldn’t help him.

He sighed. Wade said that there had to be a better way to do this. He got up.

Wade made about four thousand missing posters with the name Din Djarin on them which he recruited the whole team to plaster up around NYC. This was not a request.

Miles asked him why they were doing this for a tv character and had to be let in on the gig.

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

Angel still didn’t know how the whole jedi thing worked.

Dave hummed and haw’ed and took his time in calling bullshit. Wade asked him to look deep into his eyes and ask if he was entertaining bullshit that fine evening.

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

There was no way that shit was supposed to work. There was just no way. A) because Wade had the worst ideas of all mankind and B) because Peter had the worst luck of all mankind. So the two of them together should have destroyed all the prospects of success for that job.

But instead, while they were hatching a new plot involving setting up a sham sociological study for people who responded to Star Wars names, Wade’s phone went off.

He grabbed it and opened the message and lo and behold right there was a note that read,

“I hope you are not a reporting body because this is going to sound certifiably insane, but I think I might be the guy you’re looking for?”

Wade screamed.

Peter scolded him not to get too excited too soon. They had to see the man first.

Wade texted furiously, asking for a picture and got a message back that said, “please do not dox me.”

They got no answer until Wade promised not to dox the guy.

And then they got an image of a man with brown hair and brown eyes with olive skin. His face was remarkably square. The picture wasn’t just him, though, he had in his arms a little boy with a head covered in tight ringlets. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black and he was maybe two years old.

The caption said, “apologies, my son needed to be in the picture.”

Wade cooed and entered Dad Mode to ask how old the baby was and what he liked to do and Peter lost the fathers to that small talk for a while before Wade oh-so-casually asked, “So you feel like you��re from outer space?”

“It sounds strange,” the guy on the other said wrote back, “But I do. Like every day I wake up and look in the mirror and something is wrong. I feel like I’m always forgetting something when I leave the house. I watched the tv show of the guy who’s name was on your fliers and the kid in it reminds me so much of my son. It’s eerie. They make the same sounds. He made the same sounds before we even watched that show.”

Wade whistled.

“I think this is him, Pete,” he said. “He called Baby Yoda a ‘kid’ not a yoda.”

Peter stared. He hadn’t even caught that. That was smart as hell.

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

“Get Skywalker to send you a selfie,” he said.

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

LS: cannot do that. Face is intact is a baseline situation. Let me find an old one. Oh, they all have my ex in them. This is awkward.

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

LS: no I have to be cute or I’ll perish hold on

PP: are you sure you’re not Johnny Storm?

LS: yes, he’s got loads of muscles. Sent.

Selfie acquired.

Luke looked very smiley in it. His eyes were blown out from the lighting, but it showed his sloping smile and his low, back-set dimples. Peter sent it to Wade. Wade sent it to his new friend.

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

And finally, Wade’s phone rang. He picked it up and set it on speaker so that Peter could hear.

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

“Where did you get that picture?” a low, almost smoky voice demanded on the other side.

“A friend,” Wade said sleazily. “You know him? He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?”

It took the dude on the other side of the line worryingly long to respond.

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

“What’re you willing do to?” he asked.

They waited. Peter didn’t know what was taking this guy so long to—

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

“What’s his name then, pal?” Wade asked.

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Peter clutched the back of the couch. Wade was grinning so hard, Peter could see it through his mask.

“You want him, you need to show me that you know who he is,” Wade said. “I ain’t got ‘im here, but I know where he is. Come on, big boy. Who is he?”

Peter could hear the man take in a deep, shaky breath.

“His name is Luke,” Din fucking Djarin, the Mandalorian himself, said.

Din fucking Djarin’s name at the moment was Danny Jabaran. He stood six feet tall with a medium build and that baby of his in his arms.

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

The suits didn’t scare him; this man was a space warrior. The leader of the space warriors. Peter was humbled to stand in his presence, old jeans and tattoos and all.

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

“Deadpool,” Wade said, offering a hand. “And this is?”

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

Baby Yoda lifted his big liquid eyes up to Wade and blinked twice. Then he wriggled around and hid in Djarin’s neck. Djarin put a hand on his back and didn’t drop eye contact.

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

Ned screamed. Michelle screamed. Peter reminded them that he had neighbors and invited Mr. Mand’alor to sit on the couch for a bit while he called Luke.

Michelle claimed the spot next to Djarin and asked Baby Yoda Grogu for his little hand. He studied her and hid again, making a prolonged sound of distress that Djarin cut off by saying, “Hey. Manners.”

This somehow made baby Grogu turn back to Michelle to stare at her offered hand.

He took it. She shook with him and then took hers away.

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

Peter left them to call Luke in his bedroom. Luke picked up on the third ring with the start of an ingrained greeting that sounded a whole lot like a customer service recording. He caught himself, though.

“I have someone I’d like you to talk to,” Peter said. “I think you might want to sit down.”

Luke’s unusual quiet on the other side made Peter grin.

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

“Alright, one moment,” Peter said, walking out into the living room. Djarin had edged far, far away from Ned, as far as he possibly could without being rude. He looked up when Peter came over and sat down on the arm next to him.

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Peter waited. Djarin lifted his head over to see the phone’s screen.

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

“Shit,” Djarin said, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “Goddamnit. Jesus.”

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”

Baby Grogu’s face snapped toward the phone with huge eyes. He grabbed at Djarin’s collar, then his jaw and started bouncing a little in his arms.

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

“Grogu?” Luke asked. “Hey, baby, is that you, bubba?”

Grogu grabbed Djarin’s face urgently, so that he couldn’t hide his raw eyes anymore.

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

“Ah. That’s not ours. We don’t grab. We ask,” Djarin reminded as Grogu pleaded for the phone. Peter snickered and gave it to him. He just held it, staring.

“Do you wanna see him?” Peter asked. “Luke, can we maybe video chat?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke said. “Hold on. Oh god, my face. Uh, hey Din are you still near-sighted, hon?”

Djarin huffed a laugh that turned into a whole-body tremor.

“I got contacts,” he said a little hysterically.

“You got WHAT?” Luke yipped, “Okay, no. No, I gotta. Be still, this heart. Okay let me just take off the butterflies. On moment, Grogu, Daddy’s just gotta dunk his face in the damn sink.”

MJ bounced her eyebrows at Peter as he gently took the phone back from Grogu and tapped on the camera. He offered it back the kid and received a deep gaze of wonder in return. Djarin turned the screen right-side up in his hands.

Luke finally turned his camera on and revealed himself to be very swollen in the jaw with damp hair and a cut very close to the rim of his left eye.

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

“Look at you,” he said, “I’m gonna cry. Oh my god. Where’re your ears, pal?”

Grogu analyzed this reaction for 2 full seconds and then shoved the camera right into his dad’s forehead. Djarin took it from him and liberated himself so that he could see Luke who was clutching at his face, absolutely already sobbing, bless him.

He looked up to see Grogu and instead got Djarin and finally just broke right in half.

Peter swallowed back the growing lump in his throat. His eyes were starting to warm a little.

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

“I know you’re not cryin’ because of me,” he said gently.

“Where’s your helmet?” Luke sobbed, wiping viciously at his eyes. “People are watching, you harlot.”

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

“This is all my fault. I should’ve—I should’ve—”

“Luke,” Djarin said again, full of warmth, “You died for us.”

Luke shook harder than ever.

“There is no greater sacrifice a warrior can make,” Djarin told him. “I was honored for you to have made it for me and our son. This has always been the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

“I missed you,” Djarin said. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

“I was a preschool teacher in the Bronx, man, I dunno what happened,” Luke said tipping his face up to force the tears back in.

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

“I work off Laconia and Mace,” he said.

“You what?”

“We’ve been blocks apart this whole time.”

Awwwwww.

“I’m going to stab myself,” Luke moaned. “I’m going to stab myself in the arm. I was right there and I sold out for my part-time gig barely weeks ago. Oh my god. I’m going to—move, old man, I’m suffering—Wait. Din, did you find your parents?”

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

Look at all these people hugging each other.

Look at them crying all over. There was a baby in there, wailing because he was so happy to be back in the arms of his other dad.

Aww. AWWWW. Peter was getting emotional again, he was going to see himself out.

“Wait. Peter.”

He looked up to find Luke holding a hand to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You really are a superhero, you know that?”

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

The city had plenty of problems as it was, yeah, more now with a bunch of jedi running around, linking up with each other and spreading memory like mushroom spores. But it didn’t feel that much different.

What it felt like now was Ned showing Grogu how to hold his hand at the seeing stone in the funeral home’s back yard to make the Force happen while Obi-Wan reported cheerfully that the cat perched on it was still not levitating.

It also felt like watching Luke freak out over text to Ned and Michelle about his ex losing their mind at him dumping them after two years to marry this random mechanic within a week of getting together.

Peter got to see this from new angles, too, one of which was the bottom of the funeral home’s attic stairs, which Anakin Skywalker liked to sit on while his grandkids—both Grogu and Han Solo and Leia Organa (pardon, Leia Naberry)’s son—came over to show him things that he was very well aware of. These were stolen from him by Auntie Ahsoka and her friends who Ned knew and Peter did not.

And there was something warming about how even these folks—people from a galaxy far, far away, occasionally needed a Spiderman.

#spiderman #starwars #dinluke #inimitable verse #ficlet #this is the niche of the niche but I know like 5 of you read both my mando and spiderman fics #so this is for you doll #and also the fact that I have a fucking PROBLEM

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hexensalbei · 3 years

Text

when i’m at home

“... And she just came by the station and brought us coffee!”, Eddie grimaces, trying not to grit his teeth.

“Isn't it a nice gesture?”, Adriana asks; there's hint of amusement in her voice and she's not even trying to hide it. It's late evening; her kids are already in bed and so is Christopher which allows her to talk with her brother for a while. It's kinda their tradition—every few days they call each other—mostly via Skype—to catch up and check if everything's alright. She really enjoys it; the Diaz siblings has always been pretty close no matter how far away they have lived.

“It is. It's just... Why was she even at the station? I thought there's nothing between them. Not after that disaster of a date”, Eddie sighs. Seeing Buck chatting and laughing with Taylor Kelly at the end of their shift really put him in a bad mood. He still doesn't trust her especially around his best friend. He just knows that redhead reporter isn't the right person for Buck. Who repeatedly said he wants a serious relationship, not just a meaningless hookup.

And yet, he's still seeing her. It bothers Eddie so much he spilled out about it when Adriana asked what's up. He thought that it might help him calm down but he feels like he's just more angry than he has been earlier.

“Maybe they're just friends.”, Adriana suggests after a few moments of silence between them. She eyes him suspiciously. “Isn't it what Buck said anyway? That they're better off being friends?”

“Then why was she flirting with him for the whole she was there? Why did she bring him his favourite coffee?”. It's very clear that Eddie's annoyed that his sister isn't throwing insults at Buckley's not-so-new female friend.

“You flirt with him all the time and nobody says anything.”

Eddie freezes.

After what it feels like hours, he looks up at his sister. She has that odd, annoying smug on her face like she knows she's absolutely right and he has sudden urge to wipe it off. She just waits patiently for him to catch up what she said.

“I... What now?”

“You flirt with him all the time. And everyone is fine with it.”, she repeats very loud and clear.

“I don't”, Eddie scoffs. Has she gone mad and he hasn't noticed? He doesn't flirt with Buck, they're just best friends. They joke and bicker quite often but that's it. There's only friendly, platonic banter.

“Have you ever considered you might be in love with Buck?”, Adriana asks. Her question is serious even though Eddie sees the mischief in her eyes.

“Don't you think I would've noticed that I'm in love with my best friend?”, he answers with another question.

He really believes in that. He's been in love once in his life and it was Shannon. And he was definitely aware of his feelings. He still remembers first nervous glances, shy smiles and stuttering. He remembers first touches and kisses and how he had felt butterflies in his stomach. He also recalls their arguments, make-up sex and tears when they'd been hurting each other. Even when Shannon had re-appeared in his life, he was fully aware he still loved her. So if he did love Evan, he'd know. He thinks. He's so lost in thoughts, he doesn't hear his sister's rambling.

“Edmundo!”, she practically yells at him to bring back his attention. It seems to be working so she decides to share her honest opinion. “Eddie, we've been talking for almost an hour now, you had a date with Ana—like yesterday—and you didn't say a word about it. We're only talking about Buck. You're so pissed off because you saw him again with the girl he'd hooked up with in the past. And for me it's pretty telling. You're jealous.”

There's a silence on Eddie's side of the screen. In fact, he's utterly speechless. Adriana's words are ringing in his ears like a fucking bell. Jealous. Is is really jealousy what's been eating him since his friend had reconnected with Taylor?

“Look”, his sister bites her lip as if she's not sure if she should go on. Eventually, she does. “I'm not laughing or mocking you. I love you and I want everything what's best for you. I know you've had a rough couple of years dealing with all that shit with our parents, Shannon dying, tsunami and pandemic and yet, I've never seen you happier. You literally light up when you talk about Chris and Buck. You mention him all the time. You've never trusted Shannon the way you trust Buck with Chris and she was his mother. You two practically live together—last time we talked he was tucking Chris in after he spend the whole afternoon cooking dinner and watching movies with you two. It's something I do with my husband, not with my friends even if I love them. I've only seen glimpses of your life and I'm pretty sure you two love each other.”

Eddie listens. He pays attention to every word that coming out from Addie's mouth. It's hard to admit it but she's right. Buck has stopped being only a guest in his house a long time ago. Lately he's here almost all the time—either babysitting Chris while Eddie's on a date with Ana or just hanging out with the two of them because he doesn't feel comfortable in his own apartment. The thing is, Eddie likes having him around. He enjoys lazy mornings that smell like Buck's famous pancakes and coffee made by Hildy (Buck still teases him about it); he's also very fond of all evenings filled with laughter when they accidentally fall asleep on the couch and wake up in the middle of the night tangled up together. Being this close has never been awkward to them. At this point—Eddie realises—it's more awkward when there's an actual space between them. And, of course, he notices how attractive his friend is. He must've been blind not to see it. It's not like he's the only one who knows that Buck's eyes look like the cloudless sky in the middle of the summer when he's happy and get so dark they look like an stormy ocean, right?

He freezes again for a moment.

“Addie, I'm a little too old to have a sexuality crisis, don't you think?”, he asks but Adriana only laughs. He's not even offended by it because it's kinda hilarious. He would've laughed if somebody told him that he's gonna question his sexuality because of something his sister had said. “What if... What about our family? Parents?”

“You mean if you two get together?” Eddie nods. “I don't think you need to worry about it”, Adriana smiles brightly. “Our mom's wondering—and I quote—when will Edmundo bring back to El Paso that charming friend of his?”

“And so are we!”, Sophia chimes in, appearing suddenly behind Adriana.

“Dios Mío, have you been here the whole time?” Eddie groans when he sees both of his sisters grinning. He's royally fucked now. He knows them well and he's sure they won't forget about anything he has said tonight and will tease him mercilessly. There's a reason why Buck instantly hit it off when he met Diaz sisters. Sophia only nods and winks at him before she disappears again.

“Aunt Pepa loves him and don't even get me started with Abuela. Buck's her favourite grandchild, she gave him half of her secret recipes and he's not even officially Diaz yet!”, Adriana exclaims, pretending to be offended. Then, she adds. “And you certainly don't have to worry about Christopher. The kid loves Buck more than anyone. I'm not even sure if you're still his favourite adult.”

Eddie glares at her but there's a smile on his lips. He's not even slightly surprised that his son adores Buck so much. Honestly, Evan Buckley is his favourite adult too.

—☾—

Adriana's words are still stuck in his head days later when he's at home after another long, exhausting shift. Christopher is already here, doing his homework and Buck—Buck is here too. They're in the kitchen, preparing dinner together. Or it's rather Buck cooking and Eddie trying to steal food.

“Hey, quit snacking and cut the vegetables”, Buck orders and Eddie can't help but smile.

“I love you”, he blurts out. He didn't even think about it, it just escaped from his mouth.

It's Buck's turn to freeze.

Eddie looks at him and realises what he said. He's not panicking; he just feels happy, perfectly comfortable. At peace.

“I love you”, he says it again and suddenly he's in Buck's space. He just leans in and kisses him. Buck's definitely surprised but he only needs a moment to catch up what's going on. He responds very eagerly and kisses him back.

Eddie thinks it's a wonderful feeling. Now he knows that sometimes love doesn't hit like a wave, rapidly and intensively. Sometimes it just sneaks up quietly and patiently, like a river, taking piece by piece. He doesn't mind it.

“You're still cutting vegetables”, Buck says when they break apart. His eyes are full of joy and he's grinning—and Eddie wants to see him like this everyday. “And for the record, I love you too, Diaz.”

Eddie sends Adriana you were right hours later when he's already in bed, Buck curled up next to him. She responds almost immediately I know and he just smiles again.

—☾—

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30453828

(Title stolen shamelessly from band called The Maine, I highly recommend listen to that song, it fits Buddie so much ✨

#911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 fic #buddie fic #lucy writes #lucy's attempt to write #no beta we die like doug #in this house we stan diaz sisters #adriana and sophia are national treasure #just like christopher #it's shitty #i know i know #buddie drabble

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 4 years

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It’s time for more Marvel SMP brainrot. This time I got some ideas on how the first Avengers movie would go. A.K.A, all the adults (especially Schlatt) get fucking heart attacks as Tubbo and Tommy keep on sneaking on the dangerous shit they get into.

For what already happened, I’d imagine that Tommy was found by SHIELD because of some digging and we already got him moving in with Wilbur and becoming his younger brother.

Tubbo is the nephew of Schlatt that he has to watch for a little and Tommy and him hit off instantly.

Fundy just met Wilbur and is now living with him and is about to be adopted.

Niki regained her goddess status and Punz is now working for Dream.

Techno already met Tommy and Tubbo after Wilbur and a very reluctant Schlatt stopped a rather messy explosion from happening caused by one of the Dream Team members.

Right so now that’s out of the way, we can get onto the movie. Long post ahead so sorry about that. It under Keep Reading.

So we’re going to get the beginning like how the first Avengers started. We got the whole experiment and Eret, Phil, Sam, and Puffy noticing that the Space Stone is getting really unstable and that someone is opening a portal from the other side.

Out comes Punz, George, and Sapnap. Yeah we're going to have three antagonists in the first movie. Punz may be the Loki of the au but I want Sapnap and George be there so we can show the character development between that and when we get to the El Rapids side of the au.

But back to the main story, we got those three coming out and obviously Sam, Eret, Puffy, and Phil are all on guard. Sam, Eret, and Puffy recognizes Punz’s from Niki talking about him when she was on Earth.

Meanwhile Phil immediately recognizes Sapnap from the footage Techno gave him when he first started trouble in the second installment in Wilbur’s arc. He has caused so much arson in the time he was there.

So you got all of them being cautious around the three while they just argue about what to do. George is holding the spear and when people try to shoot them, you got Sapnap, George, and Punz immediately take them down like they’re nothing.

We then get the usual bit, Eret gets brainwashed because of the scepter and several other SHIELD members do as well. Puffy, Sam, and Phil escape while George, Punz, Sapnap, Eret and some other SHIELD agents take the Space Stone.

Sapnap then causes some minor arson despite Punz and George telling him no and there is a huge explosion.

Phil then calls Techno to come back from his mission and Sam comes in to tell Wilbur about going into the SHIELD base because this seems like a reason to call the Avengers initiative Phil. It doesn’t matter that you still have some family shit to work through, you got to go and call in Wilbur.

Fundy was also there so Sam pretty much killed two birds with one stone when he visited. Both Wilbur and Fundy both agreed as long as Fundy won’t be detained the moment this is all over.

Tommy and Tubbo unfortunately are there as well and overhear the adults talking about this. They want to help too! They got cool powers and they could totally beat up bad guys! Course Wilbur and Schlatt would object to that. So they did the one reasonable thing everyone should do! Sneak into the airship using Tubbo’s cool magic and their extreme stealth!

Wilbur only finds out that Tubbo and Tommy snuck on after getting a panicked phone call from Schlatt saying that the kid is missing. Cue panic from Wilbur and Fundy.

Phil, Wilbur, and Techno do not have a great relationship with each other now so it’s rather tense between all of them. Tommy tries to ease the tension by making jokes and stuff but that just leads to the three of them saying that he’s a child and that he shouldn’t even be here. He shouldn’t go and concern himself with these and let the adults do their job. (Tubbo and Tommy is definitely going to sneak on the Quin Jet)

Fundy tracks where the Tesseract is and we cut to Punz, George, and Sapnap being contacted by Dream using his god powers. We get some praise to George and Sapnap while Punz just looks at Dream with nothing but suspicion.

Dream then requests a private talk with Punz and the tone completely changes. We got Punz being pretty indifferent on the outside with Dream’s threats of punishment if he fails this but you see some signs that he is indeed nervous. You got him pulling on his sleeve a little and wincing a little sometimes.

Straight to Germany and the gala. Punz decides to be the one who does the little eye disection while George and Sapnap be the defense and take down the guards to have as much of a distraction as possible so that Eret can get some Iridium to make the portal.

Meanwhile on the Quin Jet we get Techno about to drop in with Sam manning the wheel and Tubbo and Tommy somehow snuck on board again. This gives Sam, Wilbur, and Techno several heart attack because what the fuck. How do you keep sneaking on to everything. Please just stay in here.

We get Punz, George, Sapnap terrorizing a few people to be a distraction and then we get Techno dropping in all badass like.

(Punz speaking a language only Techno would understand and wincing a bit: Please don’t tell me those are children right next to you.

Techno looking and seeing Tubbo and Tommy in good disguises and armor: Oh my god.)

We get a rather cool fight between Sapnap v Tommy, Techno v Punz, and George v Tubbo.

Wilbur then comes in and they “capture” Punz, George, and Sapnap. Wilbur, Techno, and Schlatt on the phone then lecture the children and that’s when Niki comes in and grabs Punz. Cue Wilbur and Tubbo jumping in to get them. Techno then has to calm a panicked Schlatt as he hears Tubbo jump in after Wilbur.

You get Niki trying to get Punz to come home and stop the little invasion on Earth but Punz just refuses. Saying that it’s what he’s paid to do and that it has to happen now.

Wilbur interrupts that conversation and we get a brief fight scene between them before Tubbo comes in and shoots magic at Niki. Niki then stops because wait, you’re a child. Why is there a child there. Wilbur is slowly just getting more grey hairs as he sees Tubbo there.

Some talking later and we get Niki joining the team at the base and Punz, George, and Sapnap getting imprisoned in the glass thing.

We get Wilbur, Tubbo, and Fundy hacking into the SHIELD systems and digging deep into what Phase 2 is, got Tommy deciding to do it manually, Niki talking to Puffy, and Techno deciding to talk to Punz, Sapnap, and George separately about their plans.

Now Punz, Sapnap, and George aren’t as manipulative as Loki was in the first Avengers but Punz will go and point out how him and Techno and him aren’t that different. They both have red on their ledger and yeah.

We get the argument between the SBI family, Fundy, Niki, Tubbo. We get Eret attacking the airship and we get all the usual stuff that happened on the airship.

Wilbur reluctantly lets Tommy and Tubbo help fix the airship, Niki gets sent down by Punz, Fundy crashes to the ground, Techno and Eret fight, and we get Sam almost dying. :’)

Punz, George, and Sapnap escapes but this time we get Punz telling the other two to get back to Dream’s main fortress and that he can handle it here. Totally not because he knows there is a big chance of them losing and he doesn’t want Sapnap and George to be punished for it. Shut up. He isn’t soft.

We get the usual pep talk by Phil and him slightly pushing them to the right direction using some planted cards. Niki picks up her spear and heads to the city.

(Phil: You guys are Avengers.

Tommy: Ew. That sounds gross.

Wilbur: Got to admit Phil, he’s got you there.

Tommy: We should be called the L’Manbergians! Since like most of us here are European. Sorry Techno.

Techno: Don’t include me in the naming scheme.)

Fundy meanwhile is in a tower of bricks and sees this dude in a multicolored hoodie who give him a bit of pep talk and a pants and shirt. Fundy was about to thank him for it but then when he looked back, only particles of green remained.

Tubbo and Tommy are now allowed to go with the L’Manbergians on the condition of having an adult near them at all times. So Techno is babysitting the children and trying to not let them get killed.

Eret and Puffy gets to talk because I want them to talk. Please let them talk. And Eret talks about how it felt like when he was being controlled and man that’s a lot of trauma. They’re all in on joining L’Manberg and kicking Punz’s ass. Along the way they grab some goggles to cover up his eyes since they still have the unnerving show of no pupils.

We get Wilbur confronting Punz about it and it goes well. It goes surprisingly well. Punz knows he’s going to lose but it’s still his job. Wilbur points out how Punz seems so ready to give up and tells him to surrender right now.

(Punz: Look this is my job I can’t just surrender to you guys. That would piss my employer off.

Wilbur: Sounds to me that you’re scared of this employer. Are they threatening you and your friends and family?

Punz: ...Okay I think that’s enough talking now.)

Wilbur gets thrown out of window, new suit on, portal opens. Alien invasion time.

What happens is what basically happens in the first movie. Cool fighting. Some banter. Awesome scenes and more.

Techno and Eret are all just making sure that Tommy and Tubbo won’t get severely hurt and then you just see Tommy suplex someone and Tubbo being impressive with his magic. Tubbo specifically was saying how Schlatt and the Captain are going to get heart attacks when they see this.

(They did. they absolutely 100% did. Even with the disguises they immediately recognized Tommy and Tubbo. Schlatt screamed in his pillow while the Captain is just freaking out.)

Fundy comes in, we get the regular stuff. Just stuff that happens in the first Avenger movie. Punz vs Niki is awesome. Punz gets punched by Fundy when he comes up through the tower.

Nuke gets sent out by World Council and Wilbur has to send one of them up through the portal. This is where we get Dream and Wilbur encounter. Yay! The green manipulative bastard is going to traumatize the musician!

Dream then goes on this little talk about how this isn’t even it. That this isn’t even a fifth of his actual army. You though that was an invasion? Please. That was a raid at best. He can just keep on attacking and there is nothing Wilbur can do to stop it

(Wilbur: We’ll stop you. We stopped Punz before. We can stop you as well.

Dream: Can you though? Soot, look around. I have armies at my disposal. George and Sapnap got away. You only got one of my generals and he was a fucking mercenary. You won nothing.

Wilbur:

Dream: I think it’s time for you to leave. The others must be waiting. Have a nice decent down to Earth.

*Wilbur then falls down through the portal again

Dream: Also, Soot, tell Tommy that Dream said hi.)

Regular stuff happens again. Wilbur lives and Punz is now being brought back to Asgard. L’Manberg tower is made and everyone promises to go and move in it once they get their stuff.

Wilbur is now thinking about what Dream said. What if they get a threat they can’t handle? That mindset is interrupted by Schlatt going up into the tower, telling that Tubbo's grounded and asking Wilbur very nicely where Phil is. No Wilbur I won’t commit murder, I just want to talk to the man nicely. With a brick.

So first movie ended off great. The heroes won and Punz is imprisoned on Asgard. We’re going to get Found Family stuff between arcs and we’re going to get some fluffy moments. We are also seeing hints of Wilbur’s paranoia growing but that’s not important now. That totally won’t be plot important in the future. Right?

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fuckyouquiznak · 4 years

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Jschlatt's Return

= Future developments in the Dream SMP plot (theories)

How does resurrection work?

• According to Philza and Eret to revive someone his ghost must be killed in the same way he lost his last canon life (that would also explain why Glatt and Ghostbur came back online recently).

• We also know they may need a totem and the knowledge of the resurrection book, which is now kept somewhere out there in the server, considering Dream said he didn't have it physically in prison with him. (He also said he destroyed it, but do we trust him? Absolutely not)

• We didn't see Tommy's revival from Dream's point of view, so it could be that Phantommy actually appeared and Dream easily killed him on the same spot of Tommy (maybe using the clock or his mask as a totem idk), but we still don't know what kind of information the book provides and how resurrection really works.

What is going to happen?

1. Quackity and Sam

• Quackity's last stream made pretty clear Big Q's intention of taking the book from Dream using all the means possible.

• However, despite the torture, Dream won't give any information. First of all he doesn't like Jschlatt, because he finds him annoying and boring (not like Wilbur) and second, of course, he knows the book's knowledge is the only thing that prevents other people from killing him. And then again, why should he give away the same power that made him a god? Quackity won't kill him without the book, and he is used to pain. Moreover he'll have some company at least.

• Quackity won't give up. He will keep visiting Dream everyday and will eventually start to like making him suffer.

• Sam instead will feel more and more guilty for what he made possible and for the person he became. He has changed since Tommy's death. He had promise to protect him and then he failed him. And then everything went wrong. He likes to believe that Dream deserves this for what he did to Tommy, but he is not sure that's the right way. Sometimes he even feels sorry for him, especially after Quackity's visits. After all Dream is just a broken person. Isn't he?

2. Tommy and the boys

• Meanwhile Tommy goes to Puffy's therapy sessions and opens up about his traumas and fears. It's hard, but it really helps having someone to talk to. Especially now.

• Since he returned to the server he has felt so lonely.

• Everyone treats him differently. Some people see him as miracle and keep asking inappropriate questions. Some others pretend nothing happened. For few of them the server just moved on; for others he is still dead.

• Even so he can't focus too much on himself right now. Stopping Dream is much more important. If Wilbur comes back... he doesn't even want to think about what he is capable of.

• They need to kill Dream, but Tommy is still too scared to come back to prison or to even touch a sword. Every time he suffers a damage he can't breathe: it's like it's happening all over again.

• He can't stay at his house anymore, on the ashes of L'Manburg, nor at his hotel, which is in Jack's hands, and he doesn't want to be alone (it reminds him of exile).

• He'll pass the time at Ranboo and Tubbo's, meeting Michael and working out a plan to kill Dream.

• In Tommy's stream Tubbo showed him his investigation report, pointing out that both Foolish and Ranboo were online when someone damaged the prison (before Tommy's dead).

• Tubbo obviously blames Foolish, nonetheless Tommy understands that something in Ranboo is corrupted.

• He tries to warn Tubbo, who underestimates his friend's words, thinking he might just be jealous of their relationship. They fight. It's a huge argument.

• "It's like you don't want me to be happy" Tubbo screams, shaking his head.

• "I don't want you to be happy without me" as soon as these words leave Tommy's mouth he immediately regrets it.

• Tubbo stays silent for a while. He seems disappointed: "You've changed".

• Tommy tighten a fist. "That's what death does to people, Tubbo, it changes them".

3. Kinoko Kingdom

• At the end Tommy will leave Snowchester and will move into Kinoko Kingdom (he liked the sign of the "free stuff", so why not?). Tommy there is welcome.

• He explains the Wilbur situation to the others, but then something bad happens.

• Hanging out with Sapnap, they talk about Ranboo and Dream's friendship and about how he acted when he received the ":)" message.

• It turns out Ranboo is guilty for the explosions in the prison that kept Sam busy during Tommy's visit to Dream.

• Tommy shows Tubbo the evidences.

4. Platonic Divorce

• After that, the platonic husbands will go through a "divorce arc".

• "How could you?" Tubbo can't help crying and screaming. "I trusted you".

• Ranboo wishes he could do something. But he is scared. He doesn't remember any of that. Did he really help Dream? Why? He doesn't...

• "I kicked out Tommy, my best friend, when he most needed me because of you! I think you should leave".

• Tubbo goes back to Tommy, apologizing. "You were right". And as much as he hates Ranboo, Tommy is broken-hearted seeing his best friend that hurt.

• However he can't help smiling when Tubbo says: "Guess it's just you and me against Dream like it has always been". It's selfish, but he really missed his best friend.

5. Connor's betrayal

• Sam talks with Connor about his doubts related to the all 'torture thing'.

• Connor tries to comfort him and decides to visit Dream with Quackity.

• Dream is relentless: "That villain arc you sewed for yourself is nice. But I won't tell you anything. And the book doesn't exist anymore, now. You can control every book in the server. It will not bring it back" saying these words Dream keeps his eyes on Connor. "The only way to find it should be... be able to travel in time"

• Connor freezes.

6. Karl's arrest

• Karl finds the resurrection book during one of his travels.

• He immediately plans to give it to Tommy, but when he comes back, someone is waiting for him in the library.

• "Well, look what the cat dragged in" Quackity stays still, his arms crossed, next to Connor and Sam. They all wear armours. "So it is true. That's a huge secret you have, Karl"

• The library behind them is destroyed. Books lie on floor ripped. They were looking for it.

• Karl puts the book of Necromancy back, his voice shaking as he realises Sapnap and George aren't there. "What are you doing here?" He asks, making eye contact with Connor, who quickly looks away, ashamed.

• "I'm sorry, Karl" he whispers "But Jschlatt is my friend"

• Quackity walks slowly towards him. "Give me the book, Karl". He has a creepy smile on his face. Is that even the same Quackity? This one looks different.

• "Quackity, you don't have to-"

• "Don't tell what I have to do. If you refuse, I might have to declare you under arrest"

• Karl holds the book tighter. If he gave him the book... no, he can't do that. For Tommy's sake, and for the rest of the server. If the book has the power to revive Wilbur... it must be destroyed. He grabs his sword, ready to fight.

• Quackity looks disappointed "You didn't give me another choice, man" he says, before killing him and taking the book from his inventory.

7. Dream and Karl

• Karl is later taken to the prison and put in Dream's cell.

• "Well, green boy, seems like you service is no longer required. However, I want to keep having fun with you. I'll revive Jschlatt, and then I'll execute you publicly. Enjoy your last hours: I got you company" Quackity leaves with a victory smile on his face.

• Dream looks horrible. He is covered in blood, his body painted by new scars. Karl has never seen him like this. His hearts are low and he hasn't eaten in days.

• Dream is the first one who speaks: "You found it".

• Karl freezes. What does that mean? "I though I had hidden it too well" he keeps saying, washing his blood away. "Maybe I should have really destroyed it"

• How cool would it be if Dream actually hid the book in the timeline? He couldn't burn it. Otherwise if he died no one would have revived him. So he just hid it where only Karl could find it.

• So yes, Dream knows Karl's power because he has a similar one. And yes, the prison was actually built for Karl (that's the only theory I care about).

• "We are not that different, Karl. Forgetting the people you love.. I know what it feels. I can help you controlling it. Have you reached the In between yet?"

• What if Dream is the one leaving Karl books and suggestions about his travels?

• They spend some time together and they surprisingly get along well. It's like someone finally understands.

8. Sapnap's lore

• Sapnap finds out Karl has been arrested, but he doesn't know why. He is angry.

• He faces Quackity who giggles. "Apparently there are a lot of things we don't know about Karl" but he doesn't tell him Karl's secret.

• Quackity and Sapnap break up (I won't ever be over Quackity's stream with El Rapid)

• Sapnap joins the children group. They are breaking into prison, right? He needs to save Karl.

9. Escape from Pandora's Vault

• Tommy, Tubbo, Ghostbur and Sapnap manage to break into Pandora's Vault when Sam and Quackity aren't online.

• When they arrive in Dream's cell, he is talking with Karl.

• Sapnap, horrified, takes Karl away from him. He doesn't trust Dream anymore, not after what he did to Tommy. He is sure it's his fault if Karl is here now.

• Dream can't help smiling when he sees the little party there. Especially when he sees his best friend Tommy. He tries to get closer.

• "I'm gonna kill you man. What the hell-" Sapnap punches Dream away. The anger and the resentment spread all over his body. They didn't deserve so much pain. Maybe the server will be a peaceful place without him. "You killed Tommy and then you gave Quackity the book- you"

• Karl stops him, defending Dream. "Sapnap, please. He didn't give them the book. I was the one who did".

• Everyone hold their breathe. What? Why? Wasn't it burned? How did you...

• "We need to get him out"

• Tommy grifts his teeth: "No way he is coming with us". He tries to grab his sword trembling and gagging, but it's too much. He can't... that place...

• Dream steps away. "Oh, you came to kill me" he whispers. "Do it. I'll be dead by tomorrow anyway"

• "You can't die yet!" Karl screams.

• "C'mon, Karl-"

• Dream smiles. "Don't forget who you are, Karl. And don't stray from the path. The SMP needs you more than you know" (= Dream is the one who leaves Karl notes about time travelling in the In Between :])

• "We don't have much time, guys"

• "Yeah, Tommy you don't have much time. Are you going to kill me? Or are you too afraid?" Dream starts teasing Tommy. "I bet you can't do it, right? You're too weak. And down deep you know you love me. We are best friends after all, aren't we?"

• Tommy doesn't react. He is as pale as a ghost, his eyes wide open.

• Tubbo steps in. He can't look at Tommy like this. He hates Dream so much. "Stay away from him". Looking back at his life, Dream has always been responsible for the bad things happened to him. The discs, L'Manburg, Tommy's exile, his death...

• Dream raises his eyebrows. "Tubbo, how's Ranboo?"

• It happens in a moment. Tubbo just loses control and kills Dream. Don't worry Dream's stans he'll come back one day. Bigger plans for that greenboy.

10. Resurrection

• They all run away.

• That same night Jschlatt is publicly revived. "¿Por dónde empezamos?"

• Quackity, Sam and Connor stay behind him.

• "Tonight our country has faced a loss. Four intruders entered the Pandora's Vault, killed Dream and helped the prisoner Karl Jacobs escape. Sapnap, Tubbo, Tommy and Ghostbur are now officially wanted. Dead or alive."

End of the season? Maybe?

How does the server react?

• Tommy, Tubbo, Sapnap, Ghostbur and Karl are criminals. They become nomads for a while. Samnook gives them an hand.

• Tommy keeps thinking about what Tubbo did. They really didn't talk about it after the break-out. Tubbo just pretends nothing happened.

• Karl and Sapnap aren't talking neither. And when they do they fight.

• The only happy one seems to be Ghostbur, who is excited to be on a vacation with the boys.

• Dream's ghost (Specdream? Nightmare?) appears to Ranboo, who is alone in a self-exile because he doesn't want to hurt anyone. Dream's ghost would be much more like Clay, so he won't be that dangerous like c/Dream (cfr. Ghostbur and Wilbur). But still it would be insane to see those two hanging out.

• Jschlatt and Quackity open their Casino, helped by Jack, who sells the hotel.

• After Dream's death and the destruction of Kinoko Kingdom, George takes Quackity's side. He is sure Sapnap killed Dream and he doesn't know how to feel about it...

• Philza, Techno, Eret and Niki, wanting Wilbur's return, will do the same (they need Ghostbur btw). Techno in particular will hunt the fugitives.

• Puffy and Fundy, contrary to them, will try to find Ranboo and the others in order to stop Jschlatt and Quackity.

• Wilbur and Dream meanwhile are having so much fun in the afterlife.

Even if solitaire is not chess

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urdearestmom · 4 years

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I'll Walk With You

hello everyone shocked to see me posting yet again???????

i said after i posted that oneshot rehashing 3x06 that i was going to one day write something where mike and max have an actual conversation.... and here it is!! for your reading pleasure :)

i think i did them and their dynamic justice with this and i'm super proud of how it turned out. we're unlikely to ever get something like this in the show but i'm hoping s4 at least gives us them being actual friends so that i can infer that something like this happened between seasons lol

Max’s house is silent as the grave. She isn’t surprised, it’s been like this nearly all the time since the summer. Her stepfather will drink himself back to sleep on the couch, and her mother will say nothing. Max won’t say anything either. The day has barely begun and it’s already shit.

Most of the time she escapes the horrible atmosphere inside her house by going to school, but it’s Spring Break now and she has nowhere to be. She’ll be stuck with her thoughts all day if she doesn’t find something else to do, so after nearly two hours of trying in vain to entertain herself, she decides to head out and see if Lucas is free. She knows Dustin already left town with his mom the night before, and she’s not willing to have Mike third wheel her and Lucas, so she hopes he’s down to go do something with her. He’s good at distracting her from the inescapable cycle of guilt and anger she feels constantly nowadays.

Except when she gets to his house, his parents are in the garage putting things into the trunk of the family car. She stops at the sight. Erica is nowhere to be seen but Lucas is standing in the front doorway and sees Max coming right away. He meets her in the street.

“Max, hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Max gestures to his house. “I came to see if you wanted to hang out, but it looks like you guys are going somewhere.”

Lucas frowns. “I thought I told you, we’re going to visit my cousins in Chicago for a few days.”

Lord, a few days? Lucas must see it on her face because he scrambles to assure her it’s not for the whole week.

“I’ll be back Wednesday,” he promises.

“Today’s Sunday,” she protests. She knows there’s literally nothing to be done about it, but it still sucks. What’s she going to do all week?

“I swear I told you,” Lucas repeats.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Max answers. “You probably did. I’m sorry, just… forgot.”

He frowns again. Max has been forgetting a lot of things lately. She’s not sure why, it just feels like everything in her life is too much and her brain can’t handle it the way it should. Freshman year has not been the greatest so far.

“You okay?” He asks her, reaching for her hands, and his concern makes her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. He’s probably the only person who actually cares about her well-being, seeing as her mom clearly doesn’t.

Max nods. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to be at home, but I guess I’ll find something else to do. Bye, Lucas,” she says, squeezing his fingers gratefully before turning away to bike off back down the street.

“Hey!” He calls. She turns back. He motions to the big house next door, equally familiar to her. “Mike’s still home, maybe you can ask him?”

Max crosses her arms. “Like he would want to hang out with me,” she scoffs.

Lucas sighs. “Look, I know he can be a bit of an ass sometimes-”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“-But he’s not a bad person, Max, you know that. He’s dealing with a lot right now,” Lucas finishes.

Max rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s not the only one,” she says bitingly. She has never gotten along with the third boy in their group and at this point she isn’t sure she ever will. She’s also not really in the mood to look at his stupid face today, considering it’ll more than likely start an argument and she doesn’t have the energy for that.

“I know,” Lucas says. “I know. But you’re both my best friends and I think you guys are more alike than you think. If you just gave each other another chance, you’d get along.”

Max doesn’t reply. She doesn’t really know what to say because she knows Lucas is only trying to help her with what he thinks is the current best solution, but she doesn’t want to agree with him either.

“Just think about it,” he continues. “He’s the only one not going anywhere so if you really need to see someone…”

She gets what Lucas is implying, but really? “He’d probably laugh in my face if I showed up at the door. I’d rather stay home.”

At that, Lucas raises his arms in surrender. “I’m just saying he wouldn’t turn you away. We don’t lie to each other, alright?”

Max shrugs in response. “Whatever. I’ll figure something out.”

Lucas steps forward quickly to hug her. Pulling back, he keeps his hands on her arms. “I wrote my cousins’ phone number on the back of your math worksheet yesterday if you need it.”

She gives him a tiny nod and he returns it with a small smile, dropping his arms back to his sides.

“I’ll see you first thing Thursday morning,” he adds.

“Thursday,” she repeats, putting one foot back on her bike pedal. “Got it.�� What’s she supposed to do until Thursday?

The answer, as it happens, is absolutely nothing. For the rest of Sunday afternoon, Max rides around town with no destination. She stops in a park for a while, sitting down and pulling up blades of grass and sprinkling them around her. A man walking his dog gives her a weird look and she flips the bird at his back. That action feels oddly satisfying, even if he didn’t see it. In the evening she makes her way back to her house, and everyone pretends like she didn’t just spend the entire day gone.

Monday dawns looking and feeling exactly the same, except Max decides to get a start on some homework. This way when Lucas comes back she’ll be free to hang out with him without the thought of her assignments hanging over her head. Her mom leaves to go to work and all it does is make Max hyper aware of Neil’s movements across the house. He’s supposed to go to work too, but Max isn’t sure he will. In fact, she sort of suspects he’s either quit or been fired. He’s missed too many days.

When she’s tired of writing and the lines of her character analysis of Mercutio are starting to blur into the equations on her algebra worksheet, she goes into the kitchen to find something to eat. Neil’s gone, so she makes herself a ham and cheese sandwich and stands by the sink to eat it. She feels exhausted, and it’s barely afternoon.

Hours later, she wakes up from a nap to the sun near setting and the noises of her mom puttering around the kitchen making dinner. The first thing her gaze lands on is the clunky walkie-talkie sitting on her desk, and her thoughts spring to the boys. Specifically, what Lucas said to her the day before.

Maybe it has more merit than she first gave it. It’s true that she doesn’t get along with Mike at all, but she might be willing to try again at some point, if only to appease Lucas. She had wanted to when they all first met. She liked the other boys just fine, but she could tell from the get-go that Mike was their ringleader and his opinion could sway the others. If she wanted to truly feel like a part of the group, they all had to be on board. Even after that, things weren’t so terrible between them; at least until summer and all the drama with El and then everything else that happened. Now, Max’s headspace is too occupied by other problems to care much about trying to repair her somewhat-friendship with him, and Mike has become more and more reclusive by the day. She even thinks she saw him smoking once, down at the far end of the field, which, although she isn’t an expert, she feels is extremely uncharacteristic.

Everything’s just weird now. There’s too many empty holes in all their lives.

Dinner is mostly quiet; nobody in this house ever says anything that has any true meaning anyway. Maybe it’s better this way. Neil ends up on the couch joined by his bottle of whiskey and Max’s mom shoos her away after she’s cleared the table, so Max retreats back to her room. The silence is almost deafening, and she wishes that dumb walkie-talkie on her desk would crackle. What she wouldn’t give for someone to say real words to her.

She considers calling Lucas, but she doesn’t want to bother him with her problems when he’s supposed to be having fun with his cousins. She also doesn’t want Neil to ask who she’s calling. In the end, she ends up tidying her room, gathering up all her comic books and folding the clothes she has on the floor before placing them on her chair. The walkie seems like it’s calling out to her as she glances at it every five seconds, and then finally lets her frustration out on it by snatching it up and launching it at her bed. She doesn’t want to break it, but she did want to throw it. Why does she keep looking at it? It’s not like anyone’s going to call her on it. The only people who might are both out of town.

Her emotions war inside of her. On the one hand, she knows what she wants, what she needs. She needs to talk to someone freely so it has to be someone who relates to what she’s seen, because being stuck virtually alone inside her house for the next few days until Lucas gets back is going to drive her insane. Unfortunately the only person she can think of is someone she isn’t on good terms with, which makes her angry for even having the thought. Is she really desperate enough to potentially embarrass herself?

Damn Lucas for putting the idea in her head. She’s sure she never would’ve considered it on her own. Damn Lucas and his stupid advice, damn Dustin for ever speaking to her that day and getting her involved in all their mess, and damn Mike for hating her from day one.

Damn her for going to talk to him anyway. She sneaks out her window, just as she has done to meet Lucas so many times, except it’s after nine and it’s dark out. She brings the walkie with her.

On the way, she wonders why she’s even doing this. She supposes it would make it easier for Lucas and Dustin when they all hang out together (which is getting rarer every week) if she and Mike aren’t constantly at each other’s throats about something or other. She also remembers something El said to her on the phone a while ago that she had forgotten about until this very moment. El had heard enough complaints from both of them about each other and was just wishing they would stop fighting. Max had scoffed at it and been about to launch into another rant about just how much of a jerk Mike was when El had said she didn’t care if they weren’t friends, she just wanted them to stop being so mad all the time.

Max kind of agrees with her. Being angry all the time is exhausting, and there are way worse things in her life to be angry about than Mike Wheeler and his dumb attitude. If she can make peace with him, maybe she won’t feel so out of place around her own friends. And maybe, if they can get over everything that’s happened between them, it’ll give her hope that the rest of her life might look up one day, too.

It’s only when she gets to his house that she realizes she doesn’t know what she wants to say. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a whole conversation, maybe just seeing each other for five minutes will give her enough stability to stay in her house until Lucas returns and she can talk to him instead. She just needs to be around someone who knows the things she’s been through since she moved here, someone who looks at her and knows why she is the way she is. Her mom can never know and will never understand, and Neil is too scary to ever think about approaching him with anything at all.

She drops her bike in the grass by the back of the house, making her way to the basement door where she knows the boys like to be. He’s probably in there still. Her stomach is roiling with nerves, scared that he’ll open the door and glare at her like he usually does, but she remembers there’s another way he looks at her sometimes. There are moments at school, when she passes the gym or sees the basketball team, where Max gets overwhelmed at the memories of her dead stepbrother. It’s almost like she can smell him, the way he used to get up in her face when he yelled at her and the way he looked when he died apologizing to her. It’s moments like that when Dustin and Lucas will be distracted with some petty disagreement that she looks to Mike and his gaze contains solidarity instead of hostility; reassurement that he knows what it feels like to be reminded at every turn of someone you cared about who is gone. He was there, too, and saw Billy sacrifice himself at the last moment just as she did. It’s not an image either of them can forget.

It’s this that gives her the courage to rap her knuckles on the glass pane of the basement door and wait for an answer. When she waits ten seconds and nothing happens, she frowns and knocks again. He wouldn’t know it’s her, why would he ignore it?

She pushes her face up to the door again and tries to see inside, her breath fogging against the glass, and then realizes all the lights in the basement are off.

“Shit,” she says quietly. She doesn’t want to show up at the front door at this time of night. His mom will probably answer and Max doesn’t want to explain herself. She wanders around to the front of the house anyway, looking at which lights are on. There’s one on the ground floor that flickers and seems like it might be a TV, and there’s one on in a room on the second floor. That room has pink wallpaper, though, so Max decides to assume it’s not the one she’s looking for. The middle upstairs window is dark, and the one on the left has the blinds pulled halfway down, but she spots a familiar figure walking past it in the half second her eyes jump to it. Bingo.

She takes a breath to steel herself before bringing the walkie-talkie out of her jacket pocket and pressing down on the button. “Mike, do you copy? It’s Max. Over.”

The walkie crackles with static for a few seconds, and then clears up as an answer comes through. “Yeah, I copy. What do you want? Over.”

“Can you come outside?”

It crackles again in the silence, and Max thinks that maybe this was insane and she should just go home. Then, “You’re outside?”

The blinds lift all the way up and Max sees Mike’s expression change from confused to surprised, like he didn’t actually believe she was there. In a second, he has the window pulled up too and his head sticking out of it.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his tone of voice anxious, and Max realizes he probably thinks something horrible has happened. In his head, there’s likely no other reason she of all people would show up at his house at close to ten at night.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, glancing away from him above her and noticing she’s standing in front of the front door. This is not a good place to be. “I just- didn’t want to be alone.”

She looks back up to find him staring at her like she’s grown another head. “So you came to me?”

Max huffs and crosses her arms. “Well, there’s no one else to go to!”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses. “Do you want my mom to hear you?”

She glares. She’s starting to think that this was a bad idea after all.

After a few seconds of mutinous eye contact, Mike puts a hand to his forehead exasperatedly. “Give me a minute, I’ll meet you at the basement door.” He shuts the window and pulls the blinds down without another word, so Max heeds the order and circles back around to where she left her bike. A few moments later, he comes out the door shrugging on a jacket over what looks like-

“Are those Star Wars pyjamas?” She asks, her mouth twisting into a teasing little smile. What does El see in this guy? As far as she knows, Lucas isn’t this completely nerdy.

He gives her a flat look. “Why do you have to have a problem with everything that I do?”

She frowns. “It was just a question. Relax, jeez.”

In response, Mike puts his hands in his pockets and looks at her. “So what do you want to do?”

Max balks for a second, awkwardness taking over her. This is so weird. She’s never willingly chosen to spend any of her time alone with Mike, and now she doesn’t know what to do.

“Um… just- walk around, maybe?”

He shrugs at her answer and starts walking toward the line of trees behind the house, where there’s a little path that leads off to the next street. Max follows quietly, a little moonlight shining down on them, and she thinks that the silence between them doesn’t feel as explosive as it usually does.

Somewhere along the way, after they’ve crossed another street and gone down a path between two houses, Mike takes something shiny out of his pocket and starts playing with it, and Max sees that it’s a lighter.

“What’s that for?” She asks.

“Lighting things up,” he says.

“You smoke?”

“Only sometimes.”

“So what’s it for the other times?”

He looks at her and his eyebrows furrow for a quick second, seemingly surprised that she inferred something about him correctly.

Mike shrugs again. “Sometimes I go out to the woods and set dead leaves on fire one at a time just to watch them burn. It’s weird how something that was alive once can just disintegrate right in front of you.”

Max isn’t sure what to say to that, but she offers something anyway. “Sometimes I steal my stepdad’s Bowie knife. Use it to stab trees,” she says casually. “Sometimes I even carve that I hate him into them.”

She’s never told Lucas that. Something in her knows that he wouldn’t relate, that his way of dealing with his anger is much calmer and reserved, but Mike’s admission of low-level violence makes her feel less crazy for her own. Maybe Lucas was right in saying they’re more alike than they think they are.

They come out of the trees behind the houses, and the path continues down a hill to a small playground area. There's a swing set that Max sits down on, the cold rubber biting through the fabric of her jeans and making her shiver. The chains creak when Mike sits in the one next to her. He’s digging through his pockets for something.

Max is almost surprised when he pulls out a box of cigarettes and plucks one from the pack, lighting it, but given what he’d just told her two minutes ago it’s not that shocking. He takes a pull from it and then blows the smoke out into the air slowly.

“You want some?” He asks, turning to her.

She remembers the choking sensation she’d felt that time Billy had offered her a drag from his cigarette, and then her mom’s reaction to it.

“Yeah, why not.” Maybe if she still smells like smoke tomorrow, her mom will care enough to ask where she’s been.

Mike hands it to her and the tips of his fingers are warm. “You’ve smoked before?”

“Once,” Max says.

He nods and watches her, and she tries not to let the hot, ashy air she breathes in make her choke. She holds it for a few seconds and then blows it out, and it makes her feel less nervous than she was before about this whole situation.

The pair of them sit there in the darkness for a few minutes, sharing the cigarette in silence, before Max thinks to ask a question she never got a real answer for.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Mike doesn’t look at her, sucking in another breath of smoke. “I don’t hate you.”

“You sure act like you do.”

“Oh, and you don’t?” He says sarcastically, still not looking at her. “If I hated you why would I be here right now?”

“Well, if I hated you, why would I have come talk to you?” She retorts, trying to restrain the irritation she knows is probably written all over her. If she doesn’t rein herself in, she knows this is going to go south quicker than she wants it to.

He laughs dryly. “You said it yourself. You only came because there’s no one else.”

Max bites back the anger that’s trying to rise. He does have a point there, but she’s not going to tell him that. He’s also not answering her question.

“Fine. Maybe you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“What’s your problem with me then?”

He hands her the end of the cigarette to finish and grabs onto the chains of the swing, dragging the toes of his Converse through the grass.

“You’re always starting shit with me for no reason and it makes me so tired,” he says. “Like, we’d be friends just fine if we didn’t argue every other day.”

“And whose fault is that…” Max murmurs under her breath, dropping the cigarette stub to the ground and putting it out with her foot.

Mike turns to her sharply. “Uh, yours? You made El break up with me! How am I supposed to forget that?”

“I already told you I didn’t make her!” Max says loudly. Why is he still on this? As far as Max is aware, they’re basically back together anyway so it’s not like it made a difference. “And how am I supposed to forget how shit you made me feel the first week I was here?”

He looks away again. “I was pretty rude, I’ll give you that.”

She scoffs. “That’s underrating it. You were a total asshole.”

He pushes himself forward a little bit and then lets himself swing back. “I guess I never really apologized for that. I do regret it.”

Max stays silent and waits for him to continue. He’s slumped over in the swing, looking smaller and sadder than she’s ever seen him look, and her heart twinges. She recognizes the defeat present in the way his shoulders are hunched, the complete and utter exhaustion at the state of their lives painted on his face. It’s what she sees every day when she looks in the mirror.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like you, or something,” he tells her. “I was jealous that Lucas and Dustin seemed like they were moving on when I was so…”

“Messed up?” She offers.

Mike shrugs. “Yeah. And part of it was out of concern for you, too.”

Max furrows her brows in confusion. That’s new. “Concern?” She asks, shaking her head slowly. Her hair swings around her face like a curtain, blocking her vision, but she wants to look at Mike and see how he explains this. She tucks it away behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he says again. “I could see how fucked up Will was, and I knew how fucked up I was. And Dustin and Lucas are good at pretending stuff doesn’t affect them but I know it did. It does.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t want someone new getting mixed up in our shit, okay?” He bursts out, meeting her curious gaze once again. “I didn’t want someone else to have to experience the stuff we did. I thought if I made it obvious that I didn’t want you there, you would leave. You know now, but when Lucas told you we couldn’t tell you stuff for your own safety it was the truth.”

Max thinks about that. She supposes it makes sense. She has noticed that Mike tends to be the guy that worries about everyone else’s safety, and always wants to get to the bottom of the problem before anyone gets hurt. Lucas is the same and it’s something she admires about him, but it’s overtly obvious in Mike when he’s always the one stressing about coming up with plans. Lucas is a little more go-with-what-the-adults-say.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Mike finally says, and his expression is earnest. He’s a bad liar anyway, so Max knows that he means it. Speaking of his lies… she has something to apologize for too.

“I’m sorry too,” she says. “For judging your relationship too fast.”

He makes a weird noise when he registers what she said, almost like a laugh but kind of mad, too. “Yeah, and for making my girlfriend dump me.”

Max reaches out towards him and smacks his arm, a spike of irritation fuelling her. “Mike, how many goddamn times do I have to tell you I didn’t make her?”

“Well, what the hell did you say to her to make her do that?!” He exclaims.

The peace of the previous moment is gone and Max crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “From what she told me, it sounded like you were just lying straight to her face so you didn’t have to see her. All I did was tell her that if you did it again, she should dump your ass. You did it to yourself.”

Mike throws his arms up. “Hopper made me lie! He told me if I didn’t, he wouldn’t let me see her anymore. You seriously think I wouldn’t want to spend time with her? After everything we went through?”

She thinks for a second about the way he’d looked when El had walked back into their lives; the way he had seemed to drop all the negativity he’d been carrying around the second she came through that door. Max remembers thinking she’d never been so sure about someone’s presence in her life.

He’s still on a roll. “What, is that why you’ve dumped Lucas, like, seven times? You just break up with him the second he does something you don’t like without even letting him explain himself?”

Bringing that up is a sore point. Max feels incredibly guilty for the way she’s treated Lucas in the past, and she’s trying to be better. She’d told him once that she knew she could be a jerk like her stepbrother sometimes, that she was angry just like he was, but that she didn’t want to be like him. And then she turned around and behaved exactly like him, manipulating Lucas’ reactions and dumping him over and over because she knew he would come back. It made her feel like she was in control, the dominant one, the complete opposite of what she saw in her mother and what she felt in her house every day.

But she had come to a point where she realized that one day, Lucas would get fed up with her. There would come a day when he wouldn’t stand for it anymore and he’d leave her permanently, and Max didn’t think she could live with that. From then on, she had decided to try harder with him and make things better, to talk about her feelings more. It’s always going to be difficult for her, but Lucas is worth it.

“Don’t say that like you know anything about why I did that,” she says sharply, gripping so tightly onto the chain of the swing that the cold metal feels like ice in her hand.

Mike glares back at her, indignant. “Oh, that’s rich! Like you knew anything about me when you said that shit to El!”

Max stands up suddenly. “I’m tired of the lies, Mike! Do you know what it’s like to live in a house where your mom will watch your brother get beat up and leave the room so she can pretend it didn’t happen? Where she doesn’t care where you go or how you feel or what’s going on with you because if she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t have to lie to herself that it’s okay? Where we all just don’t talk about anything and pretend it’s all fine when it isn’t?”

She’s breathing hard and he’s staring up at her with wide eyes, accustomed to her outbursts by now but not like this. Max sits back down on the swing, hard.

“I broke up with Lucas a lot because it made me feel like I had control,” she admits. “I needed to feel like I was in charge of the situation. I get enough of being treated second-class at home, and I don’t want to be like my mom, ever.”

She looks back at Mike on the other swing and he doesn’t look mad at her anymore, only like he’s processing what he’s just heard. It lets her own anger drain out of her.

“When El told me what you said, it reminded me of my mom,” Max continues. “She seemed so confused on why you would do that and to me it looked like you were just using her when you wanted her and dropping her when you didn’t. My mom kind of… disappears into whoever she’s dating and just goes along with whatever they do, and it looked like that for me,” she finishes.

“I get it,” he says, and Max raises her eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t get it personally, my parents aren’t like that. I just meant I get where you’re coming from. It makes sense why you would think that way.”

“I didn’t want the same thing that happens to my mom to happen to El,” Max adds. “She is her own person, and she of all people deserves the chance to be that.”

At last, they find common ground. “I agree,” Mike replies. “She’s been through enough in her life. And I’m happy you and her are friends now,” he adds. “Seriously. It was kind of weird to imagine her having girl problems or something and talking to my sister about it. I’m glad she has you.”

“I’m glad she has you,” Max says, and Mike looks shocked to hear her say it. “I might not get why, but I know you make her happy somehow. Even if you do wear Star Wars pyjamas.”

“Hey!” He says, offended. “You recognizing it means you’ve seen it too. And I know for a fact you read comics, so you’re just as much of a nerd as me.”

Max shrugs, giving him the point. “At least I can beat you at arcade games.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asks, swinging closer as if to intimidate her.

Max laughs, and it’s a real laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’re on.”

“Tomorrow,” Mike suggests. “Twelve o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”

“Bring painkillers,” she warns him. “You’re gonna need them after I’m done kicking your ass at every. Single. Game.”

“You won’t beat me at Galaga,” he says proudly.

“Wanna bet?”

They stand up and shake hands, and his feels pleasantly warm. It’s a nice change from the frozen chain she was holding onto.

“Loser gets us fries,” Mike adds, and Max agrees to it. As if of one mind, they both turn back up the path they came from.

They’re back across the two streets they crossed and almost all the way back to Mike’s house when Max speaks again.

“So are we good?” She asks. She feels good about having aired out all the conflict she had with him, and he’s had this dumb smile on his face the whole time they’ve been walking back, which she’s choosing to take as a good sign.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at his feet. “We’re good.” He smiles wider.

It brings a small smile to Max’s own face. Having friends feels nice. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He coughs a little, scratching his head. “Just thinking about how happy El will be when she finds out we’re not enemies anymore.”

Max rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You are so whipped.”

He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

“I think Lucas and Dustin will benefit from having us not trying to kill each other every five seconds, too,” she says.

“Definitely.”

“Although I’ll probably still be annoyed by half the things you say.”

Mike makes a face like he’s not surprised to hear that. “Don’t worry about it. You’re still annoying, I just like you now. No more actual fighting.”

“Good,” she replies, feeling happier than she has in days as they arrive back in his backyard. She can faintly see her bike lying in the grass.

Mike has the door to the basement halfway open by the time she’s sitting on her bike ready to ride away, and at the last second lays a hand on her arm.

“Hey, anytime you need somewhere to go… I’m usually home,” he says, looking at her directly. It’s a simple thing to say, but she knows what he means by it. He’s telling her that he understands that sometimes her house is not a home, and that she’s always welcome in his if she needs it.

“Thanks,” she responds, and for once she is truly thankful for Mike Wheeler’s existence.

“Well, good night,” he answers, and awkwardly salutes her out of nowhere.

Max squints at him confusedly for a second. “I’ll... see you tomorrow,” she says haltingly.

He looks kind of embarrassed and shuts the door quickly, and Max rides off back to her house. That was random.

However, she is looking forward to tomorrow. She has a feeling Mike’s going to be the type of friend she’s constantly competing with, ribbing back and forth to see who can be worse just like they usually do, but this time knowing they’re both forgiven for their mistakes. It’s different from her other friendships for sure, but she thinks it’ll be good. Lucas is going to be pleased.

Maybe the wait until Thursday won’t be so bad after all.

#YALL please let me know what you think of this #i have so many thoughts on this pairing #SO MANY #also if you liked it please rb to share so more people can read it!! <3 #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #urdearestmom

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iwillhaveamoonbase · 4 years

Text

The Long Game Ch 1

Instead of striking a few months later, the Moonshadow assassins guild decides to play the long game. Rayla will pose as a human and kill Harrow and Ezran when the time is right all while gaining valuable information. One problem: Rayla falls in love with Callum and doesn't think Ezran deserves to die for a crime he doesn't he even know was committed.

Now, Rayla has a choice: tell the truth and risk losing Callum but fixing the divide between Katolis and Xadia or staying quiet and having a chance at a happy life with Callum, Ezran and Harrow but losing the best chance they have at peace and probably never seeing her home or family again.

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

The assassins guild had been talking for days about whether or not to go in and kill King Harrow and Prince Ezran now or wait a few more months or even a year. Queen Zubeia was in distress and the call for revenge was ringing loud and clear throughout Xadia. First, eight years ago, the humans had attacked them unprovoked and murdered one of their citizens for their perverted dark magic. Now, they killed the Dragon King and the Dragon Prince's egg. Xadia could not let this go. The only question was: when?

Runaan looked at Rayla out of the corner of his eye. He knew she wanted to prove herself worthy. He personally found it difficult to believe that his friends, Tiadrin and Lain, his parents, had abandoned their post. In the back of his mind, it didn't make sense. They knew better. But, a Skywing elf who had also been part of the Dragon Guard had admitted they had all fled when the humans killed the Dragon King. There was nothing anyone could do to stop the Silvergrove Ghosting the pair now. But, Rayla could do the right thing in their stead and proclaimed herself ready to do whatever it took to right their wrongs.

"It's better to go now. Who knows how long the Dragon Queen has?" Runaan turned his attention back to the conversation his guild mates were having. A cacophony of sounds as they tried to plan the best course of action that would bring them all back home and, hopefully, stop these humans from killing anymore Xadians.

"The humans will know it's us right away."

"So what?! We want them to know what they did was wrong!"

"True, but, if we wait, maybe we can cause doubt. They'll destroy themselves trying to figure it out."

"We have never not admitted we've taken life before. Why should we do it now? We take life but we don't take it lightly."

"Yes, but this is our chance to not only get the humans fighting each other, but to also get the Moon Nexus back!" There was silence for a few moments. Every Moonshadow el,f even a thousand years after the humans were forced out of Xadia, still felt the string of losing contact with the Moon Nexus. It went deeper than pride; it was an irreplaceable piece of their heritage, culture, and magic that was forever lost to them because the humans refused to accept their lot in the universe as non-magic users. "All I'm saying is, kill two Moon Phoenixes with one arrow. Sow dissent AND fulfill the contract."

Runaan turned to Rayla. Her young face was stony as she took in what everyone was saying. Young... He looked her up and down. She was strong, but those who didn't know better would see her as a slip of a thing. Slowly, a plan formed in Runaan's mind. At any other time, he would have been horrified by the idea. Rayla was his daughter as far as he was concerned. His apprentice, his greatest joy besides Ethari. Ethari would never forgive him. But... Runaan stood up, getting the attention of everyone in the room. "I have an idea. It involves my protegee, Rayla, and getting honor back for her parents as well as stirring doubt in the Pentarchy."

"What do you propose, Runaan?" The guild master had a steeling expression as he stroked his beard.

Runaan smirked. "We play the long game."

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

"Absolutely not!" Ethari roared. "We already lost Tiadrin and Lain. We aren't losing Rayla!"

"She's going to be fine, Ethari." Runaan breathed through his nose. As he expected, Ethari was displeased.

"She's too kind, Runaan! Too loving. Her heart isn't made for a regular mission and you want her to do this?! Send Bandlr or someone else."

"She's the only one her age whose properly trained. She's faster than all of us and quick on her feet."

"Then send yourself or a group."

"They won't suspect a young girl travelling on her own. The longer she does nothing, the more likely they will be to think everything is fine."

"And if they catch her after she succeeds? They'll kill her! They'll kill our daughter and you're sending her to the slaughter."

"She'll die with honor and rise above what her parents have done." Even to Runan's ears he sounded so detached. He winced.

"You...you can't be serious. Runaan, she's our child. Not by blood, but we raised her. She's only 15. She'll be 16 when her training's over. You can't...you can't do this." Ethari's voice was shaking as he started to breath a little harsher. "She's just a child."

"Rayla's already agreed, Ethari. There's nothing either or us can do now."

"You didn't even ask me first!" Ethari breathed deeply for a few moments before his face became stone. "So, that's it, then? You're just going to say good-bye to our little girl?"

Runaan ran a hand through his white hair. "My love, it's not that simple. Queen Zubeia ordered the two hits. We have to do the job."

"Then take a squad like tradition says and do it! Do not send our Rayla into the human lands alone. What if the spell fails and she's found out? What if she slips up? We have no idea when the time is even right. We may never see her again! Do you want that? Because I don't! Rayla shouldn't be made to go because of her parents' actions."

"No one is making me do anything," Rayla piped up from the chair. Runaan had completely forgotten she was in the room and, judging by his slight jump, so had Ethari. "Yes, Runaan offered my name for the plan before asking me, but I agreed. I had a fair chance to give someone else the job and I said I would do it. I'm going, Ethari."

"Rayla, please, don't do this."

"Why do you lack faith in me?"

Ethari shook his head. "It's so much more than that. You're a child, Rayla. Don't throw away your chance for a future when tradition holds you shouldn't even be considering this."

"What future? If Xadia doesn't do anything, the humans will eventually believe they can do whatever they want. What if they start killing elves or more dragons for dark magic? We're already at war. We have to act!"

Ethari looked between the two of them. "You know what? Both of you, do whatever you want."

Runaan started reaching for his husband. "Ethari-"

"I'm going to my sister's, Runaan. I need time to process sending my child, OUR child, over the border to be alone and carrying out a mission ALONE for who knows how long." Ethari slammed the door behind him; silence reigning for a few minutes.

"Well," Rayla looked up at Runaan, "he took that better than we expected."

Runaan sighed. "He's right, Rayla. Think long and hard about this. You have been given 24 hours before you're officially assigned this task. We are asking you to give up an untold amount of time. You might never come back."

Rayla looked directly into his eyes. "I know, but I don't have a choice. Someone has to do this and it should be me. If my parents had just stayed, maybe, the Dragon Prince would still be alive. Besides, they'll probably believe me easier than someone like Bandlr whose already all muscle at 14. I'm young and fast, but I'm slight enough. No one will believe I'm a threat if I say I come from a farming village."

"You're right. I'm so proud of you, Rayla. I'm sure you'll be able to come back home one day."

It took Ethari two weeks to come around, a new blade for Rayla in hand and a flower for when she went on her mission. He still barely talked to Runaan and, if Runaan was being honest, he couldn't blame him. Rayla was going to be spending a few months with Lujanne at the Moon Nexus followed by a bit of time in the village by the Cursed Caldera before making her way to the capital. There was no room for error and she was going to have to learn how to act human fast.

The flower Ethari made was set into the fountain, the whole of Silvergrove watching. Runaan knew he and everyone else would be keeping an eye on it. Rayla had to succeed.

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

6 months later

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

Callum groaned as Soren sent him to the ground again. "C'mon, step-prince. Wasn't your mom the strongest general is Katolis? You shouldn't be this weak after this much training."

Callum glared a bit at his...friend?...tormentor? Callum wasn't sure who Soren was to him anymore besides the big brother of his crush. How Claudia and Soren came from the same parents was beyond Callum. Though, Viren did give Claudia more attention because of her magic. More love, probably. "My mom was a lance specialist. Why don't we try that?"

"Princes use swords; even step-princes."

Callum looked down at his feet. "The king can use a lance."

"ARGH! It's just not how it's done, OK? Sword first, than lance. Now, on your hands and knees and give me a hundred push-ups." Callum groaned and was about to follow through when Caludia raced through the courtyard to stand in front of Soren. She started miming a bit, a big smile on her face. "What is it, Clauds? Use your words."

She squealed. "There's a girl whose just come from the border. She asked to see the king and she looks about my age, maybe a year younger."

Soren and Callum's brows furrowed. "Why does she want to see the king?"

"Don't know, but she's pretty cute. She might be your type, Sor-bear."

"Uh-huh. You don't know my type, Claudia. You've proven that how many times now?"

Callum didn't bother staying for what was bound to be an argument between the two. Instead,he hurried to the throne room, running to Ezran and Bait with a handful of jelly tarts with them. "What do you think she wants?" Ezran asked.

"No idea. Whatever it is, I'm sure the king will hear her out."

"You know, you can call him 'Dad.' I really think he'd like that, Callum."

"He's the king, Ezran, and I'm just the step-prince."

"But, he raised you and I know he loves you."

Callum closed his eyes briefly. "It's complicated, Ez."

Ezran pouted a bit, but dropped it. When they finally made it to the throne room, they stood to Harrow's right while Opeli and Viren were standing to his left. Before them was a pale girl with hair a few shades lighter than Soren's and light blue eyes. She stood perhaps an inch taller than Callum and was dressed in plain robes that marked her as a member of the farming class.

"Your Majesty," her voice was clear and projected throughout the room. She took a sweeping curtsy, though almost lost her balance doing so. She raised her eyes when Harrow told her to rise, slowly coming back up to face the room. "I come from a town on the border. We were attacked not too long ago." She looked down, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I'm all that's left of my village. Please, I need help. I have no family."

"Who attacked your home?" Viren looked straight at her, eyebrow raised.

"I believe it was elves." Viren and Harrow shared a look before turning back to the girl. "They kept saying something about dragons when they came but everything happened so fast it's all a blur."

Viren cleared his throat. "And why did you come all the way here? Surely there were others who could look after you."

The girl looked distressed, twisting her hands together a bit. Callum couldn't help but notice just how pretty she was, with a Cupid's bow on her top lip, high cheekbones, and large eyes. But, there was something slightly off, something that in the back of his mind was saying it wasn't quite right. Maybe she was too pretty? "To be honest, I tried a few times but they either didn't want me because of the possibility of the elves coming after me. I just hoped that I could be safe here."

Harrow nodded. "Of course, dear child. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. And, I am so sorry for the trials you have faced before coming here today."

Viren sent a glared at Harrow. "Harrow-"

"Not now, Viren. We have to look after our citizens. Always." Harrow turned back to face her. "What's your name, child?"

She looked at the five in the room, a soft smile on her face. "Rayla. My name is Rayla."

#rayllum fanfic #rayllum #the dragon prince #tdp #the long game #whelp #the first chapter is here #despite me saying I was going to wait #I don't keep my word apparently #please enjoy

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trulisthetic · 4 years

Note

I had a bad day today. I did something stupid and got in an online argument with someone who told me that Jim and Pam were an unhealthy couple. I told her why I don't think that's the case without insulting her and got shot down anyway. What would you make of it?

This turned into a monster-post. Oops.

First and foremost, I’m really sorry that you had a bad day. My understanding is that that “someone” wasn’t very kind and respectful to you even though you were towards them. You know, the internet is such a wild place. Under the cover of online profiles we create for ourselves we sometimes act in ways we wouldn’t in real life. We forget that there is an actual person on the other end and not a heartless machine. And being on the receiving end of that... well, it sucks. I’m sorry you had to deal with that today.

I get that you feel like you did something stupid - because yes, online arguments don’t often get us anywhere, they only end up frustrating us, even hurting us sometimes. But trust me when I tell you this: If you were respectful and didn’t insult her, then you did absolutely nothing wrong. This wasn’t your fault. They’re the only ones accountable for their behavior. I get that you feel off right now, but really, all you can do from this point forward is; just keep swimming :P

All that aside, not everyone is going to agree on everything at that is granted. And it is okay. That’s what makes the people that think like us and share our interests so special and beautiful in our eyes, you know? It’s okay if somebody on the internet doesn’t think Jim and Pam are a healthy couple. Maybe they trigger something for them - a reminder of a past relationship that didn’t end well. Or maybe there is no reason for it - this is just the way they view it. All of those are fine, everyone is entitled to an opinion. I would even be interested in hearing them out, because, honestly, I can’t think of how Jim and Pam’s relationship could possibly be considered unhealthy. But from what I understand - and correct me if I’m wrong! It’s just what I got from the way you phrased your question - the person you argued with didn’t really have many points themselves, they were just arguing for the sake of arguing, finding problems when there really weren’t any. And that’s what’s really problematic. When people go out and shout accusations of unhealthy and problematic and abusive relationships, all they do is make a fool out of the REAL problematic and abusive ones. And that’s the true tragedy in all this.

Now onto Jim and Pam themselves. It never even occurred to me that this would be an issue; their relationship being considered ‘unhealthy’.

Since day one, Jim and Pam have always ALWAYS brought out the best in one another. And I believe that anyone who argues on this point in particular has been watching a different show. I mean seriously, they were written this way. Their love was, to its core, written to be of the purest kind. They have a strong base as friends, which is the best foundation you can have in a relationship. And they’ve always been each other’s “person”, since the first season. The one they turn to every time they have a problem, like when Pam is frustrated with Roy, or when Jim dies of boredom. They’re partners in crime, their time together is full of the most awe-worthy combination of mischief and touching moments, and just... joy. Have you seen two people happier to just be with each other’s presence? Have you seen anyone’s eyes light up the way Jim’s does every time Pam “chooses him” when she’s “bored” or when she tells him he has “very nice teeth”? Have you seen on anybody else's face that wide smile (with the tongue peeking between the teeth) that Pam gets every time Jim takes a second too long to choose a jellybean flavor, or buys her a coke for a round of jinx? Those two bring the greatest amount of joy to each other, while doing the smaller, most insignificant things. The only thing that could possibly make them wrong would be if their relationship was toxic.

And Jim and Pam’s relationship is not toxic.

Let's look at some signs of a toxic relationship okay?

It feels bad. All the time. Well. I kinda just went through that. The only times it’s felt bad for them was when they were apart, in season 3 mostly, and then in season 9. And yes, they had marital problems. So, SO many couples do, if not every single one. They handled one situation poorly, and it backfired on them, and they drifted apart. And then they found their way back to each other. At this point, I want to quote one of my favorite pieces of writing, ever. I use it a lot, but it applies here so perfectly, so... @acutelesbian said: “A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.” A while later, she reblogged her own post and added: “I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class. After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort. She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice. Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation. The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with. The divorced ones said they chose to walk away. Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days. I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.” There it is. So. Jim and Pam had some issues during season 9. They didn’t communicate well, they made some poor choices, they didn’t handle the situation they were thrown in very gracefully. And yet they made a choice, the choice to stay and push and fight for their relationship. They went to therapy, together. They opened up, discussed their feelings, communicated, worked out a solution. They chose each other, even though at the time they weren’t each other’s favorite person. They went through a rough patch and came out of it together, stronger than ever. And HAPPY. If that’s not the epitome of a healthy relationship, then I don’t know what the fuck is. Having said all that, I think I also covered these signs of a toxic relationship:

You avoid saying what you need because there’s just no point.

There’s no effort.

Nothing gets resolved. So let's move on to the next ones.

You’re constantly braced for the ‘gotcha’. This is for when there’s a trap in every statement or question, and even though everyone makes mistakes, yours are used as proof that you’re too uninvested, too wrong, too stupid, too something. And this is seriously as far from Jim and Pam as humanly possible. They’re seriously the exact opposite of that, always lifting each other up and supporting one another through their mistakes.

When ‘no’ is a dirty word. “I think I want a wedding-wedding.” “Cranford? No.” “I don’t know if I want this.” “I don’t think you should go to Philly tonight.”

The score card. Let me show you how wrong you are. Before they were together, they both had some “weak” moments, during which they didn’t exactly act fairly. Not once in all these years have we EVER seen one call the other out on their past mistakes. They’re not keeping score, they’re discussing them, dealing with them and moving on. There isn’t a more mature way to go about this.

There’s a battle – and you’re on your own. Again. In every chance they get, in any problem they face with third persons, they always stand by the other’s side and lift them up and support them. Just like when Pam was there for Jim when Ryan made his life hard in s4, or when Dwight terrorized him with the snow in s7. And just like when Jim made the list for Pam when Robert California set her aside, or when he demanded answers by her side from the dude who did call “a dork like that” back. Those two are a team, and not just when they’re planning ways to prank Dwight, or they’re sharing looks across the room over how ridiculous Michael is being.

Privacy? What privacy? Oh, I LOVE this one about them. How they get to be individuals and they are not defined by one another. They get their private time, private hobbies, and that’s such a healthy part of a relationship that so many just overlook. The only time that wasn’t the case was when they were using the world’s smallest Bluetooth - but it was so obvious that they were both craving it so much because they were missing each other, and they were both more than comfortable with it. Until that conversation with her classmate happened, which I’m sure signaled the end of that way of communication for them. But remember all those months they were apart? Remember how Jim TURNED BACK halfway to New York because “I’m not that guy. And we’re not that couple”? Remember how respectful they’ve always been of each other’s need for privacy?

The lies. Oh the lies! The only lie between the two (If you don’t count the “I can’t” of Casino Night and the “It was three years ago. I’m totally over it.” of The Secret) was when Jim didn’t tell Pam that he started a business in Philly. Which he told her an episode late, by himself. And it served as the perfect opportunity to show just how steady the foundations of their relationship are, and how much they trust and faith they have in one another and in their love. I’ll never forget how Pam reacted to realizing that Jim is keeping something from her. She didn’t call him out or corner him for answers, she simply waited for him to tell her when he’s ready. Then when the idea of an affair was thrown on the table, Pam shrugged it off, saying “Jim? No. He loves me too much”. And it’s not easy to say that theoretically, much along actually act on it. But when in season 8 Kathy hit on Jim while they were in that hotel, there’s a deleted scene of Jim and Pam on the phone, and Pam is actually joking about the whole thing. It’s impressive and miraculous just how deeply these two trust each other, and believe that they would never hurt the other like that.

Physical or verbal abuse. Or both. We’ve seen Pam being handled roughly by Roy, and then we’ve seen the way Jim treats her, like she’s the most precious butterfly. And HEAVEN HELP ME, the guy was too scared to look at her for too long in the beginning. He’s the most gentle and caring man I’ve seen, in words and actions alike. And the very same goes for Pam. The only time she’s spoken badly to him was when she said “Shut it” as she was storming off Michael’s office when she found out he was dating her mom and Jim knew. And she was clearly very upset and not acting like herself. But we can all agree that this is not a pattern of behavior, and that Jim and Pam have NEVER, EVER been abusive towards one another.

Not including the other in big decisions. This is the only one that’s kinda true. Jim decided to buy his parents’ house, then decided to start a business, then Pam decided to sell the house, all without including the other. Despite those, that was an issue that they were not blind towards, and Pam even brought it up in season 9, and it was one of the problems they worked through at couples therapy. And that’s exactly what a healthy and mature relationship looks like.

So there you have it. Those are the main signs of an unhealthy relationship. Wanna hear the definition of a healthy one?

A healthy relationship is when two people develop a connection based on: Mutual respect. Trust. Honesty. Support. Fairness/equality. Separate identities. Good communication. A sense of playfulness/fondness.

In a healthy relationship you:

Take care of yourself and have good self-esteem independent of your relationship

Maintain and respect each other’s individuality

Maintain relationships with friends and family

Have activities apart from one another

Are able to express yourselves to one another without fear of consequences

Are able to feel secure and comfortable

Allow and encourage other relationships

Take interest in one another’s activities

Do not worry about violence in the relationship

Resolve conflict fairly: Fighting is part of even healthy relationships, the difference is how the conflict is handled. Fighting fairly is an important skill you help you have healthier relationships

Have respect for sexual boundaries

Are honest about sexual activity if it is a sexual relationship

Accept influence. Relationships are give and take; allowing your partner to influence you is important; this can be especially difficult for some men.

Trust each other and be honest with each other

Have the option of privacy

Now, let us all think each and every one of those through. And let’s think about it twice before we accuse perfectly healthy relationships of being toxic.

That’s all I have to say. Sorry, this was so long, and thank you for staying to this point!

All I know is that, for me, Jim and Pam’s relationship - along with that of my parents’ - is the healthiest one my eyes have ever seen. And I feel so lucky to have discovered those two gems. 💜

#jam #jim and pam #pam and jim #jim halpert #Pam Beesly #healthy relationship #the office #the office us #rambles #masterpost #monsterpost #qs & as #Anon #answered

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elsb-hrngtons · 4 years

Text

The Seaside Blues Cafe

Hello Lovelies so this was an absolutely gorgeous prompt form Rhythm_Smith

so i received this absolutely gorgeous prompt from Rhythm_Smith for HfBLM:

Several years after cannon (with a s3 divergence where Neil is the one possessed by the mind flayer ) Steve and Billy own a cafe by the beach called The Sea Side Blues Cafe and Billy proposes.

i really hope you like it, its given me all the warm fuzzies writing it!

please call see this wonderful moodboard @gideongrace made for it <3

links to Ao3 in the notes.

June 1995

Somewhere just off of the broadwalk near Santa Monica Pier is a little cafe, inside there are a mismatch of tables and chairs, bean bags and bookshelves that line nearly every wall, fairy lights strung across the ceiling casting the cosy interior in dazzling colour. Chalkboards take up the wall behind the counter, with the daily specials scribbled on in a multi-coloured scrawl, where there are not bookshelves there are posters with sayings like ‘Love is Love” and “respect the rainbow”. Outside under where the awning casts much needed shade from the relentless Californian sun are two sets of tables and chairs, each complete with an ashtray and menus, between them is a black A-board that reads with big fancy letters “ALL ARE WELCOME” “Live Music Every Saturday”. Business was booming.

Billy and Steve have worked hard to get where they are, it hasn’t always been easy, but then they both know more than anyone else things worth having rarely ever are. They’ve been together since Starcourt, when Neil possessed by the mindflayer almost killed them all, and Billy in a blaze of glory risked everything to take him down. When the dust had settled and Billy was left lying on the cold tile floor of the food court, impressive wounds to his sides and chest, miraculously having missed any vital organs, blood pooling around him, Steve couldn’t help but chastise him for risking himself like that.

“I couldn’t let him win pretty boy”

“You’re so stupid Billy, you could have died”

“Not dead, Just hurt, how about you kiss it better?”

And Steve did.

The rest so they say is history, once Billy was released from hospital, with a large pile of NDA’s to sign and an impressive payout of hush money/compensation from the good old US government, he wasted no time in telling Steve exactly how he felt, and for the first time in his godforsaken life, something went his way, because Steve as it happens felt the same way. It’s not long after that they pack up their belongings and drive west, drive home.

The years to follow are filled with so much joy, love and laughter, two boys who’s orbits crashed into each other, inseparable now, unable to live without the other even in the midst of petty arguments.

It was with Billy’s government money they were able to send Steve to culinary school, where he excelled at Pastry, and with Steve’s baking prowess and Billy’s creativity they opened their own business, a little cafe called the Seashore Blues Cafe, just off the broadwalk near Santa Monica Pier.

It’s just another morning in the small corner of the world they’ve built for themselves, the sun is shining high in the sky, breeze rolling off the sea as Billy wanders down from their apartment above the cafe to help Steve open up shop. Steve’s already been up and working for a few hours, lovingly creating all his delicious treats to sell to their customers that day. The cafe smells like freshly brewed coffee with hints of vanilla and cinnamon, and as Billy walks out from their little kitchen out back and through to the front of house he’s struck in awe at just how beautiful Steve really is. He’s sat at table by the window, mid morning sun streaming through shrouding Steve in a halo of light, his soft brown hair flops over his face which has specks of flour dusted on his cheeks, silver wired glasses balance precariously on the bride of his nose, he’s got a pile of their mail on the table and he’s reading something, cute little crease between his brow as he studies the words in front of his face. As Billy approaches closer he notices the letter in question is embossed with gold leaf calligraphy, fancy. Whatever he’s reading it looks to be something important, and Steve doesn’t seem too pleased to be reading it at all.

“What you got there pretty boy?” Billy asks which startles Steve who clearly didn’t hear Billy walk in, he looks up and gives Billy a tight lipped smile as he hands over the offending piece of paper. Billy glances over it and sure enough in big shimmery cursive it reads ‘ Together with their parents Nancy Elizabeth Wheeler and Jonathan Christopher Byers invite you to join them in celebrating their marriage’ so its a wedding invitation that has Steve looking so glum.

“Mazel Tov” Billy deadpans

“Yeah” Steve sighs

“I mean it’s good news right? Wheeler finally making an honest man out of Byers and all” Billy questions as he slides onto the chair next to his boyfriend and gives him a chaste good morning kiss.

“I mean yeah it great, it’s really great, fantastic really” Steve begins to ramble “but..”

“But you’re still sore about Wheeler ditching you for Johnny boy?” Billy asks, it’s not at all mean and Billy is long past being outwardly insecure about Steve’s past relationships, but he can’t help but feel that old familiar pang of jealousy and suspicion make a home in his chest, always worried that this little slice of heaven they’ve carved out of near on a decade of hard work and prejudice will never be enough for Steve, that he will never be enough for Steve.

“No no that’s not it.. It’s just” Steve seems to falter, can’t find the words to say can’t do his feelings justice with the spoken word.

“It’s just what baby?”

“Doesn’t it make you sad?”

“Does what make me sad?”

“You know.. That we can’t have that” Steve snatches the invitation out of Billy’s hand and throws it across the table, Billy watches as it slides straight off and floats gracefully to the floor, gold lettering catching the light, glinting and shining mocking Steve as he begins to wine and tug at his hair, something he started doing whenever he got stressed of worked up. Billy takes hold of Steve’s wrists, makes sure his grip is loose and gentle so Steve can pull away if he wishes to do so, he doesn’t, Billy brings his hands down in front of them both on the table and places both his over Steve’s holding them, rubbing soothing circles onto the backs of Steve’s hands with his thumbs.

“I mean it sucks for sure, but there’s not much we can do about it, no point dwelling on it” Billy tries his best to be gentle to be soft, its what Steve needs in this moment, Steve huffs out a sigh and stands up, brushing the creases out of his apron as he goes.

“Yeah i guess you’re right, c’mon let’s get this place open” Billy watches as Steve disappears into the kitchen, when he’s out of sight he gathers the rest of the mail, stoops down to pick up the discarded invitation, assesses it once more and as he reads the RSVP details he’s struck by inspiration. He places the invitation to the back of the pile and can’t help the smirk on his face as he wanders around the counter to switch on all their lights.

---

“So let me get this straight” Max says down the phone her tone incredulous and honestly Billy can’t blame her, what he’s asked of her is a pretty mean feat “ you want me to somehow gather the party and drag them all the way to California and not tell them why?”

“Exactly” Billy is standing behind the counter of the cafe, his side turned to the hustle and bustle of the dining area, where their patrons sit chatting happily, while Lucy, their waitress goes between tables taking orders and checking in. Billy curls the cord of the wall mounted phone around his finger, he’s antsy Steve’s due back from running errands and could walk through the front door any minute now, he keeps one eye on the door and jumps slightly every time the bell above it jingles.

“And you want me to make sure no one tells Steve we’re coming?”

“Yep.”

“And how please tell me dear brother, do you expect me to do that?” Billy used to flinch whenever anyone referred to him as Max’s brother, but after years of rebuilding a bond that was tinted so long ago by pain and bitterness, all he feels is a warm fondness at the title.

“I dunno! Can’t you get El to do her mind shit or whatever it is she does”

“It doesn’t work like that Billy!” Max all but yells down the phone

“Okay okay, well maybe you can tell the rat pack why.. Actually no. You can tell everyone but Henderson” Billy corrects himself, knows full well if Dustin got wind of his plans, not only would he receive yet another shovel talk from the little gremlin, but there’s a strong chance he could actually blow his big scheme altogether.

“Why not Dustin?”

“Because shitbird. Curls is physically incapable of keeping a secret and I don't want him to spoil it, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear”

“Thank you” Billy breathes a sigh of relief but its short lived as he hears the familiar jingle of the bell above the door and catches sight of a dishevelled and winded Steve come strolling through the door “Shit i gotta go, talk later”

“Yeah okay.. Oh Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really proud of you, and happy” She hesitates as she says the next part “i love you”

It still takes Billy’s breath away when she says it, it's not something they say very often to each other, but each time they do he knows it’s genuine and that though alone is enough to make his heart rabbit in his chest, he still feels guilt at the way he treated her in the early years, feels her love isn’t deserved at all, nonetheless he has it and he loves her too.

“Yeah Yeah, you too Mad Max” he tries to sound unaffected but his voice wavers at the end, has no time to compose himself though because Steve is right next to him, he slams the phone back into the receiver with a little more force than was strictly necessary and spins round to greet his lover with a toothy grin.

Steve leans in to peck Billy on the cheek, soft lips lips contrasting with rough stubble, he pulls back with a dopey smile.

“Was that Max?”

“Yeah she says Hi by the way”

“Sorry I missed her, what was she calling about?” Steve asks

“Oh you know just checking in” Billy tries for nonchalant, shoves his hands in his pockets to help with his casual facade, Steve isn’t buying it, he raises one eyebrow and fold his arms across his chest, he’s got a dumb smug smirk plastered on his face as he leans his back against the counter.

“Max never calls just to check in”

“Well she was today pretty boy” Billy’s defensive, hates lying to Steve, hates being caught in a lie, but needs must and all. “Anyway shouldn’t you get back in the kitchen? I’m sure Ricky’s dying for a smoke break”

“Fine” Steve huffs, pushes off the counter and makes his way back to the counter, just as he disappears through the door he calls over his shoulder “this conversation isn’t over by the way. I’ll find out why Max called”

Billy can’t help but roll his eyes but it’s all in good humour.

“Sure thing Beautiful”

---

It’s taken a monumental amount of planning and tantrums and narrowly avoiding being the number one suspect in the double homicide of MIke Wheeler and Dustin Henderson, but here he is, it's the big day and he feels like he’s about to throw up.

He’s been pacing the cafe floor, burning a hole in the wood flooring with his anxious back and forth, religiously checking his back pocket to assure himself of the safety of the ring he has stashed away in there, and it hasn’t magically disappeared in the last 10 seconds. The ring he almost had a breakdown over finding, almost threw the towel in and called whole thing off because he needed it to be perfect,needed it to be right, and had it not been for Robin’s intervention and her dragging him to some of the more alternative jewelry stores LA had to offer, he might not have found one at all. He hopes Steve likes it, hopes above all else Steve says yes, because if he doesn’t Billy’s not sure he’ll survive that kind of heartbreak, might have to take a long walk off Santa Monica pier and let the ocean wash him out of existence.

The party have all been helping set up and decorate the cafe which has been closed for the day, as far as Steve is aware the space has been hired for a ‘Private Event’ which are supplying their own catering, giving him the opportunity the spend the day with Robin, who is spending the month in California on a ‘whim’, of course she’s really here for Billy’s big plan, to help distract and misdirect Steve so he’s none the wiser and it truly does remain a surprise.

The place looks beautiful, more so than it usually does, The daily specials board has been wiped clean and in its place are messages of congratulations, love and support for Billy and Steve, somehow Max and El managed to source fresh garlands of various white flowers, all with names Billy doesn’t care to learn, all he knows is they look stunning strung up along the ceiling and across the walls interwoven with the fairy lights that are a permanent fixture of the interior design. Every table is adorned with white table clothes and on each table are vases with the same flowers hung up on the walls, there’s different photos of Billy and Steve throughout the years hung up all over the place, snapshots of the life they built together smiling down on Billy as he impatiently waits for Steve’s arrival. He’s lined the kitchen with hundreds of candles and rose petals carpet every inch of the floor, and he knows once Steve is over the initial shock of it all he might bitch about fire hazards and safety bullshit, but Billy couldn’t care less, it’s romantic and Steve really should appreciate the effort.

The plan is simple, Robin will drop Steve off at the back door, then she’ll sneak round the front and join the rest of their guests in the cafe where they’ll wait silently for the signal, The signal hopefully being a loud and celebratory ‘he said yes’, then the party begins.

Billy’s still pacing, he can’t help it, couldn’t possibly stay still in this moment, he’s supposed to receive a page from Robin any minute now to tell him her and Steve are 5 minutes away, his mouth is dry and his stomach is doing somersaults, he feels like he might forget how to breath.

“Will you stop pacing, you’re making me dizzy!” Max complains from where she's sat sideways on one of the chairs.

“What if he says no Max?”

“He’s not going to say no” she says rolling her eyes

“Yeah as much as I hate to admit it, Steve’s crazy for you, there’s no way he’s gonna say no” Dustin chimes in.

Billy doesn’t get a chance to respond because his beeper sounds from where it’s been left on the front counter by the till, the whole room holds their breath as he rushes over to check and sure enough Robin and Steve are less than 5 minutes away and it’s finally happening. Within seconds the whole room devolves into a frenzy, all the guests rushing to take their place in the crowd, all party members elbowing each other to push their way to the front, Lucas and Will holding up a side of a just engaged banner. It's chaos, but Billy can’t think about that right now, tunes the rest of the world out, knows they’ll be quiet when they need to be.

His heart is in his throat as he walks the small distance between the front of house to the kitchen, double checks all the candles are lit and the rose petals that didn’t make the floor, instead are strategically placed on the counter top to spell out ‘Marry Me’ are all in their right home. He combs through his blonde curls and straightens out his shirt, checks his back pocket one last time just as he hears the sound of Steve’s keys turn the lock, he doesn’t know what to do with himself where to place himself, so instead he just stands there arms to his sides, eyes wide, expression hopeful.

Steve walks in fumbling with the lock, shopping bags in each hand from a day spent getting some well earned retail therapy, he’s in a cheery mood Billy notices, half singing,half mumbling some pop song, bobbing his head with his back turned to the kitchen. He hasn’t noticed Billy’s presence yet, or all the evidence around him of Billy’s devotion to him, but as he turns around he’s struck dumb. Eyes wide, shopping bags fall to the floor as he gasps and clasps one hand over his mouth. He’s tearing up as he tries to find the words to ask what’s going on, but there’s no need as Billy drops down to one knee, the ring he spent painstaking hours choosing, presented in front of him as an offering to the only thing in this universe or any universe he’s ever worshiped. There are tears in his own eyes, but he can’t help the smile as he gazes lovingly at the man he’s loved since he was 18, hope bubbling in his chest threatening to spill over.

“Billy, what’s all this?” Steve asks, still stuck in his place at the door, his voice is wavering and he’s shaking, his legs look about 5 seconds away from buckling from underneath him.

“It’s for you Bambi” Billy says, it's barely a whisper and his voice is breaking from all the emotions he’s been storing in his chest all day, betraying him as they claw up his throat at the most vital moment of his entire life.

“Billy--” Steve begins but Billy cuts him off.

“Will you just shut up for a minute… please”

Billy takes a deep steadying breath as he tries to calm his pounding heart and find the right words to say, he tried beyond hope to write some kind of speech for the occasion, but none of the words he scribbled down felt right, felt like they did the love he had for Steve any justice, it was Max’s suggestion to improvise, to speak from the heart, it’s more authentic that way, and Billy couldn’t help but agree at the time, but now all he wants to do is curse himself, curse Max for ever thinking that going without at least some idea was a good idea.

“From the very moment I laid eyes on you I knew I was in trouble” Billy begins, it’s a strong start but now he’s faced with the dilemma of what goes next.

“Here was this guy, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and.. And you had this fierceness to you, never backing down, always looking out for others, even if that meant risking yourself.” His knee is hurting from putting his weight onto it or too long, but in this moment he finds he couldn’t care less, bites through the pain so he can continue his declaration.

“And I wanted to be like that, I wanted to be the kind of person those big Bambi eyes would look at and be proud to call a friend.” He lets out a shaky breath as he recounts their love story, he’s never been a poet but his words are raw and genuine.

“So I built myself, modelled myself after you and sure enough you became my friend, you forgave me, gave me a chance and that made me so happy” The tears are really beginning to fall now, his vision blurs and his eyes sting, still he powers through.

“Then I fell in love and I fell hard, and everyday I’d hate myself because I convinced myself you’d never love me back, and some days it was just too painful, but I knew it would hurt more if you were never in my life at all, that it would tear me apart” Steve still hasn’t moved from his place at the door, he just stands there a full river of tears flowing from his eyes, making them shine and twinkle in the candle light, he;s silent as he listens and if Billy couldn’t see the ride and fall of Steve’s chest he’d swear the man had stopped breathing altogether.

“That’s why I didn’t leave Hawkins straight after graduation, even though I promised myself I would. I just couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you behind.” He has to pause as he gathers up the strength to move onto the next part, as he has to acknowledge a time of his life, he’s torn between never wanting to forget and never wanting to remember.

“And now more than ever I’m so glad I didn’t, because if I did, who the hell knows what would have happened at that mall, all i know is I never would have gotten the chance to say I love you, or have the chance to hear you say it back” They’re both full on sobbing now, he has to continue even between hiccups, he has to finish, has to get to the park where he asks the question.

“And even after all these years, I have to remind myself that this is all real, this life we’ve built together is real, and I thank my lucky stars because you made me the man I am today, you made me the happiest man on earth that day, and have done everyday since, and if I can make you even half as happy as you make me, then I know i’m doing something right for once” Billy composes himself, its now or never, time to ask the most important question of his life.

“So Steve Harrington, will you marry me?”

It’s at that moment Steve’s legs finally give way and he crashes to the ground on his knees, still speechless and sobbing his heart out. The seconds that follow time seems to stand still for Billy, moments passing by excruciatingly slow, and the longer they both kneel there a mess of emotions on the kitchen floor Billy’s heart crawls further and further up his throat preparing itself for a steep and swooping descent of agony or a jubilant explosion of incomparable joy.

Just when Billy thinks there's an actual possibility he’s going to die from the anticipation, Steve finally speaks up.

“Yes. Billy I’ll marry you” his voice is barely audible, its hoarse from all the crying, but it's the answer Billy was hoping for and he’s overcome with an overwhelming sense of relief he feels almost faint from it, luckily Steve is crawling on his hands and knees until Billy collapses forward into him, burying his face into Steve’s neck and holding him tighter than Billy ever remembers doing before.

“Really you mean it?” he has to ask, as to make sure.

“Billy i want nothing more than to marry you” Billy can’t help but laugh with unrestrained joy, he feels his heart soar and his cheeks flush, he feels fit to burst, can’t contain it much longer, needs to shout from the rooftops just how happy he is. Steve lifts them both back to their feet and he holds Billy at arms length so he can look into Billy’s eyes. Honey brown meets ocean blue and there’s so much feeling in both their gazes, a storm of emotion ready to let loose any minute. “I love you Billy Hargrove” he declares a triumphant smile on his face as he leans in to give Billy a chaste kiss.

“I love you too Steve Harrington” Billy can’t help himself, he leans in a kisses Steve with all the passion and all the adoration he possess, its bruising, its fiery and it's oh so sweet as he forces his tongue to part Steve’s lips and licks into his mouth, but before he gets much of a chance to deepen it there’s a shout from out front.

“Has he said yes yet?” It’s the unmistakable and irritating voice of an impatient Mike. Both Billy and Steve break from the kiss and chuckle as they lean in and rest their foreheads against each other’s for a moment, soaking in the quiet glory of their love. Billy leans back and hollers towards the front of the cafe.

“Yeah he said yes!” It's met with a resounding cheer from the group of people gathered to witness this, and now the hard parts over the best part of Billy’s plan can begin.

“C’mon pretty boy, our guests await” he holds out the ring from Steve to slip onto his finger and takes him by the arm so he can guide Steve out to the front. Steve’s breathless for the second time in less than 20 minutes as they open the kitchen door and are greeted by all the faces of the people they love the most, all grinning from ear to ear and celebrating for them.

“You did all this?” Steve asks, awestruck.

“Well I had some help, I couldn’t have done it without these losers that's for sure” Billy laughs as he gestures towards the party, feeling victorious when Mike and Dustin look scandalised by Billy’s comment. “And you can thank Robin for helping pick out the ring,” He continues.

“Billy I don’t know what to say, this is incredible” Steve marvels as his eyes wander around the room, taking in all the decorations and photos and messages of good will.

“You don’t need to say anything at all.” Billy says “Listen baby, I know you’re upset that we can’t legally get married, but y’know fuck the law. Let's have our own wedding, right here right now. We don’t need a piece of paper to say we love each other” Billy turns to face Steve takes both his hands in his and stares searchingly into his eyes, looking for signs he may have messed up. “And if they do ever make it legal, and you still want to we can do it proper, just as soon as the laws passed” He rambles on “and there’s no pressure if you don’t like it, we can do something where we plan it together, it doesn’t have to be here and now--”

Steve interrupts Billy mid sentence to peck him quickly on the lips,

“Billy it's perfect.”

“Yeah, you sure?”

“Never been surer of anything in my life”

“Well then pretty boy, let's do this.”

---

Billy’s floating on cloud nine and there’s not a chance in hell he’ll be bought back down any time soon, the day was perfect everything he could ever wish for, a day spent celebrating his love for Steve and Steve’s love for him, a day spent surrounded to the most important people in their lives and nothing in this world could ever beat it.

He’s never seen Steve so happy either, even as he fusses trying to clear away the scattered rose petals and burnt out candles from the kitchen, their guests long gone all retired to their respective hotels giving Billy and Steve all the privacy a newly wed couple deserves.

“Hey Bambi, leave all that we can get in the morning, let’s go to bed” Billy says as he slides up behind Steve and hooks his arms around his waist, kissing and nibbling at his neck.

“Can’t do it tomorrow there’ll be no time to clean and get everything ready to open” Steve mumbles as he brushes more of the rose petals into the trash, Billy places his hand onto Steve’s shoulder so he has more leverage to spin him around so they can face each other.

“What if we just didn’t open tomorrow?” Billy says as he nips at Steve’s jaw and presses against him.

“We can’t not open tomorrow Billy” Steve says riding a moan

“Why not we’re the owners right?” Billy snakes his hand between them and presses his palm against the growing bulge in Steve’s pants.

“Yeah but--”

“Yeah but what? Don’t we get to decide if we open or not? Haven’t we earned a few days off?”

“I guess..”

“So what are you waiting for, let's go to bed” Billy says between kisses. At that Steve sighs and slips out to move away from Billy.

“Fine lets go Tiger” He says over his shoulder as he saunters towards the stairs to their apartment, Billy licks his lips in anticipation, can’t help the extra pep in his step as he follows, flicks the lights off with a flourish and kicks the door closed behind him, feeling lighter than air as he takes the stairs two at a time.

June 30th 2015

20 years to the day Billy proposed to Steve, when he laid his soul bare and proclaimed his undying love. 20 years to the day, that with the only family that ever counted to either of them, playing witness to their mutual promises of forever, they stand with the shore at their feet, the surf lapping at their ankles, brilliant hues of orange and pink as the sunset acts as the backdrop to their declaration of love.

They’re finally here, surrounded by the same family as 20 years prior and a few new, yet fond faces, keeping a promise they made all those years ago to make their marriage ‘official’ to join together legally.

Wicca chairs stand in rows up the sand, filled by guests with joyous expressions watching as Billy and Steve utter their vows to one another, as they pledge a lifetime to one another, Robin stands between them officiating the ceremony, while Dustin stands proudly to Steve's side and Max to Billy’s. The breeze tickles through the congregation, whipping gently at Steve’s salt and pepper mop, as he gazes adoringly into Billy’s eyes, tears threatening to spill despite the dazzling grin on his face.

Robin announces them as Husband and Husband and they receive their standing ovation, Billy grabs Steve and dips him backwards to press a passionate kiss to his soft lips, a kiss filled with all the devotion he’s built up over the last 30 years and promise to continue that devotion for the next 30 and god willing more. The cheers and hollers from the crowd fizzle away into white noise, the sounds of the ocean, the crash of waves, the whistle of the breeze and the call of gulls acts as the song to their first kiss as a proper married couple and just as he did 20 years ago today, Billy feels his heart swell ready to burst straight out of his chest, feels his stomach dip because he’s never been so happy, because even after 30 years kissing Steve still gives him butterflies, because despite all the injustices he faced in his younger years, he stands here with the only person he’s ever loved, his soulmate in his arms and nothing, not the upside down, not the monsters that walk among them, not his dad, could ever compel him to ever let Steve go.

#harringrove for blm #harringrove #Billy Hargrove #steve harrington #my fic #gideongrace #Rhythm_Smith

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

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El Amor Todo Lo Puede Chapter 29: Broken

Chapters 1-25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28

Fin and Laura sat watching nothing from the confines of their unmarked car. There was no activity at the run-down brick house across the street, and hadn’t been since they’d begun this shift five hours ago. Laura squirmed around to change her position. Fin looked over at her.

“You got something on your mind. Might as well tell me, we got nothing else to do.”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s man problems, that’s how.”

Fin rolled his eyes. “You’re right. I don’t wanna know.”

Laura threw up a hand.

Ten silent, event-free minutes later, Fin sighed and said, “All right, all right, your man problems will at least be amusing. Spill before I die of boredom.”

“I’m not here for your amusement. Entertain yourself.”

“Whatever.”

Another ten minutes of absolute silence and lack of activity on the street followed. Fin turned to look at Laura once again, raising an eyebrow.

“OK, so there’s a guy. I’m really into him, and I think he likes me, too – he acts like he does, but… I don’t know. I’ve given him a million signals, but he… he just doesn’t respond. He texts, he calls, he comes over, but he never makes a move. Normally, I’d just jump him and see what happens, but this guy…”

“This guy what?”

“I told you, I’m really into him. I care what he thinks. If he’s not into me, I’ll get over it, but I don’t want to lose him as a friend.”

“Bulllshit. You’re scared,” Fin laughed.

“Terrified,” Laura agreed.

“White people,” Fin groaned. “Look, you said this guy acts like he’s into you, right?”

“Up to a point, yeah…”

“OK, so, he obviously likes you. I’m a man, if some woman I like makes a play for me, I’mma be flattered, even if I’m not into her. I’m gonna be cool about it, let her down easy. Never mention it again.”

“So you think I should make an unmistakeable move.”

“Yeah. Just corner Barba and plant one on him.”

“What makes you think –“

Fin silenced her with a look. “Don’t even with me.”

Laura sputtered for a second, but realized the futility of argument.

“And I’ll tell you something else. You better do it somewhere private. Dude’s gonna respond. Bigtime.”

“You don’t know that.”

Fin made a disgusted sound. “Right.”

********

Rafael walked into the breakroom just as Laura grabbed her soda from the tray of the vending machine.

“Hey,” she said, smiling at him.

“Detective.” He looked a little odd. She held the door to the squad room open and stepped aside for him, thinking that he was on his way to see Lieutenant Benson.

“Actually, I came over to ask you something.”

“Oh,” she said, letting the door fall back closed. “What’s up?”

Rafael changed his briefcase from one hand to the other. “I need a favor.”

“Name it.”

“The Bar Association holds this annual torture carnival fiendishly disguised as an awards dinner. The worst possible food, lots of irritating people in garish outfits, monotonous speeches. Basically purgatory with a no-host bar.”

“Uh-huh. And you’d like me to arrest you so you don’t have to go.”

“Kind of you to offer, and I’d take you up on it, but this year I drew the short straw. They make sure there’s at least one senior A.D.A. at our office’s table, and McCoy’s just informed me that I’m this year’s martyr.” He stopped and looked pleadingly at her, dropping his voice. “I’m hoping I can talk you into coming with me. I need someone to make snarky comments with so I don’t end up in a rubber room. Or locked up.” He quickly followed up with, “It doesn’t have to be a date. More like… backup.”

“Sounds awful.”

“I promise, it will be.”

Laura smiled. “What should I wear?”

Rafael beamed back at her.

******

Laura was annoyed with herself. He’d said that it wasn’t a date, and she wasn’t going to try to turn it into one. Their unexpected friendship had become too important to her. She was not going to do anything to jeopardize it, including take Fin’s advice and just kiss Rafael. So they would be dressed up. Otherwise, it would be no different than eating dim sum in front of a Fast & Furious movie on her couch. Right?

Still… she was dangerously attracted to Rafael. No matter how resolutely he maintained his distance, his deep green eyes and sexy smirks still struck her mind momentarily blank. And it wasn’t just physical. She responded so strongly to his dry, sardonic humor that she found herself looking forward to seeing him just to hear what he would say. So the idea of spending an evening with him, dressed in evening clothes, just the two of them against everyone else at the bar association dinner, was intoxicating.

She removed her curling iron from the last tendril of hair artfully pulled from the bun in her hair, scoffing at the irony of spending this kind of time creating the trendy “messy” look. She grumbled as she again questioned her makeup choices and tried to determine how much perfume was enticing without overdoing it. She tried to tell herself she was just irritated by the difficulties of trying to prepare for an evening out, but in truth she was nervous. Date or not, it mattered that Rafael thought she looked – and smelled - good. Finally, she was ready to drop her gorgeous new dress over her head and strap on her new heels.

Rafael could not believe he was even thinking about his hair. He had work hair and not-work hair. No thought, no choices. Yet here he was. He didn’t allow himself to consider the thought in the back of his mind that the real question was which Laura preferred. Finally, he decided that this event was work, so work hair it was.

When Laura opened her door, Rafael literally caught his breath. Until that moment, he had thought that was a cliché. Now he knew better. She looked so gorgeous he had actually almost gasped. She was wearing her hair in a way he’d never seen; not the businesslike bun or ponytail she wore at work, or the haphazard knot she sometimes wore at home. It reminded him of the way a woman’s hair got messed up in bed… better not to think about that. Her dress, too, was different than anything he’d ever seen her wear. It was a floor-length sheath in a clingy mauve material with the slightest sparkle, with a trail of twisted fabric draped enticingly across her neck and right upper arm, and tiny straps that left her shoulders and arms bare. The skirt flared just enough from the knees down to swish beguilingly. It accentuated everything he appreciated about her body.

“You, um… wow.”

“Wow?” Laura smiled.

“Yeah. Going with ‘wow’.”

Laura felt almost shy. Rafael looked elegant and rakish (yes, she suddenly realized, that was a real thing). Something about the way he stood comfortably in his tuxedo, looking at her like a man looks at a woman, made her feel clumsy and tongue-tied. He seemed suddenly so urbane and sophisticated, she felt like a gawky teenager.

“Well, you look like James Bond’s hotter American cousin.”

Rafael’s smile of genuine pleasure touched her heart.

He put his hand on the small of her back as they stepped out the door into the street. She shivered at the touch. Rafael guided her to the car waiting to take them to the hotel where the dinner was being held. He saw her notice that it was a town car, rather than simply an Uber or taxi. He smiled. It had been a strange impulse to spoil her that he was now very glad he’d indulged.

When the car pulled into the semi-circular portico built into the ground floor of the hotel, people in evening dress were arriving in limousines, taxis, and private vehicles. Rafael and Laura could see more glamorous people milling around in the lobby behind a glass wall.

Rafael stepped out of the car and held his hand out to Laura. She took it, feeling like Cinderella on the way to a particularly businesslike ball. She noticed with pleasure that he kept her hand in his as they began to walk toward the doors, shoulder to shoulder.

“You ready for this?” He asked, leaning into her.

“Nope.”

“Me, neither.”

“Stick close. I’ll cover you,” she said, leaning back into him, and squeezing his hand.

Rafael knew everyone. It took half an hour to work their way across the lobby to the ballroom where the event was taking place, greeting and being greeted by lawyers and judges. Laura knew some of the people they spoke to, most she didn’t. She was impressed to find that Rafael was always attentive, asking her each time whether she knew the people they spoke with and introducing her when she didn’t.

Laura found herself hiding a smile on several occasions. Rafael made comments to a number of people which, on their face, seemed innocuous, but which she knew were not. Clearly, the objects of the comments didn’t know that, which made her feel like she and Rafael were sharing a secret. It felt intimate. As they moved from one encounter to the next, one of them would often lean toward the other and whisper a private comment about the people they’d been talking to.

Defense attorney Roger Kressler and his 20-year-old wife were the last to greet them before they made it into the ballroom. “Mr. Barba, I believe that’s the only intelligent thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

“What’s that, Mr. Kressler?” Rafael asked, his lips twisted in anticipation of an insult.

“Bringing a police detective as your date. She can protect you from the many, many people here who may want to do you harm.”

Rafael put an arm around Laura. “I’m kind of hoping she has to. I’d love to get a look at that thigh holster I’ve heard about.”

“Just so you know,” Laura said over her shoulder as he led her around the Kresslers and into the ballroom. “’You’re on your own.” She winked at Kressler.

“Thigh holster?” She whispered to Rafael.

“No rompas mis sueños.”[1]

They settled at their assigned table and spent some time meeting the others from the D.A.’s office and their dates. Introductions soon gave way to shop talk for the few moments before the program began.

Rafael hadn’t lied about the bad food. The Governor gave a short, canned welcome speech and the first several awards were presented while the guests were served a dinner of bland, lukewarm chicken. Throughout dinner, Rafael and Laura spoke quietly in Spanish, trying their best to make each other laugh.

Soon after dessert was over, Rafael and Laura scooted their chairs so that they were facing the dais directly. They sat as close together as they could so that they could continue to share snarky remarks about the speeches. Rafael laid his arm across the back of Laura’s chair, which made it difficult for him not to run his fingertips over her bare shoulder. Laura wished he would.

Hours later, when the awards program had mercifully ended and some couples were taking advantage of the music playing and a small dance floor that had been set up, Laura and Rafael sat together near the table, their chairs half-turned toward one another. They sipped surprisingly good coffee and talked about any number of things, forgetting where they were for long stretches of time. Occasionally, during breaks in the conversation, they watched the crowd.

“You’re a nurse, right? Your CPR card up to date?” He asked Laura, over the music.

“Worried about Buchanan?”

“I am. I don’t think he’s done that much dancing since his disco days.”

“Which is apparently a good thing.”

Rafael shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s got some moves. And you have to admire his pluck. Not everyone would have the boldness to do… that… in public.”

They shared a look and a laugh.

Rafael leaned back in his chair, looking at Laura with a bemused expression on his face. “I just realized something.”

“Which is?”

“It’s after 10 p.m., which means this wretched ordeal has been ongoing for over four hours and I haven’t wanted to kill myself once.” He smiled and held up his cup to her in a toast. “Congratulations, Detective, you have performed a miracle.”

“Mission accomplished,” she smiled, and clinked her coffee cup with his.

“I actually think we can safely escape, if you want to. Half our table has already bailed.”

She looked around the room, pondering his suggestion. She didn’t want her evening out with Rafael to end. Returning her gaze to him with a coy expression, she said, “Except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You haven’t asked me to dance yet.”

His eyes smouldered. For the past hour, he had been trying to find a way to suggest that they dance, without betraying how much he really just wanted to take her in his arms. He grinned and offered her his hand. “Detective Parker, may I have this dance?”

“I’d love to.”

They made their way, hand in hand, to the dance floor where several couples had just taken their places. The song was a fairly good cover of the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody”, which gave Rafael the opportunity to hold Laura close, as he’d been aching to do all evening. They found that they fit together comfortably; their heights allowed them to make quiet comments to one another without being overheard, which lent an increased intimacy to the moment. Laura felt her body reacting to Rafael’s embrace. She could smell his subtle cologne, something clean with a hint of musk that made her want to nuzzle his neck. As she fought the urge to pull him tightly against her, she wondered how closely she could appropriately hold him.

Rafael was wrestling with the same urge. He could think of nothing but how good her body felt where his arms encircled her. Without consciously planning to, he turned his head to whisper into her ear.

“I’m glad you agreed to endure this with me. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” she whispered back.

They slowly danced, neither focused in the slightest on their surroundings, enjoying being so close. Rafael felt Laura give the slightest shake of her head.

“What?” He asked, turning his head and pulling away from her a bit so he could look into her face.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s… inappropriate.”

“I love inappropriate. Tell me.”

She looked uncomfortable. “I was just thinking that… you smell amazing.” She looked away from his eyes.

He grinned, ridiculously pleased by her comment. “In that case,” he began, in a voice that sent shivers through Laura. “I will tell you that I’ve been spellbound all night by the way you look in that dress.”

She inhaled and looked up at him. He pulled her closer, looking down into her eyes. “There,” he murmured in a bedroom purr. “Now we’re both inappropriate.”

They danced slowly, looking into one another’s eyes, suddenly past all pretense.

“You know,” he said huskily, “I said this didn’t have to be a date, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be.”

Laura pulled him a bit closer, finally giving in to the desire to melt her body into his. “I vote date,” she murmured.

“It’s unanimous.”

He slowly began to lower his head as she tipped her face up to his. At the last moment, they simultaneously realized what they were about to do in front of half the New York Bar.

“Let’s get out of here,” Rafael whispered.

“Let’s,” Laura agreed.

They said nothing as they collected Laura’s wrap and evening bag and walked, hand in hand, out to the hotel entrance. The attendants motioned to the next cab in line, and they slid into the back seat. Rafael put his arm around Laura, and she nestled into him. Both were breathing a bit harder than normal, their hearts beating faster in anticipation of what might happen. They were uncharacteristically quiet.

“That was fun,” Laura finally tried, looking up at him in hopes that he would take the opportunity to kiss her.

He didn’t. Instead, he laughed. “Said no one, ever, about that particular event.”

“Well, I had fun.”

He squeezed her and she snuggled closer to him. “I did, too,” he said quietly, kissing her on the top of her head. “I knew if there was anyone who could make that bearable, it was you. I should have known you’d do better than that.”

Again she pulled away slightly to look up at him. “Yeah?”

He skipped a beat. “Yeah,” he whispered, and tilted down to brush her lips softly with his. She wondered whether he was feeling the same rush of sensual heat from just that small, brief kiss. He was.

He held her hand on the way into their building, then put his hand on her back after holding the door for her. They walked across the lobby, entered the elevator, and rode, silently, to her floor, holding hands and standing more closely than they ever had when riding together in the past. As Rafael followed her to her door and into her apartment, Laura thought he might be able to hear her heart hammering in her chest.

As soon as she’d closed the door behind them, she turned to him.

“We didn’t finish our dance.”

The invitation in her voice was clear. “We can finish it now,” he said huskily.

There, just inside her apartment door, he put one arm around her waist and took hold of her hand in his. She rested her arm on his shoulder, her hand tantalizingly close to the bare skin on the back of his neck. He began to sway his hips, moving his feet to lead her in a small circle. Through her unease about making a move on him, she noticed two things: first, that he was a good dancer, and second, that moving with him felt very nice.

They hadn’t turned on any lights; they were lit only by the glow of the city coming in through the windows. They enjoyed a few moments together before she met his eyes in the dimness, took a breath, and asked, “Hypothetically, what if I said I wanted to kiss you?”

“I’d let you.” He didn’t look away from her eyes, and didn’t stop leading her in a slow, sexy dance.

“Let me.” Laura’s soft voice held a note of disappointment, although she moved a bit closer to him. “Like, just to be polite? Because if you’d let me kiss you just to be polite, I’m not going to kiss you.”

His voice dropped to a throaty purr. “Well, there would be other reasons, too.”

“So you would kiss me back?”

“Definitely.”

“Definitely? That’s pretty good,” she grinned, turning her face up to his but not moving to kiss him.

Rafael smirked wryly down at Laura. “Why are we having a hypothetical conversation about kissing? Why aren’t we just kissing?”

“Because I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me for a long time. And you keep… not kissing me. I didn’t know if that was because you didn’t want to and I didn’t want to kiss you if you didn’t want me to.”

Rafael furrowed his brow. “I want you to.”

“Are you sure? Because I want to, but I don’t want things to be weird.”

“Laura, this conversation is weird,” he almost whispered, their lips now close enough to feel one another’s breath as they spoke. “Just kiss me.”

“Really?”

“Por Dios…”[2]

She lifted her chin and gently pressed her lips to his, moving them softly and slowly. He immediately tightened his arms, pressing her body to his. At first, he kissed her tentatively, but that didn’t last. Their embrace became more intimate as they concentrated on learning one another’s lips, tasting one another for the first time. Somehow, this first kiss felt like a conversation – a confirmation of what they both knew they felt, and an ecstatic acknowledgement that something wonderful was happening between them.

They forgot to keep dancing as their kisses lengthened and deepened. Laura knew immediately that she was in the hands of an expert. After a few moments of skillful, progressively more intimate exploration of her lips, she felt him use the tip of his tongue to tease her lips apart. With a small gasp that went straight to Rafael’s groin, she opened her mouth to him.

Rafael could feel himself already getting hard. His mind was having trouble accepting that he actually had Laura in his arms and that it was her tongue dancing with his, but his body knew. She was almost breathless. He tasted so good, and his body felt so much better than she’d imagined, that she found herself becoming dizzy with desire and holding on to him to stay standing.

“I can’t believe it,” she panted. “My knees actually feel weak. That’s really a thing.”

He chuckled, smoothing his hand over her hair and pulling her mouth back to his. Their kisses became instantly more intense.

Until he stopped. Laura was pretty sure there wasn’t actually the loud screech of tires resounding through her apartment, but she heard that deafening sound nonetheless.

He let go of her and turned toward the living room, taking a few steps away and trying to regain control of his breathing. “I can’t think when you’re close to me.”

She didn’t know what to make of any of this. Breathless and awash in hormones, she was more than a little confused by his abrupt withdrawal. Slowly, she moved past him to drop her wrap and purse on the nearest chair, then turned to him in the dimness. She just waited, standing a few feet from him.

He ran a hand through his hair, dismayed and trying to find a way to express what he needed her to know.

“You know I was married,” he began.

“You told me.”

“It was… bad.”

“You said that, too.”

He stepped back toward her and took both her hands in his. “The things you told me, about how the attack permanently changed you… I’m not comparing my divorce to what happened to you, but… I recognized that. I’m like that.”

She didn’t know what to say, and didn’t want to do anything that might stop him when he was finally giving her the answers she’d been trying so hard to find.

“Can we just… sit and talk?” He led her to the couch and sat down facing her, their knees touching and her hands still in his. The darkness made it easier for him; he didn’t want her to see his shame and pain. But he owed her the truth.

“What happened?” Laura’s voice, soft and low, held warmth and compassion.

“Her name was Anatalia. I was only twenty-five when we got married, but I don’t think it would have mattered how old I was.”

He struggled with what to say next. As a result of whatever had happened to him, he had become a man who didn’t share any more than he absolutely had to. Laura understood that. She was not going to be able to rush him, and the obvious depth of his wounds made her want to protect him, rather than do anything that would make it worse. What had this woman done to Rafael? She felt a profound, possessive anger that anyone could, or would, hurt this man. She waited, trying to be patient until, all at once, words began to spill from him.

“I thought it was forever. I meant it to be forever. And I felt that way until the day she served me with divorce papers. By then, it was hell; she didn’t even try to hide her affairs, or the utter disregard she had for me. But I thought I was supposed to stay in hell because I’d made vows. So that day, when I got the papers, I went home to confront her. You heard that right – we still lived together. I’d been sleeping on the couch for a year, but there I was… still trying to be married. I came into our bedroom – her bedroom, I guess - crying and begging her to try one more time, and she laughed at me. Laughed. She couldn’t have cared less about vows, or forever. Or me. She never had. The only reason she was bothering with a divorce was that one of her boyfriends had proposed, and he had a lot of money. She told me all of that, in so many words.”

“Oh, my God.”

“I loved her completely. She was my whole world, and I had trusted her with everything I was. I had given her everything, all of me. And in that moment, I finally saw that she had never had anything but contempt for any of it. Nothing about me had any value to her whatsoever. That moment… broke me, Laura.”

“Rafael… I’m so sorry.”

“I swore in that moment that I was done with anything having to do with trust, or love. Permanently. I’m like you. The same way you’ve lived your life to make sure you never go back into that room with the dirt floor, I’ve lived mine so I never go back into that bedroom where I got my guts ripped out. Does that make sense?”

She nodded. “Of course it does.”

“That’s why, as much as I’d love to, I can’t get involved with you.”

His words hung between them, so final and necessary to him, so understandable but flawed to her.

“I was with you until right then.”

“I’m not negotiating here. I’m just telling you how it is.” He let go of her hands.

She took her time framing her response. “I respect that. Of all people, I get having a moment in your life that you will do anything never to repeat. I have several. And I understand doing whatever it takes.”

“Exactly. So do me a favor. Whatever ‘buts’ you’re about to give me, please don’t.”

She smiled at him in the dim light. “I think you know me better than to think I’m going to be able to do that. Don’t you?”

He sighed, just the barest hint of an upward tilt of his lips giving her permission to continue.

“If I told you that my only option to avoid what happened to me is never to go outside again, you wouldn’t agree, would you?”

“That’s a false equivalency.”

“No. It’s exactly the same. And it’s no more necessary for you to become a hermit than it is for me to. It was. I absolutely understand that, for a long time, that was necessary for you. But I don’t think it is anymore.”

The look on his face was halfway between anger and some kind of terrified hope. “I disagree.”

“Are you sure? Because you let me in a little. And so far, you’re OK. Right?”

He sighed deeply. “I didn’t mean to let you in at all. But the usual rules don’t seem to apply to you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m kinda known for that.”

“Laura, I have those rules for a reason.”

“I hear you. I do. I understand and I respect that. I’m not asking you to get rid of your rules, or do anything you don’t want to do. But couldn’t we maybe just stay where we are for now? We’re already friends. And if that’s it, then it’s enough. But what I’m thinking is, if you just let me hang out with you some more, you’ll see that I’ll keep on… not ripping your guts out. And then you’ll get so used to me not ripping your guts out, pretty soon you’ll learn that I’m not going to. You’ll forget you didn’t trust me. And you’ll just start trusting me because… osmosis.”

“I don’t think that’s how osmosis works.”

“Shut up, Harvard. It’s science.”

He shook his head, chuffing just a little. “Damn it, Laura…”

He reached for her and they held one another as best they could while sitting side by side.

“I need time. Probably a lot of time. Can we just leave it at that for tonight?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him. “But can I say one more thing?”

“One.”

“That woman? She was dead wrong. About everything. And if you let me, I’ll prove it to you.”

[1] Don’t crush my dreams.

[2] For God’s sake…

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #chicago pd #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago justice

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tearlessrain · 5 years

Text

I’m about to watch Arthur and Merlin, which is free on youtube and came up in my suggestions randomly. I have no idea what it is but I am hungry for the arthurian Content so Imma watch it and see how it goes

update: it was way better than I expected and accidentally SUPER gay. that merlin tv show everyone loved was amateur hour compared to how gay this was.

“there is magic in the air, and in the water, but it has been forgotten by many in these lands” wow why does that sound familiar I wonder

the funny thing is I watched fellowship of the ring literally yesterday so this will be hilarious

but there is hope [extremely unsubtle cut to a baby who is definitely important]

now I think... and I could be wrong... but guys I suspect this baby might be the chosen one.

oh god there was no father he was conceived by midichlorians

THE SKYWALKERS HAVE INFILTRATED THE CELTS

okay place your bets is it arthur or merlin

it’s Merlin. or Merddyn rather, in a surprise twist this movie was written by Fucking Nerds

so far mild cheese aside this is surprisingly watchable

“your crops fail and so you ask the king for help, but do not help yourselves! where are your alters?? starvation is punishment for your lack of faith!” THE RNC HAS INFILTRATED THE CELTS

okay so near as I can figure out the mark is from the old gods but there’s a druid who I guess speaks for the king or something who wants them to worship different old gods and now he’s demanding the villagers make a human sacrifice and it’s gonna be Smol Merddyn.

aw no they killed Celtic Shmi. Merddyn got away though and is now wandering the Forbidden Forest

I’m mad this is actually a solid movie so far. absolutely nothing unexpected has happened but I didn’t click on a movie called “Arthur and Merlin” to be surprised

oh wait that kid who freed him was Arthur

fifteen years later arthur is... a military leader who looks strangely like one of those romans played by obviously white actors in older movies

I honestly can’t pinpoint when this movie was made on aesthetics alone

ooo some Roving Misogynists™ are here to cause trouble and assault random women for being christian. by order of the druid no doubt.

“you mock us!” “I do.” okay I’m starting to like this arthur.

oh my god is that. he just fucking. tripped over excalibur while wading in like a two foot deep pond to get this woman’s cross back for her. best interpretation ever.

wait Olwen??? as in Ysbaddaden’s daughter Olwen?? once again I assumed they’d go with Guinevere or make someone up but I forgot, this movie was made by Fucking Nerds.

okay I know insisting everything is gay is a constant thing on this site but I want to point out that Arthur has showed nothing but very platonic friendship to Olwen but this is the face he makes when he sees Merddyn in a vision

and I mean to be fair to him this is what Merddyn looks like now

goddamn

oh no they’ve immediately made it very clear that he’s Romantically Involved With Olwen In Secret Look They’re Kissing Nobody Is Gay

so now I really want to know who wrote this movie because what I’m seeing here is people who intentionally chose to use the name merddyn, and know that olwen exists, but then decided to pair her romantically with... king arthur. and culhwch just doesn’t exist I guess. not that this is the most off the wall welsh mythology ship I’ve encountered but still it’s a weird one for this kind of media even if it’s an indie film

who are you people. how did this movie get made. I mean I like whatever it is but for real how and why did you do this.

I love how there’s just this trio of random dudes who don’t even have names who are arthur/olwen’s friends. and yet somehow they’re likable and I’m rooting for them. whoever they are.

so the only real problem with this movie that’s denting my enjoyment is that nobody has names and they all have the same haircut so I lose track of who’s doing what. see these are arthur’s friends:

and these are bad guys:

and Olwen is the only person in either screenshot who has a name

if any of them ever changes into a new outfit I’m screwed.

I’m gonna be real with y’all I love me a cursed forest

in an ironic twist, excalibur is now firmly stuck in a tree trunk and arthur cannot get it out

why is this movie GOOD what the heck. I mean the druid and king situation is blatantly ripped from wormtongue and theoden but I still like. care about the king. they’ve done it well.

“I’ve already told you, I am no longer a man.” “are you so sure???” see I know nothing will happen since this is a movie not a fanfic but that line is the quintessential hate-makeout segue

THIS IS VERY HETEROSEXUAL they’ve had most of the argument while approximately that distance from each other

oh god what the fuck arthur’s friends got sacrificed by the druid just to make a point to olwen. this is the opposite of a Sacrificial Girlfriend.

they do not need to be this close to each other to argue but they keep on doing it

they’ve been on screen together for less than five minutes y’all

arthur: maybe you’re right, you are no longer a man

merlin: [conjures an entire patch of flowers for him to make... some kind of point I guess?]

okay now they’re arguing again but there’s all this “I thought I knew you” talk (which, again, it’s been five minutes) and the actors have clearly decided that their dynamic is based entirely on constant, roiling sexual tension

why does every single thing they say scan like dialogue from a slow burn enemies to friends to lovers fanfic

“the girl in the village, did you love her once?” “I know little of love” “Surely a man who can control the growth of a flower must be able to make love blossom” JUST FUCK ALREADY

this is how they’re having this conversation by the way

there was only one shrub hollow

“to control nature is one thing, but only the most powerful sorcerer could control the mind of a man- OR WOMAN,” he said, heterosexually.

y’all I’m gonna be honest I thought I was just projecting at first but this is the gayest thing I’ve seen since the baseball song in high school musical 2. this is just absolute beleg and turin levels of probably unintended but utterly blatant homosexuality. I’m so glad I decided to watch this movie and youtube was right to recommend it to me.

this movie really speaks to me because on a spiritual level I too am a mystical but irritable and socially stunted forest hermit with sexy hair just waiting for a brash but pure-hearted warrior who looks like a roman statue to draw me out of my cave with homoerotic banter.

oh it’s not excalibur it’s... nuadu. which I guess in this movie is not the king of the tuatha de danann but a sword forged by them? see my first impulse would be to assume that the way they’re mangling everything, the writers knew nothing about Celtic folklore, except that they’ve chosen such weirdly specific things to mangle. they know their shit, they’ve just deliberately chosen to go absolutely buckwild with it.

THEY’RE DOING IT AGAIN THEY ARE INCAPABLE OF ARGUING WHILE STANDING MORE THAN TWO FEET APART

for real though character-wise this might be one of my favorite interpretations of merlin/merddyn I’ve ever seen. I feel like everyone involved was genuinely super passionate about the subject matter they were working with. like all jokes aside he’s really honestly well acted and well written.

STOP IT NOW YOU HORNY SIMPLETONS

uh oh they’ve been captured by... bandits?

oh it’s olwen’s uncle

“TO GOOD WOMEN... WHY DO YOU NOT DRINK, MERDDYN”

it is a mystery, olwen’s uncle.

a mystery.

this motivational monologue could have been so cheesy but like. I’m here for it. I would follow arthur into battle.

aw come on. olwen’s uncle betrayed them. I kinda saw it coming but dammit.

again, the druid should be absolutely stupid but he’s kind of a cool villain.

yay olwen’s uncle unbetrayed them. probably so would I if I’d seen what merddyn just did to the druid’s guys.

so the druid is trying to sacrifice ten thousand souls to raise a god from the underworld and merddyn is on the fucking warpath. and olwen’s uncle is ON BOARD HELL YEAH.

THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS TO ISENGUARD TO ISENGUARD

arthur and merddyn have escalated to clutching each other’s clothes during their heated two-feet-apart discussions

olwen is a badass in her own right like she has her own whole thing going trying to save the king from basically his own literal dementia and the druid who’s taking advantage of it, which is somehow way more compelling than just magical mind control.

“I thought the cave taught you fairness” “well... you taught me fighting” JUST KISS.

okay let’s see how they pull off this dark god on the shoestring budget they definitely have, at this point I honestly believe in them.

by avoiding showing the god entirely apparently but they made it work even with that.

aw the king has named him his heir. which again we all knew would happen but it’s still so well done.

and we end on merddyn placing the crown on arthur’s head while lovingly quoting his own words back at him, while olwen looks on with the kind of approval that implies they’ve ended up with some kind of road to el dorado situation. solid.

so I was expecting this to be absolute garbage with bad actors and checked out writers just trying to make another mediocre coattail-riding medieval fantasy movie and what I got was some weirdly good actors and writers who are clearly obsessed with celtic folklore and desperately wanted to just run amok with it for an hour and 45 minutes. and they did. they poured every ounce of their hearts and souls and tiny, tiny budget into it. and it was beautiful. 10/10

#tearless liveblogs #I just watched an entire merlin/arthur/olwen crackship slow burn enemies to friends to lovers fic in the form of an indie film #and I loved it

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prevdustinhendrsn · 6 years

Text

she’s the sunshine in the rain

mike wheeler/el hopper 3.8k - read on ao3 requested by anonymous from this list: 90. ‘remember when we were little?’ + 97. ‘your life was my life’s best part’

Mike’s only here because he still can’t get over her.

This morning, he knew where he’d be right now. He’d be sitting at his mother’s shiny mahogany table in the dining room, surrounded by a hundred relatives all drinking some form of alcohol and complaining about the elections and the economy and asking Mike the most boring questions about his future. He knew it when he left his apartment, when he made the two-hour drive home, when he stood at the front door with rainwater dripping off the porch eaves and down his neck. He knew that it would not be pleasant, easy, or even manageable. He’s only here because, despite the disappointment of the last two Thanksgivings, maybe things will be different this time if he sees her.

His first Thanksgiving without her wasn’t unbearable, just because they had only been apart for a month and he was still holding onto the hope that they could piece things back together after a break. When his cousin asked where his girlfriend was, he just mumbled something about them figuring things out. Then came the second Thanksgiving. He was a mess at that point. His grades were slipping, his coworkers complained about him, he barely went out with Dustin and Lucas and Will. Everything was – is – bleak and colorless without her. She took all the sunshine with her and left grey skies over him.

Now he’s here, at his third Thanksgiving since starting college, three years and a month after they broke up. He’s still miserable, still lonely, still thinking of her every minute of every hour of every day, but his feelings are number and he’s better at hiding it.

He shifts in his uncomfortable stiff-backed seat at the table. Several extensions have been tacked onto it to make room for all the relatives and in-laws, cousins once-removed and forgotten godmothers, the oldest – his dad’s great-grandfather – and the youngest – his niece’s daughter. Cutlery clangs and glasses clink, toddlers whine at the kids’ table, the radio sings in the background because nobody has had the common sense to turn it off yet. Cousin Beth and uncle Nicki are having an argument about humane animal treatment on one end of the table, two octaves away from a fistfight. Every one of his relatives has an opinion, their voices made obnoxiously loud by both the wine in their glasses and their infallible belief that since they’re older than Mike (even his twenty-five-year-old cousin) they can’t possibly be wrong. He pokes halfheartedly at his turkey and gravy, wishing desperately he were anywhere but here.

“How’s the love life, Michael? Any lucky ladies out there?” Aunt Caroline asks in her raspy two-packs-a-day voice, the glass in her hand promptly returning to her lips every fifteen seconds.

Mike’s heart curls in on itself and he’s momentarily saved from answering by great-uncle Leonard’s impatient huff that really sounds more like a wheeze as he scoops another helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Quit calling him Michael, Caroline. You’re making him sound as old as me.”

“It’s a proper name for an upstanding young man! Karen knew what she was doing.”

“Do you want him to have gray hair at eighteen years old? You’re eighteen, right kid?”

“Twenty-one, actually, but, um, it’s fine,” Mike says quickly, setting his fork down before Leonard and Caroline get into a cage match over the peas. God knows they would if they still had the build for it. “Michael is fine.” It’s really not, but like hell he’s going to say that at Thanksgiving dinner with his mom three seats away. His only saving grace tonight is Nancy, sitting directly across the table from him, her hair curled and lips colored an elegant red. She’s the one thing keeping him from walking right out the front door. Judging by the pleasantly neutral expression she’s had on her face all evening, he can see it’s just as painful for her to be here as it is for him, if not more so. Lying all day is exhausting.

She subtly raises her eyebrows at him and he realizes Caroline, sitting next to Nancy, has asked him a question that he still hasn’t answered.

Yes, there’s a girl, a girl too good to be true who I just can’t seem to let go but she isn’t here and she hasn’t been here for three years and I miss her so much and I want to talk to her and I need to talk to her but she’s too far away.

His El. She lives on the street behind him. She’s probably there right now. They’ve haven’t had a full conversation since their last.

“No,” he says past the tightness in his throat. “There’s no one.”

“Shame. You should ask Beth if she’s got any friends she could set you up with. Time’s a’wasting, you know. Twenty-one, you said? You’re practically dead already. Here, drink some of this. You’re legal so you might as well. Anyways, you should be getting a move on with life, Michael. You want to settle down quick with a good, fertile woman. Child-bearing hips, you know? Get those kids out quick and early so that you can start building a steady career. My first husband was the worst, absolutely horrible, he never had any idea what the hell he was doing…”

Mike nods, carefully setting down the wine she poured for him before he can shatter it. With any luck, if he nods and hums and agrees enough at all the right times, she’ll eventually get distracted by Beth and Nicki’s slowly escalating argument.

Get over yourself. El isn’t yours anymore. She’s not here.

Something taps his ankle and he looks up to see Nancy, a question in her eyes. He shrugs. She chews on her lip and Mike watches her glance around the table, searching for something. A way out, he guesses. A moment later she finds it and pushes her chair back, standing up with her empty plate in hand. “Is everyone ready for dessert?” she asks cheerfully.

The arguments and catch-up conversations around the table are briefly replaced with a loud chorus of approval, and as the noise resumes, Nancy glares meaningfully at Mike and jerks her head towards the kitchen. He doesn’t need to be told twice; obliging Caroline’s and his grandmother’s requests for more drinks just because he doesn’t have the energy to make an excuse not to, he takes their glasses and follows Nancy as fast as he can.

The kitchen is gloriously empty, his relatives’ voices reduced to an indecipherable chatter. Nancy tosses her plate into the sink with less care than usual and she blows out a heavy breath, letting the edge of the counter dig into her palms as she leans against it. Her poised façade is gone.

“This sucks,” she says after a moment. Mike nods, setting down the wineglasses and crossing to lean against the counter opposite her.

“Yeah.”

“They’re such…” She trails off, shaking her head. Mike, on the other hand, has no qualms about name-calling, especially not his relatives.

“Close-minded pricks?” he suggests. She snorts.

“Yeah. That.”

He hurts for his sister, he really does. Lying about the existence of the other parts of you hurts and tricks your heart into feeling much lonelier than it really is. That’s what he’s been doing with El for the past three years, except he’s not sure if he’s still allowed to say she’s a part of him anymore. “I’m sorry you can’t tell them,” he says.

She shrugs. “It’s not like I’m looking for their approval or something. But everything is so much easier with Steve and Jonathan around.”

“Why don’t you just tell them? I mean, if their opinion doesn’t matter, then…”

“Because that’s too much of a pain in my ass to deal with tonight. Can you even imagine? I’m tired of defending my life and my loves and my choices to everyone, Mike. Me and Jonathan and Steve are happy with what we have, and it’s nobody else’s business unless we want it to be.”

“Oh. Right. Um, sorry.”

Nancy’s lips quirk upwards in a no need gesture and they fall silent. Mike drags his finger along the bottom edge of a heavily decorated cake sitting next to him and licks the frosting off as Nancy rolls her eyes. She drums her dark red fingernails on the granite countertop, scrutinizing him.

“What’s wrong, Mike? Is it still her?”

Mike falters, letting his hand fall back to the counter. “Aunt Caroline?” he says to his shoes.

“Seriously.”

He heaves a sigh, looking up at Nancy’s concerned eyes. “Yeah. Of course it is. It’s been three years and it’s still her, Nancy. Did you think something would be different?”

“Have you talked to her at all?”

“Not really.”

“So…you’re just…done? Just like that?”

“Looks like it,” he says flatly. Nancy sighs.

“Mike, you two were…you just were. I don’t understand how it ended like it did.”

He shrugs. “I was going to college and she wasn’t and I was just dragging her down because she needed to figure out who she was without me. That’s how it ended.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Do you still love her?”

“Of course I still love her. She’s it for me, Nancy. I’ll never love anyone else.”

It’s out before he can think about it, and the truth of it all hurts so much he’s suddenly afraid he’s going to collapse. El. Amazing, intelligent, clever, beautiful, telekinetic El. Not his anymore.

“I just want to see her,” he whispers, staring desperately at his sister, tears burning behind his eyes. “I just want to see her again.”

Sympathy crosses Nancy’s face for just a beat, quickly replaced with resolve for his sake. She strides across the kitchen to pull him into a hug. Despite the fact that he’s a whole head taller than her, he presses his face into her shoulder, welcoming the comfort.

“Then go see her,” she says, running a hand up and down his back. “You know she’s home. At least tell her happy Thanksgiving.”

Mike sniffles, half of him praying that nobody will walk in and the other half setting off warning bells about all the possible ways this could go wrong.

Just see her. You don’t even have to talk to her. Just walk by her house and maybe you’ll see her through the window and you’ll see her smile and that will be enough. It’ll be enough for now.

He manages to slip out the door just as Nancy carries in the desserts to draw everyone’s attention. The stark autumn air hits him like a brick wall, dark clouds roiling overhead, ready to spill. He runs, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders against the wind. Don’t think about it. Just run. Go.

All he sees is asphalt moving beneath his feet and before he knows it, he’s on her street. He stops at the end of it, breathing hard. It’s just as familiar to him as his own – perhaps even more so, since he consciously made an effort to avoid his house as much as possible in his teens. Five houses away from him sits the two-storied Hopper-Byers home, the lights shining warm yellow through all the windows. He looks instinctively to hers, the far right on the second floor. When they were sixteen, Dustin begrudgingly helped him hide a ladder in the scraggly bushes that separate the house from the neighbors. Hopper found it a week later, so El stayed up four nights in a row honing her powers so that by the fifth night, she could levitate Mike straight up from the ground to the windowsill without breaking a sweat. There was a lot of smothered laughter and purple bruises during those trial and error nights, but Mike would never trade them for anything.

A cold raindrop on his cheek refocuses his attention. The clouds above him are dark and ready to pour; the heady scent of promised thunder and lightning is thick in the air. He starts forward again. His heart increases its frantic beat with every step he takes, but the house is getting closer, closer, and he knows she’s there because he can feel it, he could always feel her.

He passes the windows that look into the dining room and stumbles to a stop again, his throat locking up at what he sees. It’s all of them, sitting around the table, cast in a cheery golden glow with laughter on their faces. Joyce, Will, and Jonathan, Hopper and his parents, and – her. Mike’s hands go numb. She’s leaning halfway out of her chair, wearing a loose yellow sweater, passing a bowl of mashed potatoes to her dad. Her soft pink lips spread into a smile at someone’s joke, and it’s that smile, angelic and full of love, that pulls on Mike’s heartstrings. She really is it for him. He’s never moving on. He can’t.

Every time he closes his eyes for the next few months, he’ll see this image of her, just like all the other times: when they ran into each other in the grocery store, at Christmas when their families exchanged casseroles and pleasantries, on that one spring day when she was levitating Max up to pick apples and Mike happened to be walking by with Lucas. Hey Mike, she had said to him, her voice soft and amiable, one hand outstretched behind her to keep Max aloft. Her nose didn’t even bleed anymore. Hey, El is what he had said back, barely allowing himself to breathe to make sure his voice was steady. And nothing happened, and his heart shattered all over again.

He’s seen her now. He can walk away and not make things any worse. But it’s just not enough, not like he thought it’d be. It’s never enough. These small glances across gaping distances are not enough to put himself back together. He needs all of her, because he loves her, he loves her, he loves her so much and he doesn’t like who he is when she’s not with him. His heart aches and yearns towards her, but the pain he felt when they fell apart anchors his feet to the concrete, and then – she looks out the window.

Oh.

He loves her eyes. They’re magic. They slow time.

He watches his name fall off her lips, and her family hasn’t yet noticed, and he mouths hi. She stares at him, and then he finds the will to move, dashing up the driveway and onto the porch.

He raises his hand to knock but the door opens before he can. She stands there, a head shorter than him, her curly hair tucked behind her ears and her cheeks steadily growing pinker from the sudden gust of cold air.

“Mike,” she says in a rush, at the same time he breathes, “El.”

He hasn’t been this close to her in a long time. Not enough. Closer.

“What are you doing here?” she asks quietly, her curious eyes still roaming his face like she can’t quite believe he’s standing here.

“Um, well, I just – I don’t know, actually. I – El…” He takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to see you. And talk to you. Just for a minute, unless you don’t –“

She shakes her head, and he steps backwards as she comes out onto the porch, gently closing the door behind her. “No, let’s talk. Please.”

They sit on the porch swing with the rusty chains and peeling white paint, a bitter foot of space between them.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says after a moment. El nods, staring out at the street.

“Happy Thanksgiving. How’s your family?”

“They’re fine, I guess. Yours?”

“Good.” El glances at him with a sad, knowing smile on the corner of her lips. “But you didn’t come here to talk about family.”

He shakes his head and she turns back to the street. The rain has begun to pour, thrumming on the roof and sliding off the eaves into the flowerboxes below. Belatedly Mike realizes they’ve started swinging back and forth ever so slowly, yet he isn’t pushing them with his foot and since Hopper accidentally hung the swing too high, El can’t reach the ground when she’s sitting on it.

“Are you doing that?”

She nods. To his surprise, a dark red spot of blood trickles down from her nose. “Sorry. I do it out of habit.”

“No, no, it’s fine, but – you have a nosebleed.”

“It happens, sometimes,” she says unconcernedly, pulling a tissue out of her pocket and dabbing away the blood.

“I thought you didn’t get them anymore. Not since you were sixteen, right?”

“Well, I get them now.”

Her voice is edged with a warning not to push any farther so Mike relents. For a long minute they watch the rain from their sheltered spot, and he can’t help but look over at her every few seconds. He could never stop doing that, not even when they were together. It wasn’t just because he loved watching her, but also because some part of him was always afraid that he’d blink and she would disappear again.

“Remember when we were little, when we did this?” she asks. Mike frowns.

“Sitting on the porch swing? Of course I remember that.” There’s not a moment with you I don’t remember, he thinks, heart aching. Not a good time, not a bad time, not any of it.

“No. Well, yes, but I meant this.”

He follows her line of sight down to the space between them, where his fingers have been absently wearing at a marking in the wood there. He lifts his hand and a dull three-year-old pang resounds in his chest. Roughly etched into the old wood is a faded, clichéd MW + EH, carved while she drank lemonade and then kissed his cheek with sticky lips.

“We weren’t that little,” Mike says, looking up at her. “We were fifteen.”

“Still.” She stares down at the mark, a faint smile on her lips.

“That was a long time ago,” he murmurs.

“Yeah. It was.”

His eyes fall to her lap, where her small hands twist around and around each other in the folds of her skirt. Hands that are calloused and gentle when they play with his hair and are always decorated in pink nail polish. Hands that can split mountains in two and lay waste to interdimensional monsters, hands that can build and destroy and hurt and love. Hands that he’s held since he was thirteen, that he wants to reach over and hold right now even though he can’t.

“El,” he starts, the tightness in his throat forcing him to pause. El looks up at him, and the grey rain falling in sheets behind her is a perfectly melancholic echo to the sadness in her eyes. He takes a deep breath. “I love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know, more than I’ve ever loved anyone else. And I don’t think it’s possible for me to stop loving you, really. I’ve missed you so much these past few years, because…you’re just a part of me. But if this is how you want it to be…I mean, if you’re happier this way, not being with me, then…I need you to let me know. I’m okay with that, because I want you to be happy, but you have to tell me.”

She furiously brushes away a tear that escaped her brimming eyes. “I’m not happy, Mike.”

“You’re…not?”

She shakes her head. “I miss you. I miss you all the time. I thought it was for the best, you know, at first, because we both thought we wanted it, but I’ve never been more alone and I didn’t know how to ask you if…” She trails off, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Your life was the best part of mine, Mike. My nose started bleeding again after you left because when I use my powers, I think of everything I love. But when I thought of you, I just…couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t know how to be me when you’re not here. You’re more than my best friend, you’re…mine.”

You’re mine. Mike blinks at her, unaccustomed to the fireworks his heart is setting off. He feels like he’s flying but hasn’t realized his feet have left the ground yet. Your life was the best part of mine.

He swallows. “So…it’s okay if I hold your hand?”

She laughs through her tears, nodding, and he swears her smile is just like sunshine breaking through the thunderheads above them. When she leans over to kiss him, meeting her halfway is second nature. His El. Her kiss is sweet, always sweet, deep and gentle and full of stars, just like her, and she places her hands over his on her cheeks to make sure he won’t let go.

How did he live without her?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. She shakes her head.

“My fault.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Our fault,” she concedes with a small laugh. He opens his eyes and she’s looking at him, so much joy and love in her eyes, the happiest he’s seen her in three years.

“What were we even thinking, El?”

In response she kisses him again, and again, and again. “I missed you,” she says, punctuating it with another kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “Three years was stupid. I’m not supposed to be stupid.”

“God, I love you.” He wraps his arms around her tight, burying his face in her hair. He doesn’t have any words that could convey what she means to him. He just got his other half back – how do you put that into words? “Promise me,” he says eventually, knowing she’ll hear the rest of it. Promise me we won’t be that stupid again. Promise me you’ll never leave me again. Promise me I’ll never lose you. Promise me you’ll always stay by my side. Promise me you’ll love me no matter what, because I promise you I will.

“Promise.”

By the time Mike feels calm enough to speak again, the rain has subsided to a sprinkle, thunder cracking in the distance. He glances at the front door, which has miraculously stayed shut through their whole reunion.

“Can I stay here for the rest of dinner?” he asks her. “I hate my family.”

She giggles, nodding into his chest. “Yes. You can even stay the night if you want.”

“Your dad might make me sleep on the floor in the living room.”

“No, Joyce wouldn’t let him.”

He breathes deeply, holding her tight to him. She’s warm in his arms against the cold stormy air.

“I love you, El.”

“I love you too.”

@calprnia @you-wont-lose-me @summer-in-hawkins @elizabthturner @formerlyjannafaye @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold @mikewheeler @el-and-hop @michael-hearteyes-wheeler

#SURPRISE #EMO MIKE STRIKES AGAIN #i actually wrote something for the first time in forever #if you guys want to be added/removed from my improvised taglist please let me know #i feel like my title game is slipping #stranger things #mileven #mike wheeler #eleven #anna puts words together

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