#certified whirl post

[polyhexing]

the voices want me to glue Tailgate to the ceiling. Again.

[lets-try-some-writing]

In tfp do you think the vehicon play games when other bots are looking? Like soundwave is off on a mission so some vehicons decided were just gonna play 20 questions. I feel like it would be a little funny.

I bet they absolutely do.

The Vehicons have to keep all their games on the down low to avoid Starscream or some other Commander stopping them. So most of their games are either easy to hide, or require no tools at all. There are a few rather popular games amongst the Vehicons that are their preferred choice of pass time when they can't leave their posts but still have nothing much to do.

Obviously, the most common game is cards. But of course, it is not as simple as one might think. A Vehicon needs to be worthy to play the game, and they way they do this is by trading for the cards that one uses to begin with. Every card is specially crafted, each modeled after a notable wartime character, Autobot or Decepticon. In order for a card to be produced, a piece of the character in question must be gathered and quite literally put into the card. Usually this means having to grab a piece of shed plating before anyone notices. As such, cards have increadible rarity and the strength of each card is determined by how many are in circulation, whether or not the character is dead, and the edition of the card.

It is honestly less about the game and more about the collecting and production process. Sure, the Vehicons will actually play the card game using real life stats around each character, but more often it is a trading match. Three Starscreams for one Whirl. No one has seen Blaster since Cybertron went dark, so his card is worth four Bumblebees. Eight Optimi for two first edition Orion Pax cards (an ultra rare collectable considering most of Orion Pax's plating fell off LONG ago.) Four Megatrons for two Megatronus cards, and two Megatronus cards for one D-16 (Soundwave has the only known D-16 copy and no one is willing to take it from him.)

The cards are highly valued and often taken excellent care of. Only some Vehicons are certified to make more via the general agreement of the troops. The most sought after cards are by far the:

Party Ambulance Ratchet: Only three are known to exist and Pharma absolutely has one and Optimus may or may not have the other. It is unconfirmed. There are rumors the remaining one is floating around in a different Vehicon battalion, so the Vehicons have no yet lost hope for it.

Gladiator Soundwave: There are two known copies of this card, and many believe Soundwave claimed both. ST3V3 swears up and down that Megatron has one, but few are willing to go ask the warlord to confirm.

Rumble & Frenzy: A duo card that has long since gone out of production in light of the minicons deaths. There are perhaps fifty somewhere in the galaxy and only one Vehicon on the Nemesis has a copy. He keeps it in perfect condition.

End Your Life Tarn: One very VERY unfortunate Vehicon managed to get enough off Tarn to create a singular legendary card. Myths say that it may still exist somewhere in the ether, in Tarn's personal collection, or somewhere else in the universe.

Senator Proteus: Why does it exist? No one is entirely sure since he died early into the war. But a Vehicon has a copy of the card and it is said that six others may still be around. No one cares much for Proteus, but his card is rare and thus valuable considering the mech has been dead for millennia.

[naranjapetrificada]

Time for another Fanfic Friday!

Let's get the obligatory self-promo out of the way: Monday night, just before bedtime, I finally posted Chapter 2 of my bizarre little gay pirates arranged marriage ancient-world-inspired AU From the Firmament. I get if you don't trust WIPs, or don't think it's for you, and I'll be the first to tell you it's unusual. But if you find your curiosity piqued at all, maybe you should give it a whirl? If being in the OFMD fandom has taught me anything, it's that even things that are certifiably Not Your Thing can surprise the hell out of you.

Onto the recs (including one that absolutely wasn't My Thing and a non-OFMD rec)! Here's what I've been reading lately:

1) Of the AUs that should be "definitely Not My Thing", Wanna Fly Away is probably the least My Thing I've encountered. It absolutely, positively should not be something I'd ever consider reading, no matter how much I trust @petrichorca not to lead me astray. Monsterfucking? Nope, absolutely not for me, but blessings upon all who enjoy it. And Animorphs? I mean really, Animorphs???

So anyway I'm on Chapter 9 now, although I'll admit to having skimmed the final chapter many moons ago out of curiosity. I do that sometimes because I'm generally spoiler agnostic and sometimes I need to know ahead of time if a certain story will leave me existentially devastated. Jury's still out tbh! Crucially though, even after skimming the last chapter, I didn't start reading. What actually got me to read the fic proper was this separate one-shot that looked at Stede's character before leaving his life behind. That reminded me in a lot of ways of this pre-canon fic I've long appreciated, and that sealed the deal.

2) Next, for something ENTIRELY in the canon universe, I've been following the gentle, meditative innkeepers-era fic The Waters Around You by eimeo (not sure if they're on tumblr) and it's made for really rewarding reading. There's still plenty of work our boys need to do, but for once they actually have time to do it!

3) I've also been trying to catch up on my OMG THEY'RE ✨BOYFRIENDS✨ fics and one I heartily recommend is Tenderly the Light by the one and only @darcylindbergh, which perfectly captures that effervescent feeling you know they both had during the boyfriends scene while also not forgetting that they have to go out there and escape the British while also just being so full of LIFE. Pitch perfect.

4) Next up is the recently reposted Powder Blue by @scarrletmoon. It's a modern AU which I missed the first time around because I wasn't in the fandom yet (if such a time ever existed). Heed the tags going in, but if you're like me and heard so much about it after it got taken down, you'll absolutely want to check it out now. In particular, I love how like, grounded I feel inside Ed as a character, and how the in-world power dynamics replicate for a reader how Stede's specific brand of inscrutability would have felt to Canon Ed, who doesn't have the benefit of knowing how Stede feels. There's that little bit of distance there that just makes everything a bit more...more, I guess.

5) Lastly, for those of us anxiously awaiting the latest update to @moonyinpisces's phenomenal GO fix-it How Do We Turn On The Light (brb refreshing my email again), I want to recommend Talk to Me of Things to Come by Atsuki, which visits Crowley and Aziraphale on New Years Eve, 1988. It's flirty and sweet (although I definitely would not call it "fluff") and has some S-tier Aziraphale pining if you're into that. Not even sure how I found it tbh but I must have been throwing GO fics at the void where Chapter 16 of HDWTOTL waits to melt our collective minds.

Happy Friday, and happy reading!

[angelasscribbles]

Irreparable Choices

Series: American Girl

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake x Riley

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Mature themes, unplanned/unwanted pregnancy. Abortion discussed

Word Count: 2,710

A/N: This is a follow-up to Home for Christmas, which makes it technically a two-shot, not a one-shot. Full disclosure, I have another chapter written which makes it a three-shot well on its way to being another series. What the fuck is wrong with me, I don't need another series.

While the first one explored Riley and Liam's relationship and the ending of it, this one explores Riley and Drake's. This is complete AU, they are normal people living in north Texas. They grew up together and are now trying to navigate adult life and college, but having a hard time severing those ties.

Special shout out to @karahalloway for prereading this and encouraging me to actually post it.

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake Walker was living his dream.

He had left the bowling alley and gone to work for North Texas Auto Repair after finishing his first year of automotive technology classes at the local community college.

He had just started the last semester of his degree program and already had a solid offer of full-time employment from the owner of the auto shop. The guy had given him the part-time job as an apprentice mechanic as a favor to his father, but the offer of a full-time position as a certified automotive technician had been extended because he was good with cars, reliable, and worked his ass off.

Drake had a plan and so far things were right on track.

The only thing missing was her.

“Hey, kid! Walker!”

Drake looked up from under the hood of a 1972 Dodge Charger at the sound of his name.

His boss gestured toward the bay doors of the auto shop, “You have a visitor.”

Drake’s eyes followed the gesture and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly wiped his hands clean and hurried over to her, “Riley? What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.” She chewed her lip nervously.

“Okay, yeah,” he knew something was wrong because it was the middle of January and she was supposed to be at school in California.

“Hey, Bas!” He called across the bay to his boss, “Mind if I take off early tonight?”

“Sure, kid, just don’t make a habit of it.” Bastien didn’t actually mind. It was only thirty minutes early and Drake had never called in sick, asked for a day off or so much as been late in the nine months he’d worked there.

“I won’t!” Drake called over his shoulder as he ushed Riley from the open-air bay into the heated office, “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, “I need to talk to you in private!”

Drake glanced at the woman behind the counter, “Meg, would it be all right if we used the break room for a little bit?”

“Sure, no one else is going to need it again today. It’s almost closing time.”

“Thank you, you’re the best!” He told her as he pulled Riley down a hallway and through the breakroom door.

He closed the door behind them then turned to Riley in concern, “Okay, what is it? What’s wrong? Spill!”

Riley paced across the room, twisting her hair around a finger as her mind whirled with all the different variations she’d rehearsed inside her head over the last few days. Finally, she simply blurted out, “I’m pregnant!”

He froze as he struggled to process her words, “Are you sure?”

Frustration pinged through her, “I didn’t just drive for two days across four states on a fucking whim, Drake! I’ve taken six tests! I’m sure!”

“I thought you were on the pill!”

“I was! It obviously failed!”

He slid a hand down his face, “Shit…”

“Yeah, shit!” She agreed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but…is it mine?”

“Yes, Drake, it’s yours! Again, why the fuck else do you think I drove across four states to get to you?”

“Moral support,” he replied instantly, “which I would give either way.”

“I know it’s yours because I had my period right before I came home for Christmas and I haven’t been with anyone else since and-“

He held his hands up in front of him, “Hey, hey, hey! I believe you! You don’t have to convince me!”

“Are you sure? Because-“

“I’m sure!” he asserted, his voice going softer, “I know you wouldn’t lie to me about something like that.”

“Okay, good,” her anger quelled but she was still in panic mode, “because my whole fucking life is falling apart right now and I don’t know what to do!”

“Okay, okay, it’s going to be okay!” He started pacing as he ran a hand through his hair, his mind spinning looking for solutions.

“How? How the fuck is this going to be okay?” her voice trembled.

He stopped pacing and turned to face her, “I can increase my hours here, or get a second job, I could easily go back to the bowling alley! You could move back home and have the baby!”

“Where are we going to live? Your parent’s garage?” she scoffed.

He held a finger up, “First of all, it’s not a garage anymore, it was converted into a second master suite and it has its own entrance so that is a valid option,” he held up another finger, “Second, I’m only living there while I’m in school so I don’t have to work full time, but I could!”

“Working full time would interfere with your schoolwork, I can’t ask you-“

“You’re not asking, I’m telling you that I only live at home to save money, but-“

“Right, because we’re both broke ass college students, what’s your point?”

“My point is, I can take care of you, Riley!” So many different emotions flooded into his chest that he could barely breathe. But nothing in him wanted to run away from this. From her.

“I’m not asking you to take care of me, Drake and I can’t just drop out of school!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” she glared at him, “Because if I miss a semester, I’ll lose my scholarship, and if I lose my scholarship I lose my only chance to go to college and get a degree, that’s why not!”

“You don’t need it!” his voice rose, “I’m graduating in three months and I have a full-time job waiting for me here making good money!”

“Drake-“

“I mean it, Riley! My starting salary is almost as much as my dad is making now after twenty-five years on the force!”

“I know, Drake but I don’t want to depend on someone else’s salary!” Angry tears stung her eyes, “I want to finish my degree! I want a career of my own! I want to do things, travel, see the world a little before I settle down!”

“You can still do all those things!” He yelled.

“How?” She yelled back.

He stared into the face of the girl that held his heart in her hands, wondering how she seemed to be so oblivious to that fact.

He drew in a deep breath and tried for calm and reasonable as he said, “You can still follow all your dreams, Riley. They’ll just be delayed a little, that’s all! We can get married, have the baby and when you’re ready, you can enroll in a school closer to home.”

“School costs money-“

“I’ll pay for it!” He insisted.

“We’ve never even talked about a future together, Drake! Marriage…kids…. I don’t even know if you want that! Hell, I don’t even know if I want that! And we sure as hell shouldn’t be getting married just because I got knocked up! That’s no basis for a lasting relationship!”

“Lasting relationship?” he stared at her incredulously, “We’ve known each other our whole lives, Riley!”

“Yeah, as neighbors and friends!”

He was angry and shocked, “You think we’re just friends?”

His anger made her unsure, “Yeah, friends with benefits….”

His mouth fell open in disbelief, “Seriously?”

“Seriously what, Drake?” She exploded, “We get together over Christmas or spring break, hang out, get drunk, have sex, then go back to our respective lives! With very little communication in between, I might add! What am I supposed to think we’re doing here?”

All his resolve to remain calm and collected flew right out the window at that complete mischaracterization of their relationship, “It’s not my fault you spent last summer in fucking Europe with that study abroad program! And don’t think I don’t know that Liam was in Italy at the same time as you!”

“What’s your point?” She snapped.

“My point is that Christmas and spring break aren’t the only times that I bother to see you, they’re the only times that I get to see you, Riley, and I look forward to both of them all year long! Or have you forgotten that I drove all the way to fucking California to spend spring break with you last year?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she relented. Dropping onto the black faux leather couch in the corner of the breakroom she let her head fall into her hands, “I’m just spiraling right now. I know you’re trying to help but we don’t have an actual relationship, Drake. We’re not officially dating, we’ve never discussed a future together and this certainly wasn’t planned!”

His jaw clenched as he considered her words. Nothing she said was untrue. They hadn’t discussed a future together, and they weren’t a couple, but he was in love with her.

Not that he’d ever told her that.

He crossed the room as he spoke, “All of that is true and if you don’t want to have this baby, then I’ll support you but…”

She lifted her head to look at him, “But?”

“But I don’t want you to make a decision without all the facts.” He sat down next to her with a sigh as he skimmed a hand through his hair before confessing, “I’ve never brought up the future or asked you to be official because I’m afraid of the answer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…You've been very clear about wanting to be free to immerse yourself in the college experience and all the commensurate shenanigans that entails.”

“That was actually Liam’s idea,” she reminded him with a slight smile.

He bumped his shoulder into hers gently, “Yeah, well, you seem to have fully and enthusiastically embraced the concept.”

A small laugh escaped her, “Thanks in part to you.”

“What?” Surprise pulled through him.

“I was heartbroken when he broke up with me you know.” She shifted so her body was facing his.

“I remember…” he unconsciously turned his body a little more toward her.

She placed a hand on his arm, “You helped me through that! If not for you I’d probably still be sulking about it.”

“Great. I was your rebound guy. I knew it!” He joked.

“Ha ha, but yes, you really were. You made me feel something again.” She dropped her hand from his arm and started to turn away.

He reached out and grabbed her hand in both of his, “I’m glad I was able to be there for you, but that’s the other reason I haven’t brought up the future…”

Her eyes searched his, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…I know you’re not over Liam. I know you two still have unfinished business and I know you’ve been with other guys in California,” he released her hand and looked away as he admitted, “I… I didn’t think you wanted anything official, or to talk about a future with me.”

Riley was stunned, “Are you saying you do?”

He shrugged as he met her eyes quickly then looked away again, “Yes, Riley, I do. But I didn’t want to push you. I want kids someday. This is sooner than expected, and if it was any other girl, I’d probably be freaking out right now, but the idea of raising a baby with you isn’t the worst one in the world.”

She felt an unexpected frisson of jealousy coil around her heart, “But there are other girls.”

He turned his gaze back to her with a disbelieving shake of his head, “That’s the part you want to focus on right now? Yes, there have been other girls! Are you telling me you haven’t slept with anyone at Berkeley?”

Her eyes dropped to her lap. She didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought. But listen,” he put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up, “those girls are friends with benefits. You are so much more to me than that! If you want to have this baby, then I am all in! I’ll do whatever you need me to do to support that, including marrying you and it won’t be just because of the baby. I’ve wanted to marry you since preschool. Remember?”

She laughed as she leaned into him, “You proposed with a ring pop!”

“Damn right I did!” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, “It was cherry too, my favorite! I gave you my favorite flavor ring pop, Riley. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is!”

She let herself relax into his embrace, “I’m sorry if I’m being a raging bitch but-“

“You’re fine. I get it. It’s a lot to take in.”

“You may be willing to sacrifice your grades and future, but I’m not. I can’t let you do that for me.”

“It wouldn’t be for you, baby, it would be for us!” His grip around her tightened.

The intensity of emotion in his voice both thrilled and terrified her.

She wasn’t ready.

For any of it.

“I’m sorry, Drake,” she whispered, “I can’t.”

He went completely still for a moment, “Are you sure? Have you thought through every consideration?”

“I’ve had nothing but time to think while I drove across the country.”

His head fell back against the wall as relief and disappointment both crashed through him, “Okay.”

“Okay? You don’t hate me for it?” she asked as her fingers fidgeted with the placket of his shirt.

“I could never hate you,” he leaned forward to place a soft kiss on the top of her head, “for any reason.”

“Okay, good,” her voice hitched a little as tears pooled in her eyes, “I’ll make the appointment when I get back to Berkeley.”

He swallowed back his own tears as he stroked her hair, “Okay. Just tell me when and I’ll be there.”

“What?” She pulled away from him startled, “Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

He shook his head as he reached for her and pulled her back into his chest, “Yes, I do! You didn’t get into this situation alone and you’re not going to deal with the repercussions alone, okay?”

Fresh tears flooded her eyes, this time from relief, gratitude, and the overwhelming feeling of being loved when she felt completely unlovable. She nodded her head, “Okay, I’ll let you know.”

“Good.”

They held each other for a while in silence as they each tried to process the enormity of the situation.

When he finally spoke, his voice was light, his tone teasing, “So, did you drive across four states just to tell me that you don’t want to marry me?”

She laughed through her tears, as she looked up at him, “Stop it!”

He smiled sadly as he wiped the wetness from her cheeks, “Come on, Brooks. Let me buy you dinner and get you home. You must be exhausted.”

“I…can’t go home. What will I tell my parents about why I drove all the way here just to turn around and drive back?”

She hadn’t wanted to tell him on the phone. She had needed to see him, needed to confide in the only other person this affected.

“Okay, leave your car here. We’ll pull it around back, no one will see it. You can come home with me. No one ever comes in my room. You’ll get a good night’s sleep and I’ll take you to breakfast before you head back.”

She knew in that moment that she’d been right to come.

He always made everything better. From scraped knees in preschool to beating up her fifth-grade bully to helping her pick up the broken pieces of her heart after graduation.

“That sounds good, Drake. Thank you… for everything.”

“I don’t know what the hell I did except get you into this predicament,” he scoffed, “but you know I always have your back, right?”

“We got into this predicament together,” she corrected him, “But yeah, I do know, so thank you.”

“Come on,” he stood up and held his hand out to her, “the least I can do is feed you.”

The feel of his hand clasped around hers calmed the raging anxiety that had been gnawing at her since she first suspected she might be pregnant.

She followed him out of the breakroom and out of the shop, hand in hand, feeling more at peace than she had in days.

[green-dot-international-school]

Top 10 ICSE international schools in the Electronic city, Bengaluru.

Best 10 ICSE International School's in Electronic City, Bangalore.

About Electronic City:

Electronic City is a major technology hub located in Bangalore, Karnataka, India. It is spread across approximately 800 acres and is divided into three phases. The area was developed in the early 1990s to cater to the growing demand for software and electronics companies in Bangalore. Some of the major IT companies that have their offices in Electronic City include Infosys, Wipro, TCS, HCL Technologies, and Siemens. In addition to IT companies, there are also several educational institutions, hospitals, and residential complexes in the area. Electronic City is well-connected to other parts of Bangalore via the NICE Ring Road, Hosur Road, and the Bangalore Metro. The area is also home to several shopping malls, restaurants, and entertainment options.

Overall, Electronic City has emerged as a key contributor to the growth and development of Bangalore as a major technology hub, and continues to attract businesses and residents alike.

List of Best 10 ICSE International School's in Electronic City, Bangalore: 1. Green DoT International School 2. Ebenezer International School 3. Redbridge International Academy 4. Edify School 5. Primus public school 6. Triumph World School 7. Sorsfort International School 8. Greenwood High International School 9. Christ Academy 10. St. Francis De Sales Public School  

Reason why Green DoT International School should be prefer over the other Top 10 ICSE international schools in the Electronic city, Bengaluru. At Green Dot, we believe that the function of education is not just to teach one to think intensively, but also to think crically, and to develop intelligence plus character. This is the goal of true education, as Martin Luther King Jr. once said. Our aim is to enable all children to reach their full potential by imparting not only academic knowledge, but also instilling key values such as compassion, courage, trustworthiness, and a sense of humanity. We strive to prepare our students to face life's challenges with resilience and grace.

Our endeavour is to strike a balance between state-of-the-art infrastructure and an internationally acceptable education. Our motto, "Igniting Minds, Empowering Future," reflects our commitment to nurturing the spark of curiosity and passion for learning in every child, so that they can become responsible and disciplined citizens of the future.

“Education is the most powerful weapon you can use to change the world." At Green Dot, we strive to do just that, and we look forward to partnering with you in your child's educational journey."

AWARDS & RECOGNITIONS of Green DoT International School: GREEN DOT International School is Ranked 3 in Karnataka & 4th in India by Education Today. 1. Certified with "India's Top ICSE School" Award 2. Certified with "Effective Principals" Award 3. Certified with "India School Merit Awards" Award 4. Certified with "ISO 9001-2000 Certified School"

Conclusion: GREEN DOT International School is the educational host of future schooling. If you are a parent who is ambitious for academic excellence and the development of life skills, attitude and behaviours, that will be needed in the days to come, then GREEN DOT International School is your first choice. Post 2020, as the entire world of education whirls in a cyber-storm of online classes, GDIS also works hard on assuring its students, staff and stakeholders that the school will always stand true to its commitments and future goals no matter what the challenges.

[generallynerdy]

Uncalled they come to me, and told, they still won’t leave me (Din Djarin/Soulmate!Reader)

Spoilers for Chapter 9 (S2E1) of the Mandalorian

Summary: After the ambitious Toro Calican turns on you, his hired mechanic, in hopes of winning favour with the Guild, the mysterious Mandalorian saves your life. Now that you owe him a life debt, he’s stuck with you until you can save him back. It’s not so bad, having a free mechanic and babysitter for the kid, but things take a turn for the worse when both of you realise you might be catching feelings. For someone that might not even be your Soulmate.

Requested by Anon: Hello! How’re you doing? May I please request a Din x reader soulmate au? The one where you don’t see color until you touch your soulmate? It would be very difficult for Din to find his soulmate and I’ve always wanted to see how it played out. If not that’s ok! Thank you and have a wonderful day ❤️

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (h/c) - hair colour, (e/c) - eye colour Translations: vode - siblings, Ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: may we meet again), mirshmure’cya - brain-kiss (Basic term, is Keldabe kiss. This is the soft one as opposed to the literal headbutt term) Asked to be tagged in this disaster: @pearlll09 Word Count: remember when i said this would be 4k? Yeah. It’s 6,478 words. What. The. Fuck.

Author’s Note: this is way longer than I intended it to be but I think u deserve it since u were the only one who saw my post begging for mando requests and actually sent one hksjlfdkj tysm!! I’m so happy I got to write a Soulmate AU for him tbh. Btw, I have it in my head that Yodito would’ve given him the ability to see green, as a familial Soulmate bond, but it wouldn’t work for this if your eyes are green so I just left it out. (Also wtf is up with the Cobb/Din shit, Cobb is clearly in a dedicated relationship with the bartender Weequay. I named them Sala :D) The title is from The Teller of Tales by Gabriela Mistral.

Read On AO3

*

“Do you wear those gloves all the time?”

The Mando gives you a look—one that you can’t read, obviously, but you get the idea that it’s drier than the desert you’re in.

Calican snorts, but you shoot him a glare and he shuts up. You’re only here because he’s paying well for your mechanical skills, enough that his request of an extra hand on his first bounty seemed reasonable. Finding out that he’s hunting Fennec Shand was...less than pleasing, but now that the Mando is onboard, you’re not quite so worried about the outcome. They’re supposed to be fearsome warriors, after all. And he was smart enough to figure out how to wait out Shand, which is what the three of you have been doing for hours.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, “between the armour and the gloves, it must be damn near impossible to find your Soulmate.”

He shrugs. Sort of. It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Calican asks, flopping back onto the sand. “Mandalorians don’t have Soulmates. They start seeing colour after their first battle; war is their only destiny.”

You roll your eyes. They’re folk tales, really, and ridiculous ones at that. Every sentient has at least one Soulmate, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise, and there’s no reason for Mandalorians to be any different. Still, the stories make their rounds. There are specific ones, too, like the one about the Mandalorian Jedi who made the Darksaber; he was said to see colour when he lit his weapon for the first time. Fett, too, was said to have seen a new colour with every clone that was decanted—which is mildly ridiculous.

“Maybe the Mandalorians of old,” Mando comments with a scoff. “Not many of us see battle these days.”

“Well, if you’re looking for it, I know a krayt dragon a few hundred klicks away,” you suggest lightly.

He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll take the assassin.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “you guys know I’m just a mechanic, right?”

There’s a pause. Calican nods, but the Mando is still.

“What?” he asks, displeasure in his voice.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with a blaster, but I’m gonna be useless against Fennec Shand.”

Mando whirls on Calican. “You paid a mechanic to be your back-up? Are you insane?”

He shrugs. “(Y/N) has a mean right hook.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Mando huffs. He looks over at you and you can almost feel him glaring through the visor. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m broke,” you scoff. “Same thing. Oh, hey, do you need repairs on that hunk of junk you pilot? I’ll be more thorough than that lady at the hangar.”

He hesitates. “We’ll see.”

You grin. That’s not a no.

*

“You’re a prick, did I mention that?” you hiss over your shoulder.

Calican shoves the blaster into your side. “Shut up and keep walking.”

The Mandalorian stands on the other side of the hangar, waiting for Calican to make his move. Seriously, this day could not be going any worse. After killing Shand, Toro Calican, certified dumbass, decided that kidnapping you and the Mandalorian’s—pet? Child?—passenger was the best way to go. Whatever the little weird thing that’s in your arms is, it’s pretty cute, and you’d rather he shoot you than the baby holding tightly onto your shirt. In fact, he probably will, because the kid is his ticket into the Guild—you’re just dead weight.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?” Calican asks the Mando. “Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands behind his head. Next to you, Calican pushes Peli forward and instructs her to cuff him. With a huff, she moves behind the Mandalorian with the intent to follow orders.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican begins. You consider sighing. This sounds like the start of a villain monologue. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape. Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”

In a burst of light, the Mandalorian sets off a flash grenade.

You yelp and tuck the little thing into your arms before tucking yourself over into a roll down the ramp of the ship. You fall into the sand just in front of the Mandalorian, who’s moved to fire a shot at Calican, sending him flying off the other side, smouldering.

Breathing heavily, you sit up, the child still in your arms.

“Are you okay? Is the child?”

You look up. The Mandalorian has his gloved hand held out, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you take it and pull yourself off the ground.

“We’re both okay—I think,” you say hesitantly, holding the baby out to him. “Is he—?”

“Dead,” the Mando confirms, taking the child from you.

You frown. “Good riddance. Thank you,” you tell him hesitantly, though your tone is genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He distracts himself by checking on the child, who coos up at him contentedly. You smile a little at the interaction, but put yourself back into focus.

“It’s not nothing,” you say firmly. “I owe you a life debt.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Where I come from, if someone saves your life, you owe it to them. Until I can save your life, I owe you,” you explain.

“That’s—you don’t need to do that,” he says quickly.

You cross your arms. “It’s like your Way. It’s my culture, my honour on the line. You’re stuck with me, Mando.”

“What? No. Can’t you...pay me, or something?”

“I’m broke, remember?”

“You saved the child’s life, doesn’t that count?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I rolled with him. You did the work, so, no, it doesn’t count, even though he’s your…” You hesitate, remembering the word. “...foundling.”

“You know, you’re kind of getting the better end of the deal here,” Peli pipes up, directing the thought at the Mandalorian. “A free mechanic, babysitter, and an extra blaster? That’s a bargain.”

“Uh...pre-warning, I don’t know much about child care,” you warn immediately.

He snorts. “Neither do I.” After a moment, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we’re going to work on those blaster skills before you become a liability.”

“Fair enough.”

*

Sticking with the Mandalorian is probably the worst decision of your life.

Almost immediately after Tatooine, in need of more funds, he drags you into trouble with another group of bounty hunters and the New Republic, of all groups.

“Who is this?” someone asks, her voice sing-song as she enters the Mandalorian’s ship.

You don’t bother turning around, continuing your repairs on a hull panel. “The mechanic. Don’t touch anything.”

“You have a personal mechanic?”

A few people enter the ship, making you finally turn around. The first speaker is a Twi’lek woman and the second a Human, who squints disdainfully. From behind him, Mando pushes past their little crew—including a protocol droid and a massive Devaronian—to approach you, deciding to stand next to you rather than them, which brings you immense pleasure for some reason.

“No. (Y/N) owes me a life debt and, apparently, credits don’t cut it,” he explains shortly, sounding frustrated and exhausted.

You nudge him companionably—it’s an argument you’ve had a few times, the paying of your debt. He doesn’t want to be free of you, per se, but he doesn’t want you to be in his debt. Having that kind of power or hold over you makes him uncomfortable, you can tell, as every time it comes up he gets twitchy.

“Kinky,” the Twi’lek snickers.

You grimace. That would explain why Mando sounds like he wants to die. “Fun group. What’s the job?”

“One of theirs got caught. We’re getting him out,” he says. “And we’re using our ship.”

Our ship. Maybe it’s a slip of the tongue or maybe he’s making it clear that you’re with him, but either way, it brings a smirk to your face. The Twi’lek looks disgusted.

“Well, at least my hard work won’t be going to waste,” you huff.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek interrupts, “you haven’t introduced us.”

You can feel him rolling his eyes. “(Y/N), meet Mayfeld, Burg, Xi’an. Mayfeld is running point, the droid is flying, and the target is a New Republic transport ship.”

“Ugh. You guys better be good; I’m not getting arrested.”

“Mayfeld’s former Imperial,” Mando says before any of them can answer.

You scoff. “A stormtrooper? My shitty blaster skills would be better than his.”

“I wasn’t a stormtrooper,” Mayfeld spits, annoyed enough that he must’ve said it once already. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

All but the droid stay, scattered around the hull. Mando follows soon after the jump to hyperspace, having hovered over the droid while it set their course. He stops Burg from getting into the weapons cache right after he hops down the ladder and the two look like they want to kill each other.

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” the Devaronian grunts.

Mayfeld huffs. “Well, apparently, they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

They all laugh at that—Xi’an with a particularly nasal one, which is irritating beyond belief. You frown deeply, but try not to show how pissed their laughter makes you. That sort of shit isn’t to be made fun of; a dying race. It’s all too familiar these days, what with the death of Alderaan and the crater on Scarif.

When you come back into focus, Xi’an is talking in low tones.

“See, I know who you really are,” she says to the Mando.

You roll your eyes. Unlikely.

(Something in your brain goes: I do, which is stupid. You don’t know who he is, under that helmet, sure, but you’ve seen a lot of him through his actions. He’s reckless, terrifying, and a badass, but he’s also patient and...kind, in his own way. The way he treats the child is like nothing you’ve seen in another bounty hunter. It’s gentle, caring. The kid has really grown on him, you think. And the way he treats you is just straight up polite, even though you’re practically his servant in terms of a life debt. Still, he treats you like a person and doesn’t ask you to do unreasonable favours just because he saved your life. He doesn’t hold it over your head.)

And then they start goading him about the helmet.

Burg actually goes for it, which Mando beats him back for. You jump forward, but just as you do, the door to the sleeping cot flies open, revealing the child.

Instead, you rush to the child, pulling him into your arms.

“What is that?” Mayfeld asks, approaching.

“Back off,” you hiss.

He looks between you and Mando. “Wait, did you two make that?” When you scoff, he frowns. “What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mando says quickly.

Xi’an frowns. “Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

You snort. Soft. That isn’t a word you’d use to describe him, ever. You haven’t seen very much action since Tatooine, but you saw enough there.

Mayfeld reaches for the child and, without hesitation, you lift your blaster. The way he’s looking at the little guy makes you uneasy.

“Fuck off,” you warn instantly.

“Aw, c’mon, I just wanna hold him,” he teases.

Over the comms, the droid’s voice echoes. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.”

The entire ship shudders and shakes, sending everyone flying off their feet. You happen to ram into beskar, your face slamming into the metal, which makes you yelp. The baby wails in your arms as gravity makes to tug you away again. Before it can, Mando grabs your arms and holds you in place against him until the ship is steady once more.

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet—again, you think miserably.

“Ugh, no,” you groan, putting a hand on the left side of your face. “That’s gonna bruise.”

Mando takes the child from you. “Sorry. We’ll deal with it after.”

You wave him off. “I’ve had worse. You worry about the job, I’ll watch the kid,” you say, taking the child back. You can’t help but smile when he coos happily.

“Right,” Mando mutters. For a moment, he watches you both, considering.

“Mando!” calls Mayfeld. “Let’s go!”

Before he goes, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.” You nod, which seems to appease him, and watch him leave.

Petting the child’s floppy ears, you wonder if he meant that to be as comforting as it was.

*

I should’ve known, Din thinks when Qin walks out of that cell.

I definitely should’ve known, he decides, returning to the Razor Crest to find a sparking droid corpse and a shaking child in your arms.

He tosses the cuffed Twi’lek to the side and rushes to yours, stepping over Zero’s limp form. You look relatively unfazed, for someone who’s just ripped a droid’s head off with their bare hands, but the child is rather distressed. The kid squeaks at the sight of Din and, much to his surprise, lifts your hand to show him.

It’s bleeding.

“What did you do?” Din questions, crossing the hull for his medical kit.

“I...may have tried to punch the droid,” you admit hesitantly. “It didn’t work.”

He scoffs, returning to kneel in front of you with bacta patches in his hands. “No karking shit.”

Your face falls as he reaches for your hand, pulling it toward him so he can patch it up. “It was gonna hurt the kid.”

“You did good,” he murmurs. “Stupid, but good.”

It never occurred to him that you might save the child again. You’re here out of necessity, after all, because you owe him, because your honour depends on paying that debt. The child is just another being in the vicinity, but you still saved him. Again. You’re either very stupid or very kind and he can’t decide which one is more concerning.

“Maybe you should teach me a bit of hand to hand, too,” you suggest warmly, wincing at the bacta’s sting.

Din makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

He moves to put bacta on the bruise his beskar gave you—He feels ridiculously guilty for that; here you are, paying off a life debt to him, and he still manages to hurt you—but with a hand, you stop him.

“Don’t waste it,” you say immediately. “I’ve had worse bruises, seriously.”

He frowns. “It’s not a waste.” Before you can protest, he puts the patch on top of the bruise.

You huff. “You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Mando?”

“Apparently,” he replies dryly. He hadn’t realised it, either.

“Will you stop flirting and get us out of here!?” Qin shouts from the other side of the hull. “The New Republic will be on our asses!”

You roll your eyes. “I hate to say it, but he has a point. Where are the others?”

“Dealt with,” he says simply. “It was a double-cross.”

“Well, I figured,” you shoot back with a knowing look. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The drop is easy enough, especially since Din knows that New Republic signal is beeping steadily from Qin’s pocket. He escapes quickly, dipping back into the Razor Crest, where you wait at the top of the ramp, the child hanging onto your boot.

“Let’s go,” he declares, the ramp shutting behind him as he enters.

“Already?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “There are a few repairs I could make out of hyperspace that might be useful.”

He waves you toward the cockpit. “Later. We need to leave.”

“Oookay.” You frown but do as he says, plucking the child from off your foot. “C’mon, little guy,” you mutter to him.

Din waves away all your questions as he starts the take-off. Finally, when the Razor Crest is a safe distance away from the space station and X-Wings appear out of hyperspace, he glances back at you.

“Holy shit!” you cry as they open fire. You look back at him with a slack jaw, which makes him smile underneath the helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, but it’s enough of an answer.

“You’re a maniac, Mando,” you laugh, watching the scene through the transparisteel.

Din thinks over it, staring at you for a long moment. There’s light in your eyes—maybe it’s the reflection of the explosion, but it’s captivating.

“Din,” he says.

You look over. “Hm?”

He clears his throat, trying to shove aside nerves. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Oh. Oh,” you repeat, eyes wide. Then, you smile, more genuine than he’s ever seen from you, he thinks. “You’re crazy, Din. You know that, right?”

He laughs—and that’s the first time you’ve heard a proper one from him. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

*

When Din drops a pair of gloves in front of you, you laugh.

“You’re telling me the gloves are out of convenience?” you ask him disbelievingly.

“The more skin you cover, the less likely you are to get cut up by a vibroblade,” he replies dryly. “Put them on.”

You raise your hands in surrender and take them, slipping them over your fingers. “Surprisingly comfy.”

It occurs to you that this is...sort of a big deal. You’ve kept your hands bare for as long as you can remember, mostly because you’re a romantic and finding your Soulmate has been at the forefront of your mind for a long time. But now, you think, it’s not such a big deal. You have a debt to pay and, besides that, you’re pretty happy with how things are now.

Life isn’t exactly nice with Din and the kid, so to say, but you’re content. You love the child and he adores you. The Razor Crest feels more like home than any planet ever has. And Din is...well, he’s something. Being around him is mildly addicting and whenever he’s gone, something feels incomplete.

“Better?” you ask, lifting your gloved hands.

“Much,” he says. Then, he holds out his own hand. “C’mon, up.”

You take the hand without thought, but before you know it, he’s swinging you around and shoving you to the ground.

“Ow!” you cry. “What the hell, Din?”

He huffs. “Lesson 1: Never take anything for granted.”

“Rude.” You hit his arm meaningfully, but he just rolls his eyes; just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s happening.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

“But not today.”

“Nope. Today, you’re gonna hate my guts.”

*

He’s dying.

It feels unreal, what with everything you’ve watched him survive so far. A newbie bounty hunter, a group of pissed off bounty hunters, lots of bounty hunters, and the New Republic but a group of stormtroopers is what gets him?

Moff Gideon is what really gets him, though. The bastard that helped destroy his people is going to destroy Din Djarin. Hearing him speak Din’s name makes you nauseous, furious, even. He gave you that name in confidence, trusted it to you, the only one of his handful of friends to even use it, and Gideon decides to declare it to Nevaroo in its entirety. It makes your blood boil, enough that you get out of the initial firefight mostly unscathed.

But Din doesn’t. And now he’s dying in your arms and you feel like you failed.

“Go with them,” he tells you, all croaky and half-assed.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you here,” you declare, carefully leaning him against the rubble.

Flames flicker all around the room and the child is crying. It’s not loud or consistent, but it’s enough to break your heart.

“You have to go,” Din says again. “You’ll die.”

You laugh ruefully. “That’s kind of the point. A life debt means I save your life or I die trying.”

A pause.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he hisses through the pain.

“Afraid not, dumbass. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He grasps your arm, his hands still gloved. If you’re going to die here, maybe you should ask him to take off the gloves. A part of you has wondered…

“C’mon, tell me it’s transferable—some ‘dying wish’ shit like that.”

You nod, though the action sinks uncomfortably into your chest. Leaving him here...that doesn’t sit well with you. But if he asks, then you’ll do it. “Yeah, you name it, but it’d better be a big one, something equivalent.”

The breath he lets out is one of relief. “Take care of the kid. Go find his people and return him to them. Protect him.”

“With my dying breath,” you swear, the words holding an air of ceremony.

Din grasps your arm tighter and pulls you down, your forehead meeting his helmet. You’re not sure what it means, but it must mean something because he mutters words in his own language, which you’ve never heard him do before.

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

May we meet again.

Din does what little he can in saying goodbye to you, as deeply as that cuts. You’ve grown on him, a little too much maybe, and it kills him to think that you’ll be without him now. You still can’t hit a headshot, he realises, suddenly worried for how you’ll fare.

And so he gives you what he can: a Keldabe kiss and a goodbye, instead of the action he wants to take. He wants to take off his gloves and see if he can figure out the colour of your eyes. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want to leave you with that, of all things, to leave you seeing the red of his blood and the blue-tinged orange of the flames before any other colours.

You take the child in your arms and, with one last glance at Din, leave the room for the covert’s tunnels underground.

The child whimpers up at you.

You look down, sniffling, and pet his ears gently. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” You place a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Cara appears, tugging on your wrist. “C’mon,” she says gently. “We need to get out of here.”

It occurs to you, as the three of you and Greef move on, that Cara might help you with the child. For Din, obviously. She’s a good person and, frankly, she and Din seem pretty friendly. The second she saw you, she’d offered her bare hand and bemoaned the fact that her vision was still black and white, much to your amusement. It was all in good fun, but Din had looked a little uncomfortable, for reasons you didn’t know.

“(Y/N),” Cara says quietly, calling your attention back.

You shake yourself from your thoughts. “Sorry.”

She smiles sadly. “It’s okay. Just keep up.”

The small group turns a few corners before footsteps sound from behind. You immediately place the child in the bag hanging from Cara’s shoulder and draw your blaster, watching her and Greef do the same.

From the distant hall, two figures approach: IG-11 and—

“Din!” you half-cry, half-breathe out. Holstering your blaster, you meet them halfway to take more of Din’s weight from IG. “How—?”

“No living thing can see me without my helmet. IG isn’t alive,” Din says dryly.

You laugh, a partly manic sound. “Thank kark. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

The noise he makes is both amused and resigned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the—?”

“He’s with Cara,” you say, finishing the thought before even he can, in his groggy state.

It’s safe to say that when the Armourer gives him his sigil, Din almost considers correcting the Clan of two to a Clan of three. He doesn’t, reminding himself that you’re here because of a debt and nothing else, but the thought is there.

*

The months after Nevarro are more peaceful than the first week of your time with Din. 

You finally get to pull a proper sleeping space together for yourself. Well, it’s a hammock in the hull, but it’s better than the seats in the cockpit. The child gets his own hammock, too, though it’s in the cot space with Din. He loves it, so much so that he squeals when he sees it. That’s your proudest moment, for sure.

Most days, you tend to forget that you still owe a life debt. To be honest, it just feels like the three of you are normal. Din takes bounties, you take short mechanic jobs on different planets, and the two of you trade off on child-duty. It’s pretty regular, more than what your life used to be, anyway.

Din is still training you in hand-to-hand and blasters, of course. You’re getting better with the latter, but the first is difficult. On the way to Tatooine, where there’s supposedly another Mandalorian, he decides to have another training session.

“Fists higher, do it again.”

Huffing, you wipe your wrist across your sweaty forehead. It’s easy enough to obey the order—the first part, anyway. Getting into his guard is difficult, though.

One hit, two blocks—there. You slip under his guard and make an abrupt drop to the ground, sweeping his legs out under him with a fierce movement. He goes down in a tumble of beskar, joining you on the floor. As soon as he’s down, you flip over and straddle his hips, an arm over his neck in false threat.

He barks out a laugh. “Much better.”

“I’m not entirely hopeless!” you declare joyfully before bursting into snickers.

Leaning down, you thunk your forehead against his helmet. The gesture is fond, you’ve learned, something shared between close companions—or at least you think. Din told you that it’s called a mirshmure’cya in Mando’a, that it doesn’t have an equivalent word in Basic.

(Which is technically true. Literally, it means brain-kiss, but the outsider term for it is Keldabe kiss. It can be used for close companions—vode in arms, family—but it’s also used for romantic partners, so he’s mildly horrified at the idea of explaining its cultural significance to you and having to face his feelings for someone that may or may not be his Soulmate. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask if he can check. Or try to do it discreetly.)

A distant beeping starts up, coming from the cockpit. It’s the approach warning, which means the training session is over.

“I’ll get the kid,” you say, climbing off Din and offering a hand.

He takes it without hesitation, dragging himself up and making a beeline for the cockpit.

Tatooine is about what you remember. That is, it’s dry, sandy, and the worst planet you’ve ever been on. Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar makes you smile, though, at the not-so-distant memory of Din saving your life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been years.

“Oh, hey!” says Peli, after greeting the child—which is fair, he’s adorable. “You’re still with him! Haven’t repaid that debt yet, huh?”

Your face falls. “Uh, no, not really.”

On the way to Mos Pelgo, your thoughts linger on the life debt. One of these days, you’re going to save Din’s life—then where will you be? Will he want you to leave? What will you do if you have to leave? Your old life was nowhere near as interesting as this, nor did you have anyone close to what Din and the child are to you.

The dreary grey slopes of sand only make it easier to think of the worst possible outcomes. Now you remember why you hated Tatooine so much.

You don’t even realise the speeder is approaching the small town until Din taps your arm, which is wrapped around his waist. Jumping at the touch, you loosen your grip sheepishly and glance at the child, who looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely.

After the speeder comes to a stop, you take the kid while Din enters the cantina.

When you enter yourself, you find that he’s about to shoot someone, while the Weequay behind the bar looks rather distressed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” Din remarks without a glance.

You raise your free hand. “You’re the bad luck charm, I’m just here for the ride,” you retort teasingly.

“You brought a kid to a gunfight?” his opponent asks, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, you glance over at him and see why Din looks ready to kill him. He’s in Mandalorian armour but his helmet is off—clearly, he’s not Mandalorian. “You’re wearing beskar and you’re not a Mandalorian, buddy. I think you’re in more trouble than the kid is.”

“He is,” Din gets out, a twinge of viciousness in his voice.

Before they can even reach for their blasters, though, the ground starts to shake.

You grab onto the doorway for support, eyes wide as you grip the child. Din and the Mandalorian poser move toward the door, joining you and staring out at the street outside.

The entire planet feels like it rumbles and chaos reigns outside.

Something is moving the sand—coming toward the town.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as it goes by, shifting the sand like it’s an ocean rather than earth. It flies out of the ground, sharp teeth the only thing you see as it consumes a bantha whole.

When it’s gone, the poser huffs. “Maybe we can work something out.” He turns to you, offering a hand, which is covered by fingerless gloves. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal here.”

You take it hesitantly, glad that things are still black and white when you make contact. “(Y/N).”

He notices your hesitation and chuckles. “The Weequay in there is Sala, my Soulmate. I’ll see if they can’t whip up something for the kid; I’m sure he’s starving.”

“Very,” you say, just before he goes to leave.

When it’s just you and Din, you look over at your companion. “Krayt dragon, huh?”

“Yep,” he sighs, already sounding tired.

You laugh. “I know I said I could bring you to one when we met, but I was totally kidding.”

He looks over at you and you can feel the low-level glare behind the visor, but it only makes you snicker. “I hate you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you retort immediately.

*

You finally get to repay your debt.

It’s not what you’re thinking about when you shove Din out of the way of the krayt’s projectile venom, but it’s repaid nonetheless.

Din doesn’t think of it immediately, either, as he’s rather more concerned with the fact that you’re sent flying across the desert into a pile of debris and sharp rocks.

“(Y/N)!”

Before he can run to you, Cobb grabs his arm. “The dragon!”

To be honest, killing the dragon feels like a bonus when he pulls himself together and figures out a plan. When the great beast explodes, the Tuskens and the villagers cheer, but Din races back to the place he saw you last. He pushes aside the remains of one of those massive weapons they built to find you, laying on the ground. For a moment, panic clutches his heart, but then you groan.

“Am I dead?” you ask.

Din lets out a breath, hardly managing it, as he kneels next to you. “Dumbass.”

“Because it feels like I’m dead.”

“Dumbass,” he repeats, ripping your shirt away to find a deep cut in your side, just above your hip. “Of all the ways to pay your debt—”

You sit up, wincing. “Oh,” you say, as if you hadn’t realised it, “I guess I did that, too.”

Din’s heart is still beating a million klicks a second at how close you were to being dead, but for a second, it flips, realising that you hadn’t saved him just to pay the debt. And then, as he’s helping you off the ground and bringing you toward the others, who have bacta patches ready, his heart sinks.

Your debt is paid. You don’t have any reason to stay with him and the kid. As soon as you get back to the city, he’s going to have to watch you leave.

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

Meanwhile, you’re on the same train of thought. Does he really think you saved him for the debt? Does he want you gone that bad? It makes sense. You’re a pain in the ass, with all the training you need. But...well, you thought he might’ve—

“I’ve changed my mind,” you declare.

Din, terrified, attempts to sound neutral. “About?”

“The worst job we’ve ever taken. This is definitely it,” you huff as he helps you down onto a smoother boulder, taking patches from a Tusken.

He goes to use them, but you raise a hand.

“If you even think about getting near my wound with those nasty gloves, I’m going to skin you,” you threaten.

Frankly, Din is too shaken to even laugh. The silence lays there, stilted, as he removes his gloves and sits somewhat behind you, on another close stone. You’ve taken yours off, too, seeing as one is ripped all the way through.

He’s careful with the bacta patch and his bare hands, making sure not to touch your skin.

Now, of all moments, would be the worst time to find out that you really don’t have a reason to stay.

While he works, he thinks, briefly, that he should say something. “(Y/N),” he starts to say. “I—”

But that happens to be the moment he’s putting the bacta patch on. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing. Your hand flies out, reaching for something to ground you. Of course, because something out there has it out for you, you grab his hand, forgetting that his gloves are, for once in his life, not there.

You realise, ridiculously, that his hand is warm.

And then the world around you explodes into colour.

The faded yellow of the surrounding desert is overwhelming with how it burns into your eyes alongside the brilliant blue of the sky. The surrounding Tuskens are in browns and greys, simple things, but so, so beautiful to your new sight. You breathe out, a shaky action.

Behind you, Din comes to see the same, but his gaze is stuck on the back of your head—the (h/c) of your hair and how the light catches in it, despite it being a complete mess.

You barely have the breath to gasp, but you do, whirling around to face him.

His beskar is beyond what you’d pictured: a shining, sparkling silver that could stand out on a star. No wonder rooms fall silent at the sight of him.

Din has the same thought about your eyes. On death’s door, all he’d wanted was to know what colour they are and now he knows, but it feels so useless now. He doesn’t even know what to call them. Sure, (e/c) would work, however weakly. You are...something else. You always have been, but now it’s like he can see it, the beauty of who you are so plainly painted into your features.

Din doesn’t even have the time to be afraid of your reaction before the words are slipping out. “I don’t want you to go.”

You just stare at him for a long moment, words processing.

It...kind of freaks him out.

He jumps when you fling yourself at him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. Immediately, he responds, clutching the back of your shirt like it’ll save his life.

“Thank the Force,” you breathe out, just beside where his ear is under the helmet. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Din lets out a breath of relief and tugs you closer so you’re practically sitting on his lap. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t seem to mind. When you do finally pull away, it’s to press your forehead against his helmet. It sends a swell of affection through him again, your constant Keldabe kisses. He taught you something important to his culture, to him, and here you are, using it without thought.

“Is it too late to tell you that this is the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss?” he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed.

You laugh softly, arms reaching to rest around his neck. “And I thought you were so cool.”

“I just blew up a krayt dragon,” he argues.

“Oh, you’re plenty badass, Din,” you tease back, “just...not smooth.”

He huffs. “I’m gonna kick your ass next training session.”

A grin comes over your face and, for a second, he can’t comprehend why that would make you smile—until he realises that he just promised a next time. You’d genuinely believed he wanted you gone and Din thought you wanted to leave, but neither of you were right. 

A whine from below catches both your attention.

The child reaches up from the ground, making grabby hands.

You laugh, a noise Din echoes quietly, and pluck him from the ground, holding him in your careful hands. “Hey, buddy. Feeling left out?”

He squeaks a confirmation, his little hands—green hands, you realise, deeply amused—reaching for Din’s helmet. Once he has a comfortable hand, he bashes his head against the helmet.

Din yelps, not out of pain, but concern, grabbing for the kid, who wobbles dizzily.

“Oh, shit—” Din says.

“Woah, woah,” you get out between wheezing laughs. “Don’t do that! His head is much harder than yours.”

The kid makes a weak huff and curls against Din’s chest stubbornly.

“I think that was an attempted kiss,” you suggest to Din.

Underneath his helmet, he grins. Petting the child’s head with a gentle finger, he looks back up at you. “It was cute.”

“Very,” you agree.

Without prompting, Din reaches for your hand again, a little hesitant. You take his gladly, running your thumb across his knuckles, which makes him shiver.

“Clan of three,” he whispers.

You lift your gaze. “Hm?”

“The Armourer, she said, ‘Clan of two’ when she gave me my sigil,” he explains. “I wanted to correct her then.”

The smile on your face is beyond words. “Clan of three has a ring to it. You���re stuck with me for good now, Din Djarin.”

He snorts and raises your hand to his helmet, touching it briefly to the metal in lieu of kissing it.

Tatooine might be the worst place in the universe, Din thinks that it doesn’t matter so much where he is. Sitting here, with you and the kid, he thinks that this might be home.

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[beardedmrbean]

French President Emmanuel Macron was the target Wednesday of a bunch of tomatoes hurled by a disgruntled onlooker as he made his first public appearance after his weekend re-election victory.

Macron has spent the last days secluded in an out-of-town residence and then the Elysee Palace, considering the formation of a new government following his defeat of far-right leader Marine Le Pen on Sunday.

But reflecting his promise of uniting a divided France, he chose for his first post-election visit the French town of Cergy-Pointoise in the Paris suburbs, a low-income area where far-left candidate Jean-Luc Melenchon came out on top in the first round of voting on April 10.

Macron was meeting residents when a bunch of cherry tomatoes whizzed by close to his face, missing him but hitting bystanders.

His security detail moved swiftly, shouting "projectile! projectile!" and covering Macron's head with their hands before protecting him with a black umbrella.

>> What are the biggest challenges for Macron’s second term?

Macron appeared unflustered but keen to move on as rapidly as possible. "No! No! No fighting," he could be heard saying.

While the incident was minor, it was a reminder of the challenges of fully protecting a president who is fond of immersing himself into crowds even in areas that can be hostile to him.

In June 2021, he was slapped in the face by a man while greeting locals on another trip.

Elysee officials emphasised that the visit to Cergy-Pointoise had been marked by a good atmosphere, with an intense crush caused by people trying to get as close as possible to the president.

"In the poorest neighbourhoods, whether in cities or rural areas, we really need to create the conditions for real and effective equality of opportunity," Macron said during the visit.

"It is the only way to get rid of this distrust... and sense of abandonment," he said.

France's Constitutional Council is due to certify the results of the election later Wednesday, paving the way for Macron's second term to start next month.

With an eye on parliament elections in June, Macron is expected in the coming days to name a new prime minister and government but has offered few clues on who he may be considering.

"I will appoint someone who is committed to social and environmental issues and is productive," he said as speculation whirls that a woman could head the government for the first time since Edith Cresson in 1991.

[hpanimagusfest]

Animagus Masterlist - Creators Revealed

We would like to thank everybody who has made this fest such a success, whether as a prompter, creator, or reader! We hope the featured fics, art, and podfics have brought you happiness in these crazy times we’re living in. Now, without further ado, may we proudly present the HP Animagus Fest 2021 Masterlist.

ART

Title: The Whirling Ways of Stars That Pass Artist: Bluebutter @bluebutter-art Rating: Gen Art Medium: Digital Art Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Prompt: #30 Summary:

Being a polar bear Animagi makes Harry crave holidays and time in icy places like Iceland and the North Pole, which is why Harry and Draco decide to spend their first holiday together to see the beautiful Northern Lights. There's just one tiny problem: Draco hates the cold.

That's okay though. He can get warm cuddling in his lover's soft fur.

See on AO3

PODFICS

Title: [Podfic] Harry's Wolves by dracogotgame Podficcer: Thunder_of_Dragons @thunder-of-dragons Original Author: dracogotgame Rating: Gen Length: 12 minutes Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Summary: 

Harry wakes up to an empty bed and wolves in the garden.

Listen on AO3

Title: [Podfic] Of mammals, birds and reptiles by Jessa_yeah Podficcer: Thunder_of_Dragons @thunder-of-dragons Original Author: Jessa_yeah Rating: Gen Length: 12 minutes Pairing: Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley, Rolanda Hooch/Minerva McGonagall/Pomona Sprout Summary: 

Post-war Hogwarts. A small note appears on the announcement board in the hall, offering extracurricular courses. Ginny and Hermione sign up. Something new builds from there - something good. A story about healing, growth, hope, love and comfort.

Listen on AO3

Title: [Podfic] I Loved You Like The Fall Of Rome by pansexual_intellectual Podficcer: bluedreaming @porcelainsalt Original Author: pansexual_intellectual Rating: Mature Length: 1 hour, 24 minutes Pairing: Regulus Black/Lily Evans Summary: 

Lily Evans looks at Regulus Black, across a vast, seemingly uncrossable, expanse, and thinks maybe. Eyes lingering over green-and-silver, and a heartbreakingly beautiful boy amidst them all, she thinks, I wonder.

Listen on AO3

FICS

Title: Old wounds never fully heal  Author: Lillycatdani11 @alyssadani19 Rating: Teen Word Count: 1,008 Pairing: Sirius Black/Hermione Granger  Prompt: #14 Summary: 

Sirius helps Hermione after her bad day at work.

Read on AO3

Title: Saved by a snake Author: Jessa_yeah @thefisherqueen Rating: Gen Word Count: 2,003 Pairing: Minerva McGonagall/Poppy Pomfrey Prompt: #99 Summary: 

Barely a month into her new job at Hogwarts, Poppy Pomfrey spots a kitty in trouble. She rushes to help - but the 'kitty' in question has some opinions on this.

Read on AO3

Title: Keep Me Close Author: MarchnoGirl @drarryruinedme7 Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,082 Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Prompt: #32 Summary: 

Draco Malfoy is always tidy. Perfect. Not a strand of hair out of place. Enter Harry Potter and a certain quality of his…

Read on AO3

Title: Sign Author: Samunderthelights @samunderthelights Rating: General Word Count: 2,511 Pairing: Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter Prompt: #124  Summary: When Teddy had rejected his kiss, James didn’t think things could get any more embarrassing than that. But when - after months of hard work - he finally transforms into his Animagus form for the first time, things get a lot more embarrassing.

Read on AO3

Title: What We Find Beneath it All Author: SumthinClever @welcome-to-fandomonium Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,591 Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Prompt: #29 Summary:

 Harry's animagus is an octopus. He eventually convinces Draco to join him beneath the Black Lake and they explore what hides beneath the lake and each other.

Read on AO3

Title: as the crow flies Author: saltwatergarden @talkingtravesties Rating: Teen Word Count: 5,452 Pairing: Draco/Harry Prompt: #84  Summary:

 Harry Potter is a lot of things - hero of the Wizarding World, best friend to Auror extraordinaire Ron Weasley and certifiable genius Hermione Granger, heir to the Sleekeazy potions empire. He is also an Animagus, like his father and godfather before him. Problem is, he hasn't quite mastered the task of transforming back into his human form. Bigger problem is, he's just been captured by Draco Malfoy's owl.

Read on AO3

Title: Hoarding Day Author: Archaic_Nepenthes @mod-and-his-flight Rating: Teen Word Count: 6,133 Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Prompt: #1 Summary: 

Dragon Appreciation Day is something else when it comes to appreciating Draco Malfoy.

Read on AO3

Title: Recurring Theme Author: miscnine @unstrrdy Rating: Gen Word Count: 6,736 Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Prompt: #27 Summary: 

Draco just wanted to go home. Just as he was gathering himself—at least, enough to go on and do exactly that, he was startled by a particularly harsh ripple in the apparition point—then four things happened.

Draco wants a lot of things. He wants to redeem himself to the public eye as foolishly hopeless as it sounds. He wants his mother to leave him out of her plans to reclaim control over her life. He wants to get his shit together more than anything. At least, he did. Now, he's fallen prey to his own predator and constantly has to reign in the greedy dragon that wanted something from Harry Potter—"who, by the way, had just come back to England after seven years of healing dragon tamers in Romania and finally getting the therapy he needed, did you know that? Did you?”

Read on AO3

Title: The Owl in Myth and Magic Author: Aneiria @aneiria-writes Rating: Mature Word Count: 7,156 Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Prompt: #85  Summary: 

Draco Malfoy has a secret, and if he wants to keep it that way, he’s going to have to show Hermione Granger how to have one too.

Even if it is a secret so complex and dangerous that they’re going to have to spend more time together than either of them had planned for their eighth year of Hogwarts...

Read on AO3

Title: Harry Potter and the Mysterious Snowy Owl Affair Author: Ladderofyears @ladderofyears Rating: Teen Word Count: 8,683 Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Prompt: Self-prompt Summary: 

Harry Potter is the newly promoted Head Officer for the Department of Magical Creature Regulation, and he is passionate about his work protecting vulnerable animals who can’t advocate for themselves. An added benefit of the job is the close relationship that he had developed with his colleague, Wizengamot prosecution barrister Draco Malfoy. Harry’s life is happy and he feels satisfied with his place in the world.

Abruptly, Harry’s happy existence is thrown into disarray when a small snowy owl starts dropping tip-offs about magical creature crimes to Grimmauld Place.

Harry isn’t sure what to think. Is his benefactor a friend or foe? Why are they making such stringent efforts to conceal their identity? Draco doesn’t seem concerned, but Harry can’t help but feel intrigued by the mystery. Who is the wizard behind the owl?

Read on AO3

Title: ANI101: Introduction to Animagus Author: Aelys_Althea @aelysalthea Rating: Mature Word Count: 12,314 Pairing: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin (Gen), Marauders (Gen) Prompt: #69 Summary: 

Remus has secrets. Lots of secrets, but one in particular that Sirius is determined to sniff out. When he, James, and Peter put their detective skills to action, they discover a truth far beyond what any of them could have imagined.

What they would make of that truth, though - that was the real question. Sirius was nothing if not a dog with a bone, and he was determined to do something about it.

Read on AO3

Title: Commander Author: Cassiopeias_shadow @cassiopeiasshadow Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,167 Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Prompt: #44 Summary:

There was a hiss to his right. It was him. Potter. The adder with the lightning bolt on his back. Draco nearly cried with relief.

“Potter, thank fuck, let me - oh,” Draco said, once he had crawled underneath the stone, into the crevice where Potter was hiding. It was soaked in blood, just like the rest of the room, and the blood was coming from slashes on Potter’s white, scaly belly. Draco picked the snake up and cradled it to his chest. It wrapped itself weakly around his arm and nestled up to the warmth of Draco’s body, barely moving.

“That’s right,” Draco said, trying his best to sound comforting. The snake’s heart beat against his palm, unbearably precious. Draco’s cheeks were wet.

Read on AO3

Title: Hibou Author: worldcrawler @worldcrawlerhp Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,075 Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Prompt: #77 Summary:

"Draco Malfoy had squared with the fact that he rarely succeeded in things at first. His whole life could be read as a series of failures that eventually became successes.

It was no surprise then, in retrospect, that he had failed to become an animagus not once, but twice before finally succeeding."

This is a story about failure and understanding, about success and honesty, and about two idiots in love trying to solve two very different mysteries - brought together through a series of chance encounters in the highland forests.

Read on AO3

Title: Dog-Star and Lion-Heart Author: unspeakable3 @unspeakable3 Rating: Teen Word Count: 15,932 Pairings: Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black & James Potter Prompt: #98  Summary: 

After Sirius leaves home, the only way that Regulus will allow his brother anywhere near him is when Sirius is in dog-form. Regulus has no idea that the Grim-like creature he shares secrets and bacon sandwiches with is his brother. He has no idea, that is, until he tries to say goodbye to ‘Snuffles’ for the last time, and his canine friend finally reveals his human form.

Read on AO3

Title: Worth Sharing Author: flightytemptress27 @flightytemptress27 Rating: Teen Word Count: 16,829 Pairings: Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter, Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Prompt: #23 Summary:

Despite what it originally seemed, Teddy has inherited his father's lycanthropy. Things are very different for Teddy, but perhaps not always in the best way.

James Sirius Potter loves his best friend Teddy and just wants to do what he can to care for him, even if it's dangerous.

A coming of age story beginning with Teddy's third year at Hogwarts and ending with James' final year. A story in which Harry does his absolute best as a godfather, Teddy struggles to accept himself, and James flies.

Read on AO3

Title: The Last of What the World Left You Author: xanthippe74 @xanthippe74 Rating: Teen Word Count: 25,153 Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Prompt: Self-prompt Summary: 

If the wizarding world won’t give Draco a second chance, he has a plan to survive: live in his Animagus form, a carrion crow, in the Forbidden Forest. Not only does Harry Potter come along and ruin it, he’s radiating a strange aura of power that Draco should probably fear, but doesn’t. With nowhere to go and a Life-Debt to his mother that Potter insists on repaying, Draco puts himself into the hands of the reclusive Boy Who Lived. Will the bleak corner of Yorkshire where Potter makes his home be another dead end or an unexpected refuge?

Read on AO3

Title: Night Visitor Author: Kiwi05622 @kiwi05622 Rating: Explicit Word Count: 111,960 Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Prompt: Self-prompt Summary:

His apology came to her on the wings of moonlight. Her response returned to him in delayed indifference. This is Draco Malfoy's journey seeking forgiveness from his past misdeeds and finds redemption through their letters while a prisoner of Azkaban.

Read on AO3

[karasunology]

━ ❛ ➶ LOVE IN TRANSLATION ❜

➜ a walk through of tsukishima's love languages told through headcanons.

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ tsukishima kei <3

[ ♡ ] you've received one love note from jae ! would you like to read it ?

💌 . . . finished writing this 8 minutes before the day ends, and i'm already drowsy y'all. but i had another headcanon to write for iwaizumi😔✋ so f.

💌 . . . edit, now i'm posting this and realized i'm better at writing whenever i'm half asleep😌 anyways, hope you bubs enjoy this !! <33 aone would probably be next i hope. also requests are open!! almost done with my inbox & i have nothing to do, so send an ask and i'll write em.

TSUKISHIMA KEI.

➜ tsukishima, just like iwaizumi, is not the best at pda.

➜ but not because of the same reasons.

➜ homeboy was just not the best at showing those type of emotions, preferably to try and mask those in snarky, and obnoxiously mean remarks.

➜ bb boy needs to lay off his salt

➜ like he'll have a kidney stone one of these days ngl

➜ tsukishima was, surprisingly enough, the first one to confess between the two of you. reasons being that these overbearing feelings of his, that he was unaccustomed to was a bit too much for him and just decided to confess to you out of flustration.

➜ and in his thoughts, and i quote

“ just to get this over with ”

➜ he knew you wouldn't accept it so atleast he could it it off his chest and cry himself a river and get over it

➜ mans was too practical lmao

➜ but you didn't reject him, and in fact you returned the same overbearing feelings he carried that would create a whirl wind of emotions in the pits of your stomache, and he did not, in fact, cry himself a river

➜ because holysh!t you actually like him back ???

➜ homeboy never thought this through

➜ tsukishima never would have thought you'd accept his confession

➜ but nevertheless, he asked you out right after, still in deep shock and as if he was still floating in cloud nine.

➜ tsukishima was awkward when you guys started dating, no; it's probably you too.

➜ physical affection was OUT the window in the first start of your guys' relationship.

➜ and when you guys DO start attempting physical contact, he'd be so stiff lmaoo

➜ tsukki isn't showered in these types of affection okay?? you're probably his first s/o

➜ whenever you'd hug him with people around, he wouldn't buldge or would just entirely deny you of it

➜ s h i t  hurts tsukki :(

➜ it wasn't like he doesn't like you ─ goodness no, bb boy was probably wrapped around your finger.

➜ it wasn't an everyday sight seeing tuskishima with an s/o

➜ he just couldn't for the life of him do pda justttt yet, especially with all the eyes watching you two interact

➜ whenever tanaka or noya comments that he's too cold to you, or if anyone says that you deserve better, he'd do that shit-eating-grin, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANN

➜ THE ONE THAT MAKES THAT PUSSÉ WET 👅👀💅

➜ and say

“ atleast i have an s/o & not just go around asking kiyoko-san for her hand in marraige. ” to tanaka or noya

“ and you think you're better for her ? ” to anyone that dares say anything about y'all's relationship

➜ but would also have this guilt-tripping churning on his stomache because you probably did deserve better

➜ the day you guys had your first kiss was when a guy called him out, saying they were better for you than he could ever be.

➜ and out of his built up insecurities & flustration, y'all just had this tension between you two and next thing you knew, you guys were kissing

➜ which may or may not ended up as a makeup session🤪😳

➜ and he was just surprisingly?? good ?? at it??

➜ ugh sanaol

➜ after that incident, tsukishima and you talked your relationship through and his insecurities ( also another sign he's whipped for you, because he never does these type of shit. )

➜ bb boy was a bit more comfortable at physical affection with you

➜ pda? he'd probably kiss you in front of the person the person commenting unnecessary about your guys' relationship, or if anyone dares to flirt with you in front of him

➜ and he'd have you out of breath from it and would have that smirk on his lips

➜ fook let me just kiss you ahHh

➜ but other than that, he prefers to stay low on pda, though, holding hands is a must

➜ but not without a remark from our mcdonalds fry

“ your hands are too sweaty ”

➜ would 100% flick your forehead

➜ like if he ever thinks you're annoyingly cute, he'd just flick your forehead lmAOOO

➜ one time y'all were away from each other because he had training camp, and when you guys finallu saw each other again, you couldn't help but run up to him & kiss him mwahhh

➜ and he'd be like 😳🤢

“ disgusting, do it again. ”

➜ but would be the one to pull YOU into a kiss

➜ phew CHILEE🥵

➜ physical touches are already something

➜ but what about non-physical ones?

➜ nicknames

➜ N I C K N A M E S

➜ they are a MUST in your guys' relationship

➜ if you're short, homeboy would call you chibi-chan.

➜ if you have a huge forehead, bb biy would call you forehead-chan

➜ while you would call him megane-chan/kun

➜ tsukki is also a good one

➜ bitch too

➜ half would be so weird but are still endearing to the both of you

➜ doesn't let anyone else probably other than tadashi, akiteru & his mom to hold his glasses for him

➜ and you too

➜ he would let you touch it and wear it, though without a playful roll of the eyes and maybe a side remark, since he is tsukishima kei

➜ one time he was teasing you and acted too tired to put on his glasses and made you do it

➜ and while you guys were eye levelled as you guys sat in his bed, almost nose to nose👀😳 the second you put on his glasses on him perfectly, he'd pull your arm gently towards him as you landed safely onto his chest, his head ontop of yours and you guys just sat in silence;

➜ and with nothing but your two beating hearts created a whole new melody once they were molded together

➜ would call your grades trash✋ but would offer to study with you

➜ thus born, was your study sessions/dates

➜ would SHARE ! HIS ! EARPHONES ! WITH ! YOU AHHHHH

➜ PUTEKNAOL😤

➜ has bought headphones just for the sole purpose to listen to music with you

➜ AND NOT JUST THAT YALL

➜ 😭😭😭

➜ HE MAKES PLAYLISTS FOR YOU

➜ MARRY ME SIR

➜ UGH IM HIS CERTIFIED WH0RE

➜ AND IF YOU WOULD DO THE SAME, HE'D DROP ON HIS KNEES AND JUST MELT AND SAY “ i will marry this bitch one day ”

➜ y'all would probably listen to both playlist alternately while you guys just either vibe to it or fall asleep with each other

➜ i have other things to say but i have to stop myself from spoiler my new mini headcanons series coming soon

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (I have upped the rating in consideration of sensitive topics I aim to depict later on.)

Words: 6.4K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which history is written on the walls.

Some of my other fics have been showing up in the tags when I use the link post option, so I’m doing an experiment this time. Fingers crossed it shows! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Chapter 12: Beta, Part 3

Having long since heeded Ruby’s advice to take a mental break, Steven sits criss-cross with his back pressed against the hodgepodge aquarium. If you ask him, this position is a two-in-one miracle, allowing him both an unobstructed view of the doorway, and sparing him from the deep rooted horror of the creepy dismantled plush still floating an aimless arc through the tank. He loves Peridot to death, but good golly, this latest meep morp is deeply unsettling. He shudders at the mere thought of its water-logged stuffing oozing out from the seams, and then— inhaling deep through his nose— steers his focus back to the phone clasped tightly between his fidgety fingers.

Back to the story, you doofus.

With nothing better to do for the moment and a hyperactive mind to satiate, he’s finally started to read the Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic that Connie sent him a link to a few days before. True to her words, it’s super, super good. Well written, great characterization, and best of all, the author keeps throwing in hints of future romance between Lisa and Archimicarus! Considering that, he’s almost surprised Connie likes this fic so much. She’s normally not much of a shipper. To be fair though, romance definitely isn’t the point of the story. Instead, it’s an AU focused on the mystery of the main character’s origins.

He can’t help but let out a sympathetic sigh as— in chapter 5– Lisa tries to calmly explain to her fellow Stonehearth Coven members that somehow her father, the revered founder of the coven, used to be a prince of the wicked Arcane Court. Most of her once-close friends don’t swallow the news well. As a result, Lisa is left alone to seek the truth of her father’s past, with no allies except her trusted familiar at her side. Lip quivering, he presses his thumb solid against his phone’s screen for a while, as if yearning to reach a healing hand beyond the barrier between fiction and reality and let the young witch know she’s not alone, that he sees and supports her. He makes a mental note to thank Connie profusely for sending along this really good fic, and presses on to the next chapter.

He’s halfway to the end of it when Peridot returns.

For someone who appeared super frazzled by Lapis’s terror-struck outbursts the last time she stood at his side, she sure seems fit as a fiddle now, walking with a slight bounce in her step as she crosses past the fence line and onto the property. At least, he assumes she is. He can’t help but immediately doubt this assessment when she spots him sitting against the inner wall of the barn with that piercing focus of hers and bounds through the doorway like a Gem fleeing the apocalypse.

“Steven, Steven, Steven, Steven!” she cries as she runs to his side, flapping her arms urgently.

Practically tossing his phone to the ground to free his hands for combat, he leaps to his feet so fast that his head grows woozy. His rose-thorned shield shimmers into tangible existence in front of his barred fist.

“What, what is it?” he exclaims, the pounding of his heart devolving into an untamable cacophony as all his darkest fears rear their ugly heads at once. “Is- is it Lapis? Did she leave anyways?”

“Uh, no…?”

“Or, or, or- are we under attack?!”

“Steven, I—“

“Who’s here for me this time?” he blurts, grabbing his friend’s shoulders. “Is it Homeworld? Jasper? The Diamonds? Tell meeee!” he whines, roughly shaking her.

“I- No one? It’s no one!” Peridot exclaims when her head finally stops jostling back and forth under his force, waves of confusion coloring her expression. “I’m… just happy to be back?”

His cheeks burn red as he drinks in her obvious statement and eventually catches his breath. He lets go of her. “O-oh,” he stammers, willing the shield floating before him to disappear into glimmers of light and desperately wishing he could do the same at this precise moment of existence. “Okay. Glad to see you back! Did, uh… did you find Lapis?”

She nods in confirmation, but visibly deflates a little at the reminder of her roommate. “Yeah, she’s perched in a tree in the woods. She said she wanted some ‘alone time,’” she emphasizes with air quotes.

Steven clasps his fingers together in front of him as he lets this news sink in, digits tussling without end for the most comfortable alignment. Bleeding heart that he is, he hates the idea of letting anyone be alone, especially after a revelation this jarring, but he must admit that he himself found some comfort in solitude the night his human half took for the beach, inert diamond in hand. If anything else, it was nice to retreat from all the noise, to allow himself the opportunity to form his own opinions about the situation. Perhaps it’ll be beneficial for her, too.

“That’s understandable,” he says, glancing out the barn door towards the forest his friend is taking refuge in. “She’s been through a lot.”

He squats to pick up his phone from the floorboards then, frowning as he notices a fresh crack on the glass at the corner of the screen. Knowing that— despite his desperate desires— there’s nothing he can do to fix this right now, he shoves it in his pocket and pushes against his knees to stand up. The bottom of his shirt catches on his arm as he does so, briefly exposing the unfamiliar facets of his rotated gem. Peridot’s brows nearly shoot above the upper rim of her visor.

“So,” she begins, nodding towards his stomach. “Your gem.”

With a tired sigh, he tugs his shirt back down. Boy, does he already know where this conversation is heading, and boy, is he sick of having to walk everyone through it. “Yup,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ and getting ready to deploy the exasperated eye roll.

“All this time everyone thought you were a hybrid quartz, but now you’re telling me…”

“...that I’m actually a dia—“

“...that I, Peridot, certified Kindergartener, a skilled specialist on every variety of Gem to ever exist, was wrong??”

“Hold on, what?”

She holds her hand over the diamond emblazoned on her chest as she passionately continues, wholly oblivious to Steven’s bemusement. “I was the brightest Gem of my cut back on Homeworld, and yet somehow I mistook a perfectly formed diamond for a quartz! Ah, hahahah!” Eyes glinting with what he can only describe as a borderline feral energy, she moves to clutch at the sides of her head, thick tufts of lemon yellow spilling out from between her fingers. “Oh, my stars. I’ve lost my touch!”

“Wait, who’s out of touch?” Ruby’s curious voice chimes from nearby. Overjoyed to see her again, Steven whirls to face her with a huge grin as she enters the barn and lounges against one of the support beams, propping a hand on her hip.

“I- it’s nothing important,” Peridot mutters, flushing as she smooths her hair back into place.

Immediately making note of the hint of shame dancing across her features, he nods. “Yeah, we were just chit-chatting! Hey, how’s Amethyst doing, though? You went to talk to her, right?”

Ruby huffs in frustration at the mention of the quartz Gem, grinding her boots against the floor so hard that for a second he’s genuinely concerned she might spark a fire under her very feet. “Tried to. But then she slashed her whip towards me and said I couldn’t help her, so ‘go away!’” she exclaims, throwing her arms in the air. “Can you believe it? I’m trying to provide some love and support, and she, she just- tells me to scram!”

“Aw, that’s not very nice,” he says with a frown, feeling his heart pulse in sympathy as she begins to pace back and forth across the wooden slats, grumbling under her breath.

“What’s her problem today, anyways?” Peridot asks, crossing her arms. “She’s usually much more amicable.”

Steven nibbles at the inside of his lip as he considers the concerning downward trajectory of Amethyst’s recent behavior. Sure, she can sometimes get snippy when she’s in a bad place, but this past week her outward attitude has built into a continuous problem. He himself has been on the receiving end of her acerbic words more than a few times, such as that afternoon they goaded each other into a duel at the Sky Arena, and that barbed retort she pierced him with at the fountain. Then there’s her fight with Pearl, her resulting emotional seclusion, today’s callous treatment of Peridot, Lapis, Ruby…

He desperately wishes he could pin all the blame for this on a single person, a single event, (because oh, wouldn’t that make his life so much easier), but when he tracks the evidence of her unrest it becomes blindingly clear that her problems began long before Rose’s betrayal was revealed.

“Well, beyond all the, uh… latest stuff, she’s been super insecure about Jasper,” he offers. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his flip flops rhythmically clapping against his heels, he rummages his brain for the easiest way to explain the root of the situation. “Basically, Jasper took Amethyst out in a fight a week ago, and ever since that she’s been training super hard a whole lot. I think she’s desperate for a rematch, to prove she’s good enough.”

“Wait, wait, wait—“ The green Gem holds her hands out, palms open. “You’re telling me she’s got an inferiority complex about Jasper? With where she came from?” She lets out a raucous peel of laughter, holding her sides. “Oh Amethyst! That’s ridiculous! She was made way better than that clod.”

He squints at her inquisitively, crossing his arms as he tries to make sense of the interesting new conversation thread that just flowed out of her mouth. “But what do you mean, where she came from? Isn’t she from Homeworld, like you?”

Ruby freezes in place upon hearing this question, clear worry threaded through her creased browline. Her mouth bobs open as if she’s gearing up to answer his question, but amidst her hesitation— a timidness that, the more he thinks about it, is bizarrely out of place from the bold, confident Gem Steven’s gotten to know from all the other times Garnet’s unfused— Peridot beats her to the charge.

“Pfft, are you kidding? She emerged right here from Earth, and not even from its good kindergarten!”

He slams his hands against his cheeks, internally reeling from this revelation. “There’s other kindergartens?”

“Well, sure! There was supposed to be one in every facet. Until the rebellion put a swift end to the Diamonds’ colonization efforts, that is,” she adds quickly, adjusting her visor. “There’s Amethyst’s Prime Kindergarten in Facet Five, but there’s also the Beta Kindergarten in Facet Nine. And that piece of work is where Jasper was made… poorly!” Giggling in excitement, she rapidly shuffles her feet beneath her. The glimmer of light reflected in her eyes is bright enough to rival a distant star. “You guys have to see it!”

Steven balls up his hand at his chin, deliberating. He has to admit, after the recent emotional upheaval that he now can’t help but associate with this place, he really likes the idea of spending time somewhere other than the barn.

“Huh. Might be worth asking if she wants to check it out,” he says with a shrug. “Ruby, you in?”

The Gem in question nibbles at the corner of her lip, humming low under her breath as she considers his offer. A small bead of sweat hangs above her brow. Sporting a good natured grin, he nudges her in the side with his elbow, hoping he can cheer her up a bit.

“A little more time with your favorite Steven and Peri? Eh? Come on, you know you wanna!”

“Do it, do it!” Peridot chimes in, pumping her fists up and down.

He eagerly joins in with her rallying cry, and in no time at all they’re both circling around their friend chanting those very words. Ruby stands center with her arms crossed and her back erect, desperately trying not to break her stoic facade with a smile. It’s ultimately futile, of course. After all, no one can resist the good ol’ Universe charm forever!

“All right, fine, fine, I’ll come,” she finally acquiesces, and with a smirk, plants both her hands on her hips. “After all, someone’s gotta keep an eye on all you trouble makers!”

Now that Ruby’s officially on board, the trio ventures outside to find Amethyst, Steven and Peridot giggling as they begin to skip around the perimeter of the barn side by side, arms linked together. Brushing a few flyaway curls out of his face amidst the comforting breeze, he glances over his shoulder when they reach the first corner to make sure they’re not leaving their friend in the dust. And thankfully she’s right on their tail, but he can’t help but notice her enthusiasm seems muted. He presses his lips together in concern. Does she not want to go with them? Is he only forcing her into this? His stomach twists with guilt as he ponders this quandary further. It’s not his intention to be pushy, but maybe— between coercing Amethyst to take a break and accompany him to the barn, begging Lapis to stay, and now, nudging Ruby to come to the Kindergarten— he’s only being selfish and manipulative about all this. He thought he was bringing people together, but what if he’s wrong? What if he’s only straining relationships, tainting the already tense atmosphere, making everything worse?

(What if this is the same sort of excuse his mom Rose used to make?)

With Amethyst slashing her whip at a few old rusted cans in the clearing before them, however, there’s no time to waste drowning within what-ifs. It’s like that day he learned about Garnet’s future vision for the first time: if he lets himself get tangled up in the possibilities he’ll never truly live. He sighs under his breath, lips pursed. Of course. Garnet’s right even when she isn’t here. As much as he’d love to go crazy psychoanalyzing the impact of every solitary step he makes, at this point he’s made his choices and whatever happens, happens. It’s time to live now.

Initially, the purple Gem is rather indignant at the idea that the three of them were gossiping about her behind her back— eyes clouded with hurt— but once Peridot explains that the point of their proposed Kindergarten field trip is to check out Jasper’s no-doubt lame hole, she blinks away her bitterness and seems to eagerly climb aboard.

“Sure, why not? ‘S not like there’s anything more fun than roasting your enemies.”

“I strongly agree,” Peridot says, nodding with pride.

But before the newly expanded Shorty Squad can begin their journey, there’s something Steven really needs to address. Something that’s been troubling him all day. Nervous butterflies filling his stomach, he leans up close to his sibling-in-crime and whispers so the others don’t hear:

“Amethyst, can I talk to you for a bit before we leave?”

Her expression curdles, but thankfully, unlike in Ruby’s unfortunate account, she doesn’t make a move towards her whip to push him away. Instead, she meets him with a gaze so hardened and difficult to read that his eyes can’t help but drift away, perhaps a little intimidated by the intensity of this contact.

“Yeah, I guess,” she mutters eventually. She flicks her wrist up at the other two, gesturing for them to get a move on. “Go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

Ruby and Peridot nod, the red Gem with a good deal more sympathy drawn on her face, (but for him or Amethyst?), and promptly set off towards the warp pad. He continues to watch until they disappear beyond the curve of the grassy hillside, both conversing comfortably. The last he hears before the warp shoots its cyan stream of light into the sky is a hooting laugh from Ruby. Despite how non-ideal this visit has been so far, he can’t help the smile stretching across his cheeks, or how his chest grows all warm and fuzzy. It’s really nice to see Peridot getting along so well with the others now. She’s made such huge strides in the past few months.

Something metallic clangs behind him. Flinching, Steven whirls around. A crumpled, abused soda can lays overturned by the side of the barn. Amethyst— arms crossed tight just under her gem and her hair more spiked and untamed than usual— glares at that poor hunk of tin as if it’s solely to blame for all of this galaxy’s problems. She moves to lean against the barn’s outer wall and peers at him expectantly, like a troubled child expecting judgement from a parental figure.

“So. You wanted to talk,” she says, tone clipped.

“I… wanted to be honest,” he mutters, threading his fingers together as he grasps for how best to word this. “Amethyst… I know you’ve been going through some hard stuff lately. I know everything that’s happened in the past few days doesn’t help. But you’ve been so inconsiderate of like, everyone here.” He swings his arm in a wide gesture towards the barn. “Peridot and Lapis didn’t deserve the way you treated them earlier.”

No response.

Steven frowns, and— a glimmer of quiet frustration bubbling deep within him, the sort he’d never admit to out loud but can’t help but harbor whenever he catches wind of small injustices that he can never seem to fix— scratches an burgeoning itch at the nape of his neck. He… oh stars, he’s going about this completely wrong, isn’t he? He’s being too confrontational. Hmm. Maybe he should try a new angle. Time for take two.

“I know you only acted that way because you’re hurting and don’t wanna think about it,” he continues, “but please, you don’t have to box your emotions away like that. I wanna help. I wanna listen.”

Slowly, gently, he moves to place a hand on her shoulder. It feels like a small victory when she doesn’t shift upon his touch.

“Believe me, you’re not alone in feeling this way.”

Again, nothing. She’s not even looking at him right now, and her jaw’s locked. Even her form feels tense under his fingers, with hard light pulsing back and forth under her illusory skin at an alarmingly unusual pace.

He sighs, gaze dropping towards the ground, towards the battered can she kicked aside earlier. “I’m worried, y’know? But... I understand if you’re not ready to talk… about Jasper, and—“

“Oh, hoh! That’s rich!” she explodes suddenly, jerking her arm away. “You seriously wanna bury your head in the sand and pretend this is just about Jasper?”

He tiptoes away from her rush of anger, eyes growing puffy. “I—“

“You wanna know how I feel, Steven? About your mom, and the whole awful mess she made? Do you really? ‘Cause I don’t have a single CLUE what I should feel anymore!”

Amethyst pauses for breath amidst her tirade, briefly locking sight with him with a glimmer of hurt reflected in her violet irises, showing that deep underneath all those twisted layers of anger and resentment she’s just another scared, abandoned Gem like him.

“Rose was everything to me, okay?” she says, throwing her palms wide for emphasis. “And all this time, I thought she was the one Crystal Gem who could be real with me. The only one who wouldn’t sugarcoat things or treat me like a baby. ‘Oh, you’re perfect the way you are, Amethyst!’” she coos in a fake, silky-sweet voice, cupping her cheeks as she openly mocks the very Gem who gave her life so he could exist. “You’re such a strong little quartz, you mean so much to me!’ Hah!”

She pauses to force a bitter laugh, clenching her hands into insufferably tight fists.

“And wasn’t that just a huge load of silt,” she spits, staring off into the rosy distance as if it were but a cruel mirage, the pain more than evident in the taut features of her face. “All along I thought she was this great, faultless person, just like you did. Except she wasn’t. She’s a liar, like everyone else. I’m worthless, just like Jasper said… and Rose knew it.”

Hesitantly, compassionately— heart breaking for the internal struggle she’s caught within, a struggle he intimately relates to—  he tries once more to reach out in comfort.

“Amethyst…”

She sniffles, wiping away the leaking fluid pooling at the corners of her eyes.

(She does not, however, brush him away this time when he wraps his arms around her torso and nestles his head against her chest.)

“Just— forget it, okay?” she says after a quiet moment’s embrace, gently stepping back from his affection. “It’s whatever. Come on, Peridot and Ruby are waiting for us. Let’s dump this joint.”

__________

Ruby quietly shuffles across the loose soil, directing her eyes as low to the ground as possible to avoid having to stare at the Beta Kindergarten’s steep cliff walls. Red sandstone, Peridot proclaims a few feet away to their newly arrived sightseers, whirling in place with her arms extended wide. We’re lucky this place hasn’t blown away. Beta, am I right?

Steven manages a soft laugh at this. Amethyst continues onward with her arms crossed, unimpressed. But Ruby herself? Well, she’s the only Gem here who can say she crossed this infamous swath of sedimentary rock at its very beginning, on the day of emergence. The others may choose to laugh about how soft and unideal the soaring sandstone cliffs are, or about the uneven exit holes and curved walls, but in her opinion it’s no laughing matter. She’s seen firsthand how deadly even a so-called ‘imperfect’ Homeworld soldier can be. Even Garnet barely escaped with her gems intact.

Nervously flexing her fingers at her side as she tries not to dwell on that tragedy, she flashes her gaze upward, daring to catch even a passing glimpse of the top of the vast canyon. In an instant her vision swims with endless pillars of rusty oranges and reds.

Everything on this planet might as well tower over her without Sapphire. The once-welcoming arms of their temple? Monolithic. The vaulted ceilings of the beach house? Her eidetic memory can’t help but remind her of her early days spent marching through Homeworld’s diamond sized hallways with the rest of her squadron, patrolling the same route for well over five hundred cycles straight. The kicker? The Diamonds never had any reason to visit the shipment sector in person, anyways. The hallways were only constructed with such high ceilings to remind any Gem passing through of their rightful place under the Authority.

Over two hundred years, she adhered to their twisted rhetoric. Two hundred years of allowing everyone and everything around her to make her feel small, like she only existed for a singular purpose. Two hundred years of ignoring the tug of dissatisfaction at the core of her gem because of the misplaced belief that orderly subjugation under the Diamonds was simply the rightful pattern of existence. Then, in a beautiful bloom of light… she caught a glimpse of true freedom. And for the five thousand seven hundred years after that, Garnet didn’t feel quite so small anymore. She felt capable, confident, satisfied. Aided by Ruby’s physical strength and Sapphire’s future vision, she finally dared to challenge Homeworld’s rhetoric. She dared to live for herself.

Sighing under her breath, Ruby touches her fingers to the place in her right palm where her missing gem is, tracing the triangular shape of its illusory facets.

There’s no use arguing; Garnet was a better Crystal Gem than she can ever hope to be on her own. And now, because Rose just had to go and manipulate all of them, there’s a strong chance she’ll never get to be Garnet with her Sapphy ever again. Which means that until further notice, she’s stuck like this: short, stubby, and woefully insecure. Hah! Figures. All those years spent fighting against Homeworld’s warped notion that Gems had stagnant purposes and couldn’t grow beyond their stations, and now it’s as if she’s been dumped back at the beginning, like the past five millennia never happened.

It’s a cruel irony.

And yet it’s no crueler than this awful place: a cradle of birth manufactured as a tool of war, a Gem’s very existence leeching the life out of this once-fertile ground. The scars on the walls tell a mournful story, and as Ruby slowly trudges after her loved ones, fingers numb and fidgety in the wake of haunted disorientation, she can’t help but wish she wasn’t present for its prologue.

“Ruby…?”

Her sight trains on one of the tilted exit holes closest to ground level, on the messy silhouette it provides. She remembers this one, in fact, Garnet watched her emerge. She was a carnelian. By Homeworld’s standards, an imperfect one. That doesn’t matter, though. None of Homeworld’s lies matter. Running on nothing but the primary orders she was incubated with, (it wasn’t her fault, it was the Diamonds’, she reminds herself with a bitter growl), that Gem still emerged to poof three fellow rebels on sight. If Garnet hadn’t been so quick to retrieve their gemstones, they might have been shattered that day. Many of the others assigned to her squadron weren’t as lucky. Inhaling shakily, Ruby pauses to trace her fingers across a raised ridge in the rough, brittle sandstone.

“Hey, Ruby!” his energetic voice calls again, snapping her out of her intense focus like a fusion splitting in half.

“Aaaah!” she cries, swinging around and pulling both fists up in defense. Her hands uncoil rapidly once she catches a glimpse of that cheery yellow star.

Aw, scrap! she chides herself, repositioning her feet solid on the ground to regain some sense of internal balance. Damned startle reflex.

Unfazed, Steven grins boyishly, skipping a few steps away from the rest of the group to join her by the cliff wall. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Amethyst and Peridot are watching now too, she realizes, her brief but audible outburst thoroughly diverting their attention from their Beta Kindergarten roast session. Their quizzical glances pin her in place, her hard-light form heating in embarrassment as she struggles to organize the flow of her emotions in a way that might make sense to anyone beyond a fellow ruby. She scrunches up her nose and considers her next words carefully, attempting to strike the proper boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate to say in front of a half-human child. Stars knows Amethyst, Pearl, and herself haven’t had a great record with that over the past few days.

“Just thinkin’ about Sapphire, mostly,” she admits, offering him a saddened shrug. “Can’t seem to stop that, even half a world away.”

“Speaking of that... Why did you run after us?” Amethyst asks in a notably less cranky manner than earlier, lightly kicking at the dirt with the toes of her booties. “You never said.”

“Y’know, I…” She pauses, pressing her hand to her chin. “I’m not sure. I spent days waiting in front of the temple door. And eventually, I guess I figured that if she’s gonna make me wait no matter what, I might as well do something with myself until then. ‘Sides, I didn’t want to be lonely,” she adds, suddenly feeling just as small and vulnerable in front of all of them as her timid voice sounds.

She felt lonely enough when she ran away from home a few days ago, tears streaming in messy rivulets down her face, utterly spurning their attempts at comfort so she could pretend she was anything else than powerless amidst this nightmare. She never wanted to split, not at all. She begged Sapphire to give their relationship another chance, to believe in the strength of their love more than the fear of a diamond’s control, but tragically, her partner couldn’t hold up under the pressure. If one individual doesn’t wholeheartedly want to be Garnet, then Garnet cannot exist. They can’t synchronize. It’s simply the nature of fusion. And given her love’s avoidance, refusing to so much as leave her room to begin with, Ruby’s beginning to lose hope that their fusion will ever exist again. The crippling isolation that realization affords is the worst form of loneliness she can imagine.

Thus, the least she can do at the moment to mitigate these all-consuming feelings is to get off her butt, leave the temple, and ensure she’s surrounded by loved ones.

Peridot steeples her fingers together in front of her chest. “Well, what if you moved in with us?” she offers in a meek tone at first, her expression brightening as she continues to explain her idea. “The barn’s got plenty of room, and with two roommates you’d never have to feel lonely again!”

Steven’s dark irises practically sparkle. “Aww, Peridot, that’s super sweet of you to offer!”

“Wow, thanks,” she replies earnestly, puffing out her chest in a rush of personal pride. “I do try!”

“Yeah!” Ruby says with a hesitant laugh, scratching at the back of her neck. “That sounds amazing, but…”

“You should do it, Ruby!” he encourages, bouncing up and down on his sandaled feet amidst his excitement. “You should totally move in with them!”

“D’ya… d’ya really think so?”

“Yeah! It’d be like your very own vacation, but you’d only be a warp away!”

“And you’re sure you’d be fine with it? Y’know, with everything at home all…” She blows a juicy raspberry, jabbing her thumb down.

Amethyst serves her a big shrug. “I ain’t got a problem. Go crazy.”

“There’s no need to worry about me,” Steven says, smiling evenly. “I only want what’s best for you. And if you think not staying in the temple all the time would make you feel better, you should give it a try!”

Her concerned glance drops on the young half-Gem. Sure, it’s very compassionate of him, actively choosing to care so deeply for everyone’s emotional needs all the time, but home life for him hasn’t exactly been nurturing and hospitable lately. He already lost one of his pillars of stability when Garnet unfused. Pearl and Amethyst are at each other’s necks again. Sapphire hasn’t emerged from her room for days. Greg’s… doing whatever it is Greg does when he’s not hanging out with his son, probably keeping his distance from Gem business as usual. So with all that in mind, even if temporarily living apart from Sapphire is sure to be a beneficial move for her personal well-being and sanity, is now actually the proper time to consider a change in scenery? She purses her lips.

“I’ll think about it.”

Peridot lets out a sharp squeal of delight, apparently ecstatic about the prospect of possibly gaining a new roommate. Ruby can’t help but grin at this response. In truth, if she didn’t have to consider the well-being of Steven and the rest of the Crystal Gems, she’d say yes in a heartbeat. After all, she’s never gotten the opportunity to make many decisions on her own. Heck, she’s never gotten the opportunity to do much of anything on her own. Every time she’s unfused within the last five thousand years, her priorities have always been about what Sapphire would want, what Sapphire would do.

Well, what about Ruby, this time? Aren’t her desires important? What does she want?

Long term… she has no clue. But right now? She’d prefer to avoid dire reminders of old sorrows at all costs, thank you. So when Peridot declares that she’s 99.9% positive she’s found Jasper’s exit hole, Ruby declines to join them in their roast session. She never came here for sightseeing, anyways. She came here as their lookout. Just in case. She’s never trusted this awful tear in the ground one bit, and she’s not about to start now.

Running instinctively on old programming she was incubated with, she creeps deeper between the narrow mouth of the cliffs and summons her gauntlets at her side. Sure, so maybe they’re not as daunting in their size as Garnet’s, but they can still pack one heck of a punch. She’s still good at punching on her own, yeah? Hopefully? Stars, it’s been so long since she’s gone solo for more than a few measly hours.

And then, at the cliff base in front of her, she spots the most unusual exit hole she’s seen in this miserable canyon yet. For one, it’s low to the ground, like Amethyst’s. That fact alone is enough to set off alarm bells in her head. On top of that, its silhouette is almost comically wide and indistinct, not resembling any cut of Gem she’s aware of.

“Huh. That’s different,” she murmurs, pacing closer to investigate.

Maybe an off-color topaz could punch a hole as wide as this? But… no, no. That can’t be right. Hard light coursing wildly through her form, Ruby dissipates one of her gauntlets and runs the tips of her fingers across the crumbly inside surface of this hole. A few granules of sandstone break off upon her touch and clatter against the ground, and she jerks her hand away as if touching impossibly cold ice. Something about this feels... wrong. To be fair, she’s no expert kindergartener like Peridot, but she’s pretty confident the interior of exit holes should be smooth, with striated rock layers extending all the way back. Instead, this bizarre scar in the cliffs almost seems like—

“It’s dug out,” she says, eyes widening in dawning horror.

Which means they may not be alone in this rusted relic of a Kindergarten after all.

Her body suddenly feeling staticky and unbalanced amidst all this damning uncertainty, she tiptoes away from this mysterious feature, slowly at first, and then— as the fear begins to bubble up within her core like boiling water transformed under her power— transitioning into a sprint. We’re not alone, she repeats to herself in a harried mantra. Not alone. Not alone, we’re not alone, we’re—

Ruby’s foot catches on an uneven lip of stone jutting up from the ground, and she quickly plows headfirst into the coarse dirt, promptly ending her terror-stricken flight.

“Ow,” she whines as she recovers from this fall, rubbing at the side of her head. Not only is she a little dizzy, but her surroundings are made further hazy amidst the overbearing sunlight pounding indiscriminately upon the ground floor of this canyon. It’s enough disorientation to allow the jumbled code of her gem to begin to play tricks on her. For one, she swears she can hear this low, timid skittering, like thick claws rhythmically scraping against rock. Second, she’s half-convinced she can feel a surplus of physical vibrations radiating from the cliffs surrounding her. Squinting, she shields her eyes under a raised arm so she can begin to gain her bearings again. The blinding light recedes.

The red Gem gulps fearfully amidst the burning colors of the harsh sandstone landscape. “Wait, is that—“

She’s stumbled her way into a massive clearing, lined on all sides by stacked rows of holes physically dug into the sheer walls. Each opening is barred by a number of thick metal rods, stripped from the legs of the injectors that once incubated this hell in the first place. The thoughtful engineering imbued in this setup is impressive and terrifying all at once. Ignoring the tangible tug of hesitation at her core, she pushes herself back on her feet and creeps towards the closest cage to investigate further.

“Uh, you guys?” she calls loudly as she walks, the unusual curves of this canyon an undisputed blessing as they carry her message back to the others.

“Yeah?” Amethyst chimes back, her voice notably distant. Too distant.

“We’ve got, um—” her hand glides across one of the bent, rusty bars— “a bit of a problem here?”

“What?? Speak louder, we can’t hear you!”

Before she can even prepare to reply, a fur-covered monstrous creature leaps from the shadowy abyss of its prison and snaps its tusks at her. She yells, jerking her hand away from the cage and stumbling a few feet back. Her brow creases in abject confusion as she attempts to process what she’s seeing in front of her. It’s… it’s a corrupted Gem? This one’s most definitely a quartz; she recognizes the faceting, as well as the distinctive fur-covered quadrupedal shape of its corrupted form. But why on Earth is it being trapped within a cage in the middle of a defunct kindergarten instead of being placed in a bubble’s comforting stasis? The ground beneath her feet grows noticeably warmer as a rush of impassioned anger surges through her hard light form. She grinds her teeth together, flexing her fists at her side in the name of this cruel injustice. Caging isn’t part of Crystal Gem protocol for a reason!

Unfortunately, the horror show continues as her gaze passes over each and every cage in this clearing, finding scared, thrashing, corrupted Gems in almost all of them. Fluid builds up at the corner of her eyes as they scream and wail at her, riding a fresh wave of cacophony spurned by that Gem she spooked just a moment ago. How could anyone ever build such an awful place? And why?

Heavy, assured footfalls suddenly bounce across the acoustically encouraging slopes and surfaces of this ravine, magnified tenfold in their wake. Ruby gasps, wasting no time in ducking behind a tall rocky formation at the mouth of the clearing. That’s definitely not Amethyst or any of the others. It sounds too large, too bulky. She kneels low so she can still peek over the topmost layer of sandstone, a knot of dread coiling within as the footfalls continue to grow louder. Groaning, she clutches at her head. The unknown, the impenetrable shadow of the future… stars, it haunts her more than loneliness itself.

And then, the specter of her history reveals herself, making Ruby’s tangible form stutter in the sheer terror her appearance affords.

Jasper— her opponent, her nightmare, the Rebel Slayer herself— emerges from a plume of rising dust at the edge of this populous arena and enters the game.

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Dynasty Chapter 28

“Oopsy-daisy!” Deadpool said as he shook the body off his katana. The katana he had to then throw to the side since it was bent in the middle.

[I told you not to get them from that vendor. He clearly didn’t know what he was doing.]

{Ugh—his guts are all over our feet.}

Deadpool laughed maniacally, twirled, and shot the next four enemies. Then he looked around, slightly disappointed that there weren’t any more to kill.

[That was what, five bodyguards plus target? It was too easy.]

{There’s someone behind us.}

Deadpool whirled again, gun raised to the head of a young man. The man had white streaks in his orange hair, was dressed in an impeccable suit, and looked nervous. Deadpool didn’t take the nervous part personally—most people were when they talked to him. The young man had both hands raised and part of Deadpool sighed with regret that he wasn’t going to be able to kill the young man. He had two rules: kill no one unarmed and not trying to kill him (unless he was being paid insanely well for it) and two: no children—ever. There was not enough money in the world to make him consider killing a child.

The young man swallowed hard. “I’ve—I’ve heard a lot about you Deadpool.”

Deadpool shrugged without moving the gun. “People have. People talk. People die,” he said simply. “It’s all in good fun, I mean money. I mean money and fun.” He giggled.

The young man looked unnerved. Most people did after talking to Deadpool for a few minutes. “Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about.” The young man swallowed again. “I want to hire you to kill someone for me.”

“Oh? Who is that?”

“Spiderman.”

[Who the fuck is that?]

{Eh, forget. Let’s just kill this fucker.}

“Now now, we can’t kill him,” Deadpool said reasonably. “After all, he’s going to pay us to kill someone else.”

[And just what are you going to do with more money? Buy another shitty sword?]

“I’ll spend my money how I want it!” snarled Deadpool. The young man took a step back. “So, mister—uh—what’s your name?”

“Osborn. Norman Osborn.”

“Well Normie,” Deadpool said as he slipped his gun back into its holster. “We maybe have a deal.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe. I have no fucking clue who Spiderman man, and I don’t kill kids.” He picked up the bent katana and sighed. “White’s right,” he muttered, “cheap ass sword. I bet the bastard wasn’t even a real smith.”

[We can always kill him on the way out of town.]

“So you’re going to do research?” Normie sounds surprised—astonished even.

“Oh yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he told the man. He swung the katana a few times.

{I don’t think it’ll work if we straighten it.}

“Shouldn’t have bent in the first fucking place,” grouched Deadpool as he lumbered off. He walked right off the roof, died, healed, and kept going. Once he reached his place (a real dump, but he didn’t care enough to clean up), he got on his computer (a state-of-the-art laptop because who wants to look at grainy porn), and started researching Spiderman.

According to the inter-web, he he, the spider has only been around for about six months, was both credited for stopping a terrorist organization and cited as the menace behind the organization, and basically did hero stuff. Like one of those stick-in-the-ass Avengers he occasionally ran into. Oh, and he had a blog. Wait—Spiderman had a blog?

Curious he began browsing it. The thing had several different threads; one of them was a rant thread about his villains—yadda yadda yawn—another was about food—was there anything the spider didn’t eat? Not that Deadpool was one to judge—but the third one caught his eye. It was about “everyday heroes.” A clerk spotting a runaway some money for milk (bet she never saw that money again), an officer helping a kid, off the clock, with homework, a gang leader rescuing a kitten from a tree—weird random shit. And Deadpool knew random.

[Oh, that should be our new catchphrase!]

Then Deadpool came across a recent post, and stared for a moment.

I’ve been hearing a lot about a mercenary known as Deadpool. I’ve heard that he’s got no morals, is certifiably insane, and has a larger kill count than the last world war. If you read this Deadpool, I want to tell you something: Don’t kill in my city.

{That’s practically an invitation!}

[Don’t go. It might be a trap.]

“With this shit? No way.” Deadpool jumped up and grinned. “We’re going to New York City!”

[We’re not really going to not kill people, right? Just because a blog said so?]

^^^

Of course, Deadpool hadn’t expected a group of thugs to meet him on one of the buildings. “Osborn ain’t happy with you ‘Pool,” one of them sneered. He flipped out a switchblade—an honest to God switchblade—against Deadpool. “We’re here to kill you.”

“Fellas,” Deadpool said, “I’m flattered—I really am, but have you actually thought this through?”

[His face looks like a gorilla’s ass!]

{Do you think he knows that?}

“No, I don’t think he knows his face looks like a gorilla’s ass, but I’ll ask. Hey flat-face! Did you know your face looks like a gorilla’s ass?” The man’s face suffused with rage and he lunged forwards to attack Deadpool—only to be pulled back by a thick, white strand. Deadpool watched, fascinated, as a figure in a blue and red suit with a white spiderweb symbol on the chest began wrapping the man in the threads.

“Holy shit! It’s Spiderman!” One of the goons crept up behind Deadpool and he landed a punch—that deformed the man’s face.

[What’s that jaw made of, glass?]

“Hey Spidey! I haven’t killed anyone in your city!” He noticed the man on the ground, not moving. “Oh, shit, you are still alive, aren’t you? Don’t make a liar out of me!” He yanked the man on the ground, pulled him up to his ear, and listened. He heard the unmistakable sound of air rushing through tubes. “Yup, still alive,” Deadpool said with satisfaction letting the other man drop to the rooftop.

Spiderman rose from a crouch and looked over at Deadpool. Unlike Deadpool, his mask wasn’t emotive, so Deadpool couldn't tell what Spiderman was thinking. “You must be Deadpool,” Spiderman said.

[He knows who we are!]

{Of course he does! He practically invited us!}

[We’re still going to kill him, aren’t we?]

{Are you nuts? He just saved us!}

[Yeah—but we didn’t need saving.]

{Not like he knows that!}

Deadpool just beamed at Spiderman. “Yes I am!” he said. “And I haven’t killed anyone in your city!” Spiderman walked over to Deadpool.

{I don’t think he’s happy.}

[We should just kill him now!]

Spiderman reached out, and gently touched Deadpool’s shoulder. “Good job,” he said.

[Did—did he just praise us? For not killing people?]

{Not for not killing people, weren’t you listening? For not killing people in his city!}

[Still a first either way.]

“Bank robbery,” muttered Spiderman looking away from Deadpool. “At this time of night?” he asked.

Deadpool couldn't see the hero frown, but could hear it in his voice. Deadpool bounced and clapped his hands. “Oh! Let me come too! I want to help too!” he said.

[He’s not going to want our help, dipshit.]

{Look, just because he invited us to the city doesn’t mean he wants our help.}

“All right,” Spiderman said grudgingly, “but let me call someone first.” He pulled out a phone, flipped it open (seriously, who still has a flip-phone in this day and age) and began to dial.

“A cabbie? A helicopter? Your lady friend?”

“Police,” Spiderman said vaguely.

[Say what now?]

{Eh, if he tries to have us arrested we can just kill him. We were hired to do that anyway.}

Deadpool listened to Spiderman request both police and an ambulance for a criminal that was severely injured during the capture procedure. Then the spider closed the phone and tucked it into the suit—and there wasn’t even a bulge to indicate where it came from. “Holy shit, and they say I’m amazing. Well, never twice, but holy shit! Where, in that tightness, did you put a pocket?”

“Are you going to be like this the whole way?” demanded Spiderman. “Because, if you are, you can find your own way to the bank.” He rattled off an address.

[Holy—not only did he not call the cops on us, but he’s still letting us tag along!]

{I don’t think we can kill him now. Maybe Osborn? But not in this city.}

The spider had long since swung off. “Guys,” Deadpool said, “this nice thing—it’s only an act. I’ll kill him when he slips.” He grinned. “But until then—let’s see where this takes us!” He pulled out a grappling hook and fired it at the next building over so that he could swing like the spider towards the robbery.

^^^

The act didn’t fade. Spiderman not only let Deadpool patrol with him to help the police stop crime (although that was difficult in itself—trusting the police) he frequently thanked the merc for his help. It was—strange. Nice, but—strange. People had never really thanked him before—not even the few people he knew who could listen to him without getting nervous.

That was another odd thing about Spiderman—he didn’t get nervous around Deadpool, not like other people did. Hell, just the other night a criminal had turned, seen Deadpool right beside Spiderman and literally wet his pants right there in fear. It was a given response—a normal response. Deadpool was having trouble with Spiderman’s lack of response.

The blog was fun though. At first he hadn’t thought twice about it, posting about the night’s patrol under the rant section (and was oddly pleased that he wasn’t one of the people Spiderman ranted about)—until Spiderman began responding to his posts which was—frankly terrifying. He wasn’t sure why it made him nervous.

And that day he was reading “Everyday Heroes” to see—himself. A post about how Deadpool, notorious mercenary and cold-blooded killer, waded into thick, NYC traffic to save a kitten that had somehow ended up in the middle of the street. The post was, like all the others in the Everyday Heroes section, short and sweet.

Only thing was, that incident happened in the broad light of day, and Spiderman had been nowhere around.

{He did tell us that he sees more than we think he does.} Yellow sounded anxious.

[He’s making us feel again. That’s never good. We should just kill him and forget this whole thing.]

But—Deadpool didn’t want to kill Spiderman. Hanging out with Spiderman was fun. The hero would laugh at his jokes, praised him for not killing people (in New York City), and thank Deadpool for his help. It was nice, it was fun, and he didn’t want it to end yet.

[You’re right. We should wait to kill him until after he hates us.]

{Spiderman isn’t going to hate us!}

[Everyone hates us; just give it time.]

Deadpool, alone in his crappy apartment (because, again—immortal and who cares), nodded. He would do that. White was right—everyone hated him eventually, and he could enjoy hanging out with the spider until he hated Deadpool too. Then he could kill him.

^^^

It wasn’t until the capture of the giant green lizard that Deadpool realized that Spiderman—Spiderman wasn’t going to hate him. In fact, Spiderman was worried about Deadpool, about how casual Deadpool was with his own life. Staring at the ranting spider the mercenary came to an odd—and yet right—conclusion: Spiderman—cared. Spiderman cared more about Deadpool’s life than anyone else—including Deadpool. It was heartwarming, it was wonderful—and it was terrifying.

[Well, we can’t kill him now.]

Spiderman’s rant ran down and Deadpool frantically searched for something to change the subject. “You hungry? I know a great Mexican place—open twenty-four hours!”

Spiderman stared at Deadpool for a moment in silence.

{I don’t think he’s happy with us.}

[Let’s kill him now!]

Finally the hero heaved a huge sigh. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” he asked. The two of them walked to the restaurant, leaving the human that used to be a giant lizard in a box in the alley. They made the walk in silence, they ordered—and Spiderman pulled out his phone and started texting.

“Who are you texting?” asked Deadpool as he helped himself to some of the complimentary nachos.

“Mrs. Conner. We’ve worked out a system; I’m letting her know he turned again and where to pick him up.”

Deadpool stared at Spiderman, as if he hadn’t seen the hero before. “Spidey—are you helping someone avoid the police?”

“Do you honestly think he’ll get the help he needs in prison?” Spiderman demanded. “Besides,” he added as the waitress (sadly, one of those that won’t serve alcohol without a photo ID) brought them their drinks, “he didn’t hurt anyone and honestly? That company deserves a little cosmetic damage. Maybe then people might see them for the monsters they really are.” Spiderman pushed his mask up to his nose and took a sip of the carbonated beverage.

“You should put that on your blog,” Deadpool said. He too, had pushed up his mask. Spiderman either pretended not to see—or really didn’t care.

[Don’t kid yourself—he’s being polite. Besides, it’s dark in here. It’s dark everywhere the two of you go to eat.]

{Maybe. He actually seems to like us.}

Deadpool watched the lower half of Spiderman’s face twist in a grimace. “I really just want to focus on more positive things in that blog.” He gave a tiny smile.

“Like saving kittens in traffic?” Deadpool’s voice was harder than he meant it to be.

The slight smile faded. “Do you mind?” he asked. “If you do, I’ll pull it off.”

[Whoa. He’s offering to change his blog for us!]

{Forget killing him; you should marry him!}

“Eh, no, it’s fine,” he assured the young hero. While Spiderman had never given Deadpool an age it was clear the hero was young. Possibly even young enough to make him qualified for the “no children” rule—although Deadpool was kind of hoping not. The waitress brought their food and walked quickly away. “I was just surprised. I didn’t see you anywhere around at the time.”

Spiderman smiled again. “I told you,” he said calmly, “I see more than you think I do.”

Deadpool couldn't let it go. “Then what about the ones that don’t have a good reason for what they do?” he asked thinking back to the days, not that long ago, when he was one of those people. “What if they can’t change?”

The white eyes of the Spiderman suit met his calmly and the hero shrugged. “What if they can?” he asked.

^^^

A few days later he got a tip about a man he’d been chasing around the globe—and was on a bridge, at twilight, waiting.

{This might not be the best idea. Isn’t Spiderman waiting for us to patrol?}

[It’s Francis! We can’t let that bastard get away with what he did to us!]

“No,” Deadpool said, suit tight over scarred skin as memories of screams and pain washed over him for a moment. “We can’t.”

{We can’t kill him in the city! Spiderman trusts us!}

[Easy—we knock him out, take him outside the limits, and then kill him. Then we’re still not killing someone in the city and we can kill Francis.]

{I think Spiderman might object to that logic.}

[Then we kill him too.]

“We’re not killing Spiderman,” Deadpool muttered as the car his informant had told him about came into the street. “But we are,” he added grimly before getting into position to jump, “going to kill Francis.” He jumped into the car on the street below.

Something unexpected happened after he landed on the car. Several other cars, nearby, braked and then surrounded him in a circle as he felt an odd stinging sensation in his neck. He reached up and pulled out—a dart with a plunger?

“Poor Wade,” said the smooth voice of Deadpool’s most hated enemy. The British accent almost brought back waking nightmares of torture. “Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me? I’m far smarter than you think.” The tall man with his shaved head and hallow eyes stepped out of the car and grinned down at Deadpool.

Deadpool tried to focus—but the world was bleeding into color.

“Did you think you destroyed everything in the facility?” asked Francis, sounding warmly amused. “Oh, we still have all your data—and not even your healing factor can save you now.” Francis strode forward and gripped Deadpool’s chin—and Deadpool couldn't move. His arms were coated in lead. “This time,” the man said savagely, “you will become a perfect little mindless slave.”

There were yells, shouts, and gunfire. Francis pulled his hand away and Deadpool collapsed as the ground turned into a mass of technicolor bubbles with teeth. Teeth that wanted to rip into Deadpool—to rip him apart.

“Deadpool?” asked a familiar voice. ‘Oh, shit!”

[Not like…Spidey…to swear.]

{Ow.}

Deadpool’s world dissolved into nightmares. He had no idea how long they taunted him, haunting him. Making him live through the torture again. To watch his best friend, his only friend (before Spiderman) die again.

He knew when the nightmares stopped though. He could hear birds chirping nearby. He opened his eyes—to see a young man—no, a young teenage boy—right next to him. He froze as he tried desperately to remember how this had happened.

The boy groaned slightly, opened brilliant amber eyes, and then leaned forward to place his cool, smooth forehead against Deadpool’s own.

[Oh my God! He’s touching our skin!]

{Where’s the mask? Where’s the mask?}

Deadpool—was frozen. He knew his face was hideous and that he looked like some kind of old school movie monster. What if the boy realized it? Where had the boy come from? And where was Deadpool for that matter?

“Good,” murmured the boy in satisfaction. “Your fever broke.”

“Fever?” asked Deadpool. He hadn’t had a fever since—not since the first time he saw Francis. Not since his healing factor had kicked in. Since he stopped being able to die.

The boy didn’t answer him, but rolled over and off the bed. “Aunt May,” he called as he padded from the room, “his fever broke!”

“What fever?” asked Deadpool again, his voice harsh and raspy. He rolled over, only to collapse back against the bed panting. His limbs felt like weak, overcooked noodles. “What happened?” he asked.

[Had something to do with that damn dart.]

{Weasel gave us up!}

Deadpool felt a brief wave of anger at the bartender/informant—that quickly drained away. Of course Weasel had given Deadpool up the same way that Deadpool would have done the same to Weasel if their positions had been reversed. Deadpool couldn't hate him for that.

[I’ll hate him for all three of us then.]

An old woman, dressed in a button-down the front blue blouse with faded blue jeans, came into the room and looked at Deadpool, mouth pressed into a thin line and eyes narrowed. “So you’re finally back with us. Well, Deadpool or whatever you call yourself, get dressed.” She gestured to a chair with clothes on it. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”

[Who is she to give us orders?]

{Where are we? And why do we feel weak?}

“Good question,” muttered Deadpool. He looked up as the boy entered the room again. “Where am I?”

“My house,” the boy said calmly, as if he carried injured mercenaries into his home every day. Maybe he did. “I didn’t know where you lived and you needed help.” The boy frowned. “Aunt May used to be a nurse, so I thought—well, she knew what to do.”

“Wait,” said Deadpool, confused. “What?”

The boy blinked those huge amber eyes and then grinned. “Sorry,” he said, “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Peter Parker. Also,” he added with a sly twinkle, “known as Spiderman.”

Deadpool stared for a moment. What—Spiderman—here? Spiderman willingly took Deadpool home? “How—how did you know I was on that bridge?” he asked warily.

“I keep telling you that I see more than you think I do,” the boy—Peter responded.

And Deadpool realized where he’d seen that face before. When he’d waded into traffic to save that kitten, that face had been on the sidewalk, watching him as he verbally abused the drivers who would run over a helpless little animal because they were in a hurry, Peter had been one of the faces in the crowd. One of the few weren’t being exasperated with him. “You were there,” he said wonderingly, “that day I saved the kitten. But—I didn’t—I didn’t notice you.”

Peter, instead of taking offense, merely chuckled. “It’s an art to be unnoticeable,” he said. “I’ve been perfecting it for years.”

Deadpool laughed a little breathlessly. He started to hold out a scarred hand, and hesitated.

[He’s already seen us.]

{And he’s not making gagging noises!}

Deadpool swallowed and held out his hand. “Wade,” he said introducing himself for the first time since the torture. “Wade Wilson.”

Peter gently took Wade’s hand, and then helped the man stand up. Wade wasn’t surprised—on one of their patrols he’d seen Spiderman lift and toss a huge concrete pillar from a parking garage that collapsed. Wade was more surprised by the fact he needed help getting dressed—since the healing factor kicked in he hadn’t been weak for longer than it took for him to come back to life. He also needed help getting down the stairs to the table—which was set with homemade waffles, fake maple syrup, and bowls of fresh fruit next to tall glasses of juice.

It was a better meal than anything Wade had seen in years. “Thank you,” he said as Peter helped him into a seat.

The old woman—Aunt May—watched him with narrowed eyes for a moment. “I understand,” she said looking at him, “that you’re the reason Peter has decided to come clean about his—extra curricular activities.” Peter winced.

“I had no idea he was going to be there,” Wade protested.

“Of course you didn’t,” said the woman. “You don’t understand,” she said, “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m saying that Peter has finally found a reason to talk to me again.”

Peter winced. “Aunt May—” he began.

“Yes, I know—you were trying to protect me.” She snorted. “I have a better chance of not being in danger if I know that there is danger!”

Peter shrank slightly. “Yes, Aunt May.”

She snorted. “Reckless child,” she muttered affectionately. The three of them sat down together and ate.

The experience was—novel. The closest thing Wade had to compare to it was those late night meals he grabbed with Spiderman. Prior to that Wade hadn’t had a meal in company—a meal eaten with another person—since before the torture.

And no one at this table wanted to kill Wade, or torture him, or hurt him. It was—new.

Near the end of the meal Peter spoke up. “About that—man,” he said grimly, “that shot you with the dart. Francis.” Oddly enough Peter made the name sound like a curse and Wade looked up warily. Bright, amber eyes met his and he said grimly, “I told him he had twenty-four hours to get out of my city.”

“Don’t kill in my city.”

Peter was giving Wade permission to go after Francis and finish the man off.

“That’s nice,” said Aunt May blithely, reminding both of them of her presence. “Peter, take the dishes to the sink and then take garbage. I want that bin by the curb for them to pick up.” Peter kissed his aunt on the cheek as he gathered the dishes and left the room. “He’s a good boy. We raised him well,” she said absently before turning to face Wade again. “As for you,” she said grimly. “You like him.”

It wasn’t a question, and Wade didn’t respond to it.

“If you kill that man, and I’m not going to say he doesn’t deserve to to die after the nightmares you had—”

What had Wade said in his sleep? How much did they know? He stared at the old woman and realized—she’d never tell him.

“—but if you kill him you will change the relationship you are building with that boy forever. Be prepared for that,” she said firmly as Peter came back into the kitchen.

^^^

A few weeks later saw Wade completely healed.

[Don’t you think it’s odd that we’re not calling ourselves Deadpool anymore?]

{No more odd than the fact we’re calling Spidey Petey.}

He found himself in Weasel’s bar, and if he’d had any doubts about the man’s information the way the bartender went completely white at the mere sight of him showing up would have killed them.

[I still say we should kill him.]

{Not in Peter’s city.}

[Eh.]

“Dead—Deadpool,” Weasel stammered. “How—how are you buddy?” He swallowed.

“A lot better than our mutual friend Francis wants me to be,” Deadpool said as he sat on one of the bar stools. He leaned on his elbows on the bar and looked over the bartender who looked nervous.

“I’m sorry man,” the bartender said. “I didn’t want—it’s nothing personal.”

Deadpool smiled. “Oh, I know,” he said cheerfully. “The same way I know that if our positions were reversed I would do the same thing. No, I came here because you’re going to do me a favor.”

“A favor?” asked Weasel.

“Nothing you haven’t done before. You’re just going to spread some information—for me this time.”

“And what—information would that be?” asked Weasel nervously.

“Anyone who tries to go after Spiderman will have to go through me.”

Wade never did leave the city to hunt down Francis. After all, if Deadpool left New York—then who would protect Spiderman?

[polyhexing]

Horses are anxiety ridden meat pinatas on toothpick legs. A beast I can really respect.

[sky-squido]

Turn Back Time (A Linked Universe Fanfic)

Part one of the Time’s Travels series

GUYS I WROTE A FIC! This is the first fic i’ve ever put anywhere! Wooooo! 

WE GOTS SOME SWEET SWEET TIME ANGST. Lotsa mentions of death and dying, though, so if that’s not your cup of tea, then don’t read this fic. Get cho’ tissues, pals, cuz this is gonna hurt. There is Certified Fluff™, but you gotta work for it. Inspired by this fic I read: https://dinfeanoriel.tumblr.com/post/189094362202/dusk-falls

The group had noticed Time growing more and more weary every time they barely escaped a harsh battle. They could see the bags under his eyes, the way he seemed to be losing weight, and the way he dutifully kept a journal that was suspiciously always tucked out of sight. When Four woke up once during Time’s watch, though, he could see it sitting by his side.

Time was out patrolling when Legend broke the group out of their evening routine. "Does anyone know what's wrong with Time?" he barked out impatiently, drawing everyone's attention. "The old man looks like he's on death's door. Don't tell me you guys haven't noticed."

A chorus of downcast faces gave him his answer.

Before they could discuss it any further, Time returned. If he noticed the heavy silence in the group, he didn't comment on it.

Legend’s comment sparked something inside of Four.

Legend's right. We have to do something!

But what, Red? Time isn't going to tell us anything he doesn't want to. Nobody can make him crack, not even Twilight.

…

Oh no. Vio, what's your idea.

Remember when we woke up in the middle of the night with that terrible headache once?

Yeah?

Who was on watch?

Time.

And what was he doing?

Realization hits the other three.

Keeping a journal.

Vio that's terrible.

It's for his own good, Green! We need to find out what's wrong with him so we can help and we all know he's not going to tell us of his own free will.

I hate to say it, but I think Vio's right.

As usual.

Shut up.

But how are we going to get ahold of the journal in the first place?

What if we ask Legend for help? It was his idea.

We can distract him, and Legend can snatch his journal.

Won't Time realize it's missing?

Not if we can keep him distracted long enough for Legend to figure out what's wrong. He doesn't need to read the whole thing

Good idea. Let's get Legend alone.

Four stared into the fire the group was sitting around. During his internal dialogue, conversation had picked back up again, though strained.

"Do you guys think we need more firewood?" Four asked, making pointed eye contact with Legend.

"I doubt it," Sky replied, "we have a little pile over there and it's getting pretty late."

"Better safe than sorry," Legend yawned, getting up and stretching, "I'll help."

Four nodded his thanks and began heading into the woods with Legend. Twilight's suspicious gaze followed them, though he made no comment.

"What's your plan?" asked Legend the second they got out of earshot.

Four gave him the rundown of everything he had come up with so far. Legend nodded his approval.

"It was a good call asking me. I've got a book that could probably help me translate his Hylian."

"How long should I buy you?"

"I'll need a decent amount of time; a few hours tops. Do you think you can do it?"

"Consider it done."

"Consider what done?"

The two conspirators whirled around, hands on hilts, until they spotted Twilight casually leaning against a tree, arms crossed.

"Twi, you can't stop us. I get that you two are close and all, but-"

"Who said I was going to stop you?"

The two blonds froze.

Twilight pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“It kills me to watch him do this to himself but no matter what I try, he won't tell me anything! He doesn't even seem to think whatever he's doing to himself is wrong! I want to help him, more than anything, and I think this is the only way"

Twilight knew firsthand how obsessed Time could get with his regrets. His desire to teach Twilight the sword had kept his shade from rest for who knows how many years. Twilight knew exactly how Time could get caught up in his head to the point to self-destruction and he didn't want to see it come to that.

"I'll help Four distract Time."

Legend nodded, surprised but grateful.

They split up to gather wood—they had to keep their alibi strong after all—and returned to camp.

"Took you long enough," sassed Warriors, but the three didn’t comment. Instead, Twilight and Four walked up to Time as Legend headed to his own bedroll to organize his inventory. Luckily for him, his spot sat on the edge of the campsite, just like Time's.

He didn’t catch what Twilight and Four said to Time, but Time got thoroughly engrossed in whatever conversation they ended up having, so Legend decided to make his move. He took his box of rings and—with a heavy sigh—tipped it sideways, letting them spill across the floor, rolling towards Time's bedroll and gear.

Warriors glanced over at the sound.

"You good over there, Legend? You need help organizing your jewelry?" Warriors teased, eyeing the rings scattered across the ground.

"My jewelry could kill you so you all better keep your distance while I clean this up," he bit back. To his satisfaction, the group accepted his explanation, not wanting to get cursed by any of Legend's... exotic magic.

It was under this guise that Legend rifled through Time's things, pulling out a small leather journal from between some masks, pocketing it, and picking up the rest of his rings.

He shuffled back to his bedroll, put his box of rings back, and slid the Book of Mudora out of its pocket in his bag. As some of the first stars winked into the sky, Legend began deciphering.

There was no title or date or any sort of preamble. The first entry was rushed and short, only a few sentences. It looked more like Time had jotted down a quick piece of info he wanted to remember for later rather than any sort of journal.

The first word he deciphered was his own name.

He hurriedly deciphered the rest, his blood growing colder with every word.

"Legend: I'm sorry. I'm so f***ing sorry. Tell Hyrule I love him. Tell Warriors I don't actually hate him. Tell—"

Eager to read what followed, he continued deciphering, but to his horror the next word was another name and a new entry.

“Warriors:”

He stopped translating. These were the dying words of his friends, his brothers. The first passage sounded like the very thing he'd cough out with his final breath, something so important and personal that it couldn’t be said until there was no chance of being able to say anything ever again. He looked over at the campfire, at his laughing brothers, and silently closed the Book of Mudora. Whatever needed saying, they’d tell him themselves. These were private, heartfelt words.

He wondered how Time acquired said private, heartfelt words.

He also wondered how many more pages there were and began skimming.

As Legend flipped through the short, clipped sentences, he saw that most of them ended with a sharp, dashed line. Some had small numbers at the bottom, a x2 or x3 and once, a x7.

There were too many. Far too many.

He saw his own name multiple times and wondered how that was even possible, how one person could die multiple times. He thought of his uncle, who had died before his eyes and, though Legend had brought him back, would probably die again eventually.

If Legend had had to guess, he’d say Time had copied down at least 100 dying statements. That was over 11 times for each of them.

Again he wondered how Time had collected so many dying words—different dying words—of people who were, at the moment, still alive.

He wondered why Time had bothered to write them down at all.

But one small question, one he'd had for a while but dismissed, bubbled to the surface.

Why is Time named Time?

A small pebble hitting him in the head snapped him out of his thoughts. His head whipped over to its source and he saw Four looking at him urgently, Twilight stalling as Time began to stand up. Legend got the message and hurriedly tucked the book back where he found it, clutching the paper containing his translations in his curled fist.

Four volunteered for the first watch. Twilight took second. Legend grabbed third.

They all knew they wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.

When Four went to wake up Twilight at the end of his watch, he shook Legend awake as well. A furtive glance toward Time told them that the Old Man was slumbering soundly, or at least appeared to be. Not taking any chances, they moved to the opposite corner of the campsite, talking in hushed voices.

"What did you find?" Four asked Legend urgently, clearly restless after spending his watch in suspense.

Legend sighed.

"It's not good."

Twilight's eyes narrowed and Four's face became a mask of focus, his eyes glinting purple in the firelight.

"His book contains a lot of entries, short little snippets, never longer than a few sentences. There's gotta be about a hundred of them. They all go along these lines." He read his own passage, the only one he had had the heart to fully decipher, and Four and Twilight's gazes shifted from focus to shock and fear.

"The journal is filled with our dying words. Dozens of them. This one... it's.... it wouldn't be inaccurate," he manages to force out.

"I've gone back in time to prevent someone from dying before. I know it's possible. But that involved the Triforce and…  I've only ever done it the one time. But I have one question for you two:" the two listened at rapt attention, understanding and horror filtering into their gazes as he asked his burning question: "Why is Time named Time?"

A cacophony of voices burst through Four's head, causing him to curl in on himself and pull on his hair. Twilight absently put his hand on Four's head, petting him in a hollow pantomime of comfort as he stared brokenly into the fire.

"We've all died," Twilight started. "Dozens of times. All of us, dead. And he watched as every single one of us breathed out our final words and then turned back the clock to save us."

"I always thought he had an uncanny ability to swoop in and save someone in the nick of time," remarked Four, collecting himself.

"But what do we do with this information?" asked Twilight, the tears in his eyes sparkling in the firelight.

"We can't very well ask him to stop, can we? He's saved our lives countless times and we didn't even know it!" asked Four, the red flames of the fire dancing in his eyes.

"He should have told us," Four bit out abruptly, seemingly changing his mind. He froze in shock for a moment before looking up and letting his eyes reflect the blue of the night sky. "He chose to shut himself up for months, watching us die time and time again. He's an idiot is what he is. He could have told us so we could help him when he rewound time. He could have told us how we died so we wouldn't make those same mistakes again! He could have told us so we could comfort him after he watched us die in his arms!"

Twilight, with his arm now around Four's shoulders, beckoned for Legend to sit next to him. He complied, and Twilight pulled him close, soaking in the warmth of two of his very alive, very breathing, brothers. The three boys sat under the stars, tears sparkling in their eyes and running down their faces.

"We have to confront him" stated Legend, leaning into Twilight's side.

"Do we tell everyone else?" Four asked, eyes drooping from exhaustion after already taking his watch and then having to wrestle to keep himself in line in light of the new information.

"We should start by talking to Time," Twilight growled, eyes steely, "I don't want the others finding out like this."

He felt Four nod sleepily into his side and Legend hum his agreement. Twi thought about how he had the chance to comfort and be comforted by his brothers in the light of this news but Time had never had such luxury, even after doing so much more for so much longer.

---------

Wild rose with the sun as he usually did, glancing around the campsite to orient himself. The whole camp was fast asleep, Wind sprawled over Warriors and burritoed in his scarf. Sky snored lazily, spread-eagle on the ground next to his bedroll. Hyrule slept curled up, the closest one to Legend’s empty sleeping bag. Time laid completely still and silent in his bedroll save for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Twilight, Four, and the aforementioned Legend's sleeping bags were all empty and as Wild moved towards the fire, he saw why. Twilight sat on the ground, his back against a log, staring into the dying embers of the fire. Four was curled up against his left side, snoring lightly, while Legend curled into his right. Wild smiled deviously and pulled out his slate, the camera rune already selected, but upon being leveled by the broken, tired, grief-stricken eyes of Twilight, the smile fell off his face and he put the slate away.

He began preparing breakfast somewhat awkwardly before asking quietly: "you wanna talk about it?"

Twilight didn't move, staring into the embers some more. Wild didn't think he was going to get an answer out of him until he heard a stern "if you are ever hurting, no matter how big or how small, tell me. Please."

He looked over to see Twilight looking at him with an urgent, pleading gaze.

"This is about Time, isn't it," Wild replied.

Twilight's shoulders rose, startled.

"I'm not an idiot,” Wild started defensively, “I saw the looks you three were giving each other after Legend's outburst and then you all went off into the woods together and then took watches and now I find you out here snuggling with Legend of all people? You guys figured it out, didn't you. It’s not good, is it." It wasn't a question.

Twilight sighed, defeated. "No, it's not good, cub."

Wild glanced up from his cooking. "What is it?"

Twilight shook his head.

"You hypocrite!" he started, before getting shushed by Twilight. He continued in a whisper, "you tell me I have to tell you everything that's bothering me and not five minutes later you withhold what's eating you from me! I'll tell you what's bothering me: this!"

Twilight opened his mouth to respond—

"Give up, he's got you cornered."

Twilight looked down to see Four staring up at him. He sat up, stretching, before continuing. "We might as well tell him."

At all of the noise and Twilight's shifting, Legend began to stir, moaning and blinking slowly before sitting up with a start. He looked around, disoriented, until he realized he had fallen asleep on Twilight. When he spotted Wild barely holding back a snicker, his face turned the same shade as his pink bangs.

"You should have woken me up," Legend said in a huff, pulling at his tunic, "I said I was taking the last watch."

Twilight didn't tease him like Legend had thought he would, instead saying, "you needed the sleep more. Besides, I wasn't going to get any, anyway."

"Whyever would that be?" asked Wild, trying to inject himself back into the conversation.

"We read Time's journal," started Legend, waving away Twilight's protests with a hand, "and found out that…  we think…  well…  we haven't been as successful as we thought we were. On this adventure, I mean."

At Wild's cocked head, he continued.

"We have reason to believe that we've died, all of us, numerous times, and Time's somehow been turning back the clock to save us before that happens."

Wild listened intently, running his right hand up and down his left arm as he waited for the water to boil. Understanding slowly crept across his face as he looked up at the trio.

"He must have watched us, all of us... so many times. And he never said anything. Never asked for comfort or recognition..."

Four cut in "or even telling us that we had died and warning us how to avoid it later."

Wild thought for a moment before adding "well, he usually does give out pretty cryptic advice after battles," he gasped, "you don't think—"

"I do think," replied Legend, nodding solemnly. This was a point he hadn't previously considered, but it fit his theory.

Wild continued making breakfast in relative silence as the sun continued to rise. Warriors seemed to wake up before the Wind Burrito™ snuggled him back into dreamland. Time sat up, rubbing his eye, and began to start his morning routine.

"Hey old man!" Four stage-whispered, to the horror of his three companions.

Time looked over at them curiously.

Four waved him over and he obliged, standing slowly before picking his way through camp. He cocked an eyebrow at Four, a carefully blank expression on his face, but now that Four knew what Time had been going through, he could see the grief in Time's eye and could imagine that Time must have been seeing his broken, twisted corpse whenever he looked at him.

The smallest hero stood before the tallest before leaning into his chest and wrapping his arms around him. "Thank you for keeping us safe," Four said into Time's tunic.

Time looked around in confusion before Twilight barreled into him, doing the same.

"We're safe. We're safe thanks to you," Twilight said, wrapping his arms around his mentor from the side. Wild didn't hesitate to follow Twilight's lead before squeezing himself next to his own mentor. Legend watched as tears began to fill Time's eyes and he looked down at who the Old Man saw to be his own children.

"But Pops," Legend drawled, eyes narrowed and a hand on his hip, "f***ing talk to us about it. That's what we're for, right?"

He was met with Wild reaching out and grabbing his tunic, pulling him into the group hug. Tears were streaming down the left side of Time's face and he melted into the arms of his boys, relishing their beating hearts and warm bodies.

They broke the hug after a few moments, Time furiously wiping his eye and the others sniffling slightly and wiping their own. Time tried to collect himself, gravity sinking into his voice as he said: "so you know, then."

Twilight opened his mouth to reply but Legend jumped in first. "No thanks to you! We watched you slowly deteriorate for weeks, Old Man! We thought you were gonna drop dead and you didn't f***ing say anything! The only reason we know is—" Legend cut himself off, realizing he was getting carried away and not wanting to divulge too much.

"The only reason you know is...?" Time questioned, voice growing stern. Legend squirmed for a moment before Twilight stepped in, finally asking: "how many times?"

"You'll have to be more specific, Pup"

"How many times have you rewound time to save us?"

"As many as I needed to."

"That's not a number," growled Twilight, leveling a glare icy enough to rival Time's own.

Time sighed. "Eighty-seven."

Legend's brow furrowed in confusion. There were a lot more than 87 entries in Time’s book. Time noticed. "Sometimes I had to do multiple people a run," he explained. Legend looked up in shock. Had time figured out that Legend had read his journal? Legend wasn't surprised; Time was one of their sharpest members, after all.

"A run?" started Twilight, "a run? You've got a cute little name for it and everything, don’t you. Eighty-seven times, huh? How many runs were you going to do before telling us?"

"Twi," said Four evenly, putting his hand on the teen's arm. He looked at him pleadingly, silently asking him to back down.

Twi sighed, deflating. Time could see his anger for what it really was: worry, fear, love.

Legend figured that Time was onto him anyway, so he decided to come clean about the journal.

"Yeah, but Time," Legend began, almost pleadingly, "why did you have to keep that Hylia-forsaken journal? So you could keep a lovely chronicle of the pain of watching us die over and over again? Why—" he bit back something resembling a sob— "did you write down all of our last words?" Legend asked, searching Time's face.

"In case something happened and we couldn't get your real last ones. In case I couldn't fix it. Because... I thought they deserved to be recorded. I know firsthand that traveling through time causes new timelines to be born. That that Legend is dead in a world where he always will be. Just because I left that world does not make it any less real or that Legend any less dead."

Wild's eyes widened in realization. "You didn't just fix it right away, did you?" He asked. "You buried us, didn't you."

"Every time..." Four trailed off, staring into the distance.

The group descended upon Time again, wrapping him in another, fiercer, bear hug. They got interrupted by Wild's pot boiling over and they quickly untangled while he went to salvage their breakfast. It was good timing, though, as the rest of the camp was beginning to stir, Warriors finally breaking free of the snuggle clutches of the Wind Burrito™ and Hyrule blearily rubbing his eyes. Wind began to unroll himself from the burrito, and Sky began to stir.

Sky, Wind, Warriors, and Hyrule eventually joined the others for breakfast. They all sat around the fire before Wind piped up. "What happened?" he asked Wild. Sentences trailed off as everyone waited for Wild's response. "Something happened?" he asked, trying his best to act nonchalant, but the others had caught on. "Breakfast doesn't taste the same and you've all been awfully quiet," Wind elaborated. Hyrule eyed Legend. He did seem rather off. Warriors' searching eyes caught Twilight's, looking for an explanation, but Twilight's only response was to flick his eyes up to Time. Sky turned towards Time and smiled slightly. "You look better," he remarked simply, startling everyone. "You don't look quite so broken anymore." The group stared in shock at that. He turned to the group. "I won't press," Sky shrugged as an explanation. "He's doing better. I don't see how prying would help."

"Just because you aren't aware of the actions someone took to cause a given outcome, that doesn't mean the outcome would have occurred without their aid," Four cryptically contributed.

The Links in the know shot surprised looks at Four, who glanced softly at Time.

"Would someone please explain what's going on," pleaded Warriors. Time sighed, setting down his empty bowl. He began explaining, but instead of giving them the facts that the other Links had puzzled out, he told it like a story. He told them the story of how Legend, after getting stabbed from behind by a lizalfos, had died in his arms. He told the Links how he had quickly committed his last words to memory, scribbling them down in his journal. He told the Links how the weight of his ocarina hung on his belt, how memories of rewinding time to save lives ran through his head, how he knew that other timelines branched off every time he rewound. He told them how they buried Legend and he read his last words out of his journal as the remaining eight wept. He told them how he had explained to the other Links that there was a way to get Legend back, but that they would never see that other world. He told them how he hugged them all goodbye before playing the Song of Time and materializing right behind Legend, decapitating the lizalfos before it could get to the red-clad hero. The group stared in awe and shock at Time, but also at Legend. Hyrule leaned farther into Legend's side, sniffling. Legend wrapped his arm around the brunet's shoulders.

Time trailed off after he finished his story, allowing the others to figure out for themselves that he had done that whole process 87 times. That there were 87 timelines out there where they were heartbroken, destroyed, dead, and Time had vanished, promising a better future for a different group of Links. "I could only pray that Hylia erased those timelines when I prevented their existence, but I could never be sure. I had to make sure each timeline was the best it could be before I left it."

At that, something dawned on Sky and he rushed over to where he had the Master Sword sheathed by his bedroll. He drew it and wrapped his hands around the hilt, staring at the blade intently and mumbling under his breath. The group watched in confusion, eventually collectively realizing that Sky was asking Fi if she knew what had happened to the other timelines. Sky paused for a moment as though listening before slumping down in relief.

"She says that when you prevent a future, the alternate timeline ceases to exist as if it had never happened." Sky smiles warmly, "the only thing that causes a timeline to continue, even if it has been prevented in another world, is the interference of the Triforce. Legend's not dead. Nobody is. They're all right here."

Time's eye widened in shock. He broke down in that moment, hundreds of lives lost no longer weighing down on him. Wind dove into his arms, the other Links following suit in the third and teariest group hug of the day.

"If only someone could have told you this 86 'runs' ago" muttered Legend under his breath before getting smacked over the head by Hyrule.

---------

After that morning, they would have liked to be able to say that everything went back to normal, but that would have been a lie.

A few days later, they were ambushed in the middle of the night. Hyrule had been on watch, and despite him waking everyone up, they couldn't get prepared in time to defend themselves very well. Twilight had woken with a start to Hyrule's cries, reaching for his sword before getting yanked back by a fully armored Time just in time to watch a spear from one of Sky's moblins crash down where he would have been standing. Twilight stared at Time in shock, who was still clutching his ocarina in his left hand. Twilight froze at the sight before his mentor shook him. "There's no time. Guard Wild's back."

Twilight didn't need to be told twice. Time finished off the moblin and Twilight grabbed his sword, rushing to protect Wild. The battle ended shortly thereafter. It had been a quick, previously deadly, calculated strike. Clearly, their enemy had a very strong grasp on tactics. As the group cleared out their camp, Twilight whispered something in Wild's ear. The younger gasped in shock and the two rushed to where Time was packing up his bedroll and tackled him in a hug.

"Thank you" whispered Twilight into Time's tunic. Wild gingerly picked up Time's hand and placed it over his beating heart like he'd had to do a few times with Flora after the Calamity.

"I'm alive. I'm safe. It's okay."

Needless to say, the group got rather accustomed to the sight of Time in tears, but they also hugged him far more as well. After the battle, Wind spotted Time writing in his journal. Had he been able to read any of it, he’d know that it had said:

Twilight: It’s going to be okay. I love you.

Wild: This isn’t goodbye and you know it. Just play that ocarina of yours and we’ll be right as rain.

“Hey, Time.” Time looked up. Wind continued, “because you know now that the other timelines stopped existing, you don’t have to write those down anymore.” Time started as if he were about to say something before Wind suddenly got an idea. “What if we all wrote down our words so you don’t have to! We could all write out everything we might want to say so you don’t have to copy down those short little sentences anymore.”

“Some people did that in the army,” Warriors butted into the conversation. “It was common practice to write that kind of stuff down for your next of kin before heading out. It’ll make your life a heck of a lot easier, Old Man. Besides,” he added with a wry grin, “I’m not gonna spill out my guts if I know I’m just coming back anyway.”

Time relented. He knew from experience that they never had time to get out everything they wanted to say in those final moments. He nodded his approval and that evening, the whole group solemnly wrote out everything they didn’t want to leave unsaid.

---------

Once, while the group had been trekking through the Snowpeak of Twilight's world, Wild pulled out his shield and prepared to surf down a particularly steep and icy hill.

"Cub." Twilight scolded, "Don't. You'll get yourself killed."

"It's never happened before!" replied Wild cheerily before they all froze, realizing what he'd just said. They turned to Time.

Time shook his head gratefully, "not as of yet. But I still wouldn't—"

That was all the encouragement Wild needed before readying his shield again. Right as he was about to jump, he felt a hand snare the back of his tunic, stopping him. He turned and was met with the face of Time, a new, haunted look in his eyes, and an ocarina clutched in his left hand.

Wild was noticeably less reckless after that, much to the relief of everyone, especially Twilight.

That night, Four sidled up to Time and asked quietly, "how long did we look before giving up?"

Time sighed, "using the ocarina takes a toll on me. I try not to use it unless it's absolutely necessary."

"How long."

"A few days."

At that, something in Four's eyes flashed red and he found Wild, dragged him by the tunic and shoved him into Time's arms. "Give this man a hug," was all he said before heading back to rejoin the others around the fire. Wild didn't need to be told twice.

Time began to look healthier and healthier, no longer on the verge of death. He had to travel back less and less frequently because of his group's newfound self-awareness and he never had to travel back more than once for the same event. He had also been spending less time in each alternate future, only ever sticking around long enough to ensure that there was no other option before they smiled and told Time they’d see him later.

"Moral of the story," chirped Legend happily one day over dinner, "always read your friends' journals without their permission."

Hyrule thwacked him over the head with his spoon.

---------

Bonus:

“There’s no way he survived that fall, Twilight.”

“He has to have. He wouldn’t let something this stupid kill him.”

“Yeah, actually, he kind of would.”

Hyrule hit Legend in the back of the head.

“Are you gonna rewind?” Four asked Time.

He sighed. “There’s no way he’s lasted this long with those injuries. We very well might starve out here anyway considering Wild has all the food. We’ve tried everything. Even Wind’s pendant isn’t helping.”

“Besides,” Sky points out, putting his hand on Twilight’s shoulder, “Wild won’t have to go through all that pain if we rewind.”

“But,” Time adds meaningfully, “let’s not resort to altering the flow of time for the sake of convenience. It’s not exactly easy for me to pull off. Sometimes I miss.”

The group nods solemnly.

“So we’re going back, then?”

“I think we’ll have to.”

Time grabs his ocarina before Legend stops him.

“So when you rewind time, none of us will remember this, right?”

“We’ll walk along the cliff, Wild will ask if the stunt will kill him, I’ll tell him yes, and we’ll keep walking. None of this will happen.”

“Sweet,” says Legend, a mischievous glint in his eye. He walks over to Warriors. “Hey Warriors.”

“Yeah?”

“You suck at life.” Legend punches him in the face. “Turn it back, now!”

Time does not, in fact, turn it back. Instead he watches in amusement as Warriors punches Legend in the face. Then, he starts playing the ocarina.

“I’ll punch you in the face!” yells Legend over the music, but Time’s smirk reminds Legend that he won’t remember to.

Hyrule smacks Legend over the head again for kicks before they finally cease to be.

[skyburned]

Intermezzo Chapter 16-Part 3 

This is part three of chapter 16, something I posted on my blog all in one piece with better non-Tumblr squished shots but I’m just putting them up here too.  Parts 1 and 2 were posted here earlier.  A link to my blog is below in case you’re interested in it.  

Fiona comes up with a surprising distraction.  The end is in sight.

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

Hugs Stanfield hesitated before responding, maybe struggling to maintain the brand new level of aggression she'd dug up, but before she could get out another word Fiona whirled around, grabbed him around the neck and pulled him down into an enormous face-grinding all teeth out giant kiss.

Stunned, Jay gasped, off balance, and tried to push her away.  Fiona dug her fingers into his back and twisted them in his hair and lifted her mouth sideways far enough to hiss, "Don't let go! Don't stop!"

Pax said something or made a noise.  Hugs gasped.  Fiona finally let go, put a big smile on her face and wrapped her arm around his waist, grabbed his arm and tightened her grip like a vice. He was so bewildered he just went with it and held her and looked at the other two in silence.  Was this supposed to be real?

Hugs looked shocked and suspicious.  Pax just stood there, undoubtedly just as shocked as Hugs, probably more shocked since it was obvious he thought he had a chance with Fiona.  Jay felt a sharp pang of sympathy, embarrassment, and then something close to fury.  What the hell was she doing? 

"Well," Fiona said, her smile relentless, "Jay and I have plans.  It was nice running into both of you."

No one seemed to know what to do.  Pax looked blankly at Fiona, then at Hugs, then the two of them got on their bikes and rode off without another word.

Jay jerked away away, took a long physical step away from her, shook his arm, and staring down the road after the retreating bikes, tried to control real anger.  "What the fuck are you doing?" "I'm sorry.  I needed to get them to leave fast.  I couldn't think of any other way to do it.  I'm really sorry."

"You're crazy, you are certifiably -- "

"Look," she interrupted him.  Fiona turned to face the pergola and the woods beyond it.  "Jay, look."

Bewildered and angry, Jay spun around and then, there it was.   A thing, a place, a room in the middle of nowhere.

There was a room where the trees had been, a room with an elevator and three doors, a table with flowers, some red chairs, and two people who stood among sparkles of light.

He knew them.

Dr. Kenley Dirac held out her right hand.  She had blind eyes and a moon tatoo across her chest and with a sinking heart Jay thought she looked more dead than alive.  She linked her left arm with that of an old man in a black suit.  He'd been to that man's funeral.  Uncle Don Lombardo.  They'd found Gabe Lombardo's dad.  

***

Link to Blog

[green-dot-international-school]

Top 10 ICSE international schools in the Electronic city, Bengaluru. Best 10 ICSE International School's in Electronic City, Bangalore.

About Electronic City:

Electronic City is a major technology hub located in Bangalore, Karnataka, India. It is spread across approximately 800 acres and is divided into three phases. The area was developed in the early 1990s to cater to the growing demand for software and electronics companies in Bangalore. Some of the major IT companies that have their offices in Electronic City include Infosys, Wipro, TCS, HCL Technologies, and Siemens. In addition to IT companies, there are also several educational institutions, hospitals, and residential complexes in the area. Electronic City is well-connected to other parts of Bangalore via the NICE Ring Road, Hosur Road, and the Bangalore Metro. The area is also home to several shopping malls, restaurants, and entertainment options.

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AWARDS & RECOGNITIONS of Green DoT International School: GREEN DOT International School is Ranked 3 in Karnataka & 4th in India by Education Today. 1. Certified with "India's Top ICSE School" Award 2. Certified with "Effective Principals" Award 3. Certified with "India School Merit Awards" Award 4. Certified with "ISO 9001-2000 Certified School"

Conclusion: GREEN DOT International School is the educational host of future schooling. If you are a parent who is ambitious for academic excellence and the development of life skills, attitude and behaviours, that will be needed in the days to come, then GREEN DOT International School is your first choice. Post 2020, as the entire world of education whirls in a cyber-storm of online classes, GDIS also works hard on assuring its students, staff and stakeholders that the school will always stand true to its commitments and future goals no matter what the challenges.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

White Lies on White Shirts

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Captain America x Reader Word Count: 2,691 A/N: Long time no see. this is being posted at the request of the birthday girl herself, @secretschuylersister. 

You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t mind because the sound of the washing machine at three in the morning was calming. You tried to convince yourself that you weren’t staying up late on the off chance that your neighbor would knock on your door, needing a favor because your lazy super still hasn’t fixed his washing machine. Somewhere, in the very back of your brain, you knew that Steve could fix it himself. You’ve seen him working on his motorcycle enough in the parking lot to know that he must be handy enough to fix a small leak. At the very least, he has enough friends that could pitch in.

Steve was knocking at your door twice a week, minimum. You had never before seen a man go through clothing so quickly, but you weren’t complaining. In all honesty, it should not have been as much of an event as it was. Steve knew that there were other things he could and should be doing with his time, but nothing seemed as important to him in that moment than curling up on your overstuffed couch and pretending to watch a movie with you.

Even though you knew that there was a communal laundry room in the basement, you had given Steve a spare key and instructions to come over whenever he needed to. Rather than admit that you trusted him more than you should for the amount of time you had actually known him, you reasoned that he was a busy man and didn’t need to wait for you all day. Instead of taking it at face value, Steve pocketed the key, and informed you he would only use it “in case of an emergency”. Instead of letting himself in, Steve listened impatiently for the sound of your keys jingling in the hallway before gathering up his basket of, admittedly, mostly clean laundry and knocking on your door with a sheepish grin that made your face instantly feel warm.

At first you were just in awe. Not only did you have a certified superhero living next door, but he had more laundry than you ever imagined that one mostly human man could produce. Along with what you would expect, without fail Steve had a pile of white undershirts buried under the rest of his laundry. You tried to chalk it up to a habit that stuck around after his time in the ice, but you still had a hard time wrapping your head around it.

Besides the suspicious contents of his laundry basket, you and Steve fell into a comfortable pattern. It had escalated from sitting on opposite ends of the couch, Steve sketching and you scrolling on your phone, to being cuddled up in the middle of it, laughing at something dumb you had found on TV and not even hearing the washing machine signaling the end of the cycle. Well, you didn’t. Steve was ignoring it because you had just laid your head on his shoulder and he wasn’t ready to give that up yet.

Eventually, he was bringing food with him to make you both dinner, or a new movie that he had seen while he was out at the store that he thought you would want to watch while his clothes dried. You didn’t even notice when he started showing up without his laundry basket. You were just too happy to see him. One afternoon you threw open the door after hearing Steve’s familiar knock, but you were floored by the man standing in front of you. Even though he was in his uniform, Steve did not seem to be the confident man that you were so used to seeing on the news, and more recently, on your couch.

“I have to go.” No ‘hello’, no ‘how was your day’. Just the brush of his hand against your cheek as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear and a sense of urgency in his words. “But I’ll see you soon.” he planted a soft kiss on your cheek before his phone rang, and he dashed down the stairwell muttering that whoever was on the other end had terrible timing and he would be at the airstrip soon.

It took some getting used to when Steve didn’t show up at your door within thirty seconds of you getting home from work. You tried to make dinner, but you were relatively unsuccessful because every few seconds you were looking over your shoulder. It wasn’t until you looked down to see that you had burned two servings of food instead of one that you realized you were waiting for him. Your apartment was achingly quiet without Steve, and it wasn’t just because the washing machine wasn’t running for what felt like the first time in millennia. Steve wasn’t there to complain about how hard headed the new recruits were or make you laugh by telling you for the tenth time about when Bucky tripped over his own feet because he saw the girl from the coffeeshop he definitelydidn’t have a crush on. It had been weeks, and there was no sign of him.

You knew you were being irrational. You knew that Steve had a life outside of you and your apartment. Hell, he had barely talked to you before he needed something. It was presumptuous to even assume that you were anything more than a clingy neighbor who got too attached. You moped around the apartment for days. And you hated to admit it, but you missed him. You missed his dumb jokes and his dumb face and his dumb pile of white shirts that you still thought no mere mortal could accumulate in such a short time. You knew that you had to get over it, move on as Steve so clearly had.

Your friends were shocked when you accepted their invitation to go out. After months of claiming to have plans, knowing that Steve would probably have a ridiculous amount of laundry to do despite being over yesterday, they were glad to have you back, even if they could tell something was off. You tried to make the best of it, to dance and laugh like nothing was wrong. After a few hours of putting on a brave face, your friends shooed you into a cab, giving you strict instructions to call when you got home.  

When you got home, you felt a foolish flicker of hope at seeing light shining from the space underneath your door. Maybe Steve was back, and he had finally used his key. You unlocked the door and tried to contain your excitement as you glanced around the apartment. You were met with a heartbreakingly empty couch and the rationalization that you had just forgotten to turn off the lamp before heading out.

You tried to not notice that the couch felt bigger with every passing day. You went to work, you went out with friends, tried to get your life back to normal. But it felt dull without him and you couldn’t stop yourself for keeping an ear out for the deceivingly light footfalls. After a few weeks, they appeared. You didn’t think twice about launching yourself off of the couch where you had been moping and sticking your head out into the hallway.

Unfortunately, Steve was nowhere to be found. There was, however, a teenager unlocking his door. He jumped as your door flew open, giving you a tight-lipped smile as he sat his laundry basket down on the floor of the hallway. “Oh, hi there.” he seemed friendly enough, but you weren’t able to give him more than a halfhearted grimace by way of greeting. “Mr. Rogers left me his key. Our machine is broken”.

That brought you back to reality. “His machine has been broken for months.” you said, trying your best to force some normal inflection into your tone.

“Oh. He must have gotten it taken care of” he said, pushing the door open. “I was just here yesterday. My aunt and I just moved in down the street. I’m Peter by the way.” He held out his hand, shaking yours tightly for entirely too long. “Mr. Rogers said I could take care of a few loads of laundry when I came by to get his mail”.

“My mistake, Peter. Let me know if you need anything.” you said quietly before giving him the most unconvincing grimace in the history of the entire universe and slipping into your apartment.

The gears in your head were spinning at five hundred miles an hour, but not one coherent thought was forming. Steve had lied to you, and you had absolutely no idea why. It was then and there you decided you were done. He may be off saving the world, but he had time for one text. He could have left a note or told you that he couldn’t reach you for a bit. Instead, he left you to worry, wondering where he was. And even after all that, you didn’t really believe you had a right to be angry at all. You were friends, nothing more.

The days turned into weeks, and Steve went from your goofy neighbor to America’s most wanted. By day you ignored your friends’ prying questions about the man who had waltzed into your life as suddenly as he had left.  By night you fought to keep yourself from watching the news. It hurt too much to stay up to date, and you felt much more secure staying in the dark, especially when Earth’s Mightiest Heroes were involved.

And then, there was a knock at your door. A knock that you knew.

Out of habit, you were standing in front of the door in a matter of seconds. But once you realized what you were doing, you snatched your hand away from the handle. You didn’t need this. He was a liar and he didn’t even bother to leave you with an explanation. You slowly backed away from the door, plopping yourself down on the couch and putting your head in your hands. It was all too much.

You took a few deep breaths, trying your best to swallow the sob that was clawing its way up your throat. You were so caught up in trying to keep yourself together that you hadn’t heard the door opening. Steve could have robbed you blind and you wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t placed a hand on your shoulder. You leapt off of the couch as if it was burning you, whirling around to see his wide eyes.

“Steve, how did you even get in here?” you asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t managed to kick the door in without you noticing.

He held up the key, a smirk playing at his lips. “You were mad at me. It felt like an emergency.”

“I am mad at you. Current tense.” Any trace of a smile disappeared immediately, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion as Steve tilted his head like a puppy who just got scolded for tearing up the carpet. “You lied to me.”

He opened his mouth, searching for an explanation, a way to defend himself. Not for the first time in his life, he was at a loss. You were angry with him, and you had every right to be. But you were wearing that sweater. It was absolutely ancient but your favorite, nonetheless. Your hair was a mess and even though it felt like there had been a hole in his heart for weeks, he was hit once again with just how much he missed you.

“I know.” he sighed, the pain evident in his voice. “I know I said see you later and then I couldn’t make it back. But I tried calling so many times, sweetheart but we were-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” the words were so soft you weren’t sure someone without super soldier hearing would have picked up on them.

His eyebrows were nearly in his hairline as he tried to move around the couch to reach you. You took a step back and he froze, leaving the couch between you. “I don’t understand”.

“Why did you say your washing machine was broken?” you shocked yourself that you had even managed to get the words out. Weeks of wondering and waiting and hurting and here you were.

“I don’t know how to talk to women” he blurted. Your jaw dropped and you felt a laugh bubbling up from your stomach. “I just, well, you’re so pretty and I couldn’t think of a reason that you would give me the time of day. And it wasbroken, the first time, anyways.” he was rambling, his hands flying and if his face got any redder you were going to get worried. “But you were so nice and even more amazing than I ever could have imagined, and you made me feel at home. And I know that it was selfish, but I couldn’t bring myself to give that up.” He paused, letting out a shaky breath.  “To give you up, is more like it.”

You could feel the tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. That was not what you were expecting from him. How could you have imagined that he didn’t care about you?

You knelt on the couch, reaching over the back and winding your arms around his neck before pulling him against you tightly. Steve let out another breath he didn’t know he had been holding, quickly wrapping his arms around your middle.

“You might have been out saving the world, but you are such a fucking idiot, Steve.” you felt him chuckle, before he reached down, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, and moved the both of you to sit on the couch. You tried to scoot off of him, but his grip only tightened. You knew that he would have let you go if you tried a second time, but you felt at home in your own apartment for the first time in longer than you would admit.

Your hands found the hair at the nape of his neck, and you twirled a piece around your finger as the two of you sat in comfortable silence. You had never seen his hair so long, or with so much scruff. He didn’t look like the Captain America image you had been avoiding on the news. He just looked like Steve. Your Steve. “Aren’t you some kind of war criminal now?” you asked, not bothering to pull away from him and meet his eyes.

You felt him shake underneath you, a silent laugh breaking the tension. “Tony and I worked it out.”

“Good. I couldn’t visit you in prison. Orange really isn’t your color. Not to mention that they simply wouldn’t put up with all of your outfit changes.” You were shocked that you made it through the last bit before letting out a laugh so hard that you were shaking against Steve’s chest. Only then did he pull away to look at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “How many times a day were you changing to get that many undershirts dirty?”

The tips of his ears were turning pink and his eyebrows were quirked up once more. “I’m going to level with you, sweetheart.”

Your hands found the hair at the back of his neck, twirling the hair there while you watched the gears turn in his head. “Yeah?” Your voice was more of a whisper than anything, not wanting to interrupt but feeling the need to nudge him to continue.

“Ninety percent of the stuff in that basket was clean. I never even took it out after I left.”

“Are you telling me that you went home, unfolded every white shirt in that basket and then brought it back the next day?” Your voice was full of disbelief and your eyes were as wide as saucers as he nodded his head so minutely that it was nearly imperceptible. “Steven Grant Rogers you are an absolute menace.”

“Yeah, but I’m your menace now.”