#trying not to become a jaded asshole from being back here

[whatevertheywant]

If I had like any survival skills and more than like 30 bucks to my name,I would go off the grid so fuckin fast

[i-guess-im-into-this-now]

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E22 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

My character/location cheat sheet:

Hongniang - head LIW at Jade Pavilion

Xiaolan - Maomao's servant girl friend

Master Shishou - Lady Loulan's father

Yinghua - one of Lady Gyokuyou's ladies in waiting

Lady Gyokuyou is preggo and everyone in the Jade Pavilion is pretty charmed by that, especially Hongniang who is dreaming of having her own baby. I thought this lady had a little something something going with Gaoshun, but that was almost certainly not true (her loss, Gaoshun is a total catch). But now I wonder, is this chick maybe not into Gaoshun, but Gaoshun's son? Does she like erratic meatheads like Basan?

Whomever Hongniang has her eye on, Maomao doesn't think it's going to happen.

Maomao: Even if someone did propose, I doubt she would be allowed to leave. That's the cost of being too good at one's job.

Maomao may want to think about that statement in regards to herself.

Maomao: The days here are fulfilling, and they truly do seem to fly by. In comparison, the two months spent at Master Jinshi's office felt like forever.

This place is easy and peaceful, she calls it fulfilling. Maomao is surrounded by support and able to use her talents to help others in a way that is meaningful to her. If the story ended here, Maomao would be content to live out the rest of her days just like this. She may never heal here but this place is safe from a lot of her triggers, so she could just focus on what she likes about being here, which is using her medical knowledge and tasting for poison. The people here accept her just the way she is and would never push her to do more that she does now. She would be content with that.

But.

There is so much more to Maomao. So much more for her to do and achieve, so much more she can give, so much more for her to feel. She can achieve goals that she doesn't even let herself acknowledge she has. She can find the deep joy that comes with being known and loved. She can do better than contentment, she can have deep fulfillment. But getting there isn't going to be easy. She's going to need to be challenged to grow and become stronger. She's never going to get that in the Jade Pavilion.

But challenge is something she got at Jinshi's residence. She claimed that the time she was there felt like forever. Because it wasn't easy. Suiren was hard on her, and Jinshi is always challenging Maomao to rise to her abilities. It's a strain, but Maomao always stretches herself to meet the challenge. She always comes through.

She probably also found her time there difficult because she was so frequently confronted with emotions that she would rather not face. But those emotions aren't going anywhere. She can suppress them and avoid them as long as she wants, but they will always be waiting to surface. She will have to face those emotions and process them to heal.

One of the problems at Jinshi's residence is that Maomao doesn't have the love and support that she receives at the Jade Pavilion or Verdigris House. If she could somehow combine the best of both; have the growth and challenge that she gets from Jinshi, with the love and support she gets from her lady friends, and a chance to utilize her skills, she would probably be best equipped to thrive.

Lakan is back to harass Jinshi. Maybe trying to figure out a way to get Maomao out of the Rear Palace. He asks Jinshi to produce blue roses.

Lakan: Are you up to the task? A man with your kind of power, nothing's beyond the realm of possibility.

Do this or I'll expose your identity.

Jinshi: I understand.

Alright, asshole. I get it.

Lakan: My goodness. It's hard to contain my excitement.

I can't wait to watch you fail!

He once again leaves behind the beverage he brought. Jinshi crumbles in frustration the moment Lakan leaves. Is this dude going to be Jinshi's father-in-law someday? Can you even imagine putting up with this family dynamic for the rest of your life?

Gaoshun asks around and finds out that the task is impossible. No one knows anything about blue roses, and roses aren't even in season. There is no way to pull this off in the one short month before the garden party.

Luckily for Jinshi, he knows someone that routinely pulls off the impossible.

Jinshi shows up to ask Maomao for help. He looks rather pathetic, with circles under his eyes, his slumped posture, and defeated attitude. Jinshi is exhausted and a little snappish when Maomao makes a joke about the person who requested blue roses being on drugs. He's at his wits end here and Maomao is his last hope. If she tells him it's impossible then this really is over and Lakan has won. It's a telling break from control for Jinshi. Gaoshun calls him back to himself.

Maomao deduces that Lakan must have put Jinshi up to this. She doesn't like to see Jinshi suffer like this, and she hates that Lakan has the power to manipulate people she cares about. She promises to do her best.

Maomao decides to use the sauna that was built for Lady Lihua as a hothouse to force the roses to bloom early. In exchange, she gifts Lady Lihua a manual from the brothel. Another parallel between the two similar but different gardens is in the way women from both try to get creative to please their husband/client.

Jinshi is distressed that Maomao keeps pushing herself and making her leg wound reopen. A constant reminder of how she got the injury, and the way she neglects herself. He recruits Xiaolan to assist Maomao in her task. Still, even with Xiaolan to assist, Maomao won't let herself rest. She gives up sleep and other self-care to attend to this task fully. Maomao's self neglect can't be totally negated, but Gaoshun does bring food, so at least she's eating.

Lady Lihua's ladies keep spying on Maomao. They are terrified of her and won't approach, but they are undeniably interested in watching her try to pull off this nigh impossible task. Maomao brings a trend from the Pleasure District into the Rear Palace to distract the ladies. Soon she's got everyone painting their nails.

We learn that Lady Gyokuyou won't attend the garden party, as she's trying to hide her pregnancy. And who can blame her. Wasn't she the target of assassination attempts last time she was pregnant?

The ladies of the Jade Pavilion, aren't happy that Maomao exhausts herself every time she works in the Crystal Pavilion. Also, Maomao's leg is not healing. But she keeps on pushing through to finish her task. Once she finally has a bud grow, she allows herself to relax.

She still looks like hell on the day of the garden party. Jinshi is pretty shocked to see her in such poor health. But she has given everything she has to do this task for him. And to give a big middle finger to Lakan.

Does Jinshi question whether it was worth it to sacrifice Maomao's well being to grow these roses?

Concubine Loulan is the star of today's party. She's the daughter of Master Shishou who is an important figure from the elder generation, as he is favored by the emperor's mother. Because of this, the emperor has always had to navigate a difficult political situation when interacting with Concubine Loulan. The emperor is put on the spot by Master Shishou, but is conveniently saved by Jinshi's arrival with the blue and other colored roses.

Jinshi is aware that he has made himself the center of attention and that he can't read some of the people's reactions is worrisome to him. He speaks about "Jinshi" in the third person. Talking about the persona of Jinshi rather than as himself. It makes me wonder what his real name is.

Lakan is also a problem that bothers Jinshi. We see Lakan wipe his dirty hands on the hat of another official, which is both odd and deeply dickish.

Lakan: What an annoying display.

Lakan is not happy that Jinshi somehow pulled this off. No doubt he has another dozen plans lined up to erode Jinshi's mental health.

Maomao is sleeping peacefully on Lady Yinghua's lap. When she wakes, Lady Yinghua begs her not to return to the Crystal Pavilion, before joyfully peacing out to give Maomao a moment alone with Jinshi when he arrives. She knows what's up with these two.

Jinshi: I just hope you aren't apologizing after everything I put you though.

True. Appropriate. Go on.

Jinshi: Nevermind. You did well.

Well, it was almost an apology anyway. And some praise. Do more of that. She worked her ass off to accomplish this and sacrificed a lot of her well being to pull it off. She deserves a lot more than a "you did well." Medicinal ingredients are always appreciated.

Maomao reveals her secret of coloring the roses. She thought it would be prudent to reveal the trick to the emperor ahead of time, which he found delightful. I question the wisdom of making herself stand out too much to the emperor, but what do I know.

It's implied that the blue roses in the palace were something that Lakan used to waste his time with. Maybe this will come back up and be important later, but for now, who gives a shit.

I'm sure there is a deeper symbolic or story based meaning behind the blue roses that I probably should have picked up on or cared about, but I'm going to be honest with you all, as of my writing of this blog, I'm pretty deep into a botte of plum wine, and my critical thinking is crashing hard, so you'll just have to tell me what I missed. 💋

Jinshi notices Maomao's nails and finds it surprising that she would paint them. Which it kind of is. She paints freckles on her face to make herself less appealing, but paints her nails to make them prettier? Does this have to do with her crooked finger?

Okay, so Maomao DID get something out of this. Some "item" in a box that she requested.

Lakan: How vexing. I didn't anticipate my provocation to fail.

I don't know what he's talking about. The only person I saw him provoke was Jinshi, who managed to do what he asked. Unless, the person he was trying to provoke is Maomao? Mess with Jinshi to provoke Maomao maybe? But she is planning something for Lakan, so he will see soon enough.

Thank god this show isn't told from Lakan's perspective, because holy hell, his fucked up view of people as Go pieces is really unnerving.

Apparently the manicures that all the ladies are wearing are a trigger for Lakan. They remind him of the woman he used to play Go with. And Maomao arrives, with precisely the same manicure color that Lakan remembers from his flashback. Gaoshun and Jinshi are there as well, but they too are game pieces to be manipulated. Maomao alone has a face amongst the crowd. The only one that he sees as a person. Maybe the only one that he can't or won't manipulate in the never-ending game he plays.

Whatever Maomao has planned for Lakan will have to wait for the next episode, because that's how this one ends!

If you want to read these from the beginning:

Episode 1

Next episode:

Episode 23

[neonlight2]

Little ‘Steddie x reader’ blurb

(I may write more for this later)

Y/n had a really rough day. Two guys came by the tattoo shop she works at and wouldn’t let her work on them— even though she was the only artist available because they didn’t think she’d be able to give them a ‘real’ tattoo. Then giving the impression that she probably only knew how to do tramp stamps or cutesy styled tats. Which in the grand scheme of things, she didn’t think were bad, because she in fact had given several trap stamps and butterflies, hearts— you name it. She’s done it. Her philosophy was that if you liked it, and the art made you feel something, get the piece. No, it was the fact they were belittling her talent.

Then, after that, they had the audacity to try and hit on her. Saying her tattoos, which could be seen easily due to the tank top she was wearing, were ‘rad’ and how’d they’d like to see the rest. Eventually, she lost her cool, yelling for her co working to swap clients and that they wouldn’t need to worry, they could have both payments. All she wanted to do was get the fuck away from them. But! Before her co worker (who she was obviously besties with) could go talk to the two guys, y/n whisper in their ear:

“Make sure to add a little lead to your hand this time.” Patting their shoulder before wandering to the patiently waiting client, who happened to be absolutely delightful.

And you would think all would be well from there on right? She pawned off those guys, indirectly got the satisfaction of revenge from hearing them hiss and cry like babies— leading to one of them quitting halfway through— and got a nice canvas to work on.

Yeah no.

After her shift at the shop was done, where she was berated by her coworker to take at least a third of the tips for her work, she went to the bar across the street. She was extremely happy to be done with work today. And while she loved her craft, it could be tiring at times. This was one of them. Now, all she wanted was for her friend— with benefits? Lover? Fuck buddy? Booty call?

No scratch the last one, that was too low of a title for Jade.

Jade and her met each other at that very bar. It was one night Eddie was playing with his band— which she had subbed in for his drummer. After they had finished and Eddie had gotten out of his “post-guitargasm” state, as she liked to put it, Y/n felt a tap on her shoulder. Oh and how wide Eddie’s eyes got, gesturing her to look behind and see whomever had come up behind her. Once Y/n got a glimpse of her there was no going back.

Next thing Y’know she’s got Jade pinned against the bathroom wall, letting out moans that she knew everyone outside could here (and don’t worry, Eddie’s band only plays at places that are super down low or accepting, so we don’t have to worry about any homophobic assholes harassing them).

Thus why Eddie calls her a exhibitionist and/or a narcissist.

Dead serious, he’ll randomly come around a corner and say:

“Hello my little exhibitionist.” “Good morning, narcissist, how may I inflate your ego today?”

And the worst one so far: “Don’t worry Harrington, I know how to cheer her up. *insert Eddie playfully moaning y/n’s name*”

Anyways— they had been hooking up for a few months at scheduled times, places, for their safety. I mean while the 80’s were becoming more progressive, no one would ever be fully open in Hawkins. Even if it’s a small, cute town— she wouldn’t put it past anyone for bigotry and violence towards queer people.

So there she waited for Jade at least an hour. She’d been stood up this time it seemed.

To say the least, when she got home to her roommates, both two out of her three best friends, she wasn’t particularly in the best mood.

Steve and Eddie could practically see the frustration radiating off her.

“What’s wrong babe?” Steve asked, being pushed (literally) by Eddie to approach you.

Huffing from her nose y/n replies shortly, “I hate people.”

“Alright…” Steve treads lightly, his soft tone trying to ease the tension in her body.

All while Eddie goes, “Fair enough.”

Taking a second to elbow Eddie in the chest, Steve turns his attention back to y/n. “Why do we hate them today hun?”

Scoffing, she walks about the house as she replies, stripping off her sweat ridden clothes is the only thing that falters her speech.

“We’ll firstly, men are disgusting.” Both boys nod, knowing they aren’t part of her categorization. “These two asshole come in and when I go up to help them— because everyone else was working— they refuse to let me work on them because apparently I can only draw ‘girly/basic shit’. As if their skull tattoo choice wasn’t the most basic, white boy, country club rebel thing ever.”

Eddie couldn’t help but snort at her description, hiding it in Steve’s shoulder.

“Oh and then, when I get to the bar to meet Jade,” y/n stops, looks at them as she struggles to get one of her combat boots off. Finally after a few second of wrestling with her foot, Steve steps forward, getting on his knees, and helps his aggrieved friend. All while Eddie helps keep her upright with a hand on her back and shoulder. When it’s off she says a quick thank you before rambling on again— shamelessly walking to the living room in only her underwear as Eddie and Steve follow her like lost puppies.

Steve’s mother instincts kicking in, picking up the clothes she’s shed along the way to put with the rest of the laundry. However, Eddie had only become more entertained and enthralled by the turn of events. And being the agent of chaos he is, he grabbed a bottle of Jack from the kitchen before missing anything else.

“…guess what?! She wasn’t there. I waited for an hour. AN HOUR!” Y/n shouted, pacing about the room.

“Yeah we were starting to worry why you hadn’t called or come home.” Eddie stated, multitasking with listening and pouring them all drinks.

Ignoring his comment completely she carried on. “I mean you would think someone would at least have the common decency to call! Y’know, when you have plans with someone, let alone someone you’ve known for a while—,”

“Been fucking for a while.” Eddie chimes in, handing her a drink, which she gladly takes.

“Exactly.” She said, throwing back the first drink.

“Yeah,” Steve walks into the room after putting all the laundry away (you best bet he heard all of that, because let’s face it y/n’s loud, and he has mom ears.) “And it’s not exactly like you guys can be reckless, or at least you don’t want to…”

“EXACTLY!” She screamed back. “I mean god! It was her idea to do this in the first place! And now I’m—,” y/n groans dramatically, dragging her hands down her face.

It’s quiet for a bit. The boys look at each other, telepathically figuring out what they want to do. Whether or not they should say anything, or do something.

Eddie took the bait this time.

“You’re what baby?”

Y/n stops to look dead at them. Almost as if she were debating whether or not to say it. But in the end she realized— she really couldn’t give a fuck. And neither would they.

“I’m horny.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, but not because he’s shocked by her words, but by the flush that spread across her face as she did. He’s never seen her like this before, and they’d all known each other since high school.

Eddie on the other hand seemed the least affect one here. In all honesty, he was the most composed out of all of them.

“I’m horny, and I’m mad, and that’s really not a good combo because 1. I don’t have anyone to hook up with, and 2. I have nothing to punch. I swear to god I’m getting a punching bag Steve,” she ranting, pointing to the corner. “I swear it’ll go right there, because I don’t know how much longer I can stay sane—,”

“Use us then.” Eddie interrupts, swallowing down the untouched drink he’d poured Steve.

“What?” Steve and y/n ask at the same time, looking at Eddie with confusion or shock.

He hums, almost spitting out the liquor from their faces. “Sorry, clarifications— not use us as punching bags please, and,” he placed his hand on Steve’s leg, “Sorry didn’t mean to offer you up like that Harrington.”

“I’m to fucking deranged right now to understand you Eddie.”

“Fine, I’ll put it plainly.” Eddie sets down the glass and sits back on the coach. “I, me, your best friend —,”

“Don’t be a dick Munson.” Steve remarked, what to hear his proposal himself.

“Well I’m trying to offer her mine to use as she pleases.” Eddie retorted back, a smirk on his face as he looks at Steve. That’s until his gaze shifts back to Y/n. “Or mouth if you’d prefer. I know you’re not the biggest fan of dicks, but I’m here for anything you need.”

“Me too.”

Y/n and Eddie glance at Steve in surprise— for totally different reasons.

“What—? I mean why the fu—?”

“We’re your best friends princess.” Eddie says, tilting his head at her confusion. “We’d help you with anything, just like you do us.”

[iridescentgleam]

Legend with 1, 7, 24, & 28 for the ask game!

(From this ask game here!)

1. My first impression of them

Honestly? I thought he was just kind of a jaded asshole at first. Not that there's anything wrong with characters like that! He kind of is a jaded asshole, but he's also something like an older brother figure to the Chain, and he cares about them a lot more than he lets on. His snark is just a way of expressing that.

7. A quote of them that you remember

"Oh no, it's just the uniform. He's as broke as I am."

In the Ravio comic, whenever Ravio is trying to get someone in the Chain to rent his items, he approaches Warriors and asks him if he'd like to rent his items, and Legend responds with something like that lmao. Probably not his best quote, but it's definitely something that stuck with me lol.

24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

Oh boy... This one is actually very tricky because Jojo's outright confirmed (or at least heavily implied) some things, such as the fact that nobody knows about Marin or the dark world in Legend's era. I can imagine he'd be pretty tight-lipped about his adventures. Not to the extent Time is, obviously, but I don't strike him as super forthcoming. However, if there's one secret I think he'd fight tooth and nail to keep, that is the events that transpired in the Palace of the Four Sword. I've seen a lot of great fanfiction have Legend approach Four about it and I honestly enjoy it a lot, but in canon, I can see it more as being information that Legend struggles really hard with before ever giving up willingly. The idea of letting Four know what he becomes in his era is something he definitely grapples with the weight of.

28. The most unnecessary thing they ever did?

This is a really hard one, because there are really two main motivations to Legend's actions. Either he does something because he cares too much, or he does something while being careless. I don't really think anything he does can be considered unnecessary, though. Just thoughtless sometimes.

I feel like, too, a lot of arguments can be made as to what can be considered unnecessary. In Sunset, his efforts to help Twilight ultimately don't amount to anything. In general, a lot of his teasing isn't ultimately beneficial to do anything more than upset his target. In a broader sense, the whole plot of Link's Awakening can be considered an ultimately fruitless endeavor. And who knows what his life will be like beyond this? Because, ultimately, things will still progress to the point they do in Hyrule's era, where the land is sick and Ganon still comes back. Does that make his efforts worthless? Unnecessary? I don't know, honestly. It's definitely something to consider.

[if-one-of-us-falls]

i have been meaning to ask you about your ocs as you talk about them but i don't really know much about them if you feel like give me an introduction to them

Hi! Sure :)

I have a lot of OCs so I'm just going to cover the ones I mention here a lot, and group them by story/project. The titles are not final. Tbh I haven't written in a while and some of these I haven't worked on in a few years, but they're always in heart anyway!

CW: mentions of child abuse, murder, violence

Thunderbride (AKA the pirate novel)

Rahlen

A pirate! In fact, she's the captain of her own ship, and known for being dangerous and ruthless.

She is holding a lot of anger about the way she was brought up

She's very abrasive, bossy, unpredictable and outright violent... But she's also very very intelligent and has a protective streak that she won't admit

I would say the thing that drives her the most is the need for control

Which is unfortunate because the story starts with her being betrayed by her crew, thrown in a cell, completely out of her depth and forced to rely on a bunch of nerds people who are not her first choice for a crew to get her ship back

Celis

One of said nerds

A blood witch. Also part of a marginalized community of magic users in this world

It's a family business and her mom and grandma are A Lot

Twenty-something year old living at home syndrome (so going insane) (or at least feels suffocated and confused)

Very talented but also very insecure. She's slowly learning not to take shit from others

Recently she realised her family's tactics of playing the tame and obedient minority will not protect her from harm

When her childhood... friend? weird mean kid who was her neighbor for a summer and disappeared without a trace? crush? shows up in her room half dead and asks her to come with her on a crazy adventure. Well. She just goes for it

Brazen Palace (series of spy/ gang novellas)

(but really they're about my girls and their relationship) (also there's some diplomacy going on)

Anika

A spy? Information thief? Secret operations doer? Occasional thug? Basically she made a career out of being good at climbing and shooting and sneaking places

Immigrated as a child to the country where the story takes place and lost her mother. She ended up under the wing of a gang leader who taught her everything she knows but also had a freakish amount of control over her life and eventually discarded her for money :/

She ends up working for another, very different boss. Suddenly she has more freedom than ever, but her jobs become more dangerous, her new gang hates her, and she accidentally killed her new roommate's best friend. oops

But really despite her bleak circumstances she's a huge goof ball and a very kind and loving (if cynical at first) person. She shows affection by being annoying and once she decides she likes you she will go very far to serve you

more things you should know about her: very nosey, always sleepy, and super tall

Henlie

Anika's new roommate, who is very upset and angry about having to share a room with the killer of her best friend. But their boss is adamant about it for some reason (spoiler: the reason is emotional manipulation)

Her job in the gang is unclear at first. She is very good at costume making, makeup, disguises and acting, if that gives you a clue. (it doesn't give Anika a clue because she's a dummy (affectionate) ).

Her mother left and her father is a disaster, so she left home young and started fending for herself. She's extremely secretive about her past and gets furious when others try to meddle. She's hurting and keeping it to herself, but it's getting harder now that she's dealing with more grief

She's so clever but also so jaded. She's the opposite of naive, but also very young and inexperienced and on the brink of an emotional breakdown

underneath it all she has a sense of humor and playfulness, if only there was a giant goofy snooping asshole in her room to help uncover it 😈

Tajan

Tajan shows up later on in the story, and even gets his own novella because I like him so much. He is a member of Anika and Henlie's gang and has been away on a mission for a while.

He is a huge language nerd and speaks five languages

Generally a very nice and charming guy. He can be physically dangerous, but his strength lies in his charisma and ability to connect with people. He also flirts for fun all the time

He was born in a relatively poor country. His parents thought they were sending him to get an education abroad, but it turned out to be a child labor scam. He is still dealing with the trauma from that.

He owes a lot to his current boss for helping him get out of that situation, and is very loyal and grateful to him. He might have to deal with some conflicting loyalties in the future

The Eye of Truth (epic fantasy coming of age with a cult element)

Tena

At 16, after her older sister is murdered by invaders one town over, Tena's parents arrange a marriage for her to keep her safely away from the border (and her notions of becoming a soldier). She used to be vibrant and rebellious, but the grief has numbed her. She's trapped.

On the way to the place where she's supposed to get married, she and her traveling companions (including her uncle/ bestie Will and the son of the local nobles, who is also being sent away) get attacked and taken captive by a revolutionary group seeking to upend the government and spread a new religion. And they are very interested in some of Tena's abilities (magic! plant magic even!)

She becomes the liaison between her friends and the captors. She resents the things they do, but they start drawing her in, and their teachings make more and more sense. Their leader, Safan, is extremely charismatic - and he can teach her about the powers she didn't know she had. And maybe she doesn't want things to go back to normal after all.

Her inner conflict is all about craving independence vs. being afraid to have it

She's kind of a tomboy, very headstrong and determined (once she starts feeling like herself again). Kind of naive but very resourceful and brave. She deals with a lot of anger and feelings of helplessness.

Ropes (more epic fantasy! Filled with the power of unlikely friendships)

Tarrey

one of my oldest OCs. I think I made her when I was 11.

She was abandoned (kind of) as an infant and raised by a traveling circus/ artist troop. She became a very talented acrobat. Despite being so appreciated, she’s convinced that her only worth to the others comes from the money she earns for the camp with her performances.

She is extremely harsh with herself and others. She holds herself to a nearly impossible standard and will not admit that she is exhausted.

She’s socially anxious and avoids the other members of the camp as much as she can. Her status as a high earner means people generally leave her be. She tells herself this is how she likes it, but she’s actually so lonely. The one time she made a friend outside of the camp, he disappeared when she came back from tour. So she’s quite distrusting.

also she’s been having some very strange (prophetic?) dreams

A disaster forces her to run away with the two other protagonists of this story (maybe I’ll talk about them another time) and it starts out as a miserable road trip and evolves into the most beautiful found family situation ever. Like seriously I care about them so much

That’s it for now! Thank you so much for sending this ask, it was so fun to remember all my children OCs again 🥹 As I said I have a bunch more but this is already super long hehe

[andysandfordcomedy]

5 Rules You Don’t Have to Follow, but will likely make you better at stand up comedy

***Ahoy-hoy! Mi llamo Andy & je suis comedian. Sometimes I will blog a lil comedy thingy like this and some people, likely comedians, tell me they find it helpful. That’s great, but a mere coincidence as I blog these blogs for me. As a reminder of my own principles/opinions/hard earned wisdom by way of experience (I’m old). I’m just putting this little caveat here to let the readers know that you may disagree with me, or think I’m super duper double bubble bug ass wrong…but idgaf, and I don’t wanna hear what you have to say about me bein so wrong. Also, you’re wrong, not me. I’m right about this stuff and little else. That said, here are some “rules” no one has to follow because there are no rules really. You can be as bad at comedy as you want.***

Rule 1: ask yourself, “am I *really* grinding?” Did you answer “yes?” Well, knock it off.

Who are you? This isn’t 8 Mile. No shadowboxing! No grinding! Nnno! a grind is a grind. It sucks. I do comedy all the time because it’s what I want to be doing. This getting a boner over how many sets you got in this week won’t make you a better comedian. It’ll make you think other people must think you’re working hard…does that do something for you? Well, it’s stupid and not anything to work towards. I guess the rule here is never forget that comedy is fun. No one asked you to do this. You don’t ever have to do comedy against your will. If it’s grueling, quit. For real, if what keeps you going is career accomplishments, or how cool you think you’ll look to Jimmy and Janey Applesauce: quit now. The Applesauces are worried about their own Applesauce bullshit. Also, one sure fire way to not do well is to not have fun. So have fun. It’s fun.

2.) Keep it simple. A common mistake many comics make is to try and weave some complicated tapestry that ventures way out the margins and “all comes together” at the end. I put quotes around “all comes together” because it doesn’t. And if it did, there’s no benefit to that. No audience will appreciate how aimlessly yonder bound your bit got in the middle. People, en mass, are kinda dumb (sorry people). It is true though that when people become part of a crowd, they are less discerning in their listening and more so become part of a single organism: the crowd. Do one joke, then the next joke, then the next joke. Keep doing this and don’t complicate it. It is simple (not easy). The more clearly and concisely you get your premise across, the better. Don’t add filler, identify it and cut it. Make yourself easy to listen to, and make sure everything you say is crucial to the joke. The effect of super concise jokes over time equals more than the sum of their parts. Trust me, or don’t. Moving on.

3.) Don’t be a dick to other comics. These are your peers, asshole. You don’t have to respect everybody, but treat everyone with respect. Only talk shit in a very tight circle of homies really late at night. Do not try to big dawg people and act like you having put more time into comedy buys you bully points. That’s gonna backfire real fast when the inevitably funnier comic who started way more recent than you bullies back and you can’t say a damn thing. Don’t be a dick. Don’t do it. Why ya wanna be a dick anyway? Be as cool as possible; especially to newer comics that are openly excited about things you forgot meant something to you once upon a time. Catch some of their comedy placenta goo and rub it in. That’s that pure shit. Being jaded is for fucking losers.

4. Don’t run the light. People often go way over time trying to get one decent laugh to dismount from a laughless set. Why?! Get outta there! It’s a wash. A gymnast doesn’t stumble around on the balance beam, arms flailing, racking their nuts, and then nail a dismount to save the routine. No, they blew it already, and imagining that is way funnier than your dismount joke taking you way into overtime. Also, the light is a light so that no one has to hear about it. Do not announce that you’re getting the light. It’s not clever or subversive in some way. It’s just unprofessional.

5. It is always a good time to be professional. I understand the temptation at an all comic open mic to be the kid at the back of the class giving the least fucks. I laugh at that person too and appreciate them, but I don’t ever wanna be them. It takes no balls to not give a shit. No skill. There is a different sort of satisfaction to go up 10th at a shitty open mic where everyone is throwing it and tryin to cool guy riff, and you just work out material like you give a shit and make the whole room feel dumb. That feeling is palpable, and it’s a different kind of killing. It’s what ya want, trust me. Or don’t trust me AGAIN. My point is, why do this thing just to not really be doing it in the face of it being hard? If it were easy, everyone would be great, but everyone isn’t. Very few are great, and when you see them you know. It takes time and serious effort and tinkering to get really good, but it’s the best tbh. Comedy is only more fun to me with almost 16 years under my belt. I don’t get that excited when I do well enough to find no fuck ups; I feel content. It’s better than feeling stoked because I know it’s not outside the norm. That’s that shit IMO.

Anyway, that’s all. Just bloggin around. Toodles.

-Andy

[vilecovet]

@rotdream​​  ;  How do you feel about tears? Are they cowardly and weak? Do you cry? Would you consider that shameful? / for all of them :3c or as many as you want to do 

MEME ! — ACCEPTING 

TSURYA.

     “  I do not see the benefit in crying.  ” Well, it is more apt to say that he’s never considered it. “  In my first life, it was dishonorable and humiliating for a man to display such emotion.  ” With a somber gaze, he adds, “ And . . .in Jigoku, tears are not possible. Nothing is allowed to relieve tormented souls. Even now, I cannot be relieved.  ” 

BECK.

     “  Tears, huh? Do I cry?  ” Beck’s eyes lift to the sky, but it doesn’t take long to come up with a few recent scenarios. An embarrassed flush brightens his cheeks, aggravated. “  Okay, yes, but there’s nothing wrong with crying. It’s not shameful, it’s just how you feel—and anyone who says otherwise is an asshole.  ”

SAM.

     “  I hold much grief.  ” The answer is quick, devastation unfolding in distant eyes. “  Humans make me cry each day, but the act itself is neither positive or negative. One day, they will become responsible for their suffering.  ” A gleam blooms in his enlivening stare. “  Is it cowardly, you ask? Why, I think denying your emotions is more cowardly than facing and releasing them. There’s no harm in being honest with yourself.  ” 

CODY.

     “  How. . .do I feel about tears. . .?  ” Brows furrow, drifting in thought before a soft smile appears. “  Crying is necessary. Better than getting angry and punching a wall.  ” A gentle shake of his head, weight shifting. “  Besides. . .I can feel it when someone represses their need to cry. It’s. . .suffocating. Just let it out before you explode. I won’t judge.  ”

MIKA.

     “  And what the fuck do I look like crying?  ” As in, actual tears? Can he even cry? “  Only baby fleshbags do that nonsense.  ” But, is it cowardly? Shameful? Teeth gnaw of the end of his cigarette before pulling it from his lips. “  Alright, look,  ” he says, softer. Quieter, as if he’s afraid of someone overhearing. “  Crying doesn’t sound all that bad, but in my world, you might as well just ask someone to shoot you, y’know? It’s embarrassing as all hell.  ” 

NOL.

     “  Why in the world do you want to know if I cry? And in what context are we talking here?  ” Nol leans back in his chair, legs crossed at the knee. “  If we’re watching a sappy movie, sure, I’ll let it roll, but if you mean in the dark with no one around? I’m not giving that information out for free. Nice try, though.  ” 

KAGURA.

     “  Will crying get me what I want?  ” Slender arms cross beneath her chest. “  Will crying make you bend to me? Would my tears make you pity me?  ” Her head tilts. “  I think I’d rather drown than let someone see that. Now, what else did you ask? If it’s considered cowardly?  ” Jade eyes squint. “  No, but being emotional does not help in any case. It makes you look inferior. So, cry in private and conquer in public.  ”

[meili-sheep]

Ningguang: an amazing leader who has earned the respect of her people by sacrificing the jade chamber for their safety and helping them move forward, works at a rational rate and is able to leave time for herself.

Kujou Sara: the general of the shogunate, one of the closest to the almighty shogun, an honest and passionate leader who takes care of her soliders and leads them into the path of a better Inazuma, but doesn't exert herself with matters to big for her to handle or matter not worth her time. Recognizes the flaws of her family and doesn't support their actions, and tries to redeem herself to inazumans, who love her all the same.

Kamisato Ayato: handles the Shuumatsuban and the Yashiro Commission, shared the burden that was supposed to fall on his shoulders alone with his sister. Works hard to keep citizens safe ("I do whatever I can so that everyone has a home to go back to.") And makes sure everyone in Inazuma enjoys festival. Has unparalleled respect towards the Raiden Shogun.

Raiden Ei: the God of Eternity, whose view of the world is so distorted to that of mortals thus she fails to see the eternity her people desired. Fought for Inazuma and protected them from the shadows for centuries on end. Made mistakes and terrible decisions that hurt many of the people in Inazuma. Recognizes her mistakes and fought for Inazuma again for 500 years with no rest, working to better herself and become a better archon for her people, who will never forget how she fought for them despite everything.

Jean:

Im sorry but jean is so godamn underwhelming in comparison to all those people

While I don't agree that Raiden's redemption arch was handled the best. And I do think that She needs to continue working more closely with her people. She does at least have an attempt at an arch. Jean... Well, she doesn't grow or change at all or really has any distinct personality traits or ideology for me to latch on to. It also feels like she's constantly treading water and has no desire to change that.

But Especially compared with Ningquang, Kujoy Sara, and Ayato.

Particularly Ayato. Like I want to point out this conversation line from his teapot dialogs.

How's work in the Yashiro Commission?

Kamisato Ayato: I had thought you'd be inquiring about more personal matters. Heh, you don't need to worry about me being overworked. Case in point — I still have the energy to chat with you here.

-> But don't you think there's too much to do?

Kamisato Ayato: Oh, you mean my workload? Yes, it's rather enormous. But there's nothing that can be done about that. All I can do is try to work through each item as intelligently as possible.

-> -> Well, hats off to you.

Kamisato Ayato: I am flattered beyond belief to receive your praise and concern for my well-being. 

Kamisato Ayato: But you needn't worry. At present, there is no one more suitable than I to be in the position of Yashiro Commissioner.

Ayato is confident. He has worked hard to get his family back to his point. And he continues to put in that effort. And He is happy to share in the reward from his efforts. But he does that in part to make people feel indebted and loyal to him. His showing leadership, by saying, "Hey, I'm ready to give good reward to people who help me," And he makes sure to keep those promises. He also understands the balance between the commission the best and he knows that for the leadership to work, everyone must stand strong and stay in their lane. He can be an asshole, he can be perfectly charming, he can be loyal, but he can be mischievous. Ayato is just so much more dynamic. He also really care for his sister and avoid having her deal with the dirty parts of their work.

And a lot of my friends don't like Ayato. Which I totally get. He's a manipulative asshole. Who take joy in pushing people's buttons. And I totally understand how that would turn someone off. But I think he has personal reasons. I'll get into it at a later date as i just want get to my point.

Ayato is not only a much better leader than Jean. But he's much more dynamic than she is.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I never tire of your brain rots and thirsting please expand on that dorm leader Jade and Rook thing going on

... ANoNs eNABLiNG ME aND MY RoT 😳

OKAY I’M KIND OF TOO TIRED and busy with Twisted Tarot TO WRITE A LONG ASS FIC OF DORM LEADER JADE AU NOW BUT I GOT THIS REALLY STRONG CONCEPT iN MIND AND I’LL WORD VOMIT MY ROT OUT AnYWAY 😭

I hope I get more free time so I can actually write this out as a proper fic though........................... There’s just so many fun and sadistic things you could do with the concept of dorm leader Jade OTL <— this, by the way, is the position I assume when J word needs a convenient footstool

[Referencing this post!]

Imagine like... Jade is brewing some kind of underhanded scheme to steal the seat of dorm leader from Azul (because just challenging him to a fight for the seat would be boring) 😳 and you just so happen to catch Jade being suspicious as hell... Like you’re walking by his room and you hear humming/singing, so out of curiosity, you peek in and OTL IT’S THE VANESSA/HUMAN URSULA SCENE IN THE LITTLE MERMAID so I guess that would make you/us Scuttle

Jade is casually dressing for the day, but it’s like??? He somehow swiped a set of Octavinelle dorm leader clothes in his size (plus the magical staff/cane thing) and he’s trying it on in front of a vanity, all while singing/gloating... “Oh, what a lovely dorm leader I’ll make. My dear, I’ll look divine. Things are working out according to my ultimate design—”

“Soon, I’ll have that little merman and Octavinelle will be mine 🎵” as he bcksvajscshsjskebiwdbs steps onto the vanity, crushing some bottles of eel slime-based skincare under his foot... znshsvaieveienkdebkwdbkenwwm AnD HE jUST LAUghS A STUpid SEXY hOT LAUGH AS HE GAZes iNTO his reFLDctiON IN THD miRRObR???????

But UH-OH, you fucked up hard and accidentally make eye contact with J word through the mirror, and he’s instantly on you. Try as you might to scramble away, you just end up losing balance and ending up on your butt or on your back as Jade leers down with a scary smile, drowning you in the eclipse that is his shadow. djsbsjsvsusbwkeks USinG ThE DORM LEadER STAFF CAnE THING TO FORCE YOU tO MAkE EYE CONTACT WITH HIm........... LIKE GUIDinG YOUR CHiN UP WITH THE END OF Yhe cAnE............................

“Now what have we here? An uninvited guest? A Peeping Tom? Tsk, tsk. How naughty of you,” he tuts, feigning ignorance (he clearly caught you red-handed). “Fufufu. I cannot have you running amok and spilling my secrets to the entire school. I’m afraid that you, my dear, will have to be permanently silenced. Yes, I do believe a good night’s sleep with the fish will do you some good.”

ALSO ALSO ALSO 😳 Think of how hot the dynamic of the “servant” becoming the “master” is... Jade’s no longer the one being bossed around, he IS the one bossing people around......................... AnD HE’S A RAT BAstARD, yOU JUST KNOW hE’LL ABUSE THSt poWER FoR his oWN SiCK AMUSEMENT, An D YOU Won’Y Fven ReALiZE WHRN HE HAS bECAUSE He’S TOO SmArT OTL

As vice dorm leader, Jade never really had problems “getting back” at Azul in minor ways like teasing him or purposefully not helping when he is meant to, but with the powers invested in the title of dorm leader, Jade can really get the green light to be more of an asshole out in the open 😂 HE SPILLS A DRINK OR DROPS A PLATE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU AND TELLS YOU TO CLEAN IT UP AS IF HE DIDN’T JUST MAKE THAT MESS HIMSELF A SECOND AGO??? AND THEN HE WATCHES YOU CLEAN IT UP WITH A PLEASANT SMILE AnD YOU KNOW HE’A RELiSHING IN PETTY SHIT LIKE THIS BUT YOU CAN’T HUST DECK HIM IN THE FACE BECAUSE HE’S DOrM LEADER

“Beg on your hands and knees,” he tells you with a smirk, “and I might consider granting you a moment of respite.”

YOU JUST END UP BEING HIS TOY OR PLAYTHING TO ORDER AROUND AnD IT’s JUST. HNNNncFfHHHHHHHHHH GOD I HATE J WORD SO MUCH whY iS HE LIJW THIS I HATE HI S Dtupid hOT FACE AnD HIS SrUPux iF Jo nT sLImiNESS NaD HIS fuCKING Vo I CE An D hOW my SNaiTY gOES doWN Ghe TOuLEt Whe N HE

*beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*

[Please stand by; we are currently experiencing technical difficulties. We’ll be right back after a brief commercial break!]

Anyway! As for dorm leader Jade and dorm leader Rook dynamics 😊 xhakbsjsjshiavdkekw As I said in my original post (referenced at the start of this one), I think it’d be extremely passive aggressive. They can definitely be cordial and cooperative if they want to be, but when they disagree, it gets BAD. Lots of back-handed compliments from both sides in an effort to provoke the other, to try and make the other absolutely LOSE THEIR SHIT (think of how Rook tried to get Malleus angry enough to lash out by calling him a “monster”; similar to that).

They’re both smiley characters on the surface, but they’ve also both got their own hidden agendas, which would make every encounter dangerous in the same way that a poison might be. Silent and not very flashy, but very much able to deal damage, maybe even kill. WhAT I’ M SAyInG IS I WAnT TJEM TO TEAR EACH o. THER INTO PIEcES, THAT WOULD BE HOT 😤

[themaribatpit]

Saturday Challenge: And They Were Roommates

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event

Prompt: And They Were Roommates

Rated: T

Tim was surprised to learn that MDC Designs had set up shop in Gotham City of all places.  He was in dire need of a new suit for the Wayne Gala after the last one was sliced to ribbons. The mysterious designer had worked with Jagged Stone when she was just a teenager. Now he was on his way to her home studio across town.  

Tim got out of the car and knocked on the front door of the apartment.  "Just a minute!" A young woman's voice called from the other side of the door.  She rushed over and opened the door to greet him, on the other side of the door was a petite young woman with dark hair and blue eyes.  "Hi, you must be Tim, right?" She asked cheerfully.

"Yeah, are you MDC?" Tim asked, maybe she was their assistant or something.  

To his surprise she nodded, "yes, I am. Those are my initials." she explained.

"I was hoping to commission you for a suit," Tim held up the order confirmation.

"Yes, by all means, come in" she said as she opened the door a little wider to let him in.  Tim looked around the studio as he let himself in, and he found it hard to believe he was still in Gotham.  

There were pink fairy lights hanging on the walls, the furniture was either pastel pink, lilac, and maybe a soft jade green on occasion.  There was a small kitchen in the corner of the studio and a few separate rooms off to the side.  She gestured to the small podium in the middle of the studio.  She had asked Tim to wear simple, basic clothes so that she could take his measurements accurately. Tim took off his shoes and made his way over.

"So, why Gotham?" Tim asked, trying to make some conversation with the young designer taking his measurements.  "Not that I'm complaining just that..." he assured her.

"It's fine," she said, "I came here because I thought," Marinette tried to choose her next words carefully.  "I thought maybe I could bring some light into Gotham City, it's just so different from what I'm used to growing up." She explained, "Sometimes it's so different that it inspires me... creatively, I mean."

"Braver men have tried to do just that." Tim thought.  "So uh, Miss..." Tim stumbled on the young woman's name.

"Just Marinette is fine," she said, smiling up at him.  He honestly wasn't expecting her to be so... friendly, especially someone who had been living in Gotham for any length of time.

"Can you finish the suit by the end of the month?" Tim asked.

"Won’t be a problem, I'd say it’ll be done maybe two weeks from now," Marinette told him.

He heard the door open behind him but couldn't turn around and see who it was. Not unless he wanted to annoy the person taking a tape measure to him. They were probably a roommate or someone, this was clearly a studio that someone lived in. Maybe they had a roommate or there was another artist who was living here. That was until Tim heard the other person speak.

"Hey Pixie, need anything while I'm out?" a voice asked, one that was too familiar to Tim.  He whipped his head around to find...

"Jason?!"

"Replacement?!"

"What's he doing here?!" The two of them asked in unison.

Marinette gave Jason a confused look, "Wait, he's 'Replacement'?"

"Dude, that's what MDC knows me as?" Tim seemed more annoyed at Jason than at Marinette.  "Also what are you doing here?" He asked, while Jason looked through the fridge for something that wasn't either sweet or an expensive wheel of cheese.

"I live here." Jason deadpanned, grabbing a soda can from the fridge.

As Jason was looking through the fridge, Tim whispered to Marinette. “I’d move out if I were you, Jason’s dangerous.”

Just as Tim finishes whispering to Marinette, Jason yells “I can hear you asshole!”

Marinette frowned at Tim’s advice, “I know he’s the Red Hood. We’ve been living together for a while.”

Tim’s eyes widen, he looks back at Jason to see him walking back towards the living room. “You told her?” he cries incredulously.

Jason takes a large gulp of soda before answering, “I kinda came back injured.”

Marinette interrupted. “You still owe me a bolt of silk.”

Jason continued, ignoring Marinette’s interruption. “I kinda bled all over her stuff.” Then taking another swig of his soda.

Tim tentatively asks “So, uh, how did you two become roommates?”

“Rent in Gotham is stupid expensive, it takes two people’s income to pay for rent and utilities.” Marinette huffed.

“Yeah Timmy, not everyone can afford to live the high life at Wayne Manor” Jason said.

“Jason, if I lose customers because of you, this tape measure is going to have a very tight fit around your neck” Marinette hissed, before giving Tim an apologetic smile.

Tim groans and rubs his own forehead, “Okay fine, but what about you Jason? I doubt money was the issue.” he asked.

Jason shrugs, “Do you honestly think anyone would go looking for the Red Hood in a bright pink fashion studio?”

“Point taken” agreed Tim. Marinette resumes measuring him, moving on to measure his waist.

“Whoa Replacement, have you gained weight? No wonder you need a new suit.” joked Jason.

Marinette shot a glare at Jason, “All right that’s enough, don’t you need to be somewhere?”

Jason tosses his empty soda can into the bin all while chuckling at himself, “All right fine, need anything while I’m out?”

Marinette ponders for a second, “Chicken and wine, I’ll make Coq au vin tonight.”

Jason smirks, “Sure I’ll head to the grocery store to and ask for cock and wine” laughing like a maniac before leaving.

Tim releases a breath that he has been holding, “finally some peace and quiet.”

“Sorry, he’s usually out or reading quietly in the corner when other customers are here.” Marinette assured him.

“We’re brothers, trust me this is us being friendly.” He told her.

“Brothers?” Marinette asked, she would have thought that meant they had the same surnames.

“Adopted brothers. ” Tim clarified, Marinette nodded her head as she gathered up her sewing supplies.  

“I see” Marinette replied, she looked over at Tim as he stepped down from the podium.  “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.  I’ll have your suit ready in time for the Wayne Gala.” she said as she stowed her supplies away.  

BONUS

Bonus 1:

The next time Red Hood and Red Robin run into each other.

Jason: You need to lay off Alfred's baking, or you might need a new Robin suit soon.

Tim: Why? Are you gonna bleed all over this one too?

Bonus 2:

Ladybug climbs in through the window late one night, Jason dramatically flicks on a lamp.

Red Hood: Well well well, it seems you have some explaining to do young lady.

[seyaryminamoto]

I'm just thinking about what you've said in the past about Zuko's morals in The Southern Raiders and what bugs me the most is that Zuko could have easily been Yon Rha. Yon Rha's big sin, as far as Zuko knows when he makes his proposal (before Katara tells him the whole story), was raiding the Southern Water Tribe in a manner which lead to someone's death, and Zuko raided both Kyoshi Island and the Southern Water Tribe. Zuko would be an acceptable target for vengeance under his own standards.

:'D very fair point of view, Anon. I've always focused on another angle with this particular problem, namely the fact that Zuko's traumatic Agni Kai happens because he was trying to defend soldiers from being used as bait, slain in battle as though their lives were meaningless... and then he's offering Katara his assistance with killing a soldier if that's the only way to become her friend. There's such a profound incompatibility between both ideas, such a massive rift in reasoning, that I can't help but wonder if Ozai, intentionally or not, actually taught Zuko through their Agni Kai that the lives of their people aren't worth anything after all.

In general, that episode's plot is just... very questionable. I understand these kids are jaded, they've seen pleeenty of ugly stuff and even done some ugly stuff themselves, but the core of the problem with Zuko, back in the day, was that his violent pursuit of the Avatar caused lots of trouble and nobody liked him because he was being a selfish ass who wanted to fulfill the Fire Lord's orders at all costs :'D so... as blind as Katara may be over anything to do with Kya, it baffles me that neither Sokka nor Aang would step up to tell Zuko that this sort of ridiculous reasoning, impulsive behavior and willingness to resort to violence is EXACTLY what made him an asshole during the months he chased them, and that changing sides without changing those violent impulses doesn't amount to jackshit. I'd honestly prefer it if Katara were the one to tell him as much, because then she'd have the bonus of telling Zuko: "That's funny, because this sort of BS is precisely why I can't trust you!" and Zuko would be at an even bigger loss than before :'D but of course, when emotions are involved, Katara loses sight of reality and common sense, it's true...

Looking at it the way you do, just imagine if Yon Rha had told Katara "Oh. Sorry. Nice to see you again!" the way Zuko does with Suki :'D I'm pretty sure she would've actually killed the guy without even hesitating.

It's not to say that Zuko has objectively murdered anyone with the particular cruelty Yon Rha killed Kya: as far as we know, he didn't. We do know, however, that he's imprisoned people in nightmarish conditions (something even his sister cannot be said to have done), as he does in LOK, conditions bad enough that one of those prisoners (who, arguably, wasn't in the worst of conditions) said he'd rather die than return to that imprisonment. So, however "deserved" the Red Lotus's imprisonment might have been, dehydrating a waterbender and freezing a firebender for well over a decade sounds like one hell of an act of cruelty, which says he's perfectly capable of cruelty, all the same as Yon Rha was, and Zuko can't even say he's following someone's orders: he's the one who chooses to do this, plain and simple. So cruelty is NOT beyond Zuko. He can be harsh and nasty whenever it suits him. Despite what he'd have the audience believe, he isn't truly the poster child of peace and kindness :')

As you've said, Zuko caused lots of damage with his careless actions back in Book 1, actions that could have certainly cost lives if this show had been written to be grittier and darker than it was.

As a careless, casual example, here's the typical, boring old trope of "there's a kid in danger and the hero swoops in to save them!" (and there's poor Sokka on the background too ;_;). That ship just comes into shore, breaks all the ice it cares to, and it could have cost at least the two lives of those in the scene here (and who knows how many more that we aren't seeing). Is this not the same as attacking someone deliberately, with killer intent? Sure, it's not, but the ultimate outcome would be the same: someone's died, and it's your fault. And if you're a good person, you would feel bad about it. In fact, you might not even be able to think of yourself as a good person if anyone's death can be pinned on you.

Again, we don't know for sure that his actions cost any lives, but that they could have speaks for itself. That he was once part of the Fire Nation killer machine, that he was a tool to his father (even if not one he particularly cared for), should have made him all the more willing to understand that soldiers are as brainwashed as he was. No, this isn't to defend Yon Rha by any means, he was indeed a piece of shit... but Zuko doesn't even wait to meet him to confirm this. He's ready to help Katara kill a guy who, for all he knows, could have spent his whole life repenting for his actions (yes, we know that's not the case, but if the show had wanted to give us more nuance in the Fire Nation army, it could have been). Zuko doesn't even hesitate, and he even eggs on Katara until she finally decides she's not going to do it -- then he proceeds to badger Aang non-stop about how he MUST kill Ozai, funny how that goes. Which allows the interpretation that Zuko didn't learn anything at all from the Southern Raiders adventure.

In the end, if Zuko's actions cost any lives whatsoever (like, I don't know, maybe lives of the people whose food he stole in the Earth Kingdom (: what, me still being salty about this in the year of 2021? Noooo waaaaay...), you're quite right to say that it'd be fine, as far as his own philosophies are concerned, for Zuko to be executed by the injured party. It'd only be fair, right? Yet I guess that's the beauty of Zuko being Zuko: fairness isn't part of it. Justice? I don't think he's actually familiar with the concept. His sister made lots of mistakes, same as he did, but has he attempted to help her find her way, same as he was helped? Has he given her another chance? The answer is nope. Chit Sang is a convicted murderer who claims he didn't do the crime he was put in jail for: Zuko doesn't even bother asking any questions about who he is, or trying to get to the bottom of this problem. He's fine with getting the guy out of prison without first confirming whether his story checks out or not. Even back in The Blue Spirit, when he was "under" Ozai's thumb, and Ozai's priorities should have been his own, he decides that it's more important for him to capture Aang himself, and somehow the show spins that situation into "hey, Zuko's not that bad :>" when... everyone knows he's not setting him free out of any selflessness on his part, in fact, it's the entire opposite.

So yeah, more sketchy Zuko things that remain unresolved, unaddressed and go ignored all the time. Again, things that don't make much sense with the character he's supposed to be. And as usual, it's stuff we're supposed to shrug off or make a thousand excuses for in order to always find a way to see Zuko as a perfectly good person, when, as I've said before, being good takes efforts Zuko often didn't bother making, not before his "change of heart", not afterwards either.

[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.

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Title: impossible scenario

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

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

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

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

“Spidey?”

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

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

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

Peter sighed.

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

There was a pause.

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

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

 --

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

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

That left snark and violence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke.”

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

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

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

God, what a mood.

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

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

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

“Kid.”

“ME.”

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

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.  

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

“Is that?” someone whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke, please. Please.”

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

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

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

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

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

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

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

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

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

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

MMMMMMM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

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

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

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

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

Han sighed.

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

“Not here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke.”

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

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

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

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

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

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

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

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

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

“Shut up,” Luke said.

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

“Stop.”

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

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

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

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

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

His stomach turned.

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

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

Luke was crying.

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

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

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

  --

It was weird.

It was just weird.

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

Luke.

Han.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only one.

  --

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

NL: no promises but go on

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

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

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

MJ: yeah?

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

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

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

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

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

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

JS: 😊

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

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

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

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

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

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

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

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

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

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

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

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

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

PP: ned I’m freaking out

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

PP: deeply

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

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

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

  --

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

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

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

 --

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

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

Ned was perfect.

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

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

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

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

Fine.

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

“Keep going.”

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

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

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

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

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

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

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

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

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

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

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

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

 --

 PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

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

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

SC: I don’t think about those people

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

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

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

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

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

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

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

 --

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

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

Thor blinked at him.

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

Thor lit up.

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

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

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

…yes.

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

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

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

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

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

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

 --

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

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

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

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

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

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

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

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

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

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

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

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

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

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

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

 --

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

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

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

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

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

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

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

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

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

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

“Nope,” Peter said.

 --

 NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

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

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

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

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

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

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

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

NL: and if not?

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

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

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

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

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

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

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

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

 --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

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

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

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

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

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

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

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

 --

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

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

But it had shattered them—both of them.

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

He’d walked it before.

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

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

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

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

  --

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

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

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

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

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

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

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

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

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

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

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

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

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

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

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

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

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

He had to find him now.

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

 --

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

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

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

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

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

Ned was about to flip a table.

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

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

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

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

Great. Peter was approaching.

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

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

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

She frowned at it.

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

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

Luke’s friend stared at him.

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

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

There was a long silence.

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

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

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

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

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

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

Nice.

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

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

 --

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

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

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

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

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

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

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

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

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

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

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

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

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

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

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

LS: I

LS: wh

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

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

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

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

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

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

 He held his breath.

 LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

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

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

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

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

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

 Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

 LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

 Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

 PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

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

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

PP: it’s my job

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

PP: yes

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

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

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

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

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

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

 Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

 PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

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

PP: you mean obi-wan?

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

PP: where do you live?

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

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

 --

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

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

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

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

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

“Insidious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

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

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

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

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

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

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

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

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

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

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

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

 --

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

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

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

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

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

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

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

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

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

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

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

Luke stared at him.

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

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

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

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

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

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

Ah.

Fair was fair.

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

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

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

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

Luke gave him a weird brow.

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

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

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

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

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

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

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

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

It sounded like it.

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

What a trip.

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

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

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

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

Yikes.

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

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

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

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

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

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

Mmm. Perhaps so.

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

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

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

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

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

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

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

Luke flinched.

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

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

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

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

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

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

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

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

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

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

Luke covered his face in despair.

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

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

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

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Er.

No.

Sorry?

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

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

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

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

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

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

Understood.

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

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, actually,” he said.

 --

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

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

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

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

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

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

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

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

Hang on a minute here.

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

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

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

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

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

UH?

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

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

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

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

 --

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

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

Maybe Obi-Wan?

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

“LOOK AT HIM.”

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

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

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

“This is Basic.”

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

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

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

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

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

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

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

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

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

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

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

There was a long stare.

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

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

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

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

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

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

“Negative, ghostrider.”

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

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

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

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

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

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

 --

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

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

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

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

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

 --

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

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

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

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

 --

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

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

That was worrying.

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

He texted Luke again.

 PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

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

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

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

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

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

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

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

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

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

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

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

 That sounded like a horrendous decision.

 PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

  --

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

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

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

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

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

 --

 Another two weeks. Another text.

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

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

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

LS: preschool teacher.

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

 PP: was that your calling?

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

PP: you honestly terrify me

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

PP: no shit??

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

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

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

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

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

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

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

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

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

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

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

 There was no winning here.

 --

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

Obviously he hadn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

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

  --

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

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

That was what they currently had to go on.

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

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

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

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

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

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

  --

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

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

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

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

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

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

  --

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

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

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

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

Wade screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wade whistled.

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

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

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

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

  --

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

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

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

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

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

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

 Selfie acquired.

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

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

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

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

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

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

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

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

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

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

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

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

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

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

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

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

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

  --

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

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

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

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

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

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

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

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

  --

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

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

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

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

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.  

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

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

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

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

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

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

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

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

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

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

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”  

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

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

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

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

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

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

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

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

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

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

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

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

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

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

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

Luke shook harder than ever.

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

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

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

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

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

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

“You what?”

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

Awwwwww.

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

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

  --

Look at all these people hugging each other.

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

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

“Wait. Peter.”

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

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

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

 --

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

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

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

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

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

   --

[bigfan-fanfic]

You know it really makes me sad how normalized being rude is because I seen videos on YouTube of montages of how Jade from Victorious is cool for being mean and cruel and how Sam from icarly is awesome for being incredibly dangerous and mean spirited even if these characters were in real in real life we wouldn’t want to be around them and yet people still try to copy their behavior thinking it would make them cool. Hell people in real life make money off of being rude to others they don’t know.

I find that a lot with comedians that complain about people getting offended about everything. Like, if your "humor" is based solely on putting other people down, particularly marginalized groups, then... maybe the problem is you and you're just not that funny now that the world is becoming more aware of how messed up it is. Humor is always a subjective thing, but insult comedy is a very specific genre of comedy and not the end-all be-all of funny, you know?

The only way a mean-spirited character is generally funny is if it's not one-sided. If the character is the mean one and never gets anything back (like Sam from iCarly), then it's just bullying and the character is just an asshole (like Sam from iCarly). Now, take a show like The Nanny. There's a snarky butler character named Niles on the show, who has it out for his boss' business partner (who is also the lead's romantic rival) and constantly snipes and snarks at her. The point here is that a), she's consistently rude, conceited, and underhanded enough that it feels deserved and b) she fights back. Niles usually wins their verbal sparring but it never feels like bullying, it feels like Niles punching up at her even as she tries to push him back down.

There's a difference between snarky banter and just plain being mean. And being mean doesn't make you cool, it just makes you mean.

[marnz]

what was the starting point/inspiration for stay close to me? also I'm so curious about the Esen pov fix-it, what was the general plot?

Ahhh thank you for these great questions, because stay close to me actually arose out of me unable to figure out how to make the Esen pov fix it (a longing that's killing me) work. I find Esen so hard to write because he is such an asshole lmao, and I also find mirroring SPC's prose super difficult because our prose styles are opposites.

The Esen Fix It was basically me trying to fix the almost kiss. It starts off after the almost kiss and basically is about Esen realizing he's been a huge dick and trying to be better/less offensive so he can be with Ouyang while also trying to figure out how it's physically possible to be with Ouyang...but I was concerned it was very OOC. Esen never apologizes in the book, even when he knows he's very wrong, and the way I had Esen justify his own behavior to himself felt weak. I have almost 7k of this fic but due to my concerns about characterization I abandoned it. It's unfortunate, the dramatic irony was delicious. I would love to figure out how to finish it :( Later I started what would become stay close to me from Esen's pov but ran into the same problems.

For stay close to me's inspiration, 1) I love horses 2) I think what makes Ouyang such a complex character is not just the gender stuff but also his identity as a disabled person, and I wanted to explore his relationship with his body 3) I think the opening scene in stay close to me is the part of the novel where Ouyang would be most compelled to turn back or deviate from the path he must walk, and the perfect opportunity for Esen to realize Ouyang is actually not happy. 4) when I was rereading I was struck by Esen's dialogue...almost every time he talks to Ouyang he's hinting at having feelings for Ouyang, it's insane. I can't decide if Ouyang subconsciously knows this and is not acknowledging it because of his duty to his family or if he seriously missed Esen's blatant flirting attempts. Like the first time we meet Esen he's literally staring at Ouyang and playing with his hair. Give me a break! The text supports both theories, unfortunately.

But not all is lost, as I am cribbing my fav elements from this fix it and adding them to my ouyang pov fix it, which has turned into a monster :(

I've added a snippet of the Esen pov fix it below the read more for funsies.

That night it rained. The cold crept in through the window paper and Esen, thinking of Ouyang, ordered a fire lit, and then had to strip off some of his layers. The fire hissed and recoiled when Ouyang entered his quarters, as it always did. Ouyang had never commented on it so Esen never had either, but now Ouyang looked at the fire and then at Esen.

“I was cold,” Esen said. He was sweating.

Ouyang, who wore his usual surfeit of layers, said nothing. A servant brought airag; Esen dismissed him and all other servants, as was custom for any military briefings. Ouyang settled in and gave his report on the replacement cavalry, their integration, and how the army was utilizing the extra funds. Esen, playing absently with his jade hair beads, let Ouyang’s low, raspy voice wash over him. It all felt normal, absurdly normal. Yet everything had changed.

“My thanks, General. I’m not surprised training the replacement forces is going well despite Altan’s absence. I knew you would not fail me.”

Ouyang gave a thin smile. “Shao has chosen Zhao Man for Altan’s replacement.”

“Not Jurgaghan?” Esen asked, wrinkling his nose. His third wife would be displeased.

“As his father is not the father of the Empress, no. Shao likes Zhao Man.”

“I don’t care about Shao,” Esen said impatiently. Truthfully he didn’t like Shao, who always seemed contemptuous no matter who he spoke to. But he trusted Ouyang to have good reason for promoting Shao to Senior Commander. “Do you not like Jurgaghan?”

Ouyang’s look was sardonic. “I do not know him well.”

Yes; Ouyang had always avoided Esen’s wives for some reason. “He is a strong fighter. His archery is good; he rides well.”

“Would he be related to you if he did not?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“There is nowhere else I want to be,” Ouyang said quietly.

A tender ache spread through Esen’s chest. It felt like it was pressing up against his lungs and heart, overwhelming them. He felt, as he often did, a longing to keep Ouyang close, but now he wanted Ouyang physically close. It wasn’t enough for Ouyang to sit next to him. He wanted Ouyang in his arms. He wanted them skin to skin. Whenever he had felt such an unmannish sentiment before he had buried it or, if it were particularly strong, imagined what Chaghan would say if such a thing got back to him. But now his longing for Ouyang was so powerful that it was as unending as the steppes.

Ouyang was watching Esen’s face closely. He was very still, his hand clenched around his cup of airag. It was exactly like the night when Esen had horribly insulted him, except this time Ouyang had sought him out. Esen felt the pull of fate again, a pull that seemed determined to bring them into contact. What sort of contact, he could not say. For a moment, him being impaled by Ouyang’s sword or undone by the slow press of Ouyang’s mouth seemed to be equally possible. But Esen knew Ouyang would never hurt him.

“Ouyang,” Esen murmured. Again came the thought that Ouyang was beautiful, but it was a proud and remote beauty, a beauty that was forbidding. And so Esen dared not reach for him.

A shadow passed across Ouyang’s face. He bowed his head and let go of the cup. “My Prince?”

“Do not call me that. Please.”

Ouyang’s throat bobbed. “Why not?”

“I have asked you a thousand times not to.”

“And I have told you a thousand times that I must. Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed,” said Esen.

Ouyang did look up at that. He held himself with the high, wavering tension that preceded a lightning strike. It was dread. The pain of knowing how badly he had failed Ouyang over and over again made Esen speak slowly.

“I can never apologize enough for your family’s death--”

“I do not wish to speak of it.”

“Then at least let me apologize for being an unrepentant ass. Please.” There seemed no other apology he could make that was not insipid.

Here came that close gaze again. “Apology accepted,” Ouyang said at length.

Esen looked down at the table, at his abandoned cup, and chose his words carefully. “For a long time all I cared about was making my father proud.” Again, that tension. Perhaps Ouyang was right to worry; Esen did run a risk of offending him with his next statement. “I made certain sacrifices to that end. It is the job of a son to do so.”

“Yes,” Ouyang’s voice was almost soundless.

“But my father is dead.”

“Your duty to him remains.”

“Of course it does, but I don’t--” Flustered, Esen forced himself to stop and think. How like a woman he felt, unable to be forthright. “The ways I must make him proud have shifted since I became Prince of Henan. Given that, given that--everything has changed--I am not willing to continue making this sacrifice. It would be unbearable to do so.”

Ouyang hardly seemed to be breathing. When Esen finally gathered the courage to look at him, Ouyang was staring at him with such intensity that Esen felt himself flush.

“Esen,” Ouyang whispered.

The deep pleasure of hearing Ouyang say his name made Esen temporarily shut his eyes. He knew immediately they could never go back. But words seemed particularly treacherous, so instead of speaking he held out a hand to Ouyang.

[ask-whitebag]

I think we should all give Monkey Fist a thank you, because without him, Ron wouldn’t have accidentally gotten Monkey powers.

Nah. Monty did nothing, Ron got his powers because of Wade. Well, kinda. Also, it wasn’t an accident, it was Ron’s choice- Okay, let’s take a closer look at what happened.

(Putting it under the cut because boy, it got long)

Let’s start with Monty Fiske and things he did, both in this episode and before it.

First of all, he does what any world famous British archeologist / explorer / highly respected scholar with a royal title, obsessed with ancient artefacts, living in a spooky castle would do - spends the family fortune on a dangerous experimental surgery and radical genetic mutation, and becomes a man-monkey who violates every law of nature and science. ...I kept it all as a one sentence to point out how ridiculous he is.

He then collects three jade monkeys, and he finds out where the fourth one is. The problem is, he just had that surgery and he doesn’t want to risk injuring himself.

Here’s the plan he comes up with: he hires a fourteen-year-old girl to steal the jade monkey from a dangerous temple filled with deadly traps, and if she dies, she dies. She succeeds though, and to prevent the statue being delivered to a museum, Monty goes undercover as a ninja and steals the statue from their camp, throwing any suspicion off himself.

During all of this, Monty meets Ron Stoppable - another fourteen-year-old, but this one has a severe phobia of monkeys. Monty tries to prove to Ron his feelings make no sense; what traumatized Ron was a chimpanzee - an ape, not a monkey. To this Ron answers with anger, which is a normal reaction, given that an adult stranger just tried to invalidate his trauma. Monty then refuses to speak to Ron directly, safe for that one time he says the word “monkey”, with a smile on his face, because he knows it would upset the boy.

God, he’s so well characterized. What a perfect asshole.

Anyway, later in the episode Monty gets magical monkey powers from the jade statues and tries to kill Ron. Also, he says “monkey” again. Like, for no reason. He chases Ron around the castle and says “monkey” at him, to make him scream. Amazing.

But that’s all Monty does in this episode, really. Like, he doesn’t even retrieve that fourth monkey by himself - Kim does it. So yeah, I won’t be thanking Monty for anything jsdbfhsjhdbfhjbs

Now, the question is, what was Ron doing in Monty’s castle in the first place? Let’s look at Wade.

Wade wants to test out his new holographic simulator. He counts on Kim because she is his best friend, but Kim is busy and can’t help him at the moment. So Wade lies to Ron and sends him to Monty Fiske’s castle by himself - this entire time Ron thinks he’s there with Kim, but the Kim next to him is a hologram. And he only realizes this after Monty gets his powers and attacks that hologram. And suddenly Ron realizes he’s all alone with an adult trying to kill him.

Ron didn’t find himself in this situation by accident - he was lied to. Although, no one should blame Wade for anything that happened. Wade meant well, and he thought Monty was harmless - he sent Ron there just to talk and gather info. And to be fair, Wade tried to fix his mistake as soon as he realized he had made it - by sending help and contacting Kim.

So Ron runs around, trying to escape Monty, until Kim’s cousin, Larry, contacts Ron, using Wade’s holographic technology. With a little help from a nerd’s perspective, Ron realizes he has a choice. He can try to escape, or he can hide and wait for help, or… if he wants to make his chances of survival a little higher, he can confront his fears. In his own words, to defeat the monkey-man, Ron must become that which he fears most.

I cannot stress this enough - monkeys are Ron’s biggest fear. No one would blame him if he said, “No, thank you, I’d rather hide.” But instead, he finds his way back to that jade monkeys chamber - he returns there deliberately and stands in the centre of that room intentionally. This is his choice. And it feels… so compelling.

TLDR; With an exception of threatening teenagers’ lives, Monty Fiske did jack shit. Kim was the one who retrieved the fourth monkey in the first place. And there were no accidents - what granted Ron monkey powers was both Wade’s tricks and Ron’s own exceptional bravery.

[sour-n-salty-citrus]

Do you like the backstory for rick? Idk I kinda preferred it when Rick's past was a complete mystery and i dont really care about diane at all. I didn't expect the writers to actually write a canon for him either but I guess they realised how much the audience wanted one for him

Ajdjdjeidjs ack, I'll be honest I'm not... keen on it.

(Bolly-quinn actually puts it into words well how I feel about Rick's backstory here)

I liked the mystery element of his backstory! I know it's always exciting to have things in canon, but like... it being open to interpretation was something I always appreciated.

And... ugh, hoo boy. I'm torn. I mean, I love that Rick is completely different from what dudebros and like- "high iq" redditors present him as. He's a man who loved his wife and daughter, loved them so much he would rather give up travelling the multiverse, becoming a genius scientist, just to stay with them. He was vulnerable, soft, and caring. He wasn't nihilistic and reckless and selfish and some "alpha male who wouldn't let anything tie him down". He was ridiculously romantic, optimistic, sweet and loving, and maybe even kind.

And I don't give a shit.

I don't! I don't care. This might sound incredibly cruel and unfair, but I don't care that Rick lost his family.

Ok- let me explain.

I'm... disappointed. I'm disappointed that losing Beth and Diane is all it was that made Rick into the complete and utter monster he is today (or the start of the series anyway). I don't mean to undermine his loss and grief- at all! It's just... for him to go on a (seemingly decades long) killing spree, slaughtering any version of himself he seemed to come across... christ. Maybe in his eyes, they were all as bad as that One. Which is understandable. I'm very lucky to have not experienced that kind of loss. I haven't had to Grieve the way Rick did. Maybe I just don't get it, because I've never felt it. That's fair.

It just felt... god, I don't want to say excessive. I know, people process grief in different ways, and for some it manifests in unhealthy ways, some lash out at the world, fixate on trying to find an explanation, to find justice, etc. And I like how Rick was an absolute inconsolable wreck at first. Something like that, it needs time to process and overcome before you can start moving again.

I just- I don't know. Something rubbed me the wrong way about it all.

It's like- it's not that I wanted Rick to have spent all that time partying or something. It's just- argh, i don't know! Maybe someone else can put it into better words lol.

I hate that he immediately jumped into not giving a single shit about other people (save birdperson and squanchy!). Like- when he blew up those aliens who gave him whatever it was he needed. Ah- ok, they probably weren't exactly innocent or anything, but still. I think it was just I felt if we ever saw Rick's backstory, I'd want it to be a slow decline into who he is, show him gradually losing so much of his morality and becoming so jaded. Idk i guess i just wanted it to be like, a series of significant (and lesser but still important) events that lead to him going down that path rather than- this ONE thing that just apparently completely ruined him? And yeah ik ik it was a BIG thing, but like- i guess i was expecting.... more? Maybe something like idk Rick trying to save all the other Beths and Dianes and failing, idk, just... something more.

I actually would have preferred it if Diane lived. I dont know, I just- man I really hate the dead wife/daughter turns ordinary man into callous asshole trope. I agree, it's hard to really care all that much for Diane, and for a while I couldn't understand why. I thought, idk, is it internalised misogyny? Do I just not like Diane because I want to ship Rick with someone else?

I think I get it now. Diane, for all her significance in Rick's backstory, just... isn't a character. She's just- the motivation Rick needed to kick off the story. You could replace her with literally anybody else Rick could have loved and it wouldn't feel any different. She just doesn't feel special. She's no more unique than any other Dead Wife. We get nothing, literally nothing of her. I kept thinking, why? Why does this just not hit that hard? Rick's had emotional moments with Beth, with Birdperson, even with Summer and Jerry. And then I got it- it doesn't feel earned. It felt like how you feel when you see side characters or extras in the background of an action movie die. Maybe some faint sadness, but mainly nothing. We as an audience get nothing from Diane, we don't know her, don't get to see how she matters to Rick, don't get to see her relationship with Rick, we don't get any chance to connect with her character. So when she dies and Rick gets his montage of seeking revenge, it doesn't feel earned. It feels more like I'm being told about how this guy suffered than really seeing it (which i believe, may have been the writers intention actually...). It's kind of like a feeling of "damn that sucks bro... and?". There's no real heavy emotional response that I could really get from it...

I actually would have preferred if Rick and Diane broke up, divorced. I feel like that would offer so much more for them BOTH as chatacters. Instead of their relationship being happy and sunshine and rainbows until a Big Bad came in and took that away, I'd prefer it if Rick's downfall was just... his fault. (Actually His fault.) If his marriage fell apart because he couldn't make it work. If he estranged his daughter because he couldn't properly handle fatherhood, despite loving her. If he was flawed, terribly flawed, because of his own misjudgement and shortcomings. I guess my biggest problem, is that this is presented as someone having the perfect life, which is then taken away as a result of someone Else. It's too easy to then say, oh, it's not his fault he's like that! He had his heart broken, his life ruined! He lost himself in a revenge spree, poor thing... I'd have rathered if it was just a little bit more... realistic? If Rick had been the root cause of his own problems. If he'd experienced tragedy, but also been the cause of much more. I just wish there'd been more of a balance? It just felt so rushed. And not because of the montage- it just like Rick became completely apathetic way too fast. I just hate hate HATE the "he was a good guy with the perfect little life until tragedy struck and he was never the same". Rick never made the effort to improve his life, to do better, to be better. He's actively a cruel, callous, unkind person (complex, yes, but these are traits no one can deny he harbours). He's done far worse than was done to him, and that will never be justifiable to me... it just all feels so very cliche and out of place, and out of everything, this was the one thing I had hoped they wouldn't do.

I think the writers are aware of this, strangely enough. I mean, Rick even calls it his "crybaby backstory". I think they didn't want to leave it open any longer, and just got it out of the way. I don't think they really want to elaborate on it anymore. From what I predict, they want to focus on the here and now of Rick (and Morty, haha), and the development of who Rick is NOW, instead of who he WAS. I think they kind of just went, here's your gut-punch, your tragic backstory, now leave it alone. Diane is dead, Rick had a hard past, the series is about moving on and change. Now can we PLEASE get back to the sci-fi shenanigans?

(There was something I LOVED about the backstory though, and that was the soundtrack! Like the music for the Battle of Bloodridge, it fucking SLAPPPEDDDD. I can't imagine making synthwave emotional, but it actually kind of worked! The swell of the music actually did a lot more for getting a reaction out of me than the content lmaooo. It kind of reminded me of Kurzegast's "optimistic nihilism" for some reason... I actually liked the Bloodridge track so much, it got me a little into synthwave, which i never listened to before! The music producers this season have just KILLED IT!)