#polyglot lance >>>>

[justaz]

lance grew up in a large family that is used to so much noise that a lot of the time, lance isn't heard. it's not that his family is ignoring him but things just get lost and for someone like lance who cannot Shut The Fuck Up it happens very often. then his friends grow used to his prattle and it just becomes like white noise for them. lance is so used to being ignored that when he realized keith was actually listening to him and comprehending his babble, he is just a puddle.

keith is silent as he listens to every word lance says while lance is like barely paying attention to what he says (adhd x autism ftw) and it happens in front of the rest of the team but whatever lance just said caught one of their attentions and they interrupt to ask him to repeat what he said and lance is just like "you think i know what was coming out of my mouth?" and keith repeats what lance said perfectly. lance stares at him and is Soft but all he can manage is a smile.

it gets so much worse, lance turns his prattle to keith instead of the room in general and is so excited that someone is actually listening that his speech grows faster and faster until he's barely speaking anything intelligible (bonus hc lance speaks many languages so when he gets excited its just a combination of various different languages. it starts with spanglish then he incorporates samoan and then portuguese and italian etc etc)

i love yapper!lance x listener!keith

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 58

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

The Value of a Moment by @a-fools-errand

When Lance’s previously obsolete skills in language suddenly become very useful, he finds himself wondering why aliens can’t account for the fact that humans, particularly him, need sleep and would prefer linear timelines. (Or: an Arrival AU because I love that movie)

yall OBSESSED does not begin to cover it. i have never read a fic where lance was so goddamn cool. and in like. the insanest of ways?? like of course lance is a polyglot but THIS....this is a whole new level. i havent even finished it fully yet but like god this thing is so fucking cool. if ur looking for a longfic stop looking

2. Rest Stop by @flaming-potato-arsonarson

Lance wasn't like the rest of the world. And he had never had a loving mother tell him it made him stronger for it. So he told himself, gathering up his courage and grit to face a world of winged humanity, when he, in fact, has no wings and turns into a mermaid instead. A world that wants him to die. So he'd keep this secret like a knife in his boot, a sharp weapon until he died on his own terms. Not because of who he was. Except, Team Voltron isn't so sure why Lance is all rough edges and sharp points about showing off his wings. Or acting like a member of the Flock in general. It's clear he cares for them, but he's never shown an intimate part of him. Until he has to.

oh god this has gotta be one of my CLASSIC fics. read it a few dozen times. i read it right when it came out, six ish years ago (goddamn), i can remember curling up in my old bunk bad and eating this up as the hours ticked by. i was HOOKED. my jaw was dropped my eyes were glued. could not get enough. if youre looking for mermaid lance with a twist....brother this is it

3. Looking for Rain by @thewriter2

Like most things, it starts with the little things: his smile, his confidence, his talent. Eventually, all these little things add up to one big thing that threatens to crash over them like a heavy rain. But, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe something beautiful would come from it. A 5+1 (really a 10+1) of Lance and Keith falling in love.

oh god guys..... @thewriter2 knows how to fucking haunt you. if a 10+1 (!!) isnt enough for you, i want you to know this line has been echoing in my head since i first read: "He looks at you like you’re a storm and he’s a desert desperate to drown." UM??? EXCUSE ME???? SIMILE OF ALL TIME ACTUALLY???? keith being so so visibly obviously in love with lance is my actual roman empire shit never leaves my mind

4. Astronauts by @thewriter2

When they entered the Blue Lion, Keith was Lance’s rival--the person Lance was working so hard to surpass. But slowly, Lance found himself thinking of Keith less as a rival and more as something close to a friend. So of course, Lance’s traitor of a heart decided that it would be Lance’s kind of friend that it would fall in love with.

tags to sell you: "keith is a dork but lance loves him anyway" (dorky keith my beloved), "hunk is an a+ friend" (yes he is), "lance is a lovesick fool" (yeah), and "allura is older sister goals" yes yes YES you get it. and like....while keith pov is my favourite to write by far, lances pov as he realises he is in love....that will always hold such a special special place in my heart

5. his own worth by frogsterz

In the middle of the conversation, Lance stops talking and no one notices. It’s not like he had been leading the conversation, for he hadn’t been, but somehow the fact that his lack of input or opinion isn’t noticed tightens the grip loneliness has on his heart. He looks down at his food, his face burning, his throat tightening up.

now usually anything but team as family isnt my deal. im not big on classic langst. but keith as a knight in shining armour.....what can i say i am weak willed. deeply. also " It’s what made it worse. I miss home and I miss being held and the rain, and I loved you. I thought you hated me." got me so bad got me WEAK like i have never recovered from that line and i doubt i ever will

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[mich-vanadis]

Pokemon Headcanons that I made and collected (PS: forgot which hcs' is who's so credits to the owners) (PSS: most of these are also mine I pormise)

Delia, Diantha, and Prof. Sycamore are siblings

Ash is half Kantonian-half Kalosian, his dad is from Kanto while Delia is from Kalos

Before Delia got married, she and Augustine kept the family name "Sycamore" while Diantha decided to take their mother's maiden name

"Ash" is on of Satoshi's nicknames and his official International name outside of Kanto and Sinnoh

Red and Green exist here and are married, Red and Ash are related while Green is with Shigeru/Gary

HALF SIBLINGS SERENA AND ASH I rewatched XYZ and thought a sibling relationship fits them better than lovers sorry Amourshippers

^^ Yes that would mean that there will be no crushes and absolutely NO kissing

Serena's dad is infertile, so he and Grace anonymously asked for a sperm donor, and that sperm donor turned out to be Ash's dad (He and Delia talked about it and are completely fine with it)

Before Delia inherited the Restaurant from her mom in Kanto, she was a small anonymous performer going by the name "Hanako" (yes I'm using her Japanese name) and would sometimes model for Diantha

Other than being a researcher, Augustine wished to be a movie director. And if he ever got to be a director, he promised Diantha that she'd be the main lead

When Ash joined the Ultra Guardians, Cynthia kept nagging him about the Runes and scriptures about Solgaleo and Lunala.

Everytime Ash came across a new type of local dessert in Alola, he'd ship some to his family and Cynthia (Cilan too but only if he asked)

Misty found out about Alola Sunrise (S1. Ep.20 btw) through Lana and kept nagging Ash to ship her their latest Ocean themed accessories

I like to think that the Champions has an Island for themselves where they can discuss stuff and relax from their duties (Ex-champions are still allowed in the Island)

Iris and Ash likes to mess with Alder whenever they get the chance, and even more when they're together >:)

^^ They thinks it's funny and they're still a little petty that Alder didn't help that much about The Incidents We Shall Not Speak Of (ahem Team Rocket and Team Plasma)

Serena's dad (not the biological one) passed when she was like 5 while Ash's dad passed when he was 2

Even though Delia never got the chance to be a pokemon trainer, she could still kick ass in the field both with pokemon and without pokemon (she's a martial artist because I like cool moms)

To Red and Ash, Lance is the unpresent Uncle while Steven is the gay relative with an even gayer boyfriend (Wallace)

Ash is a polyglot (so is the rest of his family but that ain't about them), he thinks that learning languages is fun and would sometimes ask Cynthia for pointers when learning old/dead languages

Serena learned Kantonese because if his brothers can learn another language then so can she (YES QUEEN)

While Ash is happy to have a sister, he's a little bitter that he's still the youngest. So when the news about Prof. Burnet being pregnant came to life he jumped in joy when he found out he isn't the youngest anymore (ALOLA FAMILY HELL YEAH)

Ash can run in heels, just not in stilletos. He can jog in them sure but never run unless he wants a repeat of The Stilleto Predicament his Aunt Diantha told him about when she and her siblings were teenagers

Ash is often used as his female companions' (and classmates!) living Dress-up Doll. Hair, clothes, shoes, makeup, he doesn't mind really. He couldn't careless what he wears as long as it's comfortable (he will never understand how Nurse Joy can work in those itchy stif uniforms)

^^Diantha and Delia would take advantage of this before he went to his journesys. Augustine is just glad he isn't the main target of their schemes anymore (only is you know Augustine, only if you know)

Whenever Kukui and Burnet are busy and Ash is dealing with his Champion duties, Lei (Brunet and Kukui's kid) will be babysat by one of the class.

While Kiawe and Lana are probably the best option for babysitting because they have more experience by being the older sibiling, Lillie is the one who usually takes care of Lei. Mallow is busy with the restaurant, Kiawe with the farm, Lana already has two little demons in her care, and Sophocles' lab is too dangerous for babies. Hau would babysit Lei voluntarily though so Lei has two (2) official babysitters

Principal Oak doesn't mind babysitting Lei too. Afterall, the tyke is such a little cutie-fly (get it? Cutie-fly? Cause Cutiefly is a Pokemon and has the word cute it in and Principal Oak likes making Pokemon puns? No?)

Jessie, James, and Meowth resigned from Team Rocket because selling Malasadas seems to be paying them more than working tirelessly for a Boss who doesn't give two fucks about them anyway

But before they resigned, they rescued their pokemon they caught throughout the regions and replaced them with empty pokeballs and THEN resigned. No way in hell are they gonna leave their old friends behind

THAT'S ALL I GOT RN

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hii~!

I had an idea for a wonderful headcanon that a farmer is a polyglot and can tease his partner in different languages, especially French or maybe Italian, when their partner just stands there with face like "😀?" and does not understand until they look into the translator and it's turn into "😳"

(I know that in the world of suffering there are no certain language clarifications or certain countries with reference to the real world, but still!)

Thanks a lot for the answer!

Heh... 🌚 I like your headcanon.

Even though the Stardew Valley world isn't particularly clear about languages and accents (I can only imagine the Ferngill Republic and the Gotoro Empire speaking different languages, and.... that's all), but I really like the idea!

And you know, why make something up when the same Farmer can seduce the object of their affection, say, in elvish? Elves do exist in Stardew Valley, plus our grumpy elf Jio from Ridgeside Village mod does that if he dates Farmer.

I can already picture Farmer writing Elliott a love letter in another language. And when the writer went to the library to find a translator, what he translated made his cheeks turn pink throughout the reading.

Or how our gallant Lance tries to flirt with the Farmer again, but our Farmer ends up counterattacking him with a very strong and not-so-innocent phrase (tee hee 🌝), causing Lance to first go into a stupor and then blush a little (my personal headcanon that Lance knows a little Elvish).

Good idea, thanks for that! ☺️

[craigzzzzz]

‼️INTRODUCTION POST‼️

Hi! My name’s Craig! Let me tell you some stuff about myself!

Name: Craig/Lance (I usually go by Craig online, but sometimes I go by Lance)

Age: not saying 🤫

Gender: Bi-gender

Pronouns: he/star/she/zer/zim/craig/craigself

Sexuality: Pansexual and Polyamorous

Relationship status: Taken ❤️

Hobbies: Drawing, reading, listening to music, watching South Park, watching YouTube, writing fanfics, sleeping, gaming, running, swimming, diving (I’m on the dive team lol), and some other stuff I forgot lol.

Fandoms: South Park, Dead Plate, Cold Front, Elevator Hitch, Eloquent Countenance, Komi Can’t communicate, Vocaloid/Hatsune Miku, Genshin Impact, Furry Fandom, FNAF, and Gacha (I have a YT channel where I make gacha tweening and South Park content!)

Favorite music genres: Indie Rock, Alt Rock, Metal, Punk Rock, Punk Pop, Electronic/Dance, Scenecore, hyperpop, and TrapMetal.

Favorite music artists/bands: Mitski, Weezer, Odetari, 6arelyhuman, Rebzyyx, Hatsune Miku, Green Day, Deftones, My Chemical Romance, Nirvana, Linkin Park, Radiohead, SlipKnot, and Blink-182. (I might have forgotten some lol)

Favorite video games: Dead Plate, Cold Front, Elevator Hitch, Eloquent Countenance, Genshin Impact, Roblox, Minecraft, South Park: Phone Destroyer, Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage/Project Sekai, BitLife, Little Alchemy 2, and FNAF.

Other information: I’m Catholic, I love space and stars (I’m also in a friend group called “The Stars Forever Group”), I have ADHD (inattentive, I’ve been diagnosed since 1st grade), I have BPD (Diagnosed in 7th Grade), I have Anxiety (Diagnosed in 3rd Grade), I have Bipolar disorder (Bipolar 1, diagnosed in 7th grade), I have panic disorder (diagnosed in 5th grade), I’m a Fictionkin (Craig Tucker from South Park if you couldn’t tell already lol), I can’t detect tone that well, so please use tone tags when talking with me, I’m a writer (I’m currently working on 3 books right now!), I make bracelets (usually for myself, but sometimes I give some to my friends and family), I’m a polyglot (I speak 5 languages, English, Spanish, Japanese, Italian, and Russian), I’m a furry, I’m a quadrobist (I’m NOT a therian), I like the scene and alt aesthetics, and I also have a YouTube channel! (Here’s the link: https://youtube.com/@blu3b3rryjam25?si=r-yrqJiYBaQV8sDp)

I might not post a lot on here lol, but I’ll try to post occasionally!

That’s all I have to say for now, thanks for checking out my account!

[ao3feed-wandamaximoff]

Where It All Begins

by KDBloomfield She isn’t what they think she is. She isn’t a hero. How could she save anyone when she couldn’t even save herself. Genesis Eternaé isn’t an X-Men. But maybe with some time and effort, and someone to show her the way, she could learn to be. While even making some new friends and family along the way. Words: 2814, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: X-Men Evolution Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Kurt Wagner, Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Charles Xavier, Logan (X-Men), Ororo Munroe, Kitty Pryde, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Frederick Dukes, Lance Alvers, Toad (X-Men), Original X-Men Team Members (Marvel), Raven | Mystique Relationships: Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Lance Alvers/Kitty Pryde, Remy LeBeau/Rogue Additional Tags: Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Character(s), X-Men Evolution References, Afro-Latina Original Character, Polyglot Original Character, African-American Original Character, She’s Black & Hispanic your honor, Angst, Fluff, canon events, Non-Canon Events, Author is recovering gifted!burnoutkid, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Slow To Update, Not Beta Read, Beta Writer Needed via https://ift.tt/DEM0Vuh

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Admiral Bacon is born a hero... and dies a villain.

Gryff (5 Cavalier, 1 Sorcerer) is keeping watch while the rest of the party sleeps.  He hears something in the dark and goes to investigate, finding about 3 dozen Goblins following the party's trail. Gryff:  Hey, I'm Gryff!  You guys look hungry, want something to eat? DM: The goblins stop as they're about to charge you, and start jabbering to each other. Gryff (OOC): I'm a polyglot and I have unspent Languages points.  Can I learn Goblin like Anthonio Bandares in 13th warrior? DM:  Roll languages, I guess? Gryff rolls a nat 20. DM:  They're talking about how Captain of the Hobs (the hobgoblin pirates you met in Silverton) are looking for a Centaur, a Sea elf and a Halfling.  They're paying in meat for it, but Gryff is just one halfling, so they better wait for the other two to show up before they eat you. Gryff:  Cool!  While I'm learning Goblin, I unfurl my Hero's Feast Table cloth.  It says it produces a feast for 12 people that lasts an hour.  Can I choose WHAT the Feast is? DM:  Yeah, we can do that for flavor.   Gryff:  I want it to be ALL bacon and bacon-related foods.  Bacon wrapped shrimp, bacon wrapped turkey legs, bacon kebabs... ALL bacon. DM: They goblins are in AWE. Gryff, in Goblin:  So, you serve the Captain, huh?  Well, I'm an ADMIRAL.  That outranks Captain.  My name is Admiral Bacon... and I'll give you a whole feast of Bacon like this for every Hobgoblin ear you bring me here.  Understood? DM:  The goblins all cheer, shove bacon into their face, and ride off toward the campfires where you last saw the Hobgoblins. Gryff, waking up the rest of the party:  Hey, uh, guys.  We.... need to go.  Like... now.  Also, (Oracle), I borrowed your tablecloth.  I'll put it back later. TWO YEARS LATER. DM:  The army of dragons, hobgoblins and goblins have amassed outside the city walls.  You can see the city is burning in places, but you've setup along the main road where it's been fortified to allow the civilians to retreat to the temple.  You've been fighting all night when you hear a familiar trumpet call in the distance.  It sounds like... Gryff's battle charge. Gryff:  Uh... but... I'm HERE, how can I be out THERE? Oracle:  What did you do now, Gryff? Gryff:  It wasn't me, I swear!  Probably. DM:  Around a bend in the road come riding a dozen Goblin Warg-riders.  They're dressed in piecemeal armor and wielding lances and swords that are far better constructed than typical Goblins.  The leader is flying a banner.  It looks like Gryff's banner, except instead of crossed lances it's strips of bacon and instead of a lion rampant opposing a dragon, it's a PIG. The Goblin Chief, in Goblin:  Surrender, humans!  We ride in the name of our great hero, ADMIRAL BACON.  I have seen the truth, and the Admiral has told me to purge all humans from this town.  None can stand before his mighty hand! Gryff:  Oh.  Ohhhhhh no.  This is bad.  (in Goblin)  I said kill the HOBGOBLINS, you idiots! (in common)... do either of you speak Goblin? Party:  No, what's he saying? Gryff: ... uh... something about some guy.  Totally not me, by the way, who is a big hero and handsome and stuff.  Anyway, some guy that told them to kill Hobgoblins, but they got confused and they're killing humans instead.  Man, it would suck to be that guy, right?  Anyway, we should probably kill them before they talk any more foolishness.  And we need to burn that flag.  Like, fast. Goblins, in common:  In the name of Admiral Bacon... you DIE humans!  Our Admiral will give us bacon for your EARS! Cleric:  ... Gryff, didn't you say you told some Goblins your name was Admiral Bacon? Gryff, sulking:  Since when do Goblins speak COMMON.  This isn't fair.  I don't want to talk about it.  Let's just kill these idiots.  Obviously someone has sullied the good name of Admiral Bacon.  They're not getting bacon for this, I'll tell you that right now.  I don't care how many Hobgoblin ears they bring me. Clerif and Oracle:  Hobgoblin WHAT!?  Gryff, what did you DO!? Gryff:  ... can we focus, please?  Stuff happened, things were said, and now we have to kill these Goblins.  The rest isn't important.  Now let's burn that flag, I have an image to maintain. Gryff, grumbling under his breath: Now I'll never get an army of bacon-crazed goblins.  SO unfair.

[larathia]

It’s been a few years now, so it’s probably safe to say this.

VLD discourse seems to love focusing on Shiro, Keith, and Lance, but this little essay is not about any of them. 

This essay is about Matt, and how y’all seem to have never realized just what a gold mine Matt’s canon is for every funny and weird thing you could possibly think up. Specifically, I want all the fandom to think hard about these canon facts:

1) Matt is maybe nineteen when the Kerberos mission goes south. He appears in all respects to be a pretty normal nineteen year old cis guy. Hormone-wise, I mean.

2) Given his overt flirtations with Allura, he’s at most bisexual. (Not gay, but maybe more than het.) He’s also clearly perfectly okay with coming on to other species, ‘cos there’s not a moment’s hesitation there. 

3) Matt was the Only Human In His Part Of The Universe from the time he got separated from the rest of the crew until Pidge found him. YEARS LATER. And even after she found him, he was still usually the Only Human in his part of the universe - it was just that now he also knew where some other humans were in relation to himself.

4) Matt is a Holt. That means he has a mind so wide open you could fit three football fields and a four-department-store mall in it, and he’s not afraid to experiment.

Please. Take a moment to put these four easily observable canon notes together in your brain. Go on. I’ll wait. Then go ahead and let Matt get up to every single “dude were you stoned?” “Not on purpose” bit of space shenanigans you can think of. I would love to see these fics:

* That time Matt got caught jacking off by some of the crew he was flying with, had to explain what exactly he was doing, came up with some really wild shit like ‘no really human males have to do this or we get sick’ or some such BS, and for the next four months had crew members offering to help him or telling him the ship’s clock had informed them that it had been more than x vargas since he’d last jacked off, he’d better go do that.

* That time Matt wound up in a space bar, couldn’t read ANY of the signs, picked a drink at random, and two days later had to be rescued by his crew and given a surgical abortion because some other species found him while he was blacked out and implanted eggs in his intestinal wall. Which, to his surprise, he both remembered and didn’t mind.

* That time a semi-gelatinous life form decided that Matt’s ejaculate was tasty and nutritious and therefore almost kidnapped him from the crew he was serving with. And his captain then had a Talk with him about Certain Species Protocols.

* That time after Pidge found him again and one of Matt’s crew innocently asked her while she was visiting if she would require help with her sex drive, and she spent an hour running down just where that question had come from.

* The bit where Pidge finds out that a lot of species’ reactions to Matt have been mirror images of his reactions to them - i.e. human is interestingly exotic and this looks fun, why not try something? And Pidge has to decide whether it’s better to blackmail her brother or just straight up tell their mother when the opportunity offers. Decisions, decisions. 

* The bit where Matt and his portion of the Resistance tag along with Voltron for a while and Pidge is stunned at how many alien languages Matt can now read, until one of his crew mentions that time with the ovipositor and the drinks menu and that Matt learned to be a polyglot out of self defense.

[read-think-remain]

YouTube Language Resources

NativLang

Langfocus

I Love Languages

Wikitongues

Language Learning

Easy Languages

deka glossai

Polyglot Pal

Maksat Imangazi [Kazakh]

Simon Ager [Celtic]

X̱ʼunei Lance Twitchell [Tlingit]

Linguistics

The Ling Space

LinguisticsPodcast

Alexander Lasch (German)

Efnenu

spec

Ancient Lanaguages

ABAlphaBeta

Learning Old Germanic Languages

wordsoftheworld [etymology]

Egyptian / Semitic

Ancient Egyptian and Coptic

Ancient Semitic

EGYPTONERD

Harvard Semitic Museum

Greek

Living Ancient Greece

Hellenikon Idyllion (German)

Latin

ScorpioMartianus

Schola Classica

LatinPerDiem

Conlang

Biblaridion

Artifexian

Language Creation Society

David Peterson

Xidnaf

r/conlangs

Pmitxki

Esperantanaso

LearnNavi

VirtualVL

Toki Pona

seme li sin?

Dschorsaanjo Fisöl

Lojban

LogicalLanguageGroup

solpahi

Wesley Wilson

[justaz]

When in canon does Annabeth actually read? Where did that headcanon come from?

i mean in one of her first scenes she is standing outside cabin 11 and reading an architecture book. she took the book on the quest but i don’t think she actually got to read it during their trip bc it got blown up on the bus. then in the demigod files there’s a picture of what annabeth camp trunk looks like and there’s a “classical architecture for the 21st century” book. ik they’re both instances of architecture books but it kind of opens this door to hcs of her reading other books bc she has forced herself to read despite her dyslexia

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Hey, Lance.” A taunting laugh, smirk audible in his voice. “I got your lion back.”

He’s so smug he’s dripping with it, truly. If satisfaction was a person he would be the one and only Keith Gyeong, prodigy pilot extraordinaire.

He did, however, go out of his way to get Lance’s lion back for him. So.

“Thank you, Keith,” Lance says, injecting as much sincerity into his voice as he can muster. He’s well aware he’s still at a disadvantage here, and he knows Keith is his best shot for help (he would literally rather die than ask Shiro, Pidge would take twelve thousand photos and hoard them over his head for eternity, Hunk has a told-you-so problem, and he doesn’t know the Alteans well enough to take that particular L in front of them). “Now can you come and unchain me?”

Lance is expecting teasing. Duh. That’s the point of this whole rivalry spiel. He is not, however, expecting to be abandoned.

“What’s that? Uh, you’re cutting out, I can’t — I can’t hear you —”

Oh, Lance is going to kill him.

“Come on! I thought we bonded!”

Nothing. Not even static over the comms, which tells Lance that Keith has yet to fucking cut the connection, and is, in fact, being a horrible smug jerk.

A horrible smug jerk that is Lance’s only saving grace, unfortunately.

Man, fuck. Why is Lance expected to be friends with this jerk again?

“Keith?”

Still nothing.

“Buddy?”

Fuck, not even a muffled snigger.

“…My man?”

Is it desperate? Yes. Was the bonding dig also desperate? Yep. Is Lance digging himself into a deeper hole by the minute? Quite probably.

He does that regularly, though. He’ll get out eventually.

Hopefully.

Lance continues to nag a silent Keith through the comms, and then switches to cussing him out, in as many languages as he can (which is a lot. He doubts Keith has ever been called a fart-snorting garbage-guzzler in Gaelic, heh. Ass). He’s hoping to incense Keith enough to get him to fire back and prove that he’s been listening all along, but not too much that he turns around and refuses to help. It’s a delicate balance. Lance is usually very good at it. (Nothing on Earth is funnier than making your older siblings absolutely raging mad and then watching them continue to help you with whatever you ask for. It is, truly, an art form.)

But since Lance was forsaken by the gods the very second he was shot into space, Keith remains absolutely soundless.

And honestly? How dare he.

Muttering to himself, Lance tries to shift into a slightly more comfortable position. Eventually he manages to get his knees under him, chest to the floor, and curves his back to take the pressure off his wrists, which isn’t amazing but is better than before. It’s certainly not easy to do — this handcuff shit is hard. Lance always thought it would be way more fun.

“Well, damn, Sanchez. You sure you even want me to help you? You’re lookin’ pretty comfortable all stretched out.”

Lance yelps loudly, startling at Keith’s drawl. When the hell did he get here? Why didn’t Lance see him arrive in Red?

“Did you seriously use Pidge’s cloaking just to sneak up on me?” he demands.

Keith steps into Lance’s field of vision, smirking up a goddamn storm. He crouches right beside the pole Lance is chained to, reaching out a hand (dodging Lance’s attempt to bite his fingers off) and tilting up his chin.

“‘Course,” he admits, easy as pie. Then his smirk gets wider. “Think I was gonna pass up a chance to see ya all tied up and testy, pretty boy?”

Pretty boy.

Oh, no. Oh no, no, no.

“Fuck,” Lance says, aghast. “Fuck, fuck!”

The sudden expletives startles Keith, a little, and the smug expression drops from his face.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Lance face contorts in panic. “You’re hot! You’re not supposed to be hot! Fuck!”

This is Lance’s own goddamn fault, really, but he would like to take a brief moment to blame both higher powers and the internet at large for making him this way.

The thing is that Lance likes to bug people. He likes to push people’s buttons and run off before they can push his back. Usually, anyway, people don’t want to push his back; they just want to throw shit at him or roll their eyes and walk away.

But Keith?

Of course not. Heaven forbid Keith act like every other human being on the planet — er, well, alien in the universe. No, Keith has absolutely no trouble snapping right back to whatever Lance throws at him. Keith actually plays his game.

And fuck, does Lance love it.

That’s a huge problem. Massive. Lance doesn’t know what to do with someone who indulges him! That’s not the point! The point is for people to get annoyed and for Lance to win by default! He’s not supposed to be the one getting flustered!

“…What,” Keith says flatly. He blinks rapidly at Lance, confusion written all over his face.

There’s a splash of red spreading across his nose.

“Oh, fuck you!” Lance explodes — or, well, as much as he can while he’s still chained to a fucking pole. “Of course you have to be a fuckin’ — smug jackass! And of course you look good doing it! And of fucking course you’re a goddamn country boy!”

And the hole Lance has dug himself gets deeper.

Lance astounds himself, really. He should arrange to have his mouth glued shut.

“This is the worst! It’s one thing if you’re just some guy, but nooooo! Of course you have fucking — crooked incisors and a Southern drawl! Oh, you are the worst, you know that, Gyeong?”

“This is going in a rapidly different direction than I pictured,” Keith manages.

“Oh, picture me tied up and at your mercy a lot, do you?” Lance snaps back.

It’s a reflex, really. Lance says shit like that all the time, because he’s his own target audience. It never does anything but make people roll their eyes at him, and occasionally land him in detention. Hell, he barely even registered that he said it.

But, fascinatingly, the tiny smudge of red over Keith’s nose explodes into a raging blush, from the roots of his hair down his neck.

“There’s no possible way you know that,” Keith says hotly.

Lance’s jaw drops. “No way that I — I didn’t! I wasn’t — bitch, I was joking!”

Keith scowls, flush getting deeper. “Well, what about the shit you said before? You said I’m hot!”

“Yeah, because you fucking are! I’m not — I don’t daydream about you, at least! I don’t have a — a fucking thing for you, though?”

As he says it, Lance knows he’s lying. All of a sudden every single one of Hunk’s raised eyebrows whenever Lance ranted about Keith start to make a lot of sense.

“Bullshit!” Keith argues. “You always stare at me during training, and you pick random fights with me all the time, and yet you sit next to me all the time for no reason! You’re fuckin’ obsessed with me!”

“I —” Lance stops, jaw clicking shut. It is occurring to him, just now, that straight, non-crush-having people don’t generally obsess over one-sided rivalries for five years, and then do everything they can to make that rivalry a reality.

So. An oversight, perhaps.

“There’s a possibility,” Lance concedes, “that my subconscious, without my permission, has perhaps harboured some strange type of feelings for you.”

“Told you,” Keith says faintly. He looks just as lost as Lance does, though, so it significantly lowers the effect.

Lance is gagged. He is, for once in his life, at a complete loss for what to say. What does this even — who comes up with this kind of shit? Who does this? Lance is his own worst enemy, truly. Sorry, Zarkon, but take a seat.

“Lance, dude?” Hunk’s voice, faint and tinny from Lance’s discarded helmet, makes them both jump. “Do you still need rescuing?”

“Fuck, sorry,” Keith mutters, finally springing into action and deactivating the stupid cuffs. Lance scrambles back the second he’s free, rubbing his wrists and avoiding eye contact with Keith while also constantly sneaking glances aren’t him that aren’t at all sneaky because Keith catches him every time.

“So,” Keith says eventually.

Nope. Lance isn’t having this stupid conversation.

Lance throws a random rock at him.

“Hey!” Keith picks it back up and whips it at Lance immediately, only his aim isn’t as good as Lance’s, and also Lance is already diving to grab more rocks, so he misses. Lance starts pelting Keith with the armful of space rocks he’s gathered, each of them no bigger than an ice cube, all of them pinging harmlessly off Keith’s armour.

“Lance — will you — fucking cut that out!”

He lunges forward, shoving Lance to the ground and pinning Lance’s hands above his head. Lance bucks and squirms, trying several of the new maneuvers Shiro taught them to throw Keith off, but unfortunately Keith had also been present at the training in which they learned these manoeuvres and is therefore unaffected.

“I’ll let you up if you stop throwing shit at me.”

“No.”

“Guess you’re stuck, then.”

Lance tries for several more minutes to escape, but Keith remains firmly where he is, pinning Lance down. Lance is eventually forced to stop unless a new problem wants to pop its way up and make things more embarrassing and horrible.

Lance huffs. “Let me up. I promise not to throw more rocks at you.”

Keith squints suspiciously at him. “Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.”

“Well then — no, obviously?”

“C’mon, Keith.”

Lance does what he always does when he’s backed into a corner — he pulls out the brown doe eyes. He furrows his eyebrows, widening his eyes as big as he can and pouting.

“For fuck’s — oh, fine.”

Keith rolls off Lance, grumbling the whole time.

Lance blinks.

That — that worked? All he had to do was ask, barely, bat his eyelashes a little, and Keith just — listened to him?

“Oh my God, we are down bad for each other,” Lance breathes.

Keith looks ready to argue, but then stops himself, sighing.

“Yeah.”

“What are we going to — fuck, what are we going to do?”

Because Lance is not new to crushes. He’s had more of them than he can physically count. But never in his life has he wanted to judo flip someone as badly as he wanted to make out with them. That’s a new development.

“I dunno,” Keith says helplessly. He’s kind of — curled in on himself, face still red, as if he curls into a tight enough ball he can escape the situation. “You’re the plan guy! When you’re not being a dumbass, that is.”

Ignoring the jab, Lance takes a moment to ponder that. He is kind of the plan guy, isn’t he? It’s him who came up with all the Garrison escape plans he dragged Hunk into. It’s him who came up with the elevator shaft idea. Hell, he can quite possibly trace every one of his major life moments to a point where he said ‘hey, I wonder how I can make this work for me.’

Plan guy. Plan guy. He can be the plan guy. That’s all anything is, right? Making decisions and working out how to get there. He’s good at that.

But what decision does he want with Keith? What does he want with Keith, period?

“Step one,” Lance decides, “is that we should make out.”

Keith looks at him in surprise. “That’s step one?”

Lance nods firmly. “Yep. If we make out now, we can figure out all the weird tension shit. Maybe we don’t actually like each other. Maybe we’re just, like, bored.”

Keith looks doubtful, but he makes his way closer anyway.

“I guess so.”

“Yep.”

“So I just — kiss you?”

“Well, we don’t have all day, Mullet.”

Truly, Lance’s heart is pounding. He has no fucking clue how he’s managing to sound even remotely normal. He feels like he might implode.

Hesitantly, Keith reaches for Lance’s face, resting a palm on his cheek. His hand is warm, even through the gloves of their suits. Hot, really; nearly burning. He rests it there for a moment, absentmindedly — or maybe intentionally — rubbing his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone as his eyes trace nervously over Lance’s lips. He leans in close slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world, eyes fluttering shut as his lips get closer and closer to Lance’s. He gets close enough that Lance can see the startling length of his eyelashes, the tiny mole at the corner of his mouth, the chapped skin of his lips.

Lance doesn’t even know how to categorize the sound that comes out of his mouth when their lips finally touch. It’s — breathy; stuttering. Like all the air escapes out of his lungs the second his skin touches Keith’s.

Keith tilts his head a little, sliding their noses together, his free hand coming to rest at Lance’s hip. Lance’s hands move without his permission, sliding up the chest plate of Keith’s armour and over his shoulders, resting finally in his hair, fingers tangling around the thick black strands. He pulls on them slightly, and Keith gets the hint, opening his mouth and pushing closer.

Lance’s heartbeat slows from its jackrabbit pace. He stops focusing on anything except the warmth of Keith’s skin on his, the rhythm of their mouths moving together, the occasional sighs Keith makes at the back of his throat. He forgets where he is, what he’s doing; hell, he forgets his own damn name. The only thing he cares about is pressing closer to Keith, keeping them melded together.

“Well. Obviously you didn’t need saving.”

Lance’s eyes fly open and he shoves Keith backwards with a yelp.

“Hunk! What — where the fuck did you come from?!”

“Yellow is not a quiet machine,” Hunk says drily. “Like, seriously. The fact that you are just now reacting to my presence speaks wonders. I know you’ve liked Keith for a while now, dude, but there’s no way he’s that good of a kisser.”

“Oh my God,” Keith says faintly, and Lance can’t help but agree.

Goddamn. First he’s kissing Keith, now he’s agreeing with him. What’s next? They gonna co-lead Voltron together, or something?

“Let’s just go,” Lance squeaks, scrambling to his feet and desperately avoiding eye contact. He follows a very amused-looking Hunk back to his lion, enduring his painful amount of teasing with a bright red face and a truly herculean amount of self-control, if he’s being honest. The teasing from the rest of the team is almost worse, their ‘Loverboy Lance’ jokes briefly making him panic that everyone knows about the fact that he and fucking Keith Gyeong just made out, somehow, before he remembers that oh yeah, dumbass, you were just tied to a pole for flirting with the a scam artist.

Yeesh. How time fuckin’ flies.

The only consolation to the staggering amount of humiliation is that Keith keeps glancing at Lance, going red, and looking away. So obviously Lance isn’t the only one so affected, which is a relief.

Once everyone has finally gotten their fill of making fun of Lance, Shiro dismisses them, and Lance makes a beeline to his room. He rushes through his skincare routine as quickly as he can, refusing to let himself think about a single thing the entire time.

It doesn’t work. Every single time he catches sight of his own reflection, he’s reminded that his face just spent inordinate amounts of time pressed against Keith’s not even an hour ago. Keith is all he can think about.

Plan. Plan. What’s the plan? Is there a plan?

It is not a surprise when he hears a knock at his door.

“So,” Keith says when Lance opens it, rocking back in his heels. “What’s — uh, what’s step two?”

Lance smiles, allowing himself to feel the giddiness that’s bubbling up his throat, the parts of him that are yelling ‘Keith! Keith Gyeong! He sought me out! He wants to go further! With me!’

“Let’s figure that out together,” Lance says, pulling Keith into the room and shutting the door. “I’m thinking this is going to be more of a two-man operation.”

[clarkimagines]

Omg congrats on your milestone! You deserve every follower!!💕 could I get a ship with your shipping event?With a girl from the cwdc shows(like flash, supergirl, lot).I'm 5'10 and pretty muscular. I have dark super short hair and glasses.Im a hufflepuff&intj.I love to travel, workout, help people, and be in nature and learn languages(I speak 4).I'm a bit of a loner, but when I'm around people I'm outgoing and funny.I like most in a partner a sense of humor and someone who is passionate. Thanks💕

A/N: thank you so much!! I hope you like what I came up with!

Supergirl:

I ship you with Nia Nal! She realized she was in love with you almost as soon as she met you. You were cute and kind and a polyglot, so sue her. She couldn’t help but flirt with you, and she was delighted when you flirted back. She made sure to get your number, and she was already planning date ideas on the spot.

Legends of Tomorrow:

I ship you with Sara Lance! She realized she was in love with you on a mission together, when your quick thinking kept the team out of a fight. You managed to start up some banter with guards rather than having to fight your way through them, and Sara had to admit, she was impressed.

[ao3feedshklance]

The Empire

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2wxMdeg

by leadernovaandthemacabre

Lance is a socialite and informant on the brink of terraforming Voltron’s new society. To that end, he wants to raise his perfect successor. His husband however is wary to start their new family, pussyfooting in his duty to find the right alpha to impregnate them. Tired of Keith’s hesitance, Lance buys an alpha himself.

To the horror of everyone involved however, he’s purchased the bloodthirsty, ruthless, indomitable Champion…

Words: 25279, Chapters: 2/5, Language: English

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Lance, Keith, Shiro, Sendak, Haxus, Jenka, Kolivan, Krolia - Character, antok, Thace, Hunk, Pidge, Matt, Sam, Allura, Alfor, melenor, Zarkon, Veronica, Rachel, Luis, Marco, Ilun, Vrek, Curtis, Adam, zethrid, ezor, Narti, Reyner, Lubos, Bandor, Romelle, Ladnok, Regris

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance/Shiro (Voltron)

Additional Tags: Ancient World AU, Post-apocalyptic AU, Bodyguard AU, Sugar Daddy AU, Roman Empire influences, Mayan Empire influences, Caribbean Colony influences, Omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, Sexism, Racism, Colourism, politicking, Slavery, omega are at the top of the hierarchy, alpha are at the bottom of the hierarchy, alpha are slaves, it takes all three sexes to procreate, Non-traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Polygamy, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Polygamy Negotiations, there is a LOT of talking, lactating males, Mpreg, Heats, ruts, anyone can give bonding marks, hard of hearing Keith, deaf keith, lance has ADHD, Polyglot Lance, Shiro has PTSD, comfort and angst, brief sexual harrassment, dub con, Explicit Consent, Language Barrier, Sign Language, First Time, Oviposition, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, strangers to friends-with-benefits to lovers, Emotional Manipulation, wherever Sendak is mentioned dub-con is featured, Assault, knives brought to gunfights, underground fighting rings, Age Difference, Platonic Kissing, no beta we die like men, clothes are not gendered, Semi-Public Sex, Falling In Love, Romance, Seduction, Additional Tags to Be Added

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2wxMdeg

[ganymedesclock]

Yes! I am so fucking sick of the "fuck yeah humans!" mentality that's seems to have wormed its way into every fandom. I'm tired of reading stories and ideas about aliens marveling at how humanity is so strong, dangerous, powerful, intelligent, adaptable, and all that shit, and how they can beat anything and anyone because they're just "inherently better." It's that same 40k crap, just retexturized.

I feel like “humans are weird” is trying to be a rebuttal to the perception of humans as the generic, boring, everyman race, like “oh why would you ever play a human when you can play an elf or a space elf,” when I feel like ironically both of those concepts have the same problem: it’s a perception of humans as a default.

Humans Are Weird doesn’t actually challenge the perception of us as default, generally; it’s just a question of whether humans are the bottom line or the top, whether everyone else is more interesting than us, or everyone else is less interesting than us. Both, ultimately, flatter humans with the idea that we’re the meterstick by which the whole world can be judged, even if humans as the bottom line seems like it’s insulting us, which is why I think Humans Are Weird falls short- it perceives it as an insult and tries to solve it with aggrandization, but, in actuality, the problem is we’re already overly aggrandizing ourselves other hypothetical other peoples. 

Many a generic trying-to-be-Tolkien high fantasy gives us Elf Cities and Dwarf Cities and Orc Cities, but if they just want to make a port town or a lovely peasant village or a bloodsports arena city these things are often made human. It’s the same problem that if you have a cast of white able-bodied men, they’ll be divided according to personality and theme, the Introverted Smart One, the Brave but Gentle Strong One, the Charismatic Leader, the Sarcastic but Loyal Second In Command. But in many traditional media, if your hero team has only one girl, being The Girl will be considered her personality trait, so she doesn’t need another one.

Same problem here- being The Elf is considered a personality trait. So if you have humans, they’re allowed to be a bunch of different things inside and outside of their culture but even if we have colorful characters, we might put a Proud Warrior on the cast because of his Proud Warrior Culture, or a charismatic linguist from their charismatic linguist culture, or a brilliant scientist from her brilliant scientist culture. While humans can have a proud warrior, a charismatic linguist, and a brilliant scientist- because since we are humans, we realize that the idea of trying to characterize even a single culture out of the many cultures on Earth as having a single personality would be ridiculous and stupid. We don’t have people in space operas introducing themselves of “oh, I come from the proud New York clan, in New York, everyone is a warrior, it’s simply not DONE otherwise,”

Personally as a writer, if you really want to take a crack at fixing the underlying problem posed by humans as default, I feel like there’s two solutions here.

If you don’t have any noteworthy standout thing to do with humans in your fantasy or scifi setting, exclude them entirely. This forces the audience instead of perceiving the environment as a default with a bunch of cool add-ons, that instead they need to empathize directly with the viewpoints of the elves, orcs, dwarves, goblins, etc. that dwell in this world. 

If you do want to include humans... make them interesting. For example, being light on some details, I’m working on a Voltron reimagining AU which features people from Earth as part of a broader community of sapient life. And no, I don’t have Allura boggling in wonder and horror at, say, the lack of viscosity of terran tears. But I did still have some fun worldbuidling with the terrans:

They currently lay claim to the only fully artificial planet. They did that! It’s pretty cool. They also tend to modify and climate-control the hell out of a lot of their colonies, which is a tendency born of the fact that, as the intergalactic whippersnappers of the Leo Supercluster who also experienced a mass exodus early in their dealings with other races, they snapped up a bunch of what was not exactly prime real estate and didn’t look it in the mouth.

Similarly because of this you have a lot of terran diaspora on planets that aren’t Federation holdings. Comparatively, galra living elsewhere like that is rarer because the galra tend traditionalist and their culture is basically built around accommodating entire clans rather than specific individuals, so they tend to move or organize themselves.

So, in this setting, the terrans have an interesting chunk of worldbuilding to them, they’ve got a history that’s uniquely theirs that makes them good company with the unique histories of others, and this leads to some cool features you can see- for example the diaspora and ‘less habitable’ planets affects these versions of Lance, Pidge, and Hunk- Lance, who grew up on a Spaceport, which is full of different people, and so he’s the team’s cheerful polyglot who’s conversational in a large number of spoken languages since he grew up leaping from Spanish to English to several galran dialects to olkarin and back again in three conversations. Hunk, as a character, who comes from an affluent background and thus has access to the luxury of cybernetic augmentation- because before they had mastered making planets safe for them, terrans figured how to make themselves safe for planets. And Pidge, who’s from a high gravity planet so she’s short, abnormally dense, and capable of impressive jumps.

That’s not an insistence that you have to specifically characterize humans in a fantastical setting the way I have, naturally, but just, don’t treat humans as defaults, and don’t feel like you have to diminish everybody else to make up for how “boring” humans are.

[draculalive]

Jonathan Harker's Journal

5 May. The Castle. -- The grey of the morning has passed, and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and little are mixed. I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally I write till sleep comes. There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly. I dined on what they called "robber steak" -- bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted over the fire, in the simple style of the London cat's meat! The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable. I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.

When I got on the coach the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw him talking with the landlady. They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they looked at me, and some of the people who were sitting on the bench outside the door -- which they call by a name meaning "word-bearer" -- came and listened, and then looked at me, most of them pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd; so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out. I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were "Ordog" -- Satan, "pokol" -- hell, "stregoica" -- witch, "vrolok" and "vlkoslak" -- both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire. (Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions.)

When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this time swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards me. With some difficulty I got a fellow-passenger to tell me what they meant; he would not answer at first, but on learning that I was English, he explained that it was a charm or guard against the evil eye. This was not very pleasant for me, just starting for an unknown place to meet an unknown man; but every one seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I could not but be touched. I shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the inn-yard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all crossing themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its background of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered in the centre of the yard. Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the box-seat -- "gotza" they call them -- cracked his big whip over his four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on our journey.

I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of the scene as we drove along, although had I known the language, or rather languages, which my fellow-passengers were speaking, I might not have been able to throw them off so easily. Before us lay a green sloping land full of forests and woods, with here and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses, the blank gable end to the road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass of fruit blossom -- apple, plum, pear, cherry; and as we drove by I could see the green grass under the trees spangled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst these green hills of what they call here the "Mittel Land" ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it with a feverish haste. I could not understand then what the haste meant, but the driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told that this road is in summertime excellent, but that it had not yet been put in order after the winter snows. In this respect it is different from the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is an old tradition that they are not to be kept in too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should think that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten the war which was always really at loading point.

Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us:---

"Look! Isten szek!" -- "God's seat!" -- and he crossed himself reverently.

As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This was emphasised by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and there we passed Cszeks and Slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves. Here and there was a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. There were many things new to me: for instance, hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver through the delicate green of the leaves. Now and again we passed a leiter-wagon -- the ordinary peasant's cart -- with its long, snake-like vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-coming peasants, the Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with their coloured, sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began to get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge into one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs of the hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out here and there against the background of late-lying snow. Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods that seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses of greyness, which here and there bestrewed the trees, produced a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening, when the falling sunset threw into strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes the hills were so steep that, despite our driver's haste, the horses could only go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but the driver would not hear of it. "No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce"; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry -- for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest -- "and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep." The only stop he would make was a moment's pause to light his lamps.

When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as though urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them on to further exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of patch of grey light ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater; the crazy coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side and to frown down upon us; we were entering on the Borgo Pass. One by one several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnestness which would take no denial; these were certainly of an odd and varied kind, but each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing, and that strange mixture of fear-meaning movements which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz -- the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye. Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that something very exciting was either happening or expected, but though I asked each passenger, no one would give me the slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on for some little time; and at last we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the conveyance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness; but all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. We could see now the sandy road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best do, when the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone; I thought it was "An hour less than the time." Then turning to me, he said in German worse than my own:---

"There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He will now come on to Bukovina, and return to-morrow or the next day; better the next day." Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up. Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a universal crossing of themselves, a calèche, with four horses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach. I could see from the flash of our lamps, as the rays fell on them, that the horses were coal-black and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us. He said to the driver:---

"You are early to-night, my friend." The man stammered in reply:---

"The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:---

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift." As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line from Burger's "Lenore":---

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell" -- ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the same time putting out his two fingers and crossing himself. "Give me the Herr's luggage," said the driver; and with exceeding alacrity my bags were handed out and put in the calèche. Then I descended from the side of the coach, as the calèche was close alongside, the driver helping me with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of steel; his strength must have been prodigious. Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and we swept into the darkness of the Pass. As I looked back I saw the steam from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps, and projected against it the figures of my late companions crossing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and called to his horses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina. As they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely feeling came over me; but a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across my knees, and the driver said in excellent German:---

"The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me take all care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should require it." I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was there all the same. I felt a little strangely, and not a little frightened. I think had there been any alternative I should have taken it, instead of prosecuting that unknown night journey. The carriage went at a hard pace straight along, then we made a complete turn and went along another straight road. It seemed to me that we were simply going over and over the same ground again; and so I took note of some salient point, and found that this was so. I would have liked to have asked the driver what this all meant, but I really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed as I was, any protest would have had no effect in case there had been an intention to delay. By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time was passing, I struck a match, and by its flame looked at my watch; it was within a few minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road -- a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass, a wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night. At the first howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but shivered and sweated as though after a runaway from sudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains on each side of us began a louder and a sharper howling -- that of wolves -- which affected both the horses and myself in the same way -- for I was minded to jump from the calèche and run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly, so that the driver had to use all his great strength to keep them from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed to the sound, and the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able to descend and to stand before them. He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became quite manageable again, though they still trembled. The driver again took his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great pace. This time, after going to the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow roadway which ran sharply to the right.

Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over the roadway till we passed as through a tunnel; and again great frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though we were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as we swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were covered with a white blanket. The keen wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew fainter as we went on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though they were closing round on us from every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear. The driver, however, was not in the least disturbed; he kept turning his head to left and right, but I could not see anything through the darkness.

Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a faint flickering blue flame. The driver saw it at the same moment; he at once checked the horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared into the darkness. I did not know what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves grew closer; but while I wondered the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a word took his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare. Once the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the darkness around us I could watch the driver's motions. He went rapidly to where the blue flame arose -- it must have been very faint, for it did not seem to illumine the place around it at all -- and gathering a few stones, formed them into some device. Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same. This startled me, but as the effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining through the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue flames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling of the wolves around us, as though they were following in a moving circle.

At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether; but just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import.

All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see; but the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side; and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach. I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness.

When I could see again the driver was climbing into the calèche, and the wolves had disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. We kept on ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in the main always ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlit sky.

[ao3feed-wandamaximoff]

Where It All Begins

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/DEM0Vuh by KDBloomfield She isn’t what they think she is. She isn’t a hero. How could she save anyone when she couldn’t even save herself. Genesis Eternaé isn’t an X-Men. But maybe with some time and effort, and someone to show her the way, she could learn to be. While even making some new friends and family along the way. Words: 2814, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: X-Men Evolution Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Kurt Wagner, Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Charles Xavier, Logan (X-Men), Ororo Munroe, Kitty Pryde, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Frederick Dukes, Lance Alvers, Toad (X-Men), Original X-Men Team Members (Marvel), Raven | Mystique Relationships: Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Lance Alvers/Kitty Pryde, Remy LeBeau/Rogue Additional Tags: Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Character(s), X-Men Evolution References, Afro-Latina Original Character, Polyglot Original Character, African-American Original Character, She’s Black & Hispanic your honor, Angst, Fluff, canon events, Non-Canon Events, Author is recovering gifted!burnoutkid, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Slow To Update, Not Beta Read, Beta Writer Needed read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/DEM0Vuh