#she looks so miserable but aunt Sue is smiling

[sassmill]

I will be forever haunted by 1895 quarry farm Susy clemens photos

[mypoisonedvine]

Please please please can you make a little drabble/headcanon with a really shy girl? Maybe she has a crush on him but she thinks she's too young for him and that he's into more mature women?

yess omg this is wholesome and I NEED THIS after writing too much nastiness, of course i made it a coffeeshop/diner au because it’s the iconic setting for wholesomeness (and you didn’t say who so I’m gonna make it lee because this feels like the perfect soft!lee prompt?) 

“mornin’, buttercup,” lee greeted with a little smirk as he sat down at the bar.  

he was so, so good at making you flustered.  not that you were exactly a confidence-exuding sexually-empowered type of woman when he wasn’t around, but what little gumption you had was lost completely to that smile.

not to mention the nickname he’d coined for you as a reference to your butter-yellow uniform dress, which he seemed to like significantly more than you did (the dress, not the nickname-- you loved the nickname).

“hi, sheriff,” you returned with a little nod.  “the usual?”

"yes ma’am,” he grinned.

you memorized it after the second time he ordered it, not even on purpose but just as a result of thinking about him so often: coffee with two creamers and no sugar, two waffles with syrup and butter (not margarine), two slices of bacon, one over-medium egg and a cup of fruit on the side.

you knew it was silly to be so hung up on a guy that was too old for you; well, it wasn’t that he was too old for you but that you were too young for him.  he probably wanted somebody at least somewhat as educated and established as he was.  

it seemed like he should go for somebody like your supervisor, sue ellen-- a little more his age, curvaceous and mature in all the right ways.  but, for whatever reason, he was much more talkative with you, until eventually he’d made sure he always came by when you were working and always sat in your section.

you pinned up the order card and saw the fry cook scoff when he pulled it down.  “sheriff bodecker’s here again?” he realized.  you nodded.  “not the subtle type, is he?”

“what makes you say that?” you frowned.

“I’m not saying anything, except maybe he has an appetite for more than breakfast.”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” you rolled your eyes.  after all, what would a guy like him want with a girl like me?

kirk was a good cook when he wasn’t busy gossiping, and he always made sure to start on the sheriff’s order as soon as it was put in.  ‘when the law’s hungry, you start cookin’,’ he’d said.

“enjoy,” you smiled when you set his plate in front of him.

“guess I oughta start cutting down on these waffles, need to get back in shape for the election,” he mumbled to himself as he started to cut up his first bite.

“don’t say that, you look nice just the way you are,” you beamed, though your confidence faded to shy nervousness when he looked up at you.

there was that crooked smile again, and the slightest hint of a blush on his full cheeks.  “never trust a compliment from a woman workin’ for tips, I always say.”

“well, you’ll just have to believe me,” you decided, “I’ll be in the back, holler if you need me--”

“why dontcha stay and keep me company?  I don’t think you have any other tables,” he pointed out.

it made your hands a little shaky but you nodded in agreement.

“I feel like I do all the talkin’ when I see you,” he explained, “tell me about yourself.”

“um... there’s not much to tell,” you decided as you chewed your lip slightly.

“I doubt that,” he frowned, “how’d you get that necklace you’re wearin’?”

“gift, from my aunt, for my birthday a few years ago...” you remembered as you reached up and toyed with the pendant between three fingers.

“how’d you get here, livin’ in knockemstiff?”

“moved here when I was little, parents left but I never did.”

“how’d you get so pretty?”

you swallowed nothing as your face started to warm.  to spare yourself from looking at his smile and those sparkling eyes, you looked down instead at your thumbs where they slid over each other.

“did I?” you chuckled quietly.

“prettiest girl in town, I say,” he announced confidently.  “and so does everyone else.”

“never trust a compliment from a man who wants extra syrup without the extra charge,” you countered.

“honey, I’d come here every day if the breakfast special was liver and pickled greens.  I just wanna see you.”

for a moment you glanced back up and caught his gaze, seeing him smiling and leaning in slightly.  

you were surprised when he set down his money and started to get up to leave with nearly half of the food still on his plate.  “did you not like it?” you asked nervously.

“no, it was delicious, but I wanna make sure I don’t spoil my appetite for when I take you out to dinner tonight,” he winked.  “I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift, take you somewhere so you can get waited on for a change.”

“o-oh,” you sighed, fighting your grin (and failing miserably), “all right.  I’ll see you then, buttercup.”

he winked as he slipped back on his jacket-- the one with his badge on it-- and left the diner.  you pocketed the additional money he’d left for your tip, finding it expectedly much too generous, and smiled to yourself at the memory of his kindness.

[deniigi]

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

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

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

Title: impossible scenario

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

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

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

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

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

“Spidey?”

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

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

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

Peter sighed.

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

There was a pause.

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

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

 --

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

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

That left snark and violence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke.”

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

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

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

God, what a mood.

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

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

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

“Kid.”

“ME.”

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

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.  

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

“Is that?” someone whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke, please. Please.”

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

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

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

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

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

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

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

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

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

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

MMMMMMM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

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

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

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

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

Han sighed.

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

“Not here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke.”

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

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

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

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

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

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

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

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

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

“Shut up,” Luke said.

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

“Stop.”

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

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

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

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

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

His stomach turned.

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

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

Luke was crying.

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

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

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

  --

It was weird.

It was just weird.

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

Luke.

Han.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only one.

  --

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

NL: no promises but go on

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

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

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

MJ: yeah?

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

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

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

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

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

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

JS: 😊

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

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

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

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

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

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

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

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

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

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

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

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

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

PP: ned I’m freaking out

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

PP: deeply

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

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

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

  --

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

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

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

 --

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

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

Ned was perfect.

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

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

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

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

Fine.

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

“Keep going.”

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

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

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

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

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

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

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

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

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

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

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

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

 --

 PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

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

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

SC: I don’t think about those people

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

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

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

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

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

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

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

 --

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

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

Thor blinked at him.

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

Thor lit up.

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

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

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

…yes.

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

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

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

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

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

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

 --

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

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

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

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

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

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

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

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

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

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

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

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

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

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

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

 --

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

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

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

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

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

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

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

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

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

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

“Nope,” Peter said.

 --

 NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

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

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

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

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

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

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

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

NL: and if not?

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

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

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

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

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

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

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

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

 --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

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

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

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

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

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

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

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

 --

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

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

But it had shattered them—both of them.

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

He’d walked it before.

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

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

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

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

  --

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

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

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

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

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

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

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

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

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

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

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

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

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

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

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

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

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

He had to find him now.

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

 --

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

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

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

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

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

Ned was about to flip a table.

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

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

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

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

Great. Peter was approaching.

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

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

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

She frowned at it.

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

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

Luke’s friend stared at him.

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

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

There was a long silence.

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

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

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

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

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

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

Nice.

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

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

 --

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

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

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

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

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

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

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

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

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

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

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

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

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

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

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

LS: I

LS: wh

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

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

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

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

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

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

 He held his breath.

 LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

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

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

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

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

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

 Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

 LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

 Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

 PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

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

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

PP: it’s my job

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

PP: yes

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

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

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

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

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

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

 Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

 PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

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

PP: you mean obi-wan?

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

PP: where do you live?

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

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

 --

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

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

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

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

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

“Insidious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

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

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

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

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

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

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

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

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

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

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

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

 --

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

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

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

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

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

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

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

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

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

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

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

Luke stared at him.

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

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

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

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

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

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

Ah.

Fair was fair.

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

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

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

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

Luke gave him a weird brow.

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

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

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

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

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

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

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

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

It sounded like it.

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

What a trip.

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

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

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

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

Yikes.

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

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

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

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

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

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

Mmm. Perhaps so.

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

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

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

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

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

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

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

Luke flinched.

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

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

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

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

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

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

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

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

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

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

Luke covered his face in despair.

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

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

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

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Er.

No.

Sorry?

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

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

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

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

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

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

Understood.

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

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, actually,” he said.

 --

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

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

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

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

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

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

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

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

Hang on a minute here.

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

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

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

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

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

UH?

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

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

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

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

 --

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

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

Maybe Obi-Wan?

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

“LOOK AT HIM.”

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

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

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

“This is Basic.”

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

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

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

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

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

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

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

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

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

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

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

There was a long stare.

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

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

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

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

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

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

“Negative, ghostrider.”

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

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

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

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

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

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

 --

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

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

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

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

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

 --

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

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

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

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

 --

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

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

That was worrying.

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

He texted Luke again.

 PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

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

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

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

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

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

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

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

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

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

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

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

 That sounded like a horrendous decision.

 PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

  --

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

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

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

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

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

 --

 Another two weeks. Another text.

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

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

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

LS: preschool teacher.

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

 PP: was that your calling?

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

PP: you honestly terrify me

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

PP: no shit??

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

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

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

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

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

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

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

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

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

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

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

 There was no winning here.

 --

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

Obviously he hadn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

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

  --

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

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

That was what they currently had to go on.

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

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

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

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

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

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

  --

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

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

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

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

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

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

  --

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

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

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

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

Wade screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wade whistled.

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

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

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

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

  --

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

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

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

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

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

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

 Selfie acquired.

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

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

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

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

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

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

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

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

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

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

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

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

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

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

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

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

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

  --

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

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

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

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

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

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

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

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

  --

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

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

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

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

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.  

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

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

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

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

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

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

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

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

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

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

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”  

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

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

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

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

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

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

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

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

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

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

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

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

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

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

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

Luke shook harder than ever.

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

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

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

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

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

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

“You what?”

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

Awwwwww.

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

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

  --

Look at all these people hugging each other.

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

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

“Wait. Peter.”

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

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

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

 --

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

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

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

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

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

   --

[13uswntimagines]

It’s called Drowning- Not Surfing (Bino!Child x USWNT)

Request: Sequel (prequel) to You’re in Wubble Now detailing what happened with Tobin. Tobin takes reader Surfing and the little Daredevil gets a little more than she bargained for, while Tobin is just trying to be a responsible babysitter. 

You sat on the beach, halfheartedly running the sand through your fingers, pouting up at your three favorite aunts (not that you would tell the others that). It was an off day at camp, and Kelley, Tobin, and Ashlyn had all decided to go to the beach. You begged your mom enough to convince her that you would be fine to go along, and the cool crew was always happy to have you. 

What you didn’t realize was that they were going to spend the day surfing and that they had no intention of allowing you to join them in the waves. That and their girlfriends were going shopping so you had no one to hang out with you and knock a ball around on the beach with. Sure you were kinda tiny for 10, but you weren’t a wimp. You were capable of extreme sports. 

“Come on Aunt Toby, I wanna be able to hang out with you and Aunt Kelley and Aunt Ash without being left alone on the beach,” you whined for the millionth time, giving the woman your best pout, fluttering your eyelashes at her. 

“We always leave someone with you,” She groaned, wishing more than anything that Christen was here. Chris was always better at denying you things than she was. That dam pout was too powerful. How your mom denied you of anything, was far beyond her. 

“I can do it guys, please?” You changed tactics, targeting Kelley instead. She was always the easiest to convince that you weren’t too small or too young to do something. She understood what it was like to be underestimated, and your enthusiasm always seemed to convince her to at least let you try. She threw her head back with a groan, unable to withstand the full power of your pout. Your moms were going to kill them for this. 

“I mean she can snowboard and wakeboard. This isn’t that much different,” Kelley shrugged, ignoring Ashlyn’s raised eyebrows. Ash was well aware of your propensity for extreme sports and how you never really thought your death-defying acts through. She also knew how overprotective your parents were. If Megan found out that you had gone surfing without her explicit permission, it would probably be worse than the time they let you skateboard through the mall. 

“I believe her mother said no death-defying stunts after you and Emily took her cliff diving in Hawaii,” Tobin rolled her eyes at you, crossing her arms firmly over her chest, adamantly looking away from you. You hadn’t told your mom that Emily was taking you cliff diving, and the sight of you diving off the tallest perch you could into the water had nearly given them a heart attack. Emily was just lucky that Lindsey was there to save her when Mama Pino got to her. 

“You might be blowing this a little out of proportion, the waves are super small,” Ashlyn scoffed, patting Tobin on the back. You were an extremely athletic kid, and the waves were decidedly tiny. This was probably the least dangerous thing you could have asked to do, plus with the three women watching you, there would be no reason for Megan to flip out. You would be returned to her in perfect condition and hopefully, this would help your rambunctious self sleep tonight. 

“Please, Aunt Toby?” You asked, your bottom lip trembling, your eyes wide and innocent. 

“Fine, but if the waves get bigger, you’re coming back in,” Tobin huffed, rubbing the back of her neck, tightly closing her eyes. Megan was going to kill her if this didn’t turn out alright, and Alex and Christen would never let her live down her inability to say no to you. 

“Yay!!” You squeezed, grabbing your child-sized board and rushing towards the water. Only to be stopped by Ashlyn’s warm hand on your arm. 

“Whoa there scampi, let’s get some of the basics down on dry land first,” Kelley snorted, grabbing your other arm, so you couldn’t escape to the water with out the proper instruction. You sighed, your shoulders dropping. You didn’t wanna learn on land, you wanted to get into the water and just… surf. 

“Fine,” You mumbled, making the women laugh. Tobin ruffled your hair as she led you towards a flat area near the water. You were going to be the death of them. 

*****

Your head popped back up above the water, and you clutched onto the surfboard as you took big gulping breaths, a large smile etched on your face. You had just ridden a wave, well almost ridden. When you attempted to stand, your board flew out from beneath you, but you almost made it. The feeling of the ocean propelling you forward was intoxicating and you couldn’t wait to do it again. 

“You ok kid?” Tobin questioned as she paddled up beside you, worriedly looking at you as you climbed back onto your board. 

“Yeah, why did I fall?” You laughed, whipping your wet hair out of your face. 

Tobin sighed. She knew one fall wouldn’t discourage you enough to quit, and one look of the determined face you were making told her that she was quite right. In fact, this may spur you on way more than anyone wanted it to. You had a habit of trying 10 times harder when something didn’t work out the first time. You were as stubborn as Sue and Megan combined. 

“Your hands were too close together when you tried to push up, make them and your feet wider and you’ll be good to go,” She said, worriedly watching you as you paddled off towards Kelley. You had just flown off your board and you were already up and ready to go again. Tobin shook her head. Your parents were going to kill her. 

***** 

You sat farther out in the water, stat tilting your board, your hand playing with the surface, watching for waves with Kelley. Things had seemed to calm down for a bit, but you could feel the big one coming. It began to build in the distance, and you glanced at Kelley to see if this was the one. She smiled, reaching over to pat your leg. 

“This one is a little big, I’m gonna take it and you wait for the next one alright?” She asked, turning around and getting into position. it was a set of three, and the first one was a monster that no beginner should even attempt, but the two behind it looked much more promising for you. 

You huffed but nodded anyway. You would never get away with your plan if you didn’t placate her first. The wave looked sick and you would be dammed if you missed it. You waited for Kelley to start paddocking first, making sure that none of her attention was on you before you took off after her. 

You felt the pulse of the wave pick you up, and you paddled even harder, waiting for just the right moment before standing on your board. Everything was perfect, you were perched atop a wave with the power of the ocean behind you. It was an addictive feeling of bliss, that was until it wasn’t. You let out an elated giggle, moving your arms like all the stereotypical surfers you had seen in movies do. 

One second you were standing on your board, and the next you were in the water with no idea of what happened. You didn’t know which way was up or which way was down, all you knew was that you were being tossed around like a sock during the spin cycle. 

You opened your eyes to try and get your bearings, but all you saw was bubbles. Before you knew it, you were shoved against something hard and dragged along it by the force of the water. The wave slammed you against the bottom over and over again without mercy. You needed to get off the bottom and back to the surface, and you needed to do it now. You were running out of air and the thought of never seeing your mom and mama again was terrifying. But it gave you the strength you needed to get moving.

Your lungs screamed in protest as you fought to get your feet underneath you, and launched yourself towards the surface. 

*****

Tobin let out a breath when she saw your head break the surface. She saw you take a wave that was way to big for you, and she saw you crash out on said wave, and was paddocking the area when you didn’t immediately reappear above the water's surface. She shook her head, Megan wasn’t going to be happy when they told her you had almost drowned to death. 

She quickly maneuvered towards your floating form and easily scooped you up and onto her board. You cling to her, water spraying from your nose as you coughed and tried to get enough air. 

“Shh kid, your alright,” She murmured into your ear, rubbing your back with one hand and trying to get back to shore with the other. 

You made it back to the beach with Ashlyn’s assistance, all three women looking at you worriedly when you didn’t unattach yourself from Tobin. 

“Kell, get a towel,” Tobin gestured towards the bags as she finally got a good look at your shivering form. Your normally tan skin was pale, your eyes bloodshot. Kelley nodded, hesitating as she held up the requested material. 

“I’m afraid to touch her back, sand in those cuts will hurt like a bitch,” She said, taking in the deep gashes along your spine. The reef was deep, so she never even thought about the possibility of you getting dragged along it, she also didn’t think that you’d try and take on a giant wave by yourself. 

Ashlyn bit her lip, slipping her jacket off and wrapping it carefully around your shaking form, rubbing the back of your head in a comforting fashion. How she wished Ali was here, she was always good at comforting you. She let out a breath, they were totally going to be in trouble with your mom and their significant others when they caught a glimpse of your back. 

“What the fuck is going on,” Megan’s voice sounded from behind them as she rushed towards you. She and the girls decided to surprise you and keep you company while the others surfed. They hadn’t expected to walk up on a rescue mission. 

“Mama?” You asked, finally lifting your head from Tobin’s shoulder. 

“Shit,” Tobing huffed as Christen shot her a “seriously” look. She had one job that she consistently failed miserably at, and that was preventing you from danger. 

“Hey baby, I’m here,” You mama said softly, rubbing the back of your neck and gathering you up into her arms. You wobbled during the transfer from Tobin’s arms to your mom’s, whimpering when her comforting hands pressed too hard on the cuts on your back. Your mom’s eyebrows furrowed when you flinched, and then grabbed you head from the dizziness. 

“You didn’t hit your head on the bottom right?” Kelley asked with wide eyes. They were extremely lucky that you hadn’t been knocked out. 

“Excuse me, the bottom? Please tell me that you didn’t let her go surfing in that,” Megan gave the women her best mama glare, gesturing towards the monster set that was crashing on the shore. 

“Was smaller,” You groaned, her raised voice only intensifying your headache. Your chest was burning, your back was stinging and all you wanted was to cuddle up with your mama and let her and Roary take away your pain. 

 “let’s go get you checked out by the doc on baby? I think you might have a concussion,” Megan’s voice softened, as she ran worried hands through your hair. You were a little daredevil, something that she always hoped you would grow out of, and now you could have gotten seriously hurt. She knew that you were frightened just by the way you were clinging to her. They needed to get you checked out and into some comfier clothing. She didn’t like the way you were shivering.

****

“Hey Babes, you doing ok?” Your mom grinned through the phone, smiling at how cute you looked cuddled up with her wife on one side and your famed stuffed triceratops on the other. You forced your eyelids open, blinking slowly at your mama. The painkillers the doctors had given you were making you very tired. 

“We’re doing better, aren't we little one?” Megan answered, nudging your side, mindful of the gauze that covered most of your back. Sue’s eyebrows furrowed. She hated that she wasn’t there to help Megan comfort you. 

“Much better,” You added sleepily, rubbing Roary’s soft fur on your nose. You shifted slightly, giving Sue a great view of the bruises that covered the tops of your shoulders. 

“I’m going to kill Tobin, Ash, and Kelley when I see them,” Sue growled, her fist clenching around the phone so tight she was afraid it would break. How had they let you get so hurt? How had they not known that they were teaching a beginner above a fucking reef?

“Wasn’t their fault, though I could take the wave,” You grumbled, your voice muffled by your stuffed animal. 

“They should have been watching you better,” Sue said sternly, shooting a look your way, making it clear that she thought that both you and them were at fault for this incident. They would be having another talk with you about safety, and she was sure they were each getting an earful from their respective significant others. 

“We’re never letting you go with them alone again,” Megan nodded. There had been too many accidents for them to be considered good babysitters. Too many problems and incidents of you getting hurt. 

“You can’t keep me locked up in my room all day,” You rolled your eyes. 

“Wanna bet,” Sue raised her eyebrows at you. Perhaps that was a better solution. At least you couldn’t almost drowned if you were stuck in your room, though knowing you, you’d find an inventive way to “have fun” as you put it. 

“You guys are overprotective,” You huffed, sticking your tongue out at the women before retreating behind Roary’s protective form. He would keep you safe from their wrath. 

“Well you almost drowned to death today, I think we’re entitled,” Sue said sternly, and you sighed. You were 10, not 2. 

“And we only do it because we love you,” Megan pulled you closer to her, and you melted into her embrace. You supposed that they had a good reason to be a little protective right now. You guessed you could give in at least until the scratches on your back healed. 

“I love you too,”

[yeeharley]

oooh may's relationship with harley? idk i just love may okay, i want more may in my life. i want someone to love me like may loves peter

“I hAve EMptY BrAiN DIseaSE” (comes up with brilliant idea i never ever even considered)

• peter brings harley back to his apartment to meet his aunt three months after they’ve started dating, which- yeah, okay, maybe they waited a while (longer than most couples, anyways).

• he just wanted to make sure. wanted to make sure harley was right for him, wanted to make sure harley felt like peter was right for him, wanted to make sure this wasn’t going to be a two-week relationship that fizzles out like a firework in the rain.

• (it isn’t, of course. somewhere in the back of his mind, peter knows that he’d known that harley was special the day he’d met him. they’re happy, gentle with each other, squabbling like an old married couple. sue them for being careful, really)

• (in peter’s opinion, the alternative- introducing may to harley too early on and letting them both down- is much worse)

• they walk home from stark tower on a stormy tuesday in october, all bundled up in their coats and each other. there’s rain dripping from the rooftops and the air conditioning units onto their defenseless heads, seeping into their curls and creating the perfect conditions for an absolutely miserable first meeting.

• the boys aren’t miserable, though.

• of course they’re not.

• harley keeps shaking his head like an overgrown golden retriever, shooting cool droplets into the air and splashing them all over peter’s face and neck. he’s grinning that all-teeth grin that peter loves so much, red lips and perfectly white pearls, and even though the sky is practically purple at this point, peter doesn’t want to rush.

• that changes when the first boom of thunder sounds out through the near-empty streets.

• harley sobers up the minute peter twitches, glancing around like he’s about to be attacked. his fingers are clenched into fists, and the drawn line of his jaw is so hard that he looks like he might break his teeth.

• they walk much faster after that first boom, harley with his head tilted over peter’s to protect him from the rain, both of their long legs keeping perfect stride with each other.

• (peter doesn’t like feeling small, and harley knows that, in most circumstances, having someone his size looming over him like this would be an absolute recipe for disaster- especially with how tense he is. with harley, though, peter feels safe.)

• (he’s told him. he knows.)

• they climb up the fire escape, side-by-side, shivering like wet cats. the door on the landing is covered in green paint the color of peter’s flannel, and harley’s the one to knock, shaking a few flakes of paint to the metal floor. he holds onto peter, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach, and winces as a cold raindrop lands right on the ball of his nose.

• macy keener had loved harley and abby.

• macy keener had also loved johnathan.

• macy keener had been a very distant figure in harley’s life for the entirety of his childhood. his memories of her are full of yellow bottles full of rattling pills (mommy has to take these so she’s not sad, harley had told baby when she’d asked why macy always had bottles in her purse).

• that’s why he doesn’t really know what to expect of peter’s aunt.

• he knows his uncle had died a few years ago, when peter was fourteen. he knows that peter was there. he knows that peter held him while he bled out on unforgiving pavement.

• he knows that his parents had died a very long time ago, when peter was a toddler. he knows that they died on an airplane, and that their names were mary and richard. he knows that peter doesn’t remember them very well.

• but he doesn’t know anything about may parker.

• so that’s why, when the door of the apartment opens to show a very short, very pretty woman with a dishtowel in her soapy hands, a wedding ring on her finger, and frizzy hair in a cloud surrounding her head, he finally realizes what tony meant when he told harley that peter was just like may.

• they look. so similar.

• wow.

• may invites them in, biting her lip when she sees the way peter’s shivering beneath the thick layer of his hoodie (harley’s hoodie). harley waits for her to towel off her hands before holding one of his out, shaking hers, and asking if he can help with dinner while may situates a trembling, chatter-teeth peter at the kitchen table.

• linoleum creaks under flimsy wooden chair legs. may pulls a steaming lasagna out of the oven and nearly burns her hands. peter lays shaking fingers out on the table and gesture for harley to take his hand, and he does, and they hold onto each other while they eat and may cracks jokes and the lasagna is fucking disgusting but it’s the best thing harley thinks he’s ever tasted.

• if the keeners had been shattered glass, the parkers are warmth and light. if the keeners had been night, the parkers are day.

• harley feels like the sun, though, in that cramped little queens kitchen.

• he’s radiating warmth like icarus.

• but, of course, peter’s the one who flies too close to the sun.

• may and harley don’t speak again for a month- not because the first meeting had gone badly, of course, but because there’s just not much need for a line of communication between them when peter’s there.

• peter’s the reason they meet again.

• peter’s the reason harley gets a phone call at three o’clock in the morning on a wednesday.

• peter’s the reason harley picks up his phone to hear a sobbing, entirely incoherent may on the other end of the line. the only thing he can make out is that he needs to come to the parker apartment before may abruptly hangs up.

• harley wants to lie down and die right there.

• but he can’t.

• he makes it to their apartment in record time, jogging through dark streets, and fucking kicks the door in when nobody opens it. whatever. he’ll get tony to buy them a new one, and it needed a new paint job anyways.

• he sees them right away.

• the little bathroom adjacent to the kitchen- not the main one, but the one sans shower- is paved with the same yellow linoleum as the kitchen itself.

• harley can’t see any of that yellow linoleum.

• harley can’t see any of that yellow linoleum beneath the thick coat of red liquid that spreads out from the base of the toilet.

• harley can’t see any of that yellow linoleum beneath the thick coat of red liquid that spreads out from the base of the toilet, where peter, pale and choking on his own breath, is lying spread-eagled on the floor with may crouched above him.

• he’s kneeling beside them before he can blink. groping for the injury- a neat hole beneath the left side of Peter’s ribs- he strips his flannel off and presses it into peter’s skin, flinching at the tortured yell he gives out.

• he’s crying. peter’s crying, shimmery trails cutting through the grime and blood on his face. he can’t seem to speak, instead whimpering his way through the pain and gripping harley’s hands like they’re the last thing he’ll ever feel.

• may’s crying, too.

• harley knows his eyes are watering.

• while he presses down on the wound, trying his best to hold peter down where he can’t aggravate what looks like a bullet hole, may reaches across her nephew’s body and takes harley’s wrist in her unoccupied hand.

• her fingers barely connect next to his wristbone.

• “he’s going to be okay,” she whispers, voice hoarse from crying for help.

• peter lets out another sob and tightens his grip on harley’s hand. his curls are choked with blood, so much that they’re more red than brown, and there’s a little speck of dirt at the corner of his right eye.

• “i know,” harley says, reaching down to brush the dirt away.

• (he’s lying)

• (he doesn’t believe it until he’s sitting in a plastic emergency room chair, holding may’s hand in his own, peter’s blood smeared over his skin, and a surgeon with those same streaks of red all over his scrubs approaches them and tells them that peter’s stable)

• (he doesn't believe it until his and may’s hands are joined over peter’s motionless body in his hospital room, where he’s been moved from the ICU)

• may is still crying.

• harley feels like he’s about to float away.

• peter’s chest is rising up and down, one, two, steady, steady, steady steadysteady

• may smiles through her tears as the beeping of peter’s many machines fill the room.

• harley smiles back.

[enchantingkittengaditor]

Deep Water | 02. July

Summary: With fame comes pain. A fact that Caitlyn knows all too well. But when she is the one thrust into the spotlight instead of one of her relatives or friends, she struggles to keep her head above water. Especially when her frenemy Harrison is destined to become her co-star in an animated version of her favourite book. She has to hide her family’s past. He has to hide his feelings and truth. They can’t trust anyone not even each other and if their secrets ever come out, they’ll end up in deep water. This Story follows the trials of the three Watson sisters as they battle to keep part of their past secret.

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Slight mentions Torture and Swearing

Character Page          |          Masterlist

JULY 3rd: Harrison

“Why do they celebrate this holiday?” I asked Bea, as we stood watching Alice and Cat decorate Alice’s house for her 4th of July party tomorrow.

“I have no clue,” She told me, tilting her head at her sisters’ antics.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” I said looking at Cat one last time before leaving the room.

“Cat don’t you want to take some rare photos of Harry with a shirt on?” Bea yelled to her younger sister teasingly from behind me.

“Actually, yeah,” She said quietly, following me back out of the house.

“So do you really want photos of me in a shirt?” I asked her quietly as we walked toward the beach.

“No, I wanted to thank you for helping me with my anxiety attack last week. I know that it’s stupid but it means a lot that you noticed, even if I don’t like you,” She told me, keeping her eyes on the ocean ahead of us.

“It’s not stupid. I get it. I’m always here to help whenever it happens again,” I told her, taking a seat on the cliffside.

“But a rare photo of you in a shirt does sound like a good opportunity,” She smiled goofily, “Anyway why do you never seem to wear shirts?”

“I’ve always had this anxiety about how I look and so when I started at high school I started putting more effort into how I dressed and what my body looked like. So, sue me for liking how I look and wanting to show it off to the world, now that I’m not hating it,” I told her the truth.

“I get it. Not liking how you look. I always thought that I was too tall compared to all my friends or that I was too shy or that I was wrong for liking girls and guys or that I wasn’t beautiful enough,” she shook her head with a small smile, “Societies standards are fucked up. I kinda understand you now but, please can you wear shirts more often,” She begged me.

“I can try, around you if that makes you feel better,” I suggested, “I don’t want you to have another anxiety attack because of my abs,” I joked a few milliseconds later.

“Not why I had the attack, but funny,” She smiled at me.

“We could be good friends if you didn’t hate me,” I told her, lying down on the grass.

“Maybe I like the way that we are,” Cat smiled at me cheekily, lying down next to me.

“What if I don’t?” I muttered.

“It takes two to make a relationship work,” Cat muttered, repositioning herself to lay her head on my neck.

“Please tell me this isn’t your way of trying to kill me,” I said moving her hair out of my mouth.

“As if I would try to kill you by lying on your neck,” She laughed tilting her head to look at me.

“How’d you do it?” I asked her intrigued by her statement.

“Insulin overdose, air between the toes, an icicle to the heart,” She listed off, but I stopped paying attention to her voice and started focusing on the odd sensation on my neck under her head. She was silent after finishing her list for a few minutes.

“Why are your parents alright with all of this?” She asked me, having moved her head onto my shoulder.

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“They were always protective of you with wizards and said that it was your last project until you finished high school. I remember Arya talking about it with you at the final wrap party,” She smiled kind of sadly at me.

“It’s not getting in the way of school or anything because its voice acting not physical acting. They said I could do it if I wanted too and it wouldn’t disturb the family again,” I told her.

“Ahhh…” She mumbled as she focused on the setting sun over the ocean instead of me.

JULY 4th: Caitlyn

“So you invited your beard to the party?” I asked Alice trying to grab the red cup from Harry’s hand with a glare.

“Photos are going online and I’m not out yet, missy,” Alice told me, getting the cup off of Harry. “No alcohol for minors!” She yelled at him.

“BUT-” He tried but was cut off by a glare from our mother.

“Treasure hunt time,” Alice told us going to announce it to the rest of the people at the party.

“Hi everyone! Thank you for coming today, so we have a treasure hunt and so, I have teams to announce,” She smiled at all of her friends completely in her element. While everyone went to find their teams and as usual I was on a team with all of my sisters sans Alice

“Ready to win this?” Dot asked me with a backpack and compass.

After everyone had gone home and we’d finished the day’s activities that my sister had perfectly planned, we were all sat in the game room playing a game of pool and failing miserably.

“Harry!” Brenten yelled as one of the balls flew off the table toward him.

“Get him back!” I yelled drinking my hot cocoa.

“Hey!” Harry yelled back as Alice entered the room.

“Please don’t break my house,” Alice told the boys, “Come on Dot, Ellie time for bed,” She grabbed Ellie’s hand and gave Dot a look. “Then me and you are talking, Cat.”

“Alright, Alice,” I told her smiling as I watched my friends try to play pool but still failing.

When Alice came back in she gave me a look that told me she was serious about talking to me, “Hey,” She simply said.

“Hey, what you wanna talk about?” I asked moving over on the couch.

“You and Harry yesterday seemed pretty close on the lawn,” She teased me, “You even fell asleep out there.”

“We’re just friends,” I told her.

“Then why did he start covering up his soulmark with make-up and why you keep wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer?” She asked.

“Because I’m cold and he’s self-conscious after all of these interviewers talking about it,” I suggested to her only getting a snort in response.

“Show me your soulmark then,” She told me.

“Fine,” I said rolling up my hoodie’s sleeve to reveal the hand mark that had changed colours over the past few days since my panic attack in LA.

“Cat, you found them and you’re only 16,” She said happily.

“Keep your voice down,” I told her through gritted teeth. “I know when and where but I’m not telling you because I still have no clue how to deal with everything running through my mind or what I’m feeling.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” She asked me.

“Because I don’t know how to deal with any of this. I’m the first one in the family to find their soulmate. It’s not like I can go ask mum about any of this, her mark crusted over. And aunt Carol and Richard aren’t going to answer my questions without telling her,” I said still drinking my hot chocolate.

“Just talk to him, he’s probably noticed too and that’s why he’s covering it up. So the other’s don’t notice,” She gave me a smile.

“Happy America Day, big sis,” I told her clinking our cups together.

“Happy America Day to you too,” She smiled returning the cheers.

JULY 22nd: Brenten

“DAY 1 BITCHES!” Jasmin yelled walking into the hotel room to get ready for the day.

“Too loud,” Harrison complained while Cat handed us both a coffee.

“He may or may not have gotten drunk last night,” I told Jasmin and Cat.

“It was your job to make sure he didn’t drink so he’d be his usual self today,” Cat told me.

“I know. Because you weren’t at the party and blah blah blah. I got distracted,” I told her.

“Just, coffee and make sure I don’t want to kill you and we should be all good,” Cat told Harry with some tone that caused me and Jasmin to look at each other in confusion.

“What happened between them?” I asked her as she sat next to me in her own chair, getting her make-up done.

“I have no clue but they haven’t been the same since the third of July,” She told me, drinking her coffee and eating her breakfast.

“Harry has been covering his mark with make-up recently,” I said thinking aloud.

“And Cat’s been wearing long sleeves for a month,” She recalled.

“You think?” I asked her.

“Maybe,” She responded with a smile.

“This is too good,” I laughed glancing over at the pair trying not to hurt each other in their little squabble, “That’s also new.”

“They’re actively trying not to hurt each other,” She said looking at them. “It’s like they’re different people.”

“You know we can hear everything that you’re saying right,” Cat said over her shoulder, annoying the girls doing her make-up and hair.

“So? You two are acting weird. I mean weirder than usual,” I told them.

“We’re getting along. Is that really such a bad thing?” Harry asked me.

“No. But it’s still weird,” Jasmin responded.

“Can we just finish getting ready?” Cat asked us all.

“Sure,” the rest of us mumbled getting back to our phones.

“Ready?” Cat asked with a smile.

“How are you so happy?” I asked her.

“I may or may not have snuck on stage last year when they did the big marvel announcement with Dot. It’s not that scary,” She told me.

“Of course you did,” Jasmin mumbled, walking on stage as she was called, followed by me, Harry and finally Cat for our big panel.

After 45 minutes of talking and questions with Rick we finally got to the part we were all dreading and looking forward to.

“Hi,” An over-excited teenager told us through the mic.

“Hi,” We all waved back.

“I just have two questions. One, what happened to Harrison’s soulmark? And two, what was your favourite part of recording?” She asked still too excited.

“I decided that it was in a weird place so I wanted to cover it up,” He told her.

“That and he had a hickey this morning,” Cat yelled from her seat cheekily.

“Yeah, and if anyone gave it to him it was you,” I scoffed.

“I WAS ASLEEP IN MY ROOM WITH JASMIN BINGING CHARMED ALL NIGHT!” She yelled back at me.

“I fell asleep at 9 you could have sneaked out,” Jasmin poked.

“Why am I friends with you?” Cat asked annoyed with us and our shenanigans before moving on. “My favourite part of recording was getting to miss math tests and PE,” She told the girl.

“You missed PE?” Rick asked her angrily.

“NO!” She said sounding scared of him, giving the audience a little scared look. We all laughed. And when I say all I mean the entire hall.

JULY 26th: Jasmin

“Last day,” I said, getting on the bus to the hall.

“Last day,” Cat smiled from her seat, patting the one next to her for me to sit in.

“Finally, I can get back to Atlanta,” Brenten said excited about the prospect of getting back to work with his other friends.

“And I can get back to football,” Harrison said throwing one to me.

“I can get back to ignoring you and not getting along with you,” Cat smiled at the boy, catching the ball before it hit her in the head.

“Children, Children, settle down,” Brie said walking onto the bus.

“I’ll settle down when he stops throwing things at me,” Cat whined.

“I’ll stop throwing things when she stops being annoying,” Harry whined back.

“Why did I have to hire you two?” Rick asked himself sitting down on the bus. I agree with him, why did he have to hire them? Cat, I get. Harry, I get. But together, that was a mistake. Even Dot saw it. And she’s insane.

“Maybe I can get some sleep when all of this is over,” I mumbled resting my head on Cat’s shoulder as the bus started making the trip to the convention center for the final day.

“IT’S OVER!” I yelled collapsing on the bed in joy.

“And on to the next thing,” Cat said taking off her shoes on her own bed. “There’s a Netflix party Brenten was invited to with Stranger Things and he wants us to go,” She told me.

“Fine, what’s the dress code?” I asked her annoyed that our friend was inviting us to a party.

“PJs. It’s a slumber party,” She said revealing her joke.

“I’ll come but you have to snuggle with Harry or at least not fight him,” I told her, getting up to grab my bag so that I could find my PJs.

“I’m not snuggling and I will not get in a fight but if he starts one I will end one,” She informed me, doing the same.

“We’ll see,” I said as we got changed and ran down the hall to Millie’s room.

“We’re here!” Cat announced as we ran in.

“And still in long sleeves,” Millie noted.

“And it will stay that way because I’m cold,” Cat told her getting into her bed.

“Are all British people this insane?” Finn asked us.

“Not all, but some,” Cat told him, “You haven’t met my sisters yet, trust me this is me at about 20% insane.”

“Oh lord,” Caleb muttered.

“Movies,” Millie said grabbing the remote before any more insanity could happen. Though she didn’t account for the look that Harry was giving Cat and the look she occasionally gave him.

[geewithluv]

jungkook ♛ meeting her parents

Ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Jeon Jungkook x Fem!OC Emmie

Ｇｅｎｒｅ：Fluff

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ： none

Ｒａｔｉｎｇ：G

Ｗｏｒｄ Ｃｏｕｎｔ：1.4k

Ａ／Ｎ： «this belongs in my headcanon universe and you can read the other parts in the masterlist, the description of the characters is [here] so you get a summary of who they are. »

ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ

Emmie had a big family. A really big family. Big enough that she had to triple check she brought gifts for everyone because a double-check had proven inadequate. She was one of 8 children and her aunts and uncles all had at least 3 kids as well. Annual family reunions looked more like concerts and despite having moved to Korea after her study-abroad turned into a dream job 3 years ago, she hadn’t missed a single family reunion and she refused to.

 Emmie and Jungkook had been together for about a year when family reunion season came around. It was between the Europe and Asia legs of the Speak Yourself Tour which worked out really well for Jungkook who wanted to meet Emmie’s family. 

 Emmie had explained to Jungkook that you didn’t just meet her family, you experienced them and she wasn’t sure a family reunion would be the best idea. They’d only been dating for a year and sure she wouldn’t be the first person to bring their partner, her cousin once brought a guy she had only been dating for a month and they broke up during the barbeque. But she was still worried. She knew it would be the 3rd year where her relatives would wonder if she was secretly miserable in Korea. She knew they did it out of concern for her but that didn’t make it any less annoying and she didn’t want to throw Jungkook into that.

 He insisted, however. And she agreed. Her mother was so excited Emmie thought she’d come to Korea herself to gather the couple. Her father shared similar feelings but played his ‘protective dad’ role well over the phone when she called them. 

 To Jungkook, this trip was an adventure. It was also a way to prove how serious he was about their relationship. He was so deeply in love and no matter how many times he said it and how many times she said it back and told him that she knew he loved her, he still felt like she didn’t really get it.

 “I think my mom had to straightjacket Amber.” Emmie tells Jungkook, referring to her 15-year-old sister who was a huge fan and upon figuring out Emmie was dating THE Jeon Jungkook had done her best Mariah Carey “Emotions” whistle note only cover on the phone. And she nearly fainted when she figured out she’d be able to actually meet him and talk to him. Emmie was less than thrilled as she tried to guide her sister into not being weird around her boyfriend (“No you cannot call him Jungkook-oppa.” “Why not?” “Because it’s weird.” “But he’s my oppa…” “He’s not your-- never mind.”). She loved her sister but not this part of her.

 Jungkook laughed. “She’s that excited?”

 “You have no idea. She might try to kidnap you.”

 “I’m always up for a little danger to get the blood pumping.” He said as the flight attendants started their spiel on safety protocol.

 Emmie had told Jungkook about her life back home. Her parents didn’t have a lot of money even before they decided to have 8 kids but they made ends meet, even if it meant small dinners and stocking up on cafeteria food at school to bring home. Bills were paid, water running, clothes on their back. They couldn’t complain. But it wasn’t great. There was still stress over paying bills and buying clothes as the children grew that carried over into their adult lives. It’s actually how Emmie started sewing, at first it was fixing holes and buttons and then sewing shirts and dresses for school.

 Emmie explained that her parents named all 8 kids after jewels. Crystal, Garnet, the twins Jasper and Jet, herself Emerald, Sterling, Ruby, and Amber. They hoped that the names would serve as some sort of prophecy and it seemed to work. The 6 old enough to had gone to college or got into a trade, the two youngest were doing good in school, and 2 of them were in happy marriages. 

 It really did work out well. To the relief of many who worried that the couple just birthed 8 children into the poverty cycle. 

 The couple caught a cab to Emmie’s house after deciding that she didn’t want to settle the ongoing argument over who will go to the airport to pick them up.

 “Oh my god…” Emmie said as the car pulled up to her home. Written on a banner hanging from her porch was “welcome home Emmie & Jungkook!” with some accompanying doodles she’s sure is the work of Amber. Though Jungkook found it endearing, Emmie found it embarrassing and her cheeks tinted a color similar to her hair.

 “That’s so nice!” Jungkook smiled as they got out of the cab, paying the driver and grabbing their bags. They hardly had time to stretch their legs before the whole family piled out of the house and straight into a group hug that Jungkook was not expecting to be pulled into. Questions started flying from everyone’s mouth, ‘how was the plane’ ‘did you bring anything’ ‘how’ve you been’ ‘are you excited’ it reminded Jungkook of all the times he was accosted at the airport.

 “One at a time, please.” Emmie huffed as her family started to release from the hug. “Can we get inside?” She asked with a laugh.

 “C’mon, c’mon. I got your room all ready for ya’ll!” Emmie’s mother clapped her hands together excitedly as various siblings started grabbing suitcases.

 Jungkook learned quickly that Emmie’s house was organized chaos. He wasn’t too surprised, the BTS dorms were similar in that way especially when they were younger and there were 3 less people there. 

 “Now, Aunt Betsy wants us over there a little early. Says she’s got some clothes she wants you to fix up and I tried to tell her you were on a vacation but you know how she is. Your father’s sister, truly.” Emmie’s mother tutted at the dinner table as food got passed around. 

 “It’s alright, momma.” She said truthfully. She never really took vacations anyway, she was always thinking about her job no matter how much Jungkook tried to get her to take a full break.

 “Now, Jungkook.” Her mother spoke and Jungkook jerked his head up from the mashed potatoes. “I was fully planning on showing you all Emmie’s cute little baby photos--”

 Emmie interjected with a gasp, “Momma!”

 “--I’ve got binders full of pictures of all my children, but Miss Amber here would just die if you saw her in ‘em too.”

 “Momma!” Amber screeched.

 “My god, you banshee!” Sterling, Emmie’s 21 year old brother, scolded. “You’ll make the guy lose his hearing and then how will he be able to sing, huh? Gonna sue you for damages or something, I can see the headlines now--”

 “The kid’s already a tomato, Sterling, cut it out.” The eldest, Crystal pointed at her youngest sister. Emmie was trying not to laugh and she could tell Jungkook was too. 

 “Ya know, Amber called every damn radio station she could find trying to win tickets to your show!” Ruby, only a couple years older than Amber, chimed in.

 “Really?” Jungkook’s eyebrows raised, he knew fans did a lot but he couldn’t imagine the time it took.

 “Yeah! She spent more time doing that than she did on her homework.” Ruby continued.

 Amber was quick to defend herself. “I wasn’t alone! You called like half of ‘em when you weren’t busy flirting with Jake from your--”

 “We are not talking about that!” Ruby dropped her fork in shock.

 “Whose Jake?!” All four brothers started.

 “Here we go.” Emmie groaned.

 “Now, look. I got one sister married, one dating, and now I gotta worry about another with some guy named Jake? I’m driving you to school from now on!” Garnet, the second eldest said.

 “Cut it out. You guys are gonna make Jungkook think we’re crazy.” Emmie’s father finally spoke up. “We should all just sit here and have a nice meal. See, Emmie’s not bickering back and forth. Being real mannered. C’mon y'all.”

 “Emmie’s only quiet cause she’s trying to impress her boyfriend.” Jet scoffed.

 “Hey, did Emmie ever tell you about the time when she was 8 and a girl in her class--”

 “Jasper!”

 “Oh this has to be good.” Jungkook motioned for Jasper to continue.

 After the evening had settled and Emmie and Jungkook had gotten ready for bed, Jungkook turned to her.

 “Your family is a lot.” He said.

 “Sorry.” She murmured with a sigh as she turned out the light.

 “No, no. I like it. It’s nice.” He spoke with a fond smile. “I just hope I’ll fit in.” He wrapped his arm around her. 

 “You already do. Get some sleep, I love you.” She kissed his lips softly.

 “Love you too.”

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.11

Ao3  N.10  N.12

Preview: Eddie studied her intensively that dinner. Looking at the lines mapping her face and wondering: What makes us different?

What defined you own me? What defined you’re right and I’m wrong?

Nothing defined it. That’s the answer.

Monday 24.05.1993

Monday night could be described with simple words: a mess.

Richie was shaking way too hard to get a firm grip when climbing down, and his eyes were still too watery to make out the exact spots he should have stepped on. As a result, he ended up losing balance and having a bad landing, bending his ankle slightly and falling on his ass in the middle of the Kaspbrak's backyard.

His breathing was off, accelerated and wheezy. Richie wondered if that was any close to what Eddie goes through.

It hurt, it hurt it hurt it hurt.

He grasped at the front of his shirt with one hand and lifted the other up to cover his mouth.

He kissed Eddie.

Slowly, whimpering and hiccupping, he lifted himself off the ground and limped his way to retrieve his bike from the grass, not even bothering to wipe off the dirt from his clothes. Richie couldn't trust himself to ride, so he took rushed steps home, bike by his side. With a swirling, distracted brain, he hoped that no cars would come crashing onto him, for he had no capacity to look out for any incoming danger. By the time he got to his street, his tears had dried, his ankle stopped aching, but his chest remained alerted and alive. A mess.

Luck didn’t seem to be on his side, as if that wasn't already obvious. Richie got home safely, at least, and he was looking forward to… well, maybe to drown in his loud thoughts for the night. Sue himself for crying. Think about the horrible consequences of what he did. Anything, really, rather than what actually happened.

Before he could reach his bedroom door, a heavy hand settled on his shoulder and dragged him into the kitchen, where he was forced to sit at the table, dinner served, with both his parents staring expectantly at him. As if they accomplished something amazing and needed their son’s approval.

Richie’s eyes were, without a doubt, still bloodshot, puffy the least. The shaking was bad, too. He couldn't draw a line between trying to act normal or freaking everyone out.

"Is it Christmas, already? What a lovely family reunion." He licked his lips, they tasted salty.

"Richard." His mom, (Wow, his mom!) glared at him, before laying a hand on top of his. Richie stared down at her skinny fingers on top of his, ringless for once. Seriously, the way he was shaking was preoccupying. He retrieved his hand to himself with the excuse to start eating.

"Bueno appétit." He said through an obviously forced smile.

  The meal was close to be over by now and everything still felt weird, unreal. Their voices were far, but there, the food was tasteless. He couldn't control his own body, moving on its own to grab the fork and wrap around a glass of water.

I kissed Eddie.

He was torn out of his inner battle by a heavy slap against the wooden table. Then a sigh. The water in his cup trembled, and Richie related to it.

"Are you on something, Richie?" His dad's voice stopped him from getting the fork to his lips, took Richie a few seconds to let it sink.

…He thinks you’re drugged.

Slowly, Richie put the fork down and stared at the two foggy figures in front of him. He wanted to scream.

Look at them, looking at you. They think you've lost it, they think you're an addict. They think you're gone, lost. They must love you, that's how it works. They must love you.

Right?

The two figures became less human, the food started to lose its scent, too.

They think you're a freak.

  Eddie pushed you away.

  Richie laughed, ran a hand over his hair, scrapped his chair on the floor while getting up.

He didn't hear his own laughs, he didn't hear the chair, he didn't command his body to get up. He didn't command his mouth, either.

"I really must fucking be!” He exclaimed enthusiastically.

He left the kitchen, then. Didn’t hear any protests, didn’t feel the ground under his feet as he padded his way down the hallway towards the bedroom. The door shut behind him.

Richie heard it close.

-click-

Richie thought back to a few hours ago, when he had woken up and been so sure that the day was a promise of a good one. And despite all the events that just happened to him, to them, despite the way he was feeling right now, at the end of the day, there was one thing he could be sure of.

Eddie kissed him back.

 -

 It’s been nine minutes since Eddie had to sit down for dinner after being kissed. Which shouldn’t be something worth mentioning, or thought of, because people do that all the time. A lot of kissing happens everywhere, all the time.

But not for Eddie, no. But once again, it’s not every day that you push away the person who kissed you because you were hit with an image of… of?

Eddie searched and searched, and nothing came up. But it was probably due to the rollercoaster of emotions hitting the sides of his skull from the inside. Or because he was distracted looking at his mom's face while she ate. It was sort of disturbing, but he’s gotten used to it by now.

Oh, right! A demon clown masked as a rotting hobo who also happened to offer him blowjobs in forgotten dreams. And recurring memories, apparently.

Eddie felt the poor amount of food he managed to eat slowly inch up his throat. He gulped it down with more peas.

There was an image stuck on Eddie’s brain. And it was Richie, the moment he burst into tears after their lips separated. Later, Eddie would learn to connect to that feeling. For now, he feels extremely worried and guilty and sad, because when Richie cried Eddie felt like the world needed to stop until he could prove to him how much he’s worth.

Eddie tried to push these thoughts away, at least during dinner, because he couldn’t afford another confrontation with his mom about anything at all. So he had to look as normal as he could from the outside, which was possibly the hardest thing he ever tried to accomplish while his brain was filled with Richie.

His scent, like the quarry’s water; his warm skin, heated by the sun all day long; his revolted eyes filled with emotions Eddie couldn’t comprehend, yet; his touch, desperate, needy, welcomed; his lips, as full as Eddie as ever seen them, as pretty as Eddie ever thought of them to be; his tears. They weighted more than Eddie could have ever carry. But now he had to, for he was the one who caused them.

It was a stupid assumption, but Eddie was absolutely sure his mom knew about what he did. As if he had the evidence slapped on his face. Maybe he had, actually.

Do people change after kissing for the first time?

He studied her intensively that dinner. Looking at the lines mapping her face and wondering: What makes us different?

What defined you own me? What defined you’re right and I’m wrong?

Nothing defined it. That’s the answer.

You don’t own me. You’re not right. I’m not wrong. (If only he could believe that.)

The way he is shouldn't harm anyone, unless people are consuming hate for every meal. Much like Eddie has been doing since he can remember. Much like he was doing right now.

He stared down at his barely touched plate. As an excuse, he told his mom he ate just before coming home, which she wasn’t happy about.

She feeds you hate, you feed her lies. It goes the other way around too, doesn't it?

Eddie didn't want to answer.

    Tuesday 25.05.1993

  It was very late, Richie needed sleep and he should have been in bed for a long time, by now. But he couldn't.

Yes, it was late, but time had no voice when it came to a swirling mind hit with a wave of inspiration. It was more forced than hit, actually. He needed to get things done as soon as possible, that entitled forcing his eyes to stay open and his hands to work faster than his thoughts could be generated. Which was already pretty fast, believe it.

And inspiration might even be the wrong term, also. Richie didn't have a lot of that, he had the full living experience. That’s what got the words flowing.

 Today was a silent nightmare at school, a poor attempt at pretending nothing had happened between them. Or more like processing what happened quietly to themselves until the right time came around, or until they went insane. Richie was close to crossing that line.

Around this time of the school year, some teachers ended classes a little bit earlier, which made the whole “avoiding one-on-one contact” thing easier.

But Richie was pretty sure everyone knew something was up, anyway. Yesterday they were in the best mood possible, and their friends saw him leaving with Eddie. It wasn't too hard to figure out why both of them looked like they hadn't slept for a year, nor smiled. Even if their giggles had been painting the quarry less than 24 hours ago. (Not that Richie knew if Eddie looked as miserable as he did, neither of them stared at each other once.)

That was the reason, Richie suspected, Bev cornered him after school was over and stopped him from going home to mourn alone.

Richie spent the whole afternoon in her company, walking mindlessly trough the streets of Derry while she tried to get him to talk. He was grateful to have her, really, but he wasn't in the mood to talk about what happened, yet. He simply told her they argued, which was only half of the whole truth. Bev dropped it for the moment, and they talked about other stuff. About her aunt, her house life changes, about stupid things and whatelse. It wasn't until they were sharing a slice of lemon pie from Derry's local diner that she dropped a bomb on him, or something close to that.

“We should play some of your originals next time.”

The suggestion had Richie dropping a fork for the second time in less than two days.

They were, indeed, planning on having a second party this week as well, because, why not? It was a success, and everyone enjoyed themselves.

“Something about relevant people in your life.” Bev specified.

Yup. There it was.

She was hinting at him singing dopey love songs, or something. Maybe she thought that he’d come up with a great way of relieving his deepest sorrows surrounding Eddie through heartfelt songs.

The thing is, Richie didn't want to do that, and even if he did…

Most of his originals were left unfinished, his quick-thinking brain spat out half a song and then decided "Well, that's enough sharing for a day." Also, more importantly, they were all about his insecurities, about himself, about the non-great side of carrying a life as Richie Tozier.

He didn't have it in him to write about anything else.

He never wrote a song about those kinds of feelings, or Eddie. And there’s boundaries, for Christ’s sake. ‘Hey, Eds. You just rejected me and I couldn’t take it, so here’s a song I wrote about you.’ Yeah, sure.

He didn't turn her down, instead, he asked. “Do we have enough time for something like that?"

A long argument and a few lemon bites later, they met in the middle. The party would be put off to Saturday night, and in return Richie would bring them some originals to test out next afternoon. That meant a single day away.

So, when Richie got home today, he had no choice but to go through the few pages filled over the last years with shitty lyrics, trying to find some that he didn’t hate as hard as others. He spent the rest of the day changing some things, making them better and coming up with melodies for the ones he forgot or the ones he didn't like enough. He hadn't look at the clock yet, but he felt the need to rest weighting on him. There wasn't really a point in going to bed if he’d just stare at the blackness of the insides of his eyelids. That’s what happened last night, and he knew it wouldn't be much different this time.

At some point, he wondered if there would be a dinner served table today, but he suspected that yesterday was a once in a lifetime occurrence. (That didn’t go that well, to be fair.)

His hands were smudged from the pencil-written words, a headache was starting to grow form, but he knew he wouldn’t leave this unfinished. Now, he stared at the paper sheets scattered in front of him. A sigh left his tired body, reminding him of the dull throbbing forming in the small of his back.

It’s been one day; Richie tried not to feel too guilty. So far, he was failing.

 -

 It was late, Eddie was in bed trying desperately to fall asleep, but it wasn't working so far. His brain was incapable of shutting off for a minute, always screaming back to himself and indulging in useless lectures and self-advice that he knew he would never act upon.

He tossed aggressively around in his bed, angry at himself and needing a way to push all of the hateful energy out of his body.

It’s been one day. A single, miserably long day. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. He tried really hard, but it was there in the back of his mind at any time of the day.

Giving him little nudges in the shoulder: Hey, so… Richie kissed you.

Flicking his forehead: You kissed him back, by the way.

Like shoulders bumping in a hallway: You liked it, don’t deny it.

It was honestly fucking exhausting. The worst one so far had happened while he was trying to focus on the words on the board of his philosophy class.

It felt more like his chair disappeared from under his body: You pushed him away, you dumb fuck. Nice move, jerk.

He felt stupid and awful and guilty for the way Richie was left, confused. Eddie was so goddamn angry with himself.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

Today, there were actual times when he had to sit down and think back to the moment. The reason why he pulled away from Richie’s touch was mostly a complete blur, again. Yet, he knew there was something beyond his usual worries, because one thing he knew for sure was that not even once did it cross his mind how wrong it was to kiss another boy while he was doing it.

Eddie had to grab his hair strongly and really focus on the thing. And even then, the leper’s image and voice were so faded and weak that he couldn’t be sure if it was that that led him to feel burnt, anymore.

It’s been long since the leper encounter. Eddie wouldn’t say he forgot, but he certainly didn’t spend a second thinking about it, anymore. It was scary how quickly it faded from his brain if he wasn't purposely dragging it back. This was a fight against himself. Eddie didn't want to remember, but he couldn't forget. Richie deserved an explanation, and Eddie started to believe that by the time he felt ready to give it to him, he wouldn't remember again. He didn't know if he should be grateful or not. Which was worse? Forgetting or being haunted?

The forgetting itself haunts him, still.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie threw the single sheet covering his body to the feet of the bed, battled with it for a while when it got tangled on his ankle, and got up, defeated. With a locked jaw and a tense neck, he strode up to the mirror standing on top of his dresser, and even with the shitty lighting, he studied his restless reflection. It stared right back at him.

‘What have I done?’ He groaned internally. He fucked it all up…

Eddie tried, in vain, to spit something out, anything. The silence was deafening, a soft buzzing mushing his brain. He had to do this, the first step was this, right here.

He stared at his mouth, but all it did was remind him of  Richie’s.

Go on, do it. Say it.

But nothing came and no words formed. Only pictures and colors and emotions that he couldn’t name or put into words. They didn’t feel nice.

Eddie placed his elbows on the dresser and dropped his face on his hands for a few exasperating seconds before looking up to the mirror again.

He lost count of the minutes that passed, each of those suffocated him more and more until he gave in to his weak knees and had to sit down on the floor. His blurry eyes focused on the dark handles his mom had picked out when she bought him the dresser. They had soft edges, to prevent kids from getting injured. She had said-

He couldn't do this.

Everywhere he looked, there was always something to remind him of the things that could go wrong if he ever accepted who he was.

Especially in that mirror.

   Wednesday 26.05.1993

 "I can't believe how fucking great these are."

For a moment, Richie was confused. The words were definitely something Beverly would say, but it was actually Mike who spoke. In fact, Bev hadn't said anything at all since Richie passed them his drafts filled with awful handwriting.

"Yeah? You think so?" Richie, who was sitting on their famous red couch staring at his two friends leaning against the stage's side, finally looked up to Mike's face expectantly.

"Yeah, man! You have talent, Rich." To that, Richie smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck, not really sure how to react.

He adverted his attention to Bev. From the corner of his eye he saw Mike doing the same. She had a conflicted expression, eyes locked in the papers she was holding.

"You do have talent, Richie." She then moved away from the stage and kneeled down in front of him, putting the papers slowly to the side and hugging Richie around the waist, his knees between their bodies.

"Aw, Marsh. You're getting all sappy for me here?" He held her back, anyway, no one wanted to refuse a hug from their favorite read-head.

Mike chuckled light-heartedly. "Your words moved our girl."

"Shut up." Bev's voice came muffled from Richie's shirt before she detached herself from him and sat down on the left side of couch, instead. She picked up the paper sheets again. "It's not my place to ask this, Rich. But this..." She handed him the top sheet, Richie accepted it and quickly realised which song it was. He cut Bev off before she got the chance to speak.

"I know, it's not like that."

"We love you, Richie."

"I know, it's not like that, I swear." He repeated. "I know how you guys feel about me. This is just…” how I feel about myself. He finished the sentence to himself.

"But what you wrote... it sounds..."

"Yeah, it does." He chuckled poorly. "But it's not about-, at least not just that… it's-" He sighed. "Please, don't take it at heart... I didn't mean to-"

"We know. I just needed to make sure you know how much you mean to us, okay?"

Mike sat at his other side. Richie stared at his knuckles for pure entertainment.

"You do mean a lot to us." Mike said, it was something more in tune with his usual comforting words. It made Richie smile.

"My words moved you, too, uh?” He scratched his wrists mindlessly. “You guys mean a lot to me, too. I’m sorry the song sounds so... harsh?"

"I think it sounds the way it should." Bev put an arm around his shoulders, Mike mimicked her actions from the other side. "It sounds like you feel, or felt, when you wrote it."

Mike rubbed random circles on Richie's shirt. "And we can make it justice, now. Together."

In that moment, Richie thought of saying something. Or everything.

That he couldn't hide the way he felt for Eddie anymore, that he was sick of pretending, and tired. That Eddie drove him crazy when he showed off any signs of possibilities that never had a title. That Richie did something reckless on Monday, something that felt incredibly right but wrong at the same time. That he had been feeling guilty over it because he didn't want to push things further than they should be pushed, and that all he could think of was the need to apologise. That things could have gone differently. That maybe it would have worked out better. That he was going nuts without knowing what to do, if he should even do anything besides waiting.

That he needed to talk.

Instead, he said.

"Shall we start a real practice, my trustful comrades?"

 -

 Spending time with his mom was just as bad as he remembered. The only difference was that when he was younger, Eddie didn’t know why he felt so weird when he spent afternoons in her presence, now he does. He simply hates it. They had already watched three episodes of some unknown baking show, and Sonia was in total bliss that her son was spending his time at home with her, for once. Eddie was so bored that he even pretended to have homework, but even then, his mom begged him to do it next to her, so he’s been doing English exercises that he had already done before. It’s not like he would have gotten any real work done, with her constant comments about the contenders’ clothing choices or physical aspects.

Eddie supposed it was his own fault that he was stuck at home. He put himself there. Instead of choosing to hang with any of his friends, he had actually chosen to come home, not really sure of what he was expecting from that decision.

After the fourth verbal attack to some woman’s lipstick choice, Eddie not so subtly groaned and tossed his head back against the couch. He actually thought it was a nice shade of purple… His mom stared at him from her recliner.

“Sorry, ma. I can’t really understand this part, I think I’ll go to my bedroom for a while to be more focused.”

She started to say something about tutoring classes, and for his own sake, Eddie blocked it all out before kissing her cheek and rushing to the stairs. He thought about kicking his door open but settled for opening it like a regular human being. Instead, he tossed his pencil case straight into the mirror when he passed it, purposely ignoring the possibilities of it breaking before launching himself onto his bed dramatically. He groaned onto the bed covers. Curiosity won him over after a few seconds. Eddie lifted his head and bent his neck just enough to check for any possible damage on the mirror. There wasn’t any, so he let his head fall back on the sheets, now having his left cheek pressed upon them.

He sighed and allowed himself to rest upon the comfortable silence, but his eyes betrayed him when they slowly drifted upwards and settled on one of his pillows.

For a second, a sudden thought of kissing it for practice attacked his mind out of nowhere. Eddie felt himself grow red, quickly feeling stupid and wanting to throw that same pillow on that same mirror for no other reason than because he hated both those items.

“Great, now I hate myself and my stuff.” He mumbled, annoyed.

He turned his body around so that he could be staring at his white ceiling. Unwittingly, Eddie started to relive their confrontation right in front of his eyes, in this exact room. And he couldn’t help it but picture it if things have followed a different path. If he hadn’t pulled away, left running. If he had said something nicer, truthful. If his past hadn’t come to haunt him on the worst possible moment. It would have been so much better, but that’s all there is to it. These things only happen in his head, in his fantasies. But he decided to feed into these helpless wants and kept on imagining how things would have turned out if he kept kissing Richie.

Eddie closed his eyes, for once, he felt relaxed in the dark that it created. It wasn’t long until he felt himself drifting into a well needed nap.

   Thursday 27.05.1993

 "So, how long are we going to pretend nothing's going on?" Stan asked.

All of them were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Bill had just asked them if anyone wanted to come over after school, to which Eddie and Richie quickly jumped in to refuse, speaking at the same time and so fast that the others needed a second to understand what they'd said.

"Sorry, I have plans with my mom."

"Band practice, Big Bill."

After the awkward silence that followed, Ben was kind enough to break the tension.

"Sure, Bill. I'll come."

Then, Beverly and Mike excused themselves with the same reason as Richie's, leaving Stan to give one last answer. That's when he sighed and asked the question that left the air even less breathable.

"What do you mean?" Ben inquired, after zero responses came.

What followed next wasn't directed towards him, but Ben did feel like he was being scolded. Stan had that power.

"I mean are you all kidding me?" Stan snapped, nowhere close to hearing Bill telling him to 'Take it easy, Stan.' "I have no idea what's going on, but it's been three days now and I'm really not a fan of this 'neglecting each other's presence' thing." He looked around the table with obvious annoyance.

"Who's neglecting who, Stan?" Eddie's voice made everyone snap heads towards him, Richie included. He sounded exhausted and indifferent with this topic.

"Oh, I don't know, Eddie. You just told us you had afternoon plans with your mom. Am I supposed to believe that's not an incredible childish excuse?"

Eddie didn't bother to answer, same dead eyes locked firmly with him.

"Just because you and Richie have something up your asses, doesn't mean you can't hang with your other friends, you know? That's us, right here." He motioned one hand around the table, knocking off a juice bottle in the process.

"Stan, that's enough." Beverly cut in. Richie looked down at his lunch.

"I'm only trying to solve things, it's not mature to pretend people don't exist because of a stupid-"

"You have the worst fucking methods for solving things, apparently." Eddie snarled at him. Richie groaned from his seat and buried his face on his hands.

Silence fell around the table again. Richie kept his face hidden for a second before he felt Bev's hand laying on his shoulder. He looked up at her with desperate eyes.

'Smoke?' She mouthed.

"Yes, please." He said out loud, leaving everyone without context. The two of them packed the remaining’s of their food. Beverly pecked Ben's lips and whispered something in his ear before they left through the cafeteria's door, leaving the group in an awkward silence.

After a while, Stan sighed. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. I don't like to see you fight, that's all."

"No one's fighting." Eddie said, poking his peas with the fork.

Stunned, Stan arched an eyebrow at him. "You're not?"

With a shrug, Eddie tried his best to explain. "No? I don't think so... There wasn't- we just-" He sighed.

"It's okay.” Stan said after the struggling. “You don’t have to tell us.”

Eddie nodded, shoulders slumped. “Thanks. Maybe one day I will…”

 -

 "I kissed him."

Beverly started to choke, Richie didn't know if it was on her own spit or from the cigarette she had been smoking the exact second he blurted that out to her.

"You what, now?" She managed to say through her jagged breaths.

Richie, still in his adrenaline state from the confession, told her again. "I kissed Eddie." Then, he let his shoulders slump defeat.

The moment Bev's lips broke into the hugest grin, Richie grew so embarrassed he turned around from her and kicked the brick wall that belonged to the gym's outside. Beverly was on him in an instant, pushing him away from the wall so that she could face him from the front again, cigarette now stepped on the ground.

"No fucking way." She was beaming at him, eyes all sparkly. "I'm so proud of you, holy shit." Richie, very much red faced, stared at her in disbelief.

"Uh... I don't know how to ask this without sounding insensible but... Are you blind? Deaf? Suffered from possible brain damage?" Her smile slowly started to fall, Richie felt like a jerk. "Bev, my love, guess why we're avoiding each other."

"Gee, thanks, I'm not that stupid." She looked at him with fake annoyance.

"But..." Richie moved his hands aimlessly. "Then why the hell are you proud?"

"Because!" She exclaimed, smile back on her face. "Rich, I'm gonna be honest. I never thought you'd grow balls to do that."

Richie gaped like a fish, his skin somehow feeling more and more hot with every passing second. "Alright, that's valid."

Beverly slapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, tell me the nitty details."

Richie shook his head and switched his weight on his feet, always finding new ways to fidget in place. He closed his eyes then, so as to not see her face when he said. "I basically tackled him... Oh god. Bev, fuck. It was a fucking mess." He sighed and threw his head back to look at the sky. "I cried like a baby..."

Everything was quiet for a moment, Richie didn't dare to look at her. He felt her hands resting on both his shoulders again. It made him relax.

"I'm sorry, Richie. You don't need to tell me, but you can, if that's what you need."

Richie exhaled through his nostrils and moved around her body without looking at her eyes, or he'd grow embarrassed. He sat down on the gravel, feeling the brick digging onto his back.

He sighed, determined. "I left with him on Monday, after we dropped you off at home."

Quietly, Beverly sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She stayed silent, a sign for Richie to continue.

"I... I don't know what came over me, but I was so happy. We were all so... so us. You know?" She hummed in agreement. "And, and I felt like, I needed to say something, Bev. I needed, or I would explode, you'd be seeing my guts around Derry for months." She actually laughed at that. Richie smiled despite his troubled emotions. "We argued in his room, as I told you.” A pause.  “I think-” He fell silent for a long time, Bev listened closely to his breathing.

 "I think Eddie knew I was going to do something like that, so he tried to stop me." Richie gulped down the tiny knot in his throat. "That's when I ..." Bev grabbed one of his shaking hands. "And then I cried while we were-" Richie chuckled poorly. "Who the hell cries?"

"Richie, there's nothing wrong with crying." Her voice was soothing.

"Yeah, sure." He laughed. "You wouldn't get offended if someone kissed you and then burst into tears?"

She lifted her head and looked at him unamused. "We're talking Eddie here, dickhead. It's not like you two are strangers." Richie shrugged, unconvinced. His waterline was burning.

“That’s not my point, Bev.” He shook his head and let it fall against the wall. “I shouldn’t have done it when he clearly didn’t want me to.”

“Okay, and how do you know he didn’t?” With a groan, Richie kicked his legs out in front of him in a childish move. Beverly poked his side gently. "Can I ask you something?"

Richie didn’t say anything, so she kept going.

"Eddie kissed you back, didn’t he?” At a loss of words, Richie squealed when he started to feel way too warm again. “See? That proves my-”

“-I know, I know! But I also know what he said to me after and that’s what matters in the end.”

“What matters is that you did something that clearly turned Eddie’s world around.” Richie slumped a little onto the wall. He was feeling a little lost, so he looked at Beverly and waited for an explanation.

“You made him experience something that he doesn’t know how to deal with. I think he needed this push, Rich, he can’t run away from what he feels now.”

“Unless, of course, he never talks to me again.” His tone made it sound like a joke, but Beverly saw right through it.

“Above anything else, Eddie is your best friend. He will come up to you, it might just take him longer.”

Richie didn’t feel the need to say anything else. He just sat there in silence, feeling way lighter now that he finally talked to someone. He looked at her, thankful, and Bev knew it was time to drop it.

Richie only broke the silence after six full minutes.

“Can you give me a stupid cigarette now?”

 It was only hours later, when he was on his way home after band practice with a stomach full of homemade orange cake that Mike's mom had baked so kindly, that Richie got a clearer mindset on how to feel.

Ever since it happened, he had been stuck reliving Monday's night, completely unable to put it out of his mind for a second along with the stress that it brought. But today, for the first time, it faded away for a while. He didn’t know if it was because he opened up to someone, but he suspected that that had helped.

It was a weird explanation, and it confused him, too, but if he had to put it into words... It felt like... like he got to the top of a mountain. The way up there was rough, unpleasant. Now, he waited for the outcome, it wasn't up to him to decide anymore. (That was Eddie's job.) Richie either got to stay at the top, or he'd come tumbling down in an even harsher way than the climb. He'd let his body rest at the base, if that was the case.

It was done, there was no going back. He was waiting, because he did what he could, and now he was in this exquisite dullness until the outcome came slamming onto him.

Dull is good, neutral, he could deal with that. Even if his eyes still held hope and sadness when he biked his way home and had to cross Eddie's street. Yeah, he could deal with that, too. He had to.

 -

 It wasn’t supposed to become a self-destructive routine, but that was the only way Eddie could think to describe this. This, being him standing in front of his bedroom’s mirror trying to do something he wasn’t really sure would even work. He was starting to feel stupid and pointless. But still, it was the third night he stood here, quiet, unspeaking and judging himself in endless, soundless ways.

It's the third night he had to look at the childish knobs, the third night he had to stare at his reflection, and the third night he couldn’t help but search for every minor physical similarity he had with the woman who’s currently sleeping on her old recliner, downstairs. So, to put it simply, Eddie has been having the worst possible nights of his life.

His intentions were for this to be the last one.

For a different approach, Eddie started by looking down at the pale wood of his dresser instead of his own face. It was an easier confrontation. Then, he thought back to that first night when Richie found him asleep on his own desk. On that same night, Richie had said what Eddie was trying to, right now. He simply blurted it out, no hate, no disgust attached… It might have been thrown in on a joke, but it still mattered. Eddie could always see when Richie’s jokes were plain bullshit, or when they brushed reality under his breath.

He remembered so vividly waking up to the sound of the window knocking, his heart rate picking up while he locked the door, the breath of fresh air that entered his lungs when he stepped out onto his own roof.

‘The roof.’ Eddie thought suddenly, his neck straightening. He stared in the mirror, but instead of staring at himself, he looked at his window’s reflection, where the night stood, outside. Eddie gave one last, shaky breath before turning around and going straight to his windowsill. He unlocked it slowly, as little noise as possible, and tried not to shake too badly as he stepped onto the rooftop tiles.

There were always more places to find yourself in besides a reflection, and this was one of those places. Richie taught him, without the mean to, that this roof could be a refuge from all the things that happen inside his home.

He allowed himself to take in the night sky, the night scent and the night’s peace. The moon looked tiny tonight, but Eddie felt big for a change. He locked both knees close to his chest and hugged both legs with intertwined hands. Lastly, he inhaled profoundly, closed his eyes, and started off by inwardly practicing the same speech he has been planning to say out loud.

‘You kissed Richie.’ A gulp.

‘You kissed another boy.’ A grimace.

“That’s fine.” Eddie eyes opened in shock, surprised that it fell out of lips without him trying to.

“You’re okay.” He tests the waters, his voice so weak it couldn’t be heard by anyone who tried. Eddie attempted to clear away the knot in his throat. With his premade speech forgotten, he decided to let his lips figure things out word by word. The whispers, although small, sounded stronger than Eddie as ever felt.

“You need to fix things and, and you’re normal… and you have feelings- so, what? Everyone does, that means you’re normal. You kissed a boy and it was Richie you liked it and that’s normal.” Eddie took a deep, unsteady breath and laid his body backwards so that he could stare at the sky. His hands fell by his hips, whole body tense but brave.

For the next words, however, Eddie did have to think and reform and rephrase for at least a couple of minutes, even though they were just two. And when he spoke them out to the night, they were still so far from feeling casual. Barely audible both by choice and small, inevitable hiccups.

“…You’re gay.” He said in a wheeze. “I’m gay.”

He waited for the moon to turn into something evil, he thought he’d be hit with more horrifying thoughts. But all there was to it was silence and the occasional crickets chirping on the tree next to his house. Eddie felt the smallest of chuckles leaving his mouth. He stood out there for longer than planned, until he could control his breathing again and until he had said those two words a few more times. They didn’t feel more familiar by the end of the night, but Eddie knew they would, with time.

When he brought up his hands to wipe his wet cheeks, he could feel the indents left behind by nails digging on skin.

Finding himself was harder than he expected.

   Friday 28.05.1993

  They had lunch outside today because the sun heating up the surface of their skin felt too good to pass up.

It was weird for Richie that his food, for the last week, could be considered a regular meal. No one had commented on it, but they still asked him if he wanted to eat whatever it was they couldn’t finish. Richie declined, but he didn’t pass up on the half jelly sandwich Ben offered today. It was homemade jam, c’mon.

He stretched one arm over the table to accept it over from Ben, who was sitting on the same bench, but in opposite edges. Richie didn’t do it on purpose, but his eyes automatically travelled to the spot where Eddie was sitting, in front of Ben. He almost dropped the sandwich when he saw that Eddie was already watching him with a fond but small smile.

Sadly, said smile dropped as if Eddie had been caught doing something wrong, but Richie beamed back in his direction, maybe too much teeth, before taking a huge bite out of the bread. He saw Eddie’s eyes light up in the slightest, but the boy still looked down to his boring food.

The conversation around the table was flowing easily, the little argument from yesterday forgotten. Richie ate in silence with his eyes trailed either on the table, or on Stan, because looking at Stan was entertaining. There was always something to be noticing. He couldn't decide if he should chance it to look up in Eddie’s direction again, but there wasn’t a chance to choose. Richie’s eyes moved without his consent and landed on that same spot. Surprisingly, Eddie was still looking at him as if he was searching for answers while eating from the little container he brought filled with cherries.

He must have been lost in thought because it took him a fairly long time to react this second time. Richie stopped chewing when Eddie’s eyes widened slightly. With worry, he watched as Eddie bent himself over the end of the table and turned around to start coughing aggressively onto the patches of grass beneath their feet. He was choking.

Bill, who was sitting by Eddie’s side, gave one heavy slap on his ribs from behind, causing Eddie’s body to hunch forwards and almost fall of the bench.

'Don't laugh. Don't laugh.'

“Fucking hell, Bill.” Eddie cursed under a rough, grating voice while turning back up to the table, all red-faced and massaging a hand on his chest. “No need to kill me, it was just a stupid seed.”

In the midst of all the chatter and checks to see if Eddie was actually okay, Richie was having a hard time not making a joke about popping a cherry out loud. He snickered through his mouthful of bread and peach jam, and Eddie turned his head to look at him with fake offense.

“Don’t you dare laugh at my disgrace.” Eddie tried to throw a cherry in Richie’s direction but, at the same time, he fell on another coughing fit that had him miss the target. The cherry fell on Bev’s lunchbox instead.

Richie barely heard her complaints, too focused on Eddie’s features and laughing. Eventually, everyone calmed down, Eddie could breath normally again, and Richie was left smiling dumbly at the almost finished sandwich.

It didn’t matter to Richie whether he climbed that mountain in vain or not. As long as he could stick around to witness that smile everyday, there was nothing else he could ask for.

rooftop taglist:   @richietoaster   @rainydayriots   @reddieloves    @thetrashmouthclub   @lemonboi03 @noodleboyshane    @pillsandglasses   @studpuffin      @dandelion-stan     @reddiesetrichie     @squishynonbinarytwink      @itschunky      @burymestanding     @duderrific    @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak  @youtubequeens   @reddieseggrolls   @addimagination   @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist:  @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

[ramblingshit]

Jane Eyre - 1934 - 4/5

Vodka-less and tired and very cold, we begin our journey to the very first talkie version of Jane Eyre.

ow my bra hurts. I wish I had vodka. this is so sad. wait i have a rokerdelig brb. depression strikes syet again - i drank it earlier. alright lets get started in the 30s whoop. wow audio quality 10/10 lolol. opening with john reed hunting her down and she's blonde oh no she's been found.  holy fuck he's throwing shit at her - SLAP BITCH GET HIM. nooooooooNOOOO why is it errored. okay fixed. aunt mary? oh damn she collapsed cause he pitched that cup at her what an ass - bessie is reading to her naw. she's cut out of a lot of them and never shown so kind at the time she's actually. oh shit. ahaha 'they're bad and i hate them.' 'since you hate us so much i bet you'll be happy to know i'm sending you to an orphanage.' 'yes i am happy' looool. 'go away! GO AWAY! goodbye!" hell yeah lil Jane you stand up to that bish. not quite the snappy shebang she says in the others but very satisfying nonetheless - a lot braver and more obstinate love it. oh no her curls snip snip. ohh her hair is cute af. and very 30s ahaha what a coincidence. wow she talks back like hey ahah. she's looking down at lowood preacher dude down her nose ahah. didn't say hell? ahahaha omg this is great so far. she's the best lil Jane I think I've seen. ohh interesting way to show passing of time - the flipping book pages and the showing of the top of the next chapter - skipping quite a few ahead. skipped helen? straight to her ahah oh shit -- teaching. she's standing up to brocklehurst like no ones business. 'you're dismissed! get out!' 'I'll get out - gladly!' ohmygod she's great she's so great none of that simpering and passivity she's taking the world by the balls.  'you cruel dingy childbeater!' 'you ought to be tarred and feathered you ugly old crocodile!' lmao im in love with her. she walks off laughing and happy about being dismissed. miss temple loves her and gonna miss her so sweet, brocklehurst was like holy damn wtf. ahaha her drivers a drunk, fukn flying across the road she's like bye m8. she's proud and above him and annoyed she has to walk rather than die in a carriage crash. oh damn now she meets no? yeah she's not even made it --oh fuck that horse FLIPPED. she helps unprompted and isn't hesitant in talking back and speaking up oh my god she just stalked off after helping him up ahaha. ahaha oh shit the drunk driver works at thornfield and when they asked why she walked instead of taking the carriage she covered his ass and said she just wanted to walk through the meadows and he's like oh thank fuck thank you jesus she just rolls her eyes with a smile. she speaks 3 languages and draws and plays - very accomplished. he's adele's uncle? Samuel Poole ey what a g m8. and he warns her out of the blue to keep her door locked at night. that 30s makeup is crazy awesome. round face, rosy cheeks, long brows and dark eye makeup and lips. short hair. Adele gives her the tour. she's proud and self-assured. poh damn they're only allowed on one side of the house - sam is married to grace poole. just dunno why she's blonde? probs cause she's supposed to be like angelic? anyway she's gorgeous and the angles are nice and the lighting is good--andw what era are these dresses jfc there's no way she could afford that dress fuck. and who curled her hair and that's a low bow whats happening it looks like a southern gone with teh wind situation. he's smaller than she is. he's bathed in darkness - the light is dimmer on him than her. she's even got a necklace. they're not sitting by the fire. he was too busy looking at her to notice her giving his tea. awkward sips ahaha. it's got like a diamond on the necklace. he looks like he's squatting on that tiny chair. oh shit she's gonna sing instead of play. yikes i hope she can--she's literally taller than him. oh she's gonna play and sing. she looks like blanche is supposed to look? and of course she can sing - all framed by candlelight and hanging crystals. the audio is crackling ahah wow incredible they can do it at all - one of the first talkies damn. 'lovely' wow she a mary sue? please don't be a mary sue.sings and yeets outta there not even finished her tea. far out that dress is not doing it for me. what world would a governess be dressed like that? she wears nothing but white. and journalling is never a good idea. but my god she's gorgeous---lots of SCREAMINGGG. and they're telling Jane that its just a servant and its clearly not grace poole doing the screaming? Fairfax knows? Jane can't blame Grace? Jane's like not freaked about it - i suppose she's journalling about it. Adeles a 'mischief' lol nice. she's ran from her lesson and climbed a tree and now she's stuck up there and Jane like doesn't hesitate just scales that tree after her 'uncle edward help! my foot's caught!' 'her foot's caught' 'her foot's caught, so i gathered.' he seems so gentle and kind and pleasant. gets adele out of the tree - 'and where would you like this package delivered, miss eyre?' ahaha cute ooh they know when rochester is leaving to london. he's handsome i'll give him that, it's better --wait when was blanche introduced. asking him when he's getting married and he says next month and adele asks if he's gonna marry blanche and he avoids the question and she starts on but is interrupted by a frantically gesticulating Jane shaking her head, and she cuts herself off and skips away all innocvently lol til she slips moron kid hit her knee ahahaha what a dumbass. Jane's helping clean the chandelier? and Adele is helping as well, that's cool. wtf this kids a moron getting herself headdown stuck in a vase and JAne smashes that shit and snaps at Rochester's amused quip at breaking his shit and blanche laughs and Jane turns on her lol what a savage and storms off. dancing around her room to the sound of the music downstairs that's nice and cute I'd do the same thing ahaha. she's all petulant cause brought blanche who hasn't been introduced properly? is she gonna put her fancy dress on? no? i hope not. damn they're in a ball room? nice. blanche has dark hair and looks much older than any other, not a bad thing just different. they call her beautiful and pretty - not even trying to pretend she's plain and simple. he's suddenly all over her staring intensely and accompanying her into the room and now they're dancing no way? no? no. governesses and landowners don't dance? she's down here without adele. he's sad she didn't dress up - she didn't want to appear as anything than what she is : a governess! at least she's proud of it. he's amused. and charmed. she thinks he's mocking her. now they're being introduced - an interesting way of doing things but rather natural compared to immediately knowing each other. Adele's sitting here with some old guy talking shit about people wow that's mean. fkn kids and this lord ingram is encouraging the hell out of her ahaha. but when she taunts him suddenly its not so funny ahaha. blanche is nice but sarcastic? it's a wedding party ooooh? adele m8 letting things slip? it's 2am and she's dreaming of him - and damn she's going straight for the curtains with that candle and its not lighting? then we see an altogether put together lady return with teh candle to the room upstairs before crazy cackling. god Jane is pretty. oh shit the house is on fire. nah just his room. there's no dramatic music - yes! she's the one to tear down the curtains and open the window - she's legit the most assertive main character i've seen - he's woken up and the fire is like already out. she's got this sorted all he has to do is give her a blanket 'why didn't you call for help?' 'I didn't think it necessary...' noice. here have some alcohol - from the same cup: might as well kiss. she burnt her hands and HE KISSED THEM. she's like bye. she is outies not taking any of his affections like she got better things to do, like sleep. he's in her room? he brought her a book. they're standing very close. he wants her to help redecorate the west wing - he's quite sure he's getting married in a month and that she'll have things to suit the lady's taste. eyeyeyeyyy. its a pupppppppppppyyyyy. oh it's adele's room. ohmygod so fuckin cute rochester is putting adele to bed and she's saying that she wants an aunt that she can choose and she wants it to be miss eyre and he says she wont have them and she says he has to ask her and she'll make sure she says yes. 'that'd be very nice'. cute af ma8. 'don't forget to ask her!' he grins happily. she chooses a cutain (?) and rochester jumps in 'we prefer this one!', and ol mate says 'i congratulate the lady on her discerning taste - the room will look delightful!' what a thing to say. she looks fkn miserable lolol she thinks she's choosing shit out for blanche - they're choosing out jewels now. she's fkn despondent. she flees the jewellers, he follows her and she cries and tells him she's off on holiday. he's not happy like did you think that would go well?? she's not even saying goodbye to him ahaha bye adele and fairfax nevermind here he is marching up the stairs weren't you gon' say goodbye????? tajes her bags and back upstairs to show her the room she designed? she loves it and he's happy and taking the coat off - 'it's incomplete' 'incomplete? everything seems to be in its proper place - what's missing?' 'you.' ohmygodddddddd. 'can't you see i've been falling in love with you all of this time?' rochester yaaaassss. she's not about to argue lol. whoops - 'you must never decieve me again' she chides lovingly and he laughs and shakes his head. like duuuuude i haven't forgotten this is Jane Eyre. okay he's very handsome and she's gorgeous what a lovely couple. now she's dressed in enormous dresses and jewels much more fitting now I suppose, though she did just say she didn't want to be lavished and pampered. oh what the fuck lol what 'edward my husband!' ahaha oh shit bertha just popped nicely out of nowhereeeee -'you can't separate me from my husband again! no one shall!' oh shit. oh shit. wow that was so brushed over - 1930s sensibilities??? Jane's like uhhhh what was that explain yourself he's like I love you you make me so happy i didn't want to tell you I was married to a psycho that I keep in the attic and take care of. she almost forgave him then he rushed off to help with his violent wife - what she gon do?? she waiting forever surely not she's better than that. yas ohmygod is she gone? SHES GONE AHAHAHA YAS DAMN GO GIRL. she wrote a goodbye note to Adele but not him ahaha savage I love her. ohh a star wars cut noice. he's just gon sit in his library? took mrs fairfax to be like yo dude she couldn't have gone very far ahah she's hiding from him in the shadows all misery and rain. searching for her in the dark- thornfield's on fire! oh yikes it's seriously on fire.  get out of there ya;ll. it's so odd not to have any action music oh damn he's going into the house to get bertha he's in his tophat ahaha fire effects! fire effects! fire effects! whoo. she's found herself in a soup kitchen very nice Jane you're an angel. she's going to india huh oh damn we speeding through this bit - 30 seconds after we meet Rivers he's proposing ahaha. she looks insulted, thanks him and storms out. she's pouring soup an hour before her wedding to Rivers and Sam's just popped up looking fucked uppp. i think he's just drunk tbh. bertha burned to death. Jane's frantic and upset m8 and yeah Sam's drunk af. so JAne went to him - he's blind and angry and an't see her and she's crying and he's shocked my god he's in the light and he's in the dark and he's reaching toward the light and touching her face - lol she raced back to thornfield in a day. lol you want some tea Eyre, it's nice for you to call. he's convinced ---ohhhhh--- "strange, you pity me when I'm blind and yet when I was worse than blind you had no mercy.' he's sending her awayyyyy noo he literally just told her they never belonged to each other and they never did like damn son that is fuckin colldddddd. she's so emotional and he's like yep I guess. She was awesome, he was handsome and had his fine moments. It was cute af m8 noice.