#( and hunk and a bunch of other muses all to one place so ! )

[c0smicnyu]

interstellar - a Peter Parker AU - ch. 1

also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082408/chapters/71388948

chapter word count: 2240 

story summary:

Peter was 6 when he was stolen from Earth and put into the Yon-Rogg's, by extension the Kree's, care. Peter was 12 when his entire genetic makeup was altered. Peter was 13 when he was fished from the waters, years having passed. Now on Earth and under Nick's care, he has to maneuver through life with his awesome abilities, alien invasions and geniuses wearing cool armor or shapeshifting into green balls of anger. Oh, and he's also trying to find the meaning to life but who isn't in this day and age?

chapter summary:

Peter’s life with the Kree and how he ended up on Earth.

(Hala, Kree Civilization)

Yon-Rogg was confused. There was a small, human creature in front of him. The kid from Earth was looking up at him with bright brown eyes, messy curls sitting on top of his really small head.

He was told to come to this room because this was where he was going to oversee the experiment involving Vers and her extraordinary abilities. With their proficiency in genetic engineering, they found a way to implant Vers’ abilities into other specimens. They told him they were going to create a soldier with the same abilities as Vers, through dissecting her DNA and isolating the one where the enhanced chromosomes were. Then they would tie it into the subject’s DNA, creating a new and enhanced specimen.

However, all trials have failed so far.

Then he was given a mission.

“Train him. When you think he’s ready, we will name him as one of the possible candidates in the TS: Vers experiment.”

With a new purpose, he would move. He would be damned if he didn’t do his job well and serve the Kree. If the Supreme Intelligence says train the kid, then he will take the kid under his wing and train him to be the best warrior the Kree has ever seen. “Hey, I’m Yon-Rogg. I’m one of the warriors here.” He said with a smile. “What’s your name?”

The kid blinked at him before answering. “I’m Peter. I think I was stolen from Earth. I don’t remember much, just my name.”

Yon-Rogg could work with that. An amnesiac is easy to mold, a kid with little and ephemeral memories at that. “Hm, well then. I’ll be taking care of you from now on. I’ll train you so you could protect yourself and by extension, the Kree civilization. Is that okay with you?”

Peter shrugged, brown curls bouncing. “I don’t mind. This place is really cool, by the way. Your eyes are cool too! And so are the blue people!”

Yon-Rogg just smiled. He wasn’t sure if he could get used to this amount of bright enthusiasm.

--

Yon-Rogg introduced Peter to Vers and they hit it off, much to his amusement. They both shared the overly emotional side of humans, which he was trying to get rid of. A soldier can’t perform their duty well with emotions mucking things up.

Another thing that Yon-Rogg realized throughout his time as Peter’s mentor was his above average intellect and superb locomotor skills. Even at age 8, sparring against people twice his size, he was able to find ways to knock them down.

He was agile and smart, able to use his supposed weaknesses as a strength against his opponents. He wielded his opponents abilities against them, turning their greatest strengths into the cause of their downfall.

So he got the kid tested.

He was right. The kid was a bonafide prodigy with an IQ of 170 at age 9.

Thinking about it objectively, genius was a double-edged sword.

With the amount of secrets the Kree keep, a genius in their midst could make or break their entire civilization.

Peter could help improve and revolutionize or he could break everything they worked for apart, tearing it down and burning it to the ground.

However, watching the young warrior interact with all the other soldiers and making a name for himself filled him with a sense of pride.

It was at that moment he realized he was getting attached to the child.

Spending time with him, bringing him books from his former planet and mentoring him closely was interfering with his mission.

So when he turned 12, after 6 years of training with him, Vers and his team, it was time that he drafted the kid into the roster of candidates.

“Peter. Come with me.” He called the kid from Vers’ room, the pair talking about random things the young teen knew about Earth.

He jumped up and walked towards Yon-Rogg with an easy grin. “What’s up?”

“It’s time.”

Peter’s eyes widened, a wide grin spreading on his lips. “Are you serious?! I’m getting deployed before Vers?!”

Yon-Rogg felt sad but the Kree came before anything else. 

“Yes. Follow me.”

Yon-Rogg led the kid to the experimentation room. Peter looked around the room with confusion. “This doesn’t--” He turned to see Yon-Rogg pointing a gun at him.

“Wha?”

“I’m sorry, Peter. But this is for the good of all Kree.”

Light, then darkness.

--

Vers was devastated with Peter’s death.

She considered him a younger brother and despite Yon-Rogg’s constant reminders of disregarding her feelings, she truly held love for him.

She used his death as a fuel for her training. She did her best so she could finally serve and bring justice to Peter by killing the Skrull once and for all.

Her hard work paid off and it was time.

She would kill those sons of bitches.

--

“The geneticists say that TS: Vers was a success. Please proceed to the disclosed location and provide confirmation.”

Coincidentally, the experiment’s success coincided with Vers’ first mission. Yon-Rogg mused on that fact as he walked through the metal walkways that lead to the room where Peter was held for the past month.

They finally succeeded after 15 failed attempts.

They were unsure what was so different about the kid, other than his terran descent. Maybe that was it. Since both Vers and Subject 16 were humans, their genetic makeups were closer to one another and made it easier for the enhanced chromosomes to tie in.

Now that he was looking at the kid, other than some feature similarities with Vers that got changed through the insertion of genes, there was no way of telling whether he truly got her superpowered abilities.

“Are you sure it worked?” He asked the head scientist, still eyeing the kid who was reading a book from C-53. It was about something called Calculus, which he was sure he brought from the planet a few years back.

“Yes it did. He has an amazing ability to carry 5 tons right now at age 6. His senses are also enhanced to the point where he can tell when something is hurtling towards him, much like a sixth sense.” The scientist said, pointing at his chart on the hologram. “He can also heal very quickly. It’s possible that his blood can be used to create cures for diseases, along with creating antibodies and poison antidotes. His abilities will increase as he grows and there’s no telling whether there’s a limit on it. The experiment was very successful.”

“Anything else?” Yon-Rogg asked as he read through the outstanding ratings the kid had on both his powered abilities and combat abilities.

Peter’s latent talent was truly remarkable and he couldn’t wait till they could finally use him to decimate the Skrulls.

“Am I allowed to talk to him?” Yon-Rogg asked.

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” The scientist asked dryly. “The last thing he remembers before this room was you, his mentor, pointing a gun at him. He’s superpowered now. He could kill you with one blast.”

Yon-Rogg frowned. “Point taken. Give me the copies of his results and I will report to the Supreme.”

As the scientist passes Yon-Rogg the folders, the glass before them shook with a loud blast sound echoing in the room.

They looked at Peter, surprise flitting onto their faces.

He was now standing before the two-way mirror, staring directly at Yon-Rogg.

“I will find Vers and I will tell her just what a lying scumbag you are. You better sleep with one eye open now, Yon-Rogg.” Peter threatened, eyes dark as he glared at his former mentor.

The man didn’t reply and just left the room, feeling Peter’s burning gaze on him as he walked away.

--

Peter put his plan of escape into work a day after Yon-Rogg visited his humble cell.

He blasted the doorway to bits with a photon blast and immediately made his way to Vers’ chambers, however the room was empty.

He cursed, remembering what Yon-Rogg said in the hallway. Vers was already deployed.

He immediately switched course and made his way to the hangar. He listened in on the conversations, trying to catch wind of where Vers was.

“Did you hear? Vers was on C-53 and she found Mar-Vell’s lab! Yon-Rogg and his team are apprehending her.”

Peter froze. She was on C-53.

During his solitary time in the metal cube of torture, he was able to listen in on different conversations. He found out the true enemy in the Kree-Skrull War and how the Kree made it their life mission to destroy any means of refuge for the Skrull.

He found out that his true purpose was to become a weapon for the annihilation of the Skrull.

When he found out, he wanted to tell Vers immediately. However, he was too busy getting tested by the douchebags that experimented on him and prodded his body with needles.

He had to help her.

So he hijacked a pod and hacked into Yon-Rogg’s ship, stealing their coordinates from their GPS with a smirk. It was time he put these powers to use and reunite with Vers.

--

He arrived at the lab after a few, hearing the current fight happening within the huge hunk of metal.

He landed his pod and ran into the interior, looking for the source of the sound. He turned on the corner, spotting a bunch of Kree cornering a man, a woman and a cat?

“Hey! Get away from them!” Peter blasted the gun wielding Kree.

“Holy shit! There are two of you?!” The man holding a cat exclaimed, the woman beside him sporting a look of surprise.

“Who are you? And what do--” He remembered the photon blast. “Vers! You know her! Where is she?”

“You mean Carol? She’s--” The woman was cut off by a glowing blonde woman holding a lunchbox with a bunch of characters on it.

Peter stared at her, a grin spreading onto his lips. “VERS!”

Carol was tired and she had no time to deal with another Skrull impersonation of someone important to her. “Talos, this isn’t funny! We have no time for this! Take the--”

Peter took huge strides forward and wrapped Carol in a hug, arms around her midsection.

“Did Yon-Rogg seriously tell you I died? More like they injected your DNA into me.” Peter said before removing his arms from around her. He shot a photon blast at an incoming Kree. Carol looked at him with surprise, the grin on Peter’s lips just widening. “Now we’re twinning!”

“What the heck, kid!” Carol grinned, hugging him. Then she realized they really had no time, shoving the tesseract into his arms. “We’ll unpack that later. Take the tesseract and get going. You cover them, okay? Get to the QuadJet. Stay alive. We will talk later. I’ll buy you time.” Then she was gone.

Peter saluted, putting the cube before the cat which he realized was a Flerken. Its mouth opened, eating it whole. Peter smiled and patted its head. He looked at the man and woman.

“Hi, I’m Peter! I was with Vers… Carol? On Hala. We trained together. Then they faked my death before experimenting on me! Nice to meet you!” Peter said as he ran his hand down Goose’s spine.

“I’m Fury.” “Maria.”

They both gave him uncertain looks however his grin never faltered. “Okay! As per Carol’s request, I will protect you as we go to the QuadJet. Let’s go.”

They rounded the corner and Peter made sure they went through the ways where there weren’t any people. Then he heard a group of Skrulls in the intersecting hallway. He ran there, spotting the shapeshifters.

“Hey! Come on, let’s get onto the QuadJet! I’ll cover everyone!”

They eventually got to the hanger, running towards the jet at top speed. As they ran, Peter felt his hair rise. He shoved Goose into Fury’s arms and stopped running, eyeing the Kree.

“Get going! I’ll catch up!” He grunted as he fought against the Kree, distracting them from the currently boarding Skrulls and humans.

Once he was done with them, the jet was already up. He flew into the slowly closing doors, gasping as he laid on the cold metal floor.

“Hey, Peter! Are you Carol’s kid?” Maria asked as she flew the jet into the Earth’s atmosphere.

“No. We trained together for 7 years though. She was like a huge mentor figure to me, aside from the lying scum--” He was cut off by the jet suddenly lurching.

He sighed. There was just no resting, huh?

“Let me out, Maria! I’ll get her off your tail!” Peter instructed, arms already glowing brilliantly.

Maria was torn. The kid was the same age as hers and she wouldn’t be able to carry a kid’s death on her conscience. Against all her beliefs, she opened the doors and let Peter out. She just hopes the kid would be safe and comes back.

Peter flew out and onto Minn-Erva’s pod, blasting it with holes before proceeding to carry it off. He flew out of the Earth’s atmosphere and tossed the pod just as it exploded.

He was preoccupied, so he never saw it coming.

He never saw the large ship coming towards him.

He was flying, then falling. Then he was gone as he sunk into the ocean, swallowed by the icy waves as he lost consciousness.

[hamletandthegang]

France- Part 3

A dark figure walked towards Horatio in the dark underground corridor. The old green-tinted light attached to the ceiling caste a chilling glare onto everything in the tunnel. Horatio jumped, startled, and his back hit the back of the step he was sitting on. 

“Hello,” A dark alto voice said. “Who are you?”

“Hi, uh, hi,” Horatio stood up awkwardly and met her gaze. It was sharp, and cut through him. “Where- um- Where did you come from?”

“I’ve been watching you for a few minutes from over there,” she jerked her thumb back where there was a scooping indent in the tunnel, but it had been so dark he hadn’t noticed her there. “Who are you?” She repeated.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I’m Horatio Gilbert. Who are you?”

She pushed a piece of her bushy black hair out of her face, “I’m Maggie.”

“Cool,” Horatio said, starting to get weirded out about the random person talking to him. “Well, nice meeting you, but I think I’ll-”

“Not many people come down here,” She interrupted. “Not unless they’re hiding from something. What are you hiding from?”

Horatio was taken back by the question. “I dunno. The world, I guess.”

“Huh,” Maggie looked him over scrutinizingly. She finished her scan of him, and said, “Do you have a place to stay? It’s getting late.”

“Uh, not really. I thought I’d probably get a place at a hotel or something.” Horatio knew that was a lie- he had no money on him at all. He’d had nothing but his phone when he woke up that morning.

“Hotels are expensive around here,” Maggie mused, seeming to have read his mind. “I’ve got a little place where me and some friends are staying, if you wanna come stay for the night. There’s an extra bathtub waiting for you.” She sounded like she was joking, but there really was no way of telling. 

Horatio knew that he’d typically be appalled at the thought of staying at a random person’s house that he’d never met before, but in that moment, he had nothing. No roof, no food, no money, nothing. And he felt as though he could pass out. Maggie was offering at least a place to stay the night, before he could find somewhere else to go. 

Horatio agreed, and Maggie led him up to the street. She walked quickly, and since there was more light due to the streetlamps and shop lights, Horatio was able to get a better look at her. She was wearing black ripped up jeans, and a black leather jacket. She had on chunky tennis shoes, and had a small bag slung on her back. She had a dark complexion, with curly black hair that circled her head like a crown. She also had a silver nose piercing of a silver spike, and long glossy nails.

Horatio was still wearing the uniform that Laertes had given him back at the base. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his helmet. But he didn’t really care. He just hoped that Maggie didn’t know he was the reason the fire in Notre Dame was raging. Maybe she knew, and that was why she was taking him to her place. Maybe she would turn him in and he’d be dead. 

Maybe he deserved that. Maybe he should be.

He tried to stop thinking about that. This was his only hope of having a roof over his head. He had to take it. 

After a few minutes of walking, Maggie stopped and turned to look at Horatio. She was standing in front of a fancier hotel, and motioning toward the alley that led down the side of the building. Horatio pushed the red flags away and followed her. She hefted a large dumpster out of the way, behind which a ragged tarp was hiding a short door. Maggie held the tarp up over Horatio as he went inside, and she followed after. He stood up and looked around.

Horatio was standing in a compact room with shelves lining the room. The shelves were packed with cardboard boxes, and in the center of the room, a card table and a few foldable chairs stood. A woman with dark skin and pink braids was sitting in one of the chairs on her phone. As she turned towards him, he realized with a shock that he recognized her. She was the leader of the acting troupe, the one who had attacked Hamlet! Then it hit him. Were the rest of the rebels here too? Then who was Maggie? 

For the time being, Horatio was forced to pretend that he didn’t know the acting troupe leader. There were two doors, one he assumed led out to the hotel, and the second was sitting open, exposing the disgusting bathroom inside. The door to the bathroom had a considerable chunk hanging out of the wood. It looked kind of like a gunshot. Horatio peered inside, where a sink, toilet, shower curtain (he assumed that behind that was the tub he’d been promised to sleep in), and dirty rug, all bathed in a sickly greenish orange light. Both the tile on the floor and the mirror had multiple cracks and hunks taken out of them. Maybe he should have slept in the tunnel instead. 

“The bathtub’s in there,” Maggie grunted, noticing Horatio’s appalled stare. 

“Right,” Horatio made for the door, but the leader of the troupe (Monica, he remembered), jumped up suddenly. 

“Oh, sorry, lemme grab some stuff out of there.” She quickly closed the bathroom door and shuffled around. Horatio couldn’t exactly see through the hole in the door, but she seemed like she was taking a bunch of large objects from the tub. She opened the door, and Horatio stepped back to see that she was holding many large guns, pistols, and rifles. She was holding a small revolver in her teeth that she couldn’t hold. 

Monica dumped the weapons in an empty box in the corner, and Horatio glanced at Maggie with wide eyes.

“Well did you wanna sleep on them?” She asked sarcastically. “In the morning we can reevaluate and probably set you up with some food or something, but for right now that’s all we got.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Horatio made for the door once again, but Maggie stopped him and threw a lumpy pillow at his head.

“Head’s up.” Horatio caught it and closed the bathroom door behind him. He took a breath and let it out slowly. At least he was alive.

Horatio spread out a little bit, placed the pillow in the bathtub, and sat down in it. Scrolling on his phone, he realized that Hamlet had texted him and he hadn’t felt it buzz.

Where in Paris are you?

He quickly typed out, Staying the night in the backroom of a hotel. I think I might’ve gotten picked up by the rebels.

Hamlet immediately shot back, Wow, small world. Which hotel? It isn’t La Masquerade by any chance?

Actually yeah, I think that might’ve been the name.

I’ll see you soon, gotta backtrack a bit

Horatio put his phone away, and tried to keep from crying. He was so happy Hamlet was coming. He was going to be with someone who wasn’t going to hurt him. He was so overjoyed, he passed out in the tub.

~~~

Hamlet was walking down the sidewalk, and had been for a few minutes. Far behind him was the train he had taken. And now it was dark, so the streetlamps and glow of the restaurants and shops lit his way.

Hamlet had texted Horatio a while ago before he had gotten off of the train, but he hadn’t responded. He didn’t want to open his phone, for fear of the flood of texts from Ophelia who was no doubt mad he had left without telling her. He silenced his phone. No news was coming in, unless it was from Horatio.

Hamlet sat down on a little green metal bench. He was tired from the sudden trip, and didn’t even know where he was going. He looked up to see a tall hotel called the La Masquerade. The moon was bright and blue tinted, and cast a pleasant light over everything. 

After a moment, Hamlet stood up and continued walking aimlessly down the sidewalk. 

It was over half an hour before Hamlet’s phone signaled that Horatio had messaged him. He opened it, and saw that he had responded to his text. He was staying in a hotel with the rebels apparently. He asked, and found that it was in fact the La Masquerade, the hotel he had passed a while earlier. He turned around, and started back down the other way, when he saw a newsreel being played on a screen. It was showing the same articles he had seen on the train and before he left, mostly just pictures of Horatio and Claudius and the French ambassadors talking. Then something else flashed onto the screen. FIRE OF NOTRE DAME LESSENED; ONE PERSON FOUND DEAD AND ANOTHER RESCUED. MORE INFO AT TEN. The screen flashed two big pictures of Ben and Marc. Ben was gone.

Hamlet stumbled and sat back down on the bench. 

~~~

Horatio was jolted away in the middle of the night by the sound of something hard hitting the floor. He heard a soft scraping sound from the room behind the bathroom door, and then the door that led to the hotel opened. He sat up and peered through the hole in the door, and through the darkness he thought he saw a familiar face.

“...Hamlet?” He whispered, perfectly audible in the quiet room. The head jerked to the side, and the person opened the door to the bathroom. Horatio held his breath as the door swung open.

Hamlet stood in the doorway. His eyes lit up as he saw who it was, and Hamlet rushed to the bathtub, and dropped to his knees. He wrapped Horatio in a hug over the white rim of the tub. 

Horatio broke down. He had lived a year in the few days since he had seen Hamlet, and he had been hurt in so many ways. Hamlet allowed him to, and hugged him harder. 

“It’s okay,” He whispered. “I’m here.”

Monica and Maggie seemed to still be in the other room, sleeping presumably. So the two of them stayed quiet, and tried to communicate as softly as possible.

After Horatio had collected himself, he told Hamlet the whole story. How he had woken up that morning in terrible pain, and Laertes had given him a uniform and his phone, and driven him to Notre Dame cathedral. He told Hamlet how he had been roped into watching for spies with the other people in Laertes’ team, and how the fire had started. He told him about what Laertes had said, and about meeting Maggie. And he told Hamlet how everything was his fault. The fire was his fault, and he was so, so sorry, and he hoped that Hamlet and the rest of his friends would forgive him someday, and that he understood if Hamlet didn’t want him to be around him anymore, and how-

Horatio stopped spiraling when Hamlet hugged him again. 

“I would never do that,” Hamlet said. “I would never push you away. You are the one thing keeping our group together sometimes. We won’t make it without you. Well, I won’t make it without you.”

Horatio and Hamlet stayed in the bathroom, talking until morning.

[brittysaucefanfic]

A Fate Unclaimed

Part 22

(First)(Previous)(Next)(Last)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3) 

Yoooo I just realized I didn't post the new update on this story on tumblr and I am very ashamed. On the bright side I actually updated something! When I go through to fix this tomorrow I'll add an under the cut and the links but I'm lazy and tired. Lmao I won't keep you guys any longer. Let's go!

******

Lance stirs as the sun begins to set, and Keith is the first to notice. They had set up camp, which pretty much meant they just walked until they found a small plateau and hunkered down in an overhang. Shiro and Keith are the only ones awake, whereas Pidge and Hunk had passed out as soon it was clear they were all safe for the time being. They huddle close to Lance, one of his hands in each of theirs.

Shiro stands on watch at the edge of the overhang, a good few feet away, a sword pierced into the ground, hands settled over the hilt. He looks like a sentry, and Keith actually wishes for once he had some sort of artistic talent so that he could draw Shiro. Sadly, all of his skills lay with battle. Lance’s head shifts to the side to look at Keith, eyes still closed, tear tracks stained on his dirt covered face.

His eyes open to reveal a brilliant blue.

Keith and Lance have a tenuous friendship at best, but with the nonstop action the past two days, they haven’t had a chance to figure out which side of the scale they tilt towards. Friends or enemies. Even then though, a crushing relief surges into Keith’s chest. He’s lost a lot already, he won’t lose Lance, friend or enemy, doesn’t matter.

“Welcome to the land of the living sleeping beauty,” is the first thing out of Keith’s mouth. It doesn’t come out smooth whatsoever, and he feels his ears burn at the blurted pet name. He has never said anything like that. Not once in his life. There’s a silence for a moment, then Lance smiles, something slow that makes Keith’s pulse race just a little.

“Perhaps I’m still asleep if you’re using pet names now Samurai.” Lance mutters, he goes to sit up, but stops mid way when he realizes his hands are trapped. A soft look crosses his face as he eases free his hands, careful not to wake the demigods clutching onto him in their sleep.

“Lance, you’re awake.” Shiro says, easing over to the two of them, his shoulders losing some of the tension they had been holding as he stood guard. Shiro moves to sit beside the bundle of demigods so that he may look out for dangers.

“So it seems,” Lance muses quietly, smile slipping into a disturbed frown. The change is confusing to Keith, why does Lance seem so troubled? “How long was I out?” There is nothing in the way he asks it that seems out of place, but Keith still frowns when he senses something off.

“Only a day, thanks to Apollo.” Shiro says, and Keith is reminded that the wait wasn’t as long as it had seemed. To Keith it seemed like days. He’s never been the best when it came to patience, one of the many things Shiro bemoans about him.

“Apollo to the rescue? Did he,” Lance pauses. “Say anything?” It’s Shiro’s turn to look troubled. Keith realizes with a jolt that it’s so easy to read Lance’s facial expressions because they look almost identical to Shiro’s. Not his face, just the faces he makes. Perhaps if he imagined everyone to make the same expressions as Shiro, it would help Keith in his ‘social awkwardness’ as Shiro calls it.

“Yeah, Pidge asked why you weren’t claimed,” Shiro starts. “He said something about you not being for the Gods to claim yet."

The look on Lance's face tightens considerably, darkening. The conversation seems to have woken up the two sleeping beauties. Hunk stirs first, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with a yawn. Before he even opens his eyes, the first thing he does is straighten his slightly crooked orange headband, tightening it, then he reaches over to Pidge and goes to wake her up.

What's interesting to Keith is the fact that he doesn't shake her shoulder like one would expect. Instead he reaches underneath her chin and lightly runs his nail back and forth on her chin like she's a cat. Pidge scrunches her nose, then like lightning, she snaps her teeth at Hunk's hand. He pulls away like he was expecting it. This all happens with neither of them opening their eyes, and Pidge sits up grumbling.

"That's still unnerving you know." Lance says casually.

"Hey if it works it works." Hunk mumbles, still rubbing his eyes with continuous yawns.

"Lance can you hand me my glasses?" Pidge says as she stretches her arms above her head. Lance silently hands her the pair of glasses that are too big for her small face. Pidge is midway between slipping on her glasses when both Pidge and Hunk freeze and tense. Their eyes snap open almost simultaneously, and just as simultaneously they both screech Lance's name. Again, nearly simultaneously, they lunge at Lance and take him to the ground in a pile of limbs. Lance's breath rushes from him in an audible huff.

"Lance!" They yell, then Pidge's voice takes over Hunk's briefly.

"We thought you were a goner!"

Hunk then takes over the screeching. "Don't scare us like that!"

Lance laughs breathily, patting both of their backs with a groan and a wince. As they lean back away from him Lance rubs his once injured shoulder. There are still a few prominent black veins around where the wound originated, the last vestiges of the poison in his veins. The hole itself has closed, though ungracefully, looking more like a knot in a tree than skin.

It doesn't bulge prominently, but it's obvious that the skin healed far faster than it should have, leaving being a small raised knot. The skin twists around almost in a full circle, and with the black veins still prominent it isn't the nicest sight to look at. Keith looks away from the wound to Lance's face, locking eyes with a piercing pair of blue eyes. Lance offers him a small, tight smile and they break eye contact like it never happened.

"Yeah, I don't exactly plan on doing anything like nearly dying again." Lance says, then his lips form a grin that Keith might imagine to be a leer. "At least not until I've had sex first."

"Ugh!" Pidge cries out in disgust, shoving Lance back onto the ground as he cracks up laughing like a maniac. "You're deplorable!"

"Ooh that's a big word Pidgey. Good job! Such a smart girl you are!" Lance mocks, baby voice and all. She picks up a small rock and aims it at his head. Lance dodges with hardly a blink of surprise. Her face slowly drops the playful glare, and turns somber.

"We were really scared Lance. I-" she cuts herself off with a shaky inhale. "I've already lost my brother, but there's still a chance to find Matt. You- you nearly died. There is no return from death." She stops, not saying anything more, but the tears welling up in her eyes say everything. Lance gathers her in his arms and strokes her head, Pidge clinging onto him. Hunk, not one to be left out of an emotional hug, gathers them both into his arms, thick fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He cries silently though, nothing to hear but sniffles.

There's a moment of silence as Keith watches the three of them.

Something wells up in his chest, making him look away with a lump in his throat. Shiro's hand settles on Keith's shoulder, and Keith doesn't have to look up to know that Shiro is smiling at him in that big brother kind of way that he does.

"Okay that's enough!" Pidge snaps, squirming out of the group hug and settling herself on the ground with huff. She straightens her glasses and wipes at her eyes. "So, now that Lance is better do we need to start moving on to whatever it is we were sent on this quest to do?"

Suddenly it's business?

"Actually," Hunk chimes, wiping at his own eyes but still sitting with an arm around Lance. Pidge scoots quietly closer, so that Lance's knees and hers touch but nothing more. Lance and Pidge both hide their hands behind the touching knees for some reason. Are they a couple maybe? For some reason that image makes Keith want to separate them two with his own body. He doesn't, though, because that would be weird.

"What are we supposed to be doing?" Hunk asks. "Like we have a map, but no clue on what the quest is actually about? Are we stopping a bunch of monsters? Killing some ancient evil entity? Fighting rogue demigods?"

"Rogue demigods?" Lance repeats, one eyebrow arched high into his hairline. Hunk shrugs defensively.

"Maybe something Macaria talked to you about will give us a clue?" Shiro hints at Lance, his usually top notch subtlety somehow not being put to good use. Lance looks away, at the ground, the hand not hidden behind his knee picking at the torn up jeans he wears. He shivers as a breeze picks up suddenly, and Keith realizes Lance is still completely shirtless.

Keith pointedly does not look away from Lance's face as he slips off his dark red leather jacket and hands it to Lance. He takes it gratefully and slips it on. Keith ignores the chill that racks his spine when another cool breeze passes. Lance is the one who almost died, Keith can suffer a little chill. Not that he hasn't done so before anyways.

"We talked about a few things, but not much about the quest. Though," Lance trails off. "I have a decent idea of what's going on."

"You do?" Shiro asks, surprised. It seems he never expected Lance to answer.

"I had a dream while I was," Lance swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing at his throat. For some reason Keith is enthralled with the movement. "Dying. A nightmare more like actually." They're silent as they wait for Lance to elaborate. "I was in Camp, and it was empty. Then a strange man spoke to me like he knew who I was. He said-" Lance pauses, hesitates.

"Well it doesn't matter what he said, but I think he plans to overthrow the gods. He showed me the camp in ruins, flames, and the camp looking like some Disney villain army encampment. The same thing with the Roman camp. As well as two others I don't recognize, but I'm fairly positive they were demigod camps. Of some kind." Lance explains. His face turns twisted like he's in pain.

"Do you have any idea who it is?" Hunk asks. Lance shrugs unevenly, one shoulder higher than the other.

"I don't know, I've never seen the man before but Coran gave me a- the journal!" Lance bursts out in panic surging to his feet, wobbling, then rummaging through all of the packs and supplies. The sudden burst of movement makes Keith flinch unintentionally.

"Journal?" Hunk asks. "What journal?"

Lance finishes off one pack, the contents strewn across the ground haphazardly, and moves onto the next in much the same manner. Lance mutters frantically underneath his breath. He forgoes taking everything out one at a time and just dumps the pack upside down. This one is clearly Hunk's pack as a bunch of random gadgets and mechanical pieces crash to the ground.

"Hey!" Hunk whines, though he doesn't sound that upset about the mess. More like he's concerned. Or worried. Or scared. Or a lot of things actually. Keith needs to learn how to read people better.

"Coran gave me a journal that seemed really important and necessary and I need to find it!" Lance says. Pidge is the one to cry out indignantly when it's her pack being turned over.

"Geez lance be careful! And have you thought to look in your pack first?" Pidge huffs. Lance pauses in his rummaging and looks for his pack, as if he had suddenly remembered he had one of his own. He dives for it like a volleyball player diving to save the ball from touching the ground. Soon Lance's stuff joins the mess.

His stuff isn't quite so unique compared to the gadgets in Hunk's pack and the computer and stuff in Pidge's. In actuality his pack almost resembles Shiro's, the first pack to be rummaged through. Shiro seems to have no concern over Lance going wildly through their stuff as he watches out into the darkness of night.

The flames of the small fire cast flickering shadows on the wall of the overhang, coating the entire group in an eerie glow. Once again Keith wishes he could draw, to capture the moment on paper. The way the fire dancing across Shiro's face makes his scar almost dance with it, his metal arm shimmering with the light. The way Pidge is cast in Hunk's shadows, and how Hunk looks looming and dangerous with the flames touching his dark brown eyes.

And Lance.

The way Lance moves so frantically through his pack, the flickering light making Lance's movements seem like he's moving through water. Like he is water. A form barely held together as a whole. It's makes his tan skin glow gold like Apollo's. His blue eyes nearly glow, white teeth gnawing at his lower lip. Dark hair twisting around his head in flashes of flame and flashes of darkness. Keith's red jacket like their own flames engulfing Lance's body.

Keith swallows thickly and looks away.

Somehow his eyes land on the very thing Lance is looking for. It's hidden beneath his jacket, now torn at the shoulder where Lance was injured, a dark red stain surrounding the hole. It makes sense that no one thought to look there. The jacket is pushed up against the wall in a heap, dark enough that it blends with the dark dirt and far enough away that the flames don't cast light upon it. The journal that peeks out from beneath is dark too, but the pale cream of the pages on the side is a bright spot against so much dark.

Keith eases up slowly, not wanting to cause any unwanted attention. Everyone's eyes are on Lance as he gives a short shout of frustration. Keith grabs the book before Lance can start making a mess of his pack too and stops Lance from going after it with a hand on his shoulder. He holds the journal out delicately, looking Lance in the eyes. His pretty blues are misty with tears that haven't fallen.

"Is this it?" Keith asks near silently. The misty look disappears from his eyes and he goes to grab the book from Keith. The movement at first is violent, reaching to grab the book and yank it from Keith's hands. Then as Lance settles his long fingers around the spine, their fingertips touching just barely, his movement slows to a crawl. He slowly takes the book from Keith's grasp. The brief contact wasn't a lot but it still sent hot tingles up his wrist.

"Thank you." Lance says. And then the charged moment snaps as their eyes look away from each other. Lance settles on the ground with a heavy thump and an even heavier sigh.

Keith returns to his place on the other side of the fire. The seating is no longer one sided though, the four of them no longer on one side and he on the other. Shiro, Pidge and Hunk still sit across from Keith, facing out into the openness beyond. But now Keith and Lance sit on the other side, next to each other, knees almost touching.

Keith is not a thinking type of person.

He doesn't think about his actions most of the time, he just goes for it and damned be the consequences. It's gotten him kicked out of many schools, thrown out of many foster homes, and unintentionally made him a bully or a victim. Sometimes (most times) he was the stronger one, making Keith the bully even though the other kids started it. Other times he was the smaller one and the other kids had the advantage so Keith became the victim.

So he's no philosopher, and he's no ponderer.

But it seems even Keith can make an exception. He knows he's not the brightest when it comes to other people. It's hard to understand the emotions and feelings on their faces, and the intentions behind their actions. He's not even used to being so thoughtful about what he isn't.

He's never before lamented he was a fighter and not an artist. He's never lamented that he sometimes can't understand other people unless they explain it to him in clear words. He's never lamented the fact that he's technically only ever had one friend, and that's Shiro. But now? Now he wants it all with a burning passion.

He wants to understand jokes so he can laugh with other people. He wants to understand facial expressions and body language so he can be the one to comfort someone else for once. He wants to have friends other than Shiro who won't just disappear when he gets too much of a burden.

There's always been a metaphorical line that separates him from other people. One that he tries desperately to cross but he can't see it. Only those on the other side know where the line is and refuse to let him cross into their world. Up until now Shiro was the only one who ever crossed the line to Keith. Now, just as Lance sits beside him on one side of the fire, so might he stand beside him on Keith's side of the line.

Or perhaps Lance has one foot on either side, ready to cross either which way but not decided on which side he would choose yet. Keith vainly hopes Lance leans to Keith's side, but he won't know until Lance crosses completely.

"So," Shiro finally speaks up, drawing the word out with a faint southern drawl. Shiro isn't southern, but Keith is. It makes Keith wonder if maybe Shiro picked up on Keith's barely there southern accent. If that's even possible. "What's so important about the journal?" Shiro asks.

"I don't know yet. I haven't read anything from it but something about the man in the dream made me think of Coran and subsequently the journal." Lance explains. He cuts himself off with a yawn before continuing. "Whoever he was though he was good at controlling my dream. He had me paralyzed, barely able to speak, let alone move. And he said something along the lines of him seeing my impending death on my soul."

"Huh." Pidge says, a hand on her chin in thought. "A son of Hypnos maybe? Since he could control dreams?"

"No," Lance says as he shakes his head. "He's too powerful. If he's a demigod, which is still unclear, I'd say he rivals the power of Shiro and Allura. I could see it."

That makes Keith curious, the way he said that. As if the power coming off of the strange man in the dream was something he could actually see. Something corporeal, something he could touch. His mouth is speaking before Keith has a chance to realize he's doing it.

"What do you mean by you can 'see it'?" Keith asks. Lance snaps his head to the side to stare at Keith with wide eyes, then stares at the journal in his lap, picking at the leather cord binding the pages closed.

"Uh, well." Lance stammers. "Okay so, you can't laugh at me. I swear I'm telling you the truth."

"Lance." Shiro says in a calming voice, finally looking away from the nighttime darkness. "You can tell us anything. We're your friends."

Lance stares at Shiro for a long moment, making the silence between the five of them grow tense. The only sounds in the air are the crickets and the distant howling of bobcats or coyotes or whatever big predator animals the desert have. Lance finally slumps his shoulders with a sigh.

"So ever since I was young I get these," Lance pauses to try and figure out the words. "Flashes of color around certain people, and it didn't really happen until I learned of my godly blood. Then it happened more often but I kind of learned to ignore it like it wasn't there. To the point where sometimes I don't even realize it happened again until after the fact." Lance explains. He starts drawing little runic designs in the sand that look vaguely familiar.

"I get them for everyone, or at least the demigods and Gods. Usually the color is muted gold, maybe with another color kind of mixed in. Sort of like auras? But not quite. Some demigods shine brightly, blindingly like Macaria and," Lance pauses and swallows thickly. "Shiro and Allura too. They all nearly blinded me the first time I saw them. The gods, or at least those I've met, which isn't many, all shone the brightest. First time I met Apollo I nearly passed out from being overwhelmed by the glow."

"Glow, as in what Macaria said?" Pidge asks tentatively. Lance nods.

"She knew what it was, and she explained only that it made me unique, that I was gifted due to my heritage. It's supposedly one of many things that are in my power that makes me stand above other demigods or whatever." Lance says, and Keith can practically feel the waves of bitterness rolling off of him. "And I'm sorry, by the way."

Lance looks up and eyes them all with a sorrowful look.

"Macaria she, she used the glow against me. Used it like Shiro and Allura didn't know they could." Lance says. Shiro nearly jerks back in shock.

"What do you mean?" Shiro asks.

"I mean, there's a reason I'm always hanging off of you two." Lance says wryly, a dry smirk quirking at his lips. "The glow, when it's bright enough, enthralls me. Makes me crave the close proximity to it. At least that's what Macaria said it was. She told me to learn to resist the thrall or I won't be a help on this quest, I'll only hinder it."

"But what does the glow mean? What's it there for?" Hunk asks. Lance goes to answer, then pauses, eyes wide and bewildered.

"You guys are making it sound like you believe me." Lance says. Keith tilts his head curiously to the side, eyeing Lance's profile.

"Why wouldn't we?" Keith asks. Lance looks at him and Keith stares into glowing blue eyes. "You said you were telling the truth, why wouldn't we believe you?"

"Exactly." Hunk says, nodding. Pidge hums her agreement.

"I've never known you to lie about something so important Lance. I doubt you would start now." Shiro says. Lance blinks and then smiles a tiny little smile.

"Thanks guys. But to answer Hunk's question I don't know. I don't think Macaria knows for sure either. She said she was the only person she's known for centuries who sees it until I was born." Lance says, a shrug of his shoulders. Then he wrinkles his nose. "And apparently she felt it when I was born too, which weirded me out so I changed the subject."

"Well first," Pidge starts. "Creepy. Second. Did she say anything else about what she does know?" Lance shrugs to her question.

"Just that the fates put her through hell in back a few times, even literally. That I should be careful of my own self and of others if I want to survive." Lance says. He throws it out there casually, but even Keith, antisocial Keith, can see the hard line of Lance's lips, and the tense set of his shoulders, the strain of his voice to stay casual.

"Anyways." Lance explodes out suddenly, jumping up and quickly repacking everything he made a mess of in no time flat. He soon turns on heel and places his hands on his hips. "I'm tired. Who has first watch? And no, Shiro, it won't be you. When I woke up you were standing watch." Lance says, beating Shiro to the punch.

Shiro actually pouts and concedes to Lance's demand.

What a pushover.

Keith goes to offer himself up as watchman when Lance glares him down. Apparently Keith is lumped in with Shiro on the whole being forbidden from taking watch thing. Seems it's up to Pidge and Hunk.

"I'll do it." Pidge says, standing with a languid stretch of her body. Keith winces as he hears her neck, knees, and fingers pop. Then she twists her body and her back pops too. Keith suppresses a shudder at the sound. He hates that sound. Why would anybody do something like that to their own bodies? "I've got enough sleep anyways. Y'all get some rest, I've got your backs."

Pidge then swipes up her weird boomerang blade thing and strides out to the edge of the overhang with a blanket, settling up against a rock and crossing her legs. She's a far more relaxed sentry then Shiro was, but Keith has no doubt she's twice as deadly.

Lance is the first to stride over to where he had been unconscious earlier as he healed, laying down and sliding the heap of a jacket underneath his head as a pillow. Hunk isn't far behind, and for that matter neither is Shiro, though he simply lays on his back where he had been sitting, arms beneath his head. Keith looks back towards Lance and freezes when glaring blue eyes lock onto him.

With a huff he slides onto his side to fall asleep, or at least pretend to.

Every time Keith peeks his eyes open Lance is still looking at him with a deadly glare. Eventually the allure of rest conquers and he's soon falling asleep to Hunk's snoring and Shiro's sleepy whistle noises he makes in his sleep.

"Goodnight Keith." Lance whispers and Keith doesn't have time to return it before he's falling under the veil of unconsciousness.

******

(First)(Previous)(Next)(Last)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3)

[brushstrokesapocalyptic]

The Legend of Asriel PART 4 | HYRULE CASTLE

now home, chara finds what they weren’t looking for.

Frisk cheerfully waves goodbye to Maddie, who refuses to be charmed by this brat and just tells them she won’t be sticking around to lug them anywhere else. Frisk considers this reasonable, and turns to Chara to ask for further directions to where they’re going. Chara points at the castle in the distance.

“Question,“ Frisk signs. “Why do you expect to find this person in Hyrule Castle?“

“Because he lives there,“ Chara replies, as if that’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Who is he, anyway?“

Chara takes some time to respond, continuing to lead Frisk through the streets with ease. “He’s the prince,” they finally sign. “As the Hero, I was raised for the purpose of fighting alongside him to defeat the evil destined to threaten Hyrule. We’re practically siblings.”

Frisk squints. “I’ve been wondering about that. What makes you the hero and not some other person?”

Chara wordlessly tugs one of their leather gauntlets off and shows Frisk the back of their hand, where a faint birthmark in the shape of three triangles sits. “This marks me as part of this whole cycle of evil. Asriel has one too, and the other is supposedly on the sealed evil, which only leaves me. The Hero.”

Frisk rubs a little at the back of their own hand as Chara tugs the gauntlet back on. “That seems dumb and arbitrary,” they say. “Who is this evil anyway?”

Chara shrugs. “The story doesn’t say,” they reply. “All we know is that a hundred years ago, the Prince and the Hero raised alongside him fought back a terrible evil and sealed it away for a hundred years, and now the time is up.” They pause. “Well, I hope it’s still only been a hundred years. Again, I don’t know how long I’ve been gone.”

Frisk nods, and the conversation drops. Chara leads them to the castle gates and they try to gain access, but the guards inform them that no one is permitted into the castle to see the prince so “Scram, kid.”

Chara informs them that it’s fine, they really didn’t expect it to work anyway. The bit about no one being allowed is curious, but they don’t know what to make of it yet so, “Here, follow, me I know the best way to sneak in and out of this place.”

What follows is a stealth segment. Frisk gets in through a secret passage and has to sneak through the halls, dodging patrolling guards and servants and whatnot. Chara recognizes some of them, confirming to them that they haven’t been gone that long. They also capture some snippets of passing conversations, maids complaining to each other about how strict “that dodgy scientist” is being and other foreshadowing of that ilk.

The first place Chara leads Frisk is to the garden. Asriel always liked to hang out with them there! But they search high and low between the tall hedges and find no prince. So they head for his quarters, which look far more tidy than Chara has ever seen him— it’s like he hasn’t even touched them for months. On a whim, they poke their head into their own quarters just across the hall, and see them in much the same state. They try and fail to rearrange their pillows into something less eerily neat.

Another conversation passes, and this one really grabs their attention because there’s their Dad— King— Asgore, walking with some masked guy they’ve never seen before. Frisk follows, still in Stealth Mode, and they go down into the dungeons to find a sorta... laboratory... workshop-y.... room. Which Chara is quite sure wasn’t always there, this room used to contain like, training dummies and stuff. Now there’s all these tables and equipment and stuff, and a weird bundle on top of a crate which Chara keeps finding their eyes drifting towards as they follow Asgore into the room. Frisk hides behind some kinda furniture or in a convenient air vent or something, idk, and the two of them listen in.

Asgore and The Dude have a heated discussion of some sort. The dude has Plans and Asgore is a reluctant coward as usual. Several nuggets of information are dropped: First of all, it’s been six months since Chara died. Second, the Queen is missing, having been the one to deliver this news and also Chara’s body to the castle before disappearing off the face of the planet (also with Chara’s body). Third, Asriel is missing, and as much as Chara is upset to hear about that they realize they really should’ve seen that coming seeing as they already checked the two places Asriel hangs out in when Chara isn’t around. Oh, also the dude’s name is Dr. Gaster. Does this qualify as a twist? I don’t think it does.

I would also like to note that Deltarune has very little bearing on Gaster’s role in the story, as we currently have next to no concrete information on how he plays into it. Some minor details are influenced, of course, but just in case anyone decides to come charging in telling me about how wrong I am. I don’t care. This is my au. I can do what I want.

Conversation continues. Whatever Gaster’s plans are, they apparently involve that bundle Chara keeps finding themself staring at. It is an Important Bundle. Gaster picks it up and starts unwrapping it, expressing how Important it is. Asgore agrees that it is Important and that is why he is against it being used for anything because the hero is dead who else could possibly use it, much less in this state.

I then proceed to hold you the reader in suspense for the duration for at least another sentence.

Gaster dumps the contents of the bundle on a bare table and Chara suppresses a shriek at the sight of a million shards of silver metal all clattering together and topped by a blue hilt, carved in the shape of two stylized bird wings.

“When the FUCK did that happen,“ they ask, very loudly and unheard by literally anyone but themself. Gaster and Asgore go on talking, but Chara is too busy forgetting to continue interpreting for Frisk as they leap across the room to look more closely. They have to confirm. This can’t be the Master Sword, right? The legendary sword of evil’s bane? It can’t just explode into a million pieces, right? What kind of a legendary piece of shit does that? It can’t be real.

But the closer they look at it, the more certain they get— it’s very real. The hairs on the back of their neck stand up a little as they reach to touch the hilt, though they’re sure they’ll just pass through like always, but they’re cut off by Asgore slamming his fist on the table. The conversation was still going, after all, and something Gaster had to say made the king mad.

“I will not have you insinuate such things about Chara,“ Asgore says. “They were as a much my child as Asriel. You cannot possibly say they were any type of villain!“

Gaster dips his head. “Be that as it may. The fact that the sword was rendered in this state. After their failed attempt to retrieve it. Indicates they were not the hero. With only one other option available...”

Asgore snorts, cloak billowing right through Chara’s body as he turns to leave. “Absolutely not,” he says. “Come speak to me when you can speak of actually sensible topics.”

“...Very well,“ Gaster says, and Asgore vanishes out the door. Somehow, he manages to look baleful even through the odd cracked mask he’s been wearing this whole time.

He remains for a few minutes longer, carefully re-wrapping the pieces of the Master Sword and setting them aside once more. He examines some of the machinery, prods a few things, then leaves as well.

Frisk pokes their head out from their hiding place to give Chara a dry stare. “Mind filling me in?” they ask, getting to their feet. “You only translated the first half of that conversation, I had to guess at what they were talking about after that.”

“My apologies,“ Chara says, perching on the edge of a table with a casual smile. “I had deemed the rest of what they had to say so utterly banal, I was sure you’d be just as bored as I was.“

“Bullcrap,“ Frisk says, leaning around them to look at the bundle. “You’re way more awesome at interpreting than that, something got your attention. What was that, a pile of daggers?“

“A broken sword, actually,“ Chara replies, smile growing strained. “The sword I was meant to acquire, actually. You may recall I mentioned it?“

“Vaguely,“ Frisk says. “Anyway, conversation?“

Chara shrugs helplessly. “I was sorta distracted, sorry,“ they reply. “I think that Gaster guy insinuated I’m not the Hero and Dad got mad, which he should because obviously I’m the Hero. I’ve been the Hero all my life.“

Frisk remains skeptical.

“Anyway we definitely shouldn’t stick around, that guy could come back at any minute,“ Chara says, hopping to their feet and trying to look like they’re not on the verge of a panic attack. “Grab the bundle and let’s go.“

“Wait, why do we need the bundle?“ Frisk asks, picking it up. “It’s just a bunch of hunks of metal now, right?“

“I dunno but it’s definitely important,“ Chara says, bustling them out of the door. “Now come on, nearest escape route’s that way.“

More stealth, but this one ends in Frisk getting spotted by a guard. They attempt to flee, but luck is not on their side as they get surrounded. Gaster shows up, being basically in charge of everything right now and naturally curious about the sudden cries about an intruder. The guards part all dramatic-like to let him through and he peers at Frisk, musing about what a child from the desert is doing all the way up here.

Then he notices the bundle tucked under their arm. They attempt to turn their body to hide it, but Gaster has already seen it. “Would you care to hand that over?” he asks, holding out a hand. “It’s quite important. Not the sort of. Thing. Petty thieves have any use for.”

Frisk narrows their eyes, taking a small step back, and Gaster tuts. “I had hoped. You would listen,” he says. He jerks his head at one of the guards. “You. Retrieve that package. Mind their blade. Whether they know how to use it. I imagine it would sting.”

The indicated guard steps forward, reaching for the bundle, and Frisk draws back again, indeed going for their sword. There’s not very far they can go, though, and no way they could win this fight, so they prepare to give up the bundle.

Chara has other ideas, though, and as the guard touches the bundle they lunge, hands passing through the fabric and wrapping around the broken hilt— wrapping around it, they realize, not merely pretending but actually touching it— and something surges through them. And then a fraction of a second, it surges out of them in the form of a blinding flash of golden light that sends all the guards reeling, eyes burnt as they grope around wildly and raise their voices in an attempt to figure out what just happened.

When the spots clear from their vision, they find the weird child is gone, and the Royal Scientist merely staring at the spot they just vacated with his mask as unreadable as always. And a short distance from the palace (but growing further with every moment) Frisk runs full-tilt away from the window they just scrambled out of, bundle clutched tight to their chest and ghost drifting along after them.

“I told you it’d be important!“

[Next Part] [Index]

[dark-unimaginably-stupid-kids]

Fate/Voltron and their classes

Okay so Voltron Fate AU if they’re all servants (and since there are a BILLION Fates, I’m gonna go hella general.)

Fun fact: This has been sitting in my drafts since BEFORE I posted the terribly self indulgent short scenes [1,2] [3,4] . Click the read more for some musing.

Shiro would absolutely be a ruler class there is no doubt in my mind about that. Though he could easily be high level assassin or even Berserker type...

Keith could be Saber but a lower level, tier 3 or 4 tops. His stronger alignment would be Assassin for sure. Though he definitely has an affinity for rider (these could be 5 star or 4 idk tbh.) And Galra!keith would be Berserker, probably locked at 4 stars.

Lance would be a 4 star (I wanna say 5 but I’m trying to fight my bias.) archer class, occasionally a rider also at 4 stars. We’ve yet to see him use his sword so I’ll give him the potential for a 3 star saber.

Allura’s main would be caster, 4 or 5 star ranking. She could also be a 3 star lancer if summoned differently. (Anyone else miss her original weapon?? Just me?? Okay bye.)

Pidge could be a caster in the same way we have casters like Shakespeare but she fits better as assassin IMO since she’s apt at cloaking, an unassuming fighter— she kinda sneaks up on you. She’d be a lower level assassin though, 3 star at the most. Her caster would be 4 star because it’s ALL shadowy tech stuff...but it would be like summoning Cu as Caster, he /wants/ to be a Lancer Lol. And assassin Pidge would still be very tech oriented she would just be able to utilize /all/ of her strengths as assassin while castor focuses only on her biggest strength, if that makes sense?

I honestly have NO idea regarding Hunk. He’s no saber or Lancer, he’s not a good shot so no archer. Assassin? absolutely not. He could be rider but I don’t feel like it plays to his strength well enough, and that is sadly brute strength.

But berserkers are so utterly.... not like Hunk? Cause I mean his other strengths lie in how he handles things— I know there are a bunch of other classes too but I’m not super familiar with anything past Ruler. Oh! Wait! No! I’m stupid.

I’mmmm stupid. Shielder. That one at least feels like it fits him better. Nothing negates him anyway. Though now that I’m /thinking/ about it Hunk could also be a Ruler class. Definitely better fit if we think about how sensible he really is.

Yeh. That’s my vote. Hunk is Ruler class, 4 star. Otherwise he’s a shielder with an occasional summoning as rider which isn’t usual but he has a soft spot for the summoning because it gives him easier access to Sunshine.

Lotor would be a 5 star saber, sorry not sorry. Potential for assassin and berserker but berserker class would drop him to a 3 star just because, thems the rules, I don’t make this shit up -cough-

Matt’s a Lancer, with slightly better luck than most Lancers because omg baby. (If your wondering, Allura would easily be immune to the Lancer curse okay shush)

alright so that’s the thought process I had behind placing the main cast as servants... more stuff later lol.

[ginkagewrites]

Intro

Awakening: Keith | Lance | Allura | Hunk | Pidge | Shiro

Convergence: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Reunion: 1 | 2

Return

His eyes hurt. His throat hurt. Yet… the moment he thought about the discomfort, it vanished. The red fur beneath his cheek felt just as dry as it did when he first wept out the balance of his pent-up emotions. The warm purring beneath continued unabated, eventually bringing him back to center.

Lance pushed himself up to a sitting position, releasing tightly fisted sections of Red’s ethereal pelt and smoothing them over half-heartedly. The lion twitched its tail and, with an all-over ripple of muscles, resettled the bunched fur back into place. Golden eyes gave him a quietly amused look before the cool nose of the lion pressed lightly against his cheek.

‘Feel a bit better, cub? A bit less pressure behind that dam in your head?’ Red asked its Paladin with a surprising gentleness for an otherwise stubborn lion. Lance almost felt a maternal note to the rumbling in his head. Perhaps he was just projecting his mother on Red since their reunion was still so fresh in his memory.

“Yeah… I think so. It’s just.. All been so much. Going full-tilt, balls to the wall, no end in sight sorta thing since we got back.” he murmured, running a gloved hand through his hair. “Barely home and it almost all fell apart again. I know, I heard what you said before, I’m not rehashing that part.” Red had narrowed its eyes at Lance there for a moment, causing the Paladin to hold up both hands defensively around a faintly annoyed expression.

‘Being defenders of the universe is not an easy task… and you all were much younger than our first Paladins. Less experience with conflict.’ Red purr-rumbled and slowly raised itself to a seated position, tail still curled around Lance’s thighs and hips protectively. ‘That’s part of why this place is here. Your bodies are an easier thing to heal than your minds by a great deal. This was the easiest way to let you all work through what’s happened and have at least some chance of moving forward.’

‘It doesn’t mean that it won’t still affect you.’ the lion looked up at the swirling star-field above them and sighed with a note of resignation. ‘We can’t take it all off of you… as much as we wish we could. But if everything out there is too much, we can give you this when you need an escape.’

“Kinda like a vacation… but we don’t have to go anywhere. I think I get it. “ Lance mused, raising one hand to tap his fingers against his chin. His lower lip stuck out slightly as it often did when he was puzzling something that wanted to otherwise escape him. After a breath or two, he sighed gustily and shrugged, looking sheepishly at his lion. “I think I do… but this magical spiritual mumbo-jumbo was never my strong suit and you know it.”

The rumbling purr that echoed through the starfield around them reminded Lance of laughter, but there was no derision in it or the feeling that he’d missed out on something. It was friendly and familiar and put some of his doubts at some level of ease. ‘You tried, my cub. I think that’s all anyone can or should ask of you at the best of times.’

They sat that way for a while, companionable silence flitting between them long enough for a small sun-like star in the distance to dawn, rise slightly, and sink back into the astral horizon. Lance ran his fingers lazily through Red’s fur and began to realize that a lot of his worries upon waking had indeed eased. Some were still there, mostly the ones about the state of his fellow Paladins, but the rest seemed softened and not as full of sharp, painful angles and cracks. It brought a small smile to his face as his eyes unfocused on the horizon and he just let himself breathe.

However long it was, eventually Red nosed him gently and lifted one of his hands up. Lance answered by running his fingers along to the lion’s ears and rubbing one gently. ‘I think it’s time we went and found the others. You seem like you’re more centered than before, calmer.’

“Yeah… it’s not the beach back home… but it has the same effect.” he said softly, mouth quirking to one side as the lion leaned against his hand with a somewhat more enthusiastic purr. “Thanks, Red. I’m glad we bonded enough that you could help me like this. What everyone says about the Red Lion being difficult isn’t really tr-ACK! WHAT THE QUIZNAK!”

Lance’s well-meant and matter-of-fact voice ended in a screech as Red abruptly stood, seeming to grow several sizes with the movement, and reached down to pick up its Paladin like an errant… kitten. Looking down, Lance had only a split second to realize his feet were nowhere near the ground before Red leapt into movement across the starfield. The celestial view around them warped and streaked as red paws pounded across the expanse, narrowing in on a familiarly colored set of comets.

As the red quickly gave way to a soft white, Lance squeaked out “Mama?” before the light enveloped them.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Action Figure

Action Figure Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: Coran has a set of gifts for the Paladins to help boost morale. They have a few... Concerns, to say the least. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: I want you all to know that this was the first prompt I had figured out once I saw the full list. I have been hyped for this one!

They’d all been settled in the castle kitchen, nibbling on some almost-brownies Hunk had made and swapping stories when Coran came stumbling in with a decently sized box in his hands. He dropped the box in the center of the table, leaned on it, and grinned widely at them all. “So, Paladins,” He drawled happily, lightly rapping his fingers along the top of the box, “how would you all like a little treat?”

“That depends… Normally your ‘treats’ involve really terrible feats be accomplished first. Like that time you promised us all a day off but first we had to survive a six consecutive rounds of combat against the gladiator drones on their highest setting,” Hunk said wearily, taking a suspicious sip of his milk.

“Personally I believed that the training experience itself was a wonderful treat,” Allura chimed in.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nut when it comes to running drills and exercises. Even before you were an piloting a Lion you rode us like a cowboy on a bucking bronco at a rodeo,” Pidge scoffed with a roll of her eyes. She then paused and glanced over at Keith. “Which reminds you, have you ever been to a rodeo before? I mean, you grew up in Texas, yeah?”

He shrugged. “I grew up there in a lot of my younger years but, after age nine, I was kind of a ward of the Garrison,” He explained.

She hummed thoughtfully before Coran cleared his throat to get their attention again. “I believe I asked a question,” He said with a dainty sniff.

“I’m sure we’ll all be happy with whatever you’ve brought for us, Coran,” Shiro said with a small smile.

Coran beamed before starting to open the box. “Well, I’m sure you all remember those phenomenal shows we put on a while back?” He mused.

“You mean the ones were you flanderized us all into stereotypes that could be seen as demeaning and degrading to us as individuals, thus making a mockery of the contributions we make to the team on an everyday basis?” Hunk asked flatly, licking a smearing of chocolate from his thumb. All eyes swiveled to him and he perked up in surprise, an anxious smile starting to turn up on his lips. “Oh, uh, I mean, those shows where we got a bunch of new additions to the coalition?”

“And you almost got us all killed because you had some weird brain slug or whatever?” Lance asked before taking another bite of his brownie.

Keith cocked his head and looked at Pidge expectantly. “Wait, what is that all about? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

She shrugged. “It was while you were more focused on working with the Blade. You were a little too busy to keep up with at the time aside from the big conference calls to discuss orders and mission specifics,”

“Ah,” He agreed with a nod.

“Anyway,” Coran said as he popped open the flaps, “the show was such a hit that we were selling holocaster recordings of it!”

Hunk seemed to pale at that. “Oh, great, so now a whole chunk of the universe thinks I’m just some goofy slob,” He whined.

“Hey, at least you won’t be looked at like a complete idiot by any life form with a basic grasp of the logistics of space travel,” Pidge quipped back.

“Excuse me,” Allura said calmly, holding up one hand, “but I think I got the shortest end of this deal out of all of us.”

Silence fell at the table for a moment before they all turned back to Coran. “So, uh, what does this have to do with the show?” Lance asked.

Coran brightened significantly at the question. “Glad you should ask, Lance! See, since the recordings were selling so well, Bii-Boh-Bi and I decided that producing merchandise would be a great idea! All the proceeds are used to help fund the rebellion, of course, but it’s been going very well! We’ve sold shirts, hats, stickers, even undergarments!” He said enthusiastically. He then began rummaging through the box excitedly. “We have also sold action figures of all five Lions of Voltron, toy versions of the bayards and a slew of other toys! But this, here, are the prototypes of the latest addition!”

And, with a dramatic flair, he produced a figurine donning the Black Paladin armor.

And the table immediately erupted into laughter.

“Oh, my God! Did they give Tiny Shiro steroids? He looks like two Shiros combined!” Pidge wheezed out, throwing herself back against her chair. Indeed the figurine had rippling muscles… That were significantly more pronounced than the actual Shiro.

“It’s a Double Stuffed Shiro!” Lance gasped, exchanging a look with Pidge and Hunk, before all three erupted into even more ludicrous laughter. Allura looked a bit confused, but was still giggling a bit behind one hand. Keith was looking between the stone figure of Real Shiro and Figurine Shiro, lip between his teeth, trying as hard as he could to not laugh outright.

Coran frowned a bit. “Well, perhaps it looks better in the alternate outfit? It comes with a second costume composed of that really phenomenal black shirt you wore that one time,” Coran suggested, starting to rummage through the box to find the accessory.

“No! No, the figure it fine in the Paladin armor!” Shiro snapped, his brain finally seeming to catch up with what was going on around him.

“Forget what he says! Change it into the shirt, Coran!” Lance all but shrieked.

“Yes!” Pidge hissed out in delirious glee.

“Do it! Do it!” Hunk agreed.

“Why don’t we look at some of the others?” Shiro barked quickly, trying to plaster on a polite smile but the edges coming off just a bit too forced.

“Well, that would be a good idea! As I said, these are just prototypes, so Bii-Boh-Bi wanted to get some feedback to make sure they’re as accurate as possible,” He said, setting the Shiro figure next to the box and beginning to rummage through for another one.

Lance swiped the actions figure up and began messing with it, posing it this way and that. “Fear not, innocent creatures of the universe! Shiro the Hero and his loyal Team Voltron are here to protect you!” He declared, dropping his voice a few octaves to try and imitate Shiro, while making the figure flex.

Laughter echoed again at the table, a crimson hue beginning to creep up along Shiro’s face as he swiped the toy from Lance’s grasp, but then paused to Coran pulled out the next figure.

And then it started all over again.

“It looks like they put Lance’s face under a magnified glass!” Hunk cackled.

“I’m melting, I’m melting!” Pidge squealed, throwing herself against the table for an added dramatic effect.

“Ding dong, the witch is dead~!” Keith suddenly sang, snickering at the nasty glare he got from Lance in response.

“Which old witch~?” Hunk joined in.

“The wicked witch~!” Shiro added, a hush falling for a second before everyone except Lance and Coran started howling yet again.

“It’s not that bad!” Lance protested, swiping the figure from Coran’s hand and looking it over. He opened his mouth to say something, one of his hands waving side to side in the air, then closed it. He then dropped the figure on the table and pulled the box over to himself. “Okay, okay, that’s enough about me! Let’s see what some of these other ones look like!”

“Excuse you!” Coran huffed indignantly.

Lance growled then perked up, freezing for a moment before pulling out a figure of white and yellow. “Oh, Hunk, buddy. I’m so, so sorry,” He said quietly, slowly turning the action figure to face the other Paladins.

Laughter paused for a moment before Hunk reached out, taking the figure from Lance’s grasp. He stared at it for a moment before taking a deep breath and adjusting the face so that it was staring up at the light above their heads. “All around me are familiar face, worn places, worn out faces~!” He belted out.

Shiro, Lance and Pidge started howling while Allura and Keith exchanged confused glances. Keith merely shrugged at her, showing he had no idea what they all found so funny either. “I think it’s another one of those meme things they like,” He mouthed.

“Oh,” She mouthed back.

“But seriously, they made my figure look like I am just ready for death. Like, I’ve given up on everything, no more of this living junk. Totally overrated,” Hunk explained, snickering as he waved his actions figure in the air.

Lance snickered before reaching into the bag again, a sharp bark of laughter escaping him as he grabbed another one. “Well would you look at this!” He said with a laugh, pulling out a figure of white and green. He cleared his throat before turning it to face the rest of the team. “Have you guys seen my pocket protector anywhere?” He asked, making his voice as nasally as possible and even trying to add a lisp.

Keith clamped one hand over his mouth, trying so hard to restrict the laughs vibrating in his chest, while Hunk guffawed like no other. Allura and Shiro settled into quieter laughter, both seeming to gauge Pidge’s reaction before being too vocal. Pidge herself actually snorted a bit, taking the figure and looking it over curiously. After a moment she tossed the action figure over her shoulder, batted her eyelashes, and said in her best Steve Urkel impression, “Did I do that?”

The other humans at the table were sent into another bout of rowdy cackling. Allura chuckled but was still clearly baffled as to what the joke fully was.

“Okay, we’ve only got Keith’s left,” Lance said, rummaging through the box again once he’d settled down.

The boy in question perked up, brow furrowing. “How did they make a figure of me? I didn’t participate in the show,” He pointed out.

“No, you didn’t, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t have a stand in for your part,” Allura said with a quiet groan.

“Tah-Dah~!” Lance sang as he produced the very silver-haired, very Altean and very beautiful Keith figurine to the others at the table.

“Wait, what?” Keith asked in alarm.

“Hey, Allura said it herself; she got the short end of the stick in the ice show compared to the rest of us. She got stuck having to play you,” Lance laughed loudly.

“I only hope that I was able to give you the complexity you deserve, Keith,” Allura said, her grin becoming something more teasing and mischievous.

“Don’t worry, I gave her a few pointers and coached her into the role, to insure the integrity of your character,” Pidge laughed. She and Allura exchanged sly smirks.

“I’m Keith, I’m so emo~!” They chimed in unison before dissolving into giggles.

He blinked then smirked a bit himself. “So then, if Allura is actually Keith, does that mean you two are dating now?” He asked, indicating the two of them.

“I suppose so. Sorry for stealing your girlfriend,” Allura mused, tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder and winking playfully.

Keith put on a fake scowl and looked down at Pidge. “How could you?”

“Hey, it’s not technically cheating since I just went from you to you,” She snickered back. She then shrugged lightly and indicated the other woman with a sweep of one hand. “And, honestly, can you blame me? You just have such a lovely figure that you can’t even compete!”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Allura crooned playfully, blowing Pidge a kiss.

“Aw, just speaking the truth, sugarlump!” She laughed back, pretending to catch the kiss and pressing it to her cheek.

Keith snickered before looking over at Allura. “You sure you want to take on the responsibility of being in a relationship with that thing? Garbage gremlins can be wily little creatures to date,”

“Excuse you, we prefer the term ‘compost cretins’, you bigot. See, this is why I had to leave you for you!” She said playfully, throwing her hands up in the air in mock-frustration.

The whole table erupted back into laughter while Coran pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes he wondered if these Paladins were really worth all the effort.

E

[sp4c3-0ddity]

I would like to see how you would spin number 31 into gen. 🙂

you may ask wtf is going on, and i would have an answer for you

“I have no idea,” would be the answer

also:  Lance’s logic is bizarre but i’m like 99.9% sure it would still be in character…if this wasn’t crack-ish. and i couldn’t resist the urge to worldbuild and pseudo-science which is how it got a little longer

Word count ~2400 words. hope it at least gets a laugh

Now on ao3!!

(31) “I can’t keepkissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

“Wait, the Besayans greet each other how?”

Allura took a very obvious very deep breath, eyes closed infalse serenity, at Hunk’s stunned disbelieving question. “Like I already said,the Besayans greet strangers at firstmeeting with a peck on the lips.”

“You’re kidding,” said Lance, his own eyes wide. Oh, was herelieved that Hunk would tag-teamwith the princess on diplomacy this round…

“I am not,” Allura told them. She folded her hands on thetable, halfway through explaining the protocol that she and Hunk would have totake while treating with the Besayans. “It’s meant to communicate a willingnessto trust and get to know each other, so while it is not our custom – or yours”—she glanced at Hunk, smilingreassuringly—“in this case it is better to participate. Fortunately they’re notas touchy as others we’ve dealt with.” Her smile took on a very strainedquality at some recollection; Keith was probably with her at the time, Lanceguessed. “Still, under no circumstances are you to touch any of their hands. Handshakes are gestures reserved for closefriends, family, and lovers.”

“Great,” Hunk said. He looked faintly ill as he considered.“No shaking hands, just skipping straight to kissing.”

“Hmm, I wonder what baseball is like on Besaya,” Lancemused, flashing a grin at Hunk.

“I’ve met with Besayans, Princess Allura,” the fourth intheir meeting piped up. Prince Lotor rested his elbow on the table, chin in hishand, looking relaxed despite the fact that he was still functionally theirprisoner, albeit a very compliant and mobileone. His odd colored eyes met Allura’s, and he added, “I would be happy toaccompany you to this meeting.”

Lance rolled his eyes at Hunk while he resisted the urge tomake some snappy comeback; while everyone else – even Keith – seemed relieved enough to have their one-time pursuantaboard the Castle, Lance couldn’t help but be suspicious that it was all some grand ploy to take over.

“You’re just jealousbecause Allura actually likes him,” Hunk had pointed out.

“Not true!” Lancehad retorted. “I just don’t think he’strustworthy.”

“None of us reallytrusts him, Lance,” Pidge had said. She’d rolled her eyes and added, “Besides, he’s powerless now. What’s hegoing to do?”

“Charm us all andsteal the Castle right from under our feet?”

Well, so far, everyone else was right, but so far, Lotorhadn’t had the chance to reveal his true colors…probably.

“Hunk can handle it,” Lance interjected loyally when Alluradidn’t immediately.

No, she seemed to be thinkingabout Lotor’s suggestion, but at Lance’s words she quickly agreed, “Yes,Prince Lotor, I think bringing you along so soon after you’ve joined us wouldnot endear our cause to the Besayans, I’m sorry to say.”

Lotor glanced from her, to Hunk, to Lance, and back to her,and then he said, “You’re as correct as always, Princess. The Besayans sufferedas much as anyone else at the hands of the Galra Empire.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Allura replied.

“Yeah, thanks,” Lance muttered under his breath. He ignoredthe sharp, reproachful look Hunk shot him in favor of narrowing his eyes atLotor, still suspicious that he would try something.

“This is Lotor’s fault!” Lance decided when Hunk came downwith a nasty – but not severe – illness the quintant before Allura’s scheduleddiplomatic meeting with the Besayans.

“No, it’s definitely not,” Pidge told him. She held thebiometric scanner – a nifty piece of Altean technology that endlesslyfascinated her despite biology not being her ‘area of expertise’ – up to Hunk,slowly drawing it along his body while Lance hovered worriedly.

Hunk only sneezed.

“See?” Pidge said once the scanner beeped and its displayflashed red. She held the screen up so Hunk, strong enough to sit up in bedpropped against a couple pillows, could see.

Lance stood near her, glancing over her shoulder, though hecouldn’t make heads or tails of the results. “I don’t see,” he told her.

Pidge shot him a glance, then pointed to a number in the topright corner. “That’s the lymphocyte count,” she explained. At Lance’s confusedeye roll, she sighed and added for his benefit, “Lymphocytes are white bloodcells.”

“When did you reprogram this for human biology?” Lancewondered, impressed.

“Coran, Shiro, and I have been working on it.” She grinnedand patted Hunk’s shoulder. “Hunk is our test subject now.”

“Great,” Hunk grumbled, a little softer than he wouldnormally.

“So what about hiswhite blood cell count?”

“It’s a little higher than usual,” Pidge said. She touchedthat corner of the display, and the screen changed, showing a more detailedanalysis. “Then there’s information on what antibodies are being released –quiznak this tech is amazing! And you don’t even have to do anything invasive – and a breakdown of specific white blood cell counts. Sobasically…Hunk probably has the flu.”

“There’s flu in space?”

“Uh, well, that’s the thing.” Pidge navigated back to whatlooked like a menu screen, and after a few more taps, she showed Lance and Hunkthe display again. “It’s a virus that Galra carry but are immune to. Humanimmunity, on the other hand…” She then shifted her eyes sheepishly towards Hunk.

“You have to quarantine me, don’t you?” Hunk asked, rightbefore breaking into a coughing fit.

“Well, it’s a little late for me, I think.” Pidge frownedand adjusted her glasses. “I’ve been in here for a while.” She glanced sidewaysat Lance. “Also I scanned you when you weren’t looking—”

“Hey!”

“—but you look fine. So you should probably get out nowbefore you catch it.”

“This isn’t like…the Galra equivalent of smallpox, is it?”Hunk wondered worriedly, hands clasped together.

“This won’t kill you, if that’s what you’re wondering,”Pidge reassured him, but after a beat of consideration, she averted her eyesaway from his face and added, “Probably.”

“Your bedside manner is not that great, Pidge,” Hunk said.

Pidge glared at him. “Anyway, my amateur opinion is thatHunk can’t go to that meeting with Allura.”

“Quiznak,” Lance said, gripping his chin with his hand.

“What?” Both Pidge and Hunk turned to regard him.

“This means she’ll end up taking Lotor,” he said, scowling and crossing his arms.

“No, she’ll probably take Shiro or you first,” Pidge said.She rolled her eyes at him and said, “Honestly Lance, I don’t trust him much yeteither, but your reasons are pretty selfish.”

“Excuse—”

“But you should really give Allura a little more credit whenit comes to choosing diplomacy partners, yeah?” With that, Pidge shot him onelast glare and left with a quick promise to send Coran to check on Hunk againlater.

After the door slid shut behind her, Hunk piped up, “How comeno one’s asked me how I feel aboutthis?”

Lance looked at him and frowned, a prickle of shame hittinghim. “Did you really want to kiss a bunch of strangers though?”

Hunk laughed, or tried to, for he fell into a nasty,wet-sounding coughing fit. Lance handed him a tissue and the glass of waterPidge brought him earlier, and after he drank and blew his nose, he said, “No, butif the alternative is being sick…”

“Hey, you can get sick from kissing people too,” Lancepointed out reasonably.

“With just a peck?” Hunk shrugged and said, “Anyway, Allurawould be doing most of the talking—”

“As usual.”

“—so anyone that isn’t Pidge or Keith can fill in for me.”

“Keith I get,” Lance said, “but why not Pidge?”

“Can you imagine Pidge diplomaticallyagreeing to kiss a few strangers?”

Lance pictured it…at least until his mental image of Pidgethrew a punch across a little green man’s jaw. He snickered and said, “No,guess not.”

“Also, Pidge’s usual common ground is tech, but from Allura’sbriefings, the Besayans don’t let science touch politics, so she would get verybored very fast.”

Lance nodded in understanding. “Makes sense,” he said. “GuessAllura will probably take Shiro then.” He smiled, satisfied with thatconclusion.

At least until that evening, when Allura approached himafter dinner and asked, “Lance, are you doing anything tomorrow?”

Lance grinned. “I have no plans,” he said.

“Good,” she said, and smiled. “I need you to take Hunk’splace at the diplomatic meeting tomorrow.”

Lance’s eyes widened, glee and dread combining to make his stomacha mess of nerves and anxiety. Allura touched his arm as she passed, and Pidgecame up to him. She grabbed his elbow and hung off him, doubling over, and fora moment Lance worried she was choking, at least until she heaved a breath and snickered.

“Oh my God, Lance,” she said, and she laughed even harder. “Youshould see the look on your face!”

“Thanks, Pidge,” Lance grumbled, scowling at her. “I’m so glad that the thought of me kissing abunch of strangers makes you this happy.”

Pidge sobered up then and said, “Yeah, that’s what’s funny about this.” Her eyes then darted past him.

Lance followed her gaze to see Lotor staring at him, athoughtful frown on his face, as if sizing him up. Lance then pointedly turnedhis back to him, smugness seizing him when he remembered that Allura still chosehim over a half-Altean prince…

…though he was substitutingfor Hunk.

Lance slumped, wondering what would be in store for him.

To Lance, kissing was a sacred act, something to be sharedwith someone special whether it wasthe first or not, rather than something that was a different culture’sequivalent of a handshake.

(Though apparently theirequivalent of a kiss was ahandshake, so perhaps that could be forgiven.)

It felt like cheating though, and Lance was still low enoughin his Kiss Count that he could count all of them on one hand – not that he’dever admit that aloud. Which was why he made an effort not to even come close to enjoying kissing strangers –humanoid aliens with glittery pale pink skin, three pairs of arms of varyingstrengths (one could tell which pair they favored from which pair had the mostbulk), and ears that weren’t pointed so much as jagged, though according to Allura, the jagged-ness was bodymodification, like ear piercings.

This doesn’t count, hethought the first time he had to pucker up.

(At least it wasn’t unpleasant…justreally, really uncomfortable.)

It wouldn’t count if Ihad to kiss my worst enemy either, Lance considered after the second.

Who was his worstenemy? It wasn’t Zarkon, because that just wasn’t personal enough; he’d nevereven seen him in the…flesh or whatever it was zombies had wrapping their bones.

It wasn’t Keith – enemydidn’t equal rival – and besides,he could stand to pick someone who wasn’t at least remotely decent-looking and that he could grudgingly admit to being friends with.

“Lotor,” he muttered under his breath. For the third Besayan,he pretended he was kissing Lotor, and it suitably disgusted him to the pointthat he almost recoiled.

Bingo, he thought.

None of the rest counted, none of the rest had any meaningattached to them. In fact, Lance couldn’t even remember the names of over halfthe diplomats Allura met with – and there were only six.

Mission(s) accomplished.

“So how’d it go?” Hunk asked when Lance went by his bedroomto see if he needed anything while he convalesced.

“Boring,” Lance complained. “Also they were all old.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “That’s usually how it goes, Lance,”he said. “Allura and Prince Lotor are the weird young ones.” Then he frowned. “Actually,I’m not too sure about Lotor. He might be older than he looks…and alien biologyis weird.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, that’s the weirdthing about him.”

“And you were fine kissing random old aliens?” Hunk smirkedand started to wax poetic, “Oh, I remember when you had your first kiss and youwouldn’t shut up about it—”

“You can shut up about it now,” Lance said, glowering athim. “We don’t talk about that.”

“So then how was your second kiss?”

Lance said, “You have one more chance before I leave you towallow in your own snot.”

“That’s gross,” Hunk complained.

Lance gestured towards the wastebasket full of used tissuesat his bedside. “You would know!”

“Did you have to pucker up?”

Lance marched for the door, which slid open for him, andwith one foot out he looked over his shoulder at Hunk and said, “Two things:  I hope you feel better soon, and I also hopeyou realize that me leaving you alone now is all your fault.”

“Worth it,” Hunk said with a smirk.

Outside, Lance stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets andwhistled as he meandered down the hall. Maybe he would find Coran and ask to beput to work – ha! – or he would gobother Pidge or convince Keith to spar with him or—

He spotted Lotor walking in the opposite direction, towards him, and for a heartbeat Lanceconsidered dodging into an unoccupied room along this hallway. But Lotorspotted him first and approached.

“And how was the meeting today?” he wondered, crossing hisarms. For some reason, arms crossed didn’t look as closed off on Lotor as theydid on anyone else, though it might’ve been the disarming smile he wore.

Lance didn’t trust it for a tic.

“Great,” Lance said, “except for one small thing.”

“Hmm, I see?”

“I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’reyou.”

Lotor narrowed his eyes at him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lance glared at him. “I wanted to detachmyself from it so much that I pretended I was kissing someone I hated.” He crossedhis arms and smirked up at Lotor. “What do you think of that?”

“That it’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard,” Lotor said.

Lance shrugged and said, “It’s all right if you don’tunderstand it. We can’t all be as savvy as me.”

“No, that we can’t.”

Lance squinted at him. “You’re making fun of me?”

“Absolutely not,” Lotor said, rolling his eyes. He thenstepped past Lance and proceeded in the direction he’d been heading withoutanother word.

Lance watched him go for a tic, shrugged, and went off insearch of someone else to bother, preferably someone he would not mind kissing.

[voltron-fanfiction]

Anastasia!Klance AU: Chapter 6

Read Prologue here!

The boat glided smoothly over the water, and the company felt a weight lift off their shoulders knowing their next destination was Paris.  As the sun was setting on their first day out at sea, Lance approached Keith in their bunk, a bunch of fabric in his hands.

“Here.” He handed the bundle to Keith. “I bought you a suit.”  Keith picked it up and inspected it. It was nice, no doubt about that. The shirt was a button-down and was a nice soft blue color. The pants were straight legged khaki’s. But it was definitely not Keith’s style. 

“You bought me... a monkey suit...” he mused. Keith continued to stare at it while Pidge laughed at the exchange. 

Lance was mildly annoyed, and it seeped into his voice as he said, “What are you looking for?”

Keith snorted, “I’m trying to understand why you want me to dress like I’m joining the Russian circus?”

“Ugh, come on.” Lance tossed the suit at his companion. “Just put it on.” He turned, grumbling, and stomped up the stairs towards the main deck.

Once he was gone, Keith felt slightly bad for being mean. He glanced at the suit again. Ok, maybe it was really nice. 

“Go on,” Pidge encouraged. “Put it on. I want to see.” 

Keith smiled at his friend, then closed the door of the suite to get changed.

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While Keith was changing, Pidge joined Lance and Hunk on the main deck. The two lifelong friends were in the middle of a game of chess, but it wasn’t long until Hunk knocked down Lance’s queen with a firm, “Checkmate.”

Lance groaned and started replaying the game in his mind, trying to figure out where he went wrong. Hunk leaned back in satisfaction, but it was at that moment that Keith appeared, dressed in his new suit. 

Both Pidge and Hunk’s eyes widened. Now that he wasn’t dressed it rags, it wasn’t impossible to picture the orphan as royalty. 

“Hey, Keith!” Hunk laughed out of happiness. He got up and made his way over. “You clean up nice!”

Lance was pulled out of his thoughts by Hunk’s shouting, and when his eyes landed on Keith, his jaw dropped slightly. The suit fit him perfectly. It wasn’t skin-tight, but you could just make out Keith’s athletic build underneath... Lance shook his head. Now was not the time.

But Hunk had other ideas in mind. “Now that you look like you’re ready for a ball,” he said, “You’ll learn how to dance for one. Lance, come practice with Keith.”

Lance went as if to protest, but Pidge pushed him forward. He stumbled over to Hunk and Keith. “I’m... I’m not very good at it,” he managed to get out.

Keith jokingly raised an eyebrow. “The illustrious Lance isn’t good at something? That’s got to be a first.”

Lance felt himself relax. Something about Keith joking with him just made the whole situation easier. He joked back, “I’m gonna make you eat your words.”

But Lance’s cockiness suddenly vanished when he placed his hand in Keith’s and wrapped a hand around his waist. He felt the breath leave his body, and he was suddenly very preoccupied with how the floor looked.

Keith was no better. He felt his cheeks warm and hoped that it wasn’t noticeable. 

Hunk gave them a count off to a waltz, and they began to dance. But it was very obvious that something was wrong. Both were out of step and neither were looking at each other. 

“No, no, no,” interrupted Hunk. “You need to switch. Lance, let Keith lead. And quit acting like the other has the plague!” 

The two stepped apart, but when they came back together, it felt different. Keith placed his hand gently, but firmly on Lance’s waist, and this time, Lance took Keith’s hand confidently. 

Hunk gave the count off again, and this time, the two took off across the deck. Now that they’d gotten past some of their hesitation, the two moved together in harmony. Keith took command, but Lance was right there backing him up. Both boys were surprised that they were actually enjoying themselves.

As they danced, Lance tried to make conversation. “That, uh... Suit looks really good.”

Keith brought Lance out into a spin, then brought him back in. “Do you think so?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lance answered. “I mean it was nice on the hanger, but it looks even better on you. You- you should wear it.”

Keith chuckled slightly, “I am wearing it.”

“Oh right, of course. Of course you. I-I’m just trying to give you a... Uh...”

“A compliment?” Keith filled in the hole. He had to admit it was kind of cute watching Lance trip over his words for once. He was much more attractive when he wasn’t pulling the whole know-it-all act.

“Of course, yes,” Lance stuttered. After that, he decided to just stick to dancing, but him and Keith still floated gracefully across the boat.

From the sidelines, Pidge and Hunk had been observing the whole exchange.

“Keith’s really come into his own, hasn’t he?” said Hunk.

Pidge nodded. “I haven’t known him for that long, but he seems happier. More confident. I think that’s something he could definitely use.”

They watched the two dance for a moment longer before Pidge asked, “And Lance?”

“I’ve known Lance my whole life,” said Hunk. “I’ve seen him constantly flirt with women. Unsuccessfully, of course, but I know how he is. But I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at Keith.”

The pair glanced back at their friends. To any passerby, Lance and Keith looked like lovers, dancing in the last light of the day.

“Hunk?” Pidge’s brow furrowed. “What happens if Keith is Prince Kityl? What would that mean for Lance and him?” 

Hunk’s face fell too as he thought about Pidge’s words. After a moment of hesitation, he turned to his friend and sighed, “We never should have let them dance.”

Night was beginning to creep up on the companions, and Keith and Lance’s dance was coming to a close. As they slowed, Keith’s gaze was locked on Lance’s. “I’m feeling a little dizzy,” he confessed. 

Lance’s lip quirked up at the corner. “Kind of light-headed,” he added.

“Yeah.”

They came to a complete stop, but continued to stare at each other.

“Me too.” Keith wasn’t that much taller, but Lance still had to look up a little at him. “It’s probably from all the spinning. Maybe we should stop.”

Keith’s grip barely tightened on his dance partner, but it felt like an electric shock to Lance.

“We have stopped,” Keith said softly, his purple eyes burning with everything he was leaving unsaid.

Lance couldn’t deny he felt the same. “Keith, I-” 

He stopped, but Keith pushed, “Yes?”

The two had steadily been moving closer and closer together. Keith let his eyes slip close. Lance’s breath caught in his throat. If he leaned forward, just slightly... Then he could...

ACHOO!

From behind, Pidge sneezed loud enough to startle everyone on board. The moment was gone. Lance moved away from Keith. “You’re doing fine,” was the last thing he said before he patted Keith on the shoulder, then disappeared into the bowels of the ship.

Keith gazed forlornly at the place where Lance had vanished. Even Pidge and Hunk were surprised at the turn the night had taken. But there was nothing they could do about it now.

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

About halfway through the trip, the waters turned choppy and the sky turned grey. Night had fallen, and a nasty storm was rolling in. The four companions were cooped away in their bunk. Pidge, Keith, and Hunk sat on the floor while Lance was stretched out, fast asleep on the other side of the room.

The boat swayed as it crossed the roiling sea, and Hunk was beginning to turn a suspicious shade of green.

“Are you all right?” Keith asked him.

“Uhhhh... Maybe,” Hunk muttered. “I get really motion sick. I have ever since I wa- ughhhhhh!” His words were cut off as the ship hit a particularly rough patch. 

Pidge whispered in Keith’s ear, “We might need to get him a bucket.” Keith located a metal pail in the corner and passed it to his friend. Hunk took it graciously. He glared at Lance passed out on the floor.

“Look at him,” he grumbled, voice laced with jealousy. “He can sleep through anything.”

Pidge got a mischievous glint to their eyes. “Anything?” They raised an eyebrow. Then very conspicuously, they picked up Lance’s bag from the floor and began rifling through it. “What secrets could our dear Lance be keeping?”

As they searched, they pulled out things at random. The bit of money Lance had went straight into Pidge’s pocket. They pulled out a hand-held mirror; that went back in the bag once everyone had laughed at it. Finally, Pidge pulled out a small jade and gold box.

“What is Lance doing carrying around a jewelry box?” they chuckled. “A place to store his earrings?”

Keith laughed along, but there was something familiar about that box. “Can I see it?” he asked. Pidge nodded and tossed it to him. Keith held the box in the palm of his hand and stared at the intricate carvings. “Are you sure it’s a jewelry box?”

Pidge shrugged. “What else could it be?”

But the more Keith inspected it, the greater his sense of deja vu grew. He was reminded of the lullaby that he had randomly remembered in the palace. “Well... Something else,” he said. “Something... Special. Something to do with a secret.”

Pidge laughed again, “Maybe Lance is actually a jewel thief and the Kogane royal jewels are hidden in there.”

Keith looked back up at his friends, and the weird feeling started to fade. “I think it’s time for bed,” he muttered as he tossed the box back in Lance’s bag. 

Hunk climbed up into his top bunk while Keith and Pidge settled into the bottom bunk.

“Hunk?” Keith called when he couldn’t see the Samoan anymore.

“Yeah?” he heard in response.

“Do you think it’s really possible that I could be the Prince?”

Hunk poked his head over the side of the bed, so he could address Keith directly. “I think that anything’s possible. You taught Lance how to waltz didn’t you?”

Keith nodded, smiling at the memory. 

Hunk’s head disappeared, but not without a final, “Sleep well, your majesty.”

The bed creaked under the weight of all three of them, earning a sarcastic remark from Pidge. “What do you think will kill us first? This storm or the bed?” Keith laughed and ruffled their hair. “Sweet dreams, Pidge.”

“Goodnight, Keith.”

Keith sighed and closed his eyes. This whole trip was exhausting and the rock of the boat was lulling him into unconciousness. Within a few moments, he was fast asleep.

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

Zarkon and Varkon both watched the sleeping Prince’s face through a portal Zarkon had conjured. 

“There he is, Master,” said Varkon. “Sound asleep in his bed.”

“Pleasant dreams to you, Prince,” Zarkon growled. “I’ll get inside your mind where you can’t escape me.”

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

Back on the boat, dark purple smoke demons oozed their way under the door frame and began fanning out across the room. It wasn’t long before they found their target. The sleeping Prince Kogane.

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

The sun was warm on Keith’s skin, and he found himself thinking that he could stay on this hillside forever. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue above him, and the field of daisies he was lying in swayed gently in the light breeze.

He sighed in contentment, but it was then that he heard someone calling his name. He sat up only to see Lance standing a few feet away from him. “Lance?” he asked, confused. The boy didn’t say anything else, he just smiled and shook his head. But then he motioned for Keith to follow him, turned, and disappeared down the hill. 

After a moments hesitation, Keith got up and followed him.

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

Unbeknownst to Keith, every move he made in his dream translated into a move in real life. When he thought he was following Lance, he was actually climbing out of bed and exiting the cabin.

Pidge was disturbed by the movement, but only really snapped awake when they heard the door slam shut. They shot up, instantly noticing the Keith-sized pile of warmth that was missing from the bed. They jumped again as a huge crack of thunder sounded overhead. Just like on the train, Pidge had this awful feeling in their gut that something was horribly wrong. 

They got up and reached for the door, but no matter how hard they pulled or pushed, the door was locked tight. They had no chance of getting it open by themselves, so they turned to the next likely person to succeed.

But Hunk was dead asleep and still a sickly shade of green, so that left Pidge only one option. They began calling Lance’s name and shoving his shoulder, but he just rolled over and continued to snore. Pidge groaned, but kept trying.

The full severity of the storm couldn’t really be detected from underneath, but up on the deck, the wind and rain battered at the boat, instantly soaking Keith to the bone.  Thunder and lightning crashed almost simultaneously, and the boat rocked precariously over every single wave. Not that Keith had any clue.

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

In his dream, it was still beautiful out, and he was still following Lance. Lance turned to make sure Keith was still following, then stopped at what looked like the edge of a cliff.

Hunk and Pidge suddenly appeared from no where, dressed in swimming suits, but Keith couldn’t have found anything off about the situation even if he had tried. He was in a fairly pleasant mood; to be honest, he was feeling pretty happy.

Pidge and Hunk waved excitedly at him, then turned and jumped over the edge of the cliff. A splash of water indicated there was a pool waiting just out of sight. Keith hurried to meet Lance and his friends.

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

Back in the cabin, Pidge was still desperately trying to wake Lance. Finally, Lance had had enough and he sat up angrily, pushing Pidge away.

“What? What, what what what what?” he grumbled, glaring sleepily at Pidge. “What is it, Pidge?”

The youngest companion was in full out panic mode, and the only word they could get out was, “Keith.”

Confusion washed over Lance’s face, but his eyes snapped open as he realized the mullet was missing and that the storm was still raging overhead. Lance instantly bolted up, all signs of exhaustion immediately gone. When he encountered the locked door, instead of pausing, he simply threw all his weight on it, causing it to come crashing down. Then he was taking off up the stairs, Pidge right on his heels.

Keith had now climbed up on one of the rails of the ship, eyes closed and smiling blissfully.

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

 In the dream, he had finally caught up with Lance and glanced down into the pool below. Pidge and Hunk were there like he expected, but there was a third someone who was new to him.

He had black hair with a tuft of white at his forehead, and he had a long scar running across the bridge of his nose. The rational part of Keith knew he had no idea who this person was, but the dream part of Keith instantly felt comforted by this person’s presence. They were friends, he knew that much.

The moment the stranger laid eyes on Keith, a wide smile spread across his face. He waved excitedly. “Jump on in!” he shouted. Pidge and Hunk chorused his shouts, all motioning for Keith to jump in.

“Come on!” Keith turned as Lance spoke. Lance leaped into the air, formed a cannonball, then landed in the pool, creating a giant splash that soaked the other three. Keith laughed, making up his mind to jump into the pool. It just looked like so much fun!

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

Up on the deck, Lance searched frantically, constantly shouting Keith’s name, but with the rain, lightning, and thunder, it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. 

Just then a huge wave washed up over the side of the boat, almost taking Lance overboard. He gasped for air. Keith was going to die out here if he didn’t find him soon! Higher ground. He needed higher ground.

He began scaling one of the larger metal structures on deck. Lots of ropes hung off it, holding the sails upright. Up here Lance could see the whole deck. His eyes swept the surface. Keith wasn’t at the front of the boat, he wasn’t at the back of the boat... 

There! He was quite a few feet in front of Lance, balanced up on the railing of the boat, about to jump off!

“Keith, no!” Lance shouted, but Keith didn’t respond. Lance had to think fast; by the time he climbed back down and got over there it would be too late. His eyes landed on the ropes, particularly a loose rope draped over the side, but still attached to the rigging above.

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

The air had turned sour. The hairs on the back of Keith’s neck had begun to stand up, and he could swear he heard someone calling his name. The moment Keith’s attention was diverted, the dream turned into a nightmare. The figures of his friends all turned into dark, winged demons, who began trying to grab at Keith.

“Jump!” they shouted. “The Kogane curse! Jump!”

Keith struggled as best as he could. But they were pulling from all angles. Even from behind him...

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

Lance had grabbed the rope and literally swung to the rescue, grabbing Keith from behind and pulling him back to the safety of the boat. But Keith kept fighting him; squirming in his arms, trying to punch and kick him.

Lance turned him around and shook him, calling his friends name until Keith’s eyes snapped open.

Keith’s eyes flashed around the deck, trying to get a bearing of his surroundings. Not only was he soaked with rain and sea water, but he was also covered in sweat. 

“The... The Kogane curse...” he panted, still not completely back to normal.

“The Kogane what?” Lance couldn’t make sense of Keith’s ramblings.

“Curse, a curse...” Lance was surprised to see tears in Keith’s eyes. Whatever he had been through, it must have been bad.

“What are you talking about?” Lance asked gently.

Instead of answering, Keith just collapsed into Lance, wrapping his arms around him.

“I... I don’t know,” he murmured. 

Lance hesitated for a moment, but then securely put his arms around Keith as well.

“It was a nightmare,” he soothed, his hand coming up to stroke the back of Keith’s head. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

As Keith and Lance stood wrapped in each other’s embrace, the rain began to let up and the sky began to lighten. The storm was finally over.

Read Chapter 7 Here!

[kirishwima]

Hey there cool bean! So.. I absolutely love Hance and I also absolutely love Fake Dating, Wrong Number and that "whatever you write on your skin appears on your soulmates skin" Soulmate AUs and I'd love you forever and beyond if you could write a normal life/pre-Boltron OS about one of these because that would be like the most awesome thing ever ;^;

Hey lovely!

So funny thing is, I love Hance a lot too and also really like all three ideas sooo i tried adding all of them into one fic lol ;u; hope you like it!

*****

Hunk stared at the text, his phone’s screen blearing and blurring his vision with its brightness.

To say he was…confused, would be an understatement.

He looked to the message once more, giving it another quick read.

From: Unknown

>Dude hi, look, i knw we ain’t that close or anythin but i rly rly RLY need u to call me and pretend ur my bf rn

Hunk sighed and scrolled down, reading the next chain of messages.

From: Unknown

>this creepy dude is hittin on me and idk how to tell him to back off so cmon pls call me n pretend ur my bf u don’t even have to talk or anythin

From: Unkown

>im gonna owe u like 100000 coffees cMON

It was a do-or-die moment, Hunk knew that.

He knew that the best option would be to ignore this messages-they were obviously not intended for him in the first place.

On the other hand…the person did seem really stressed out. Hunk knew if he was in the situation this person was in, he’d more than likely do the same thing, his fingers shooting a text to his best friend Pidge faster than you could say ‘burrito’.

It was a do-or-die moment.And Hunk decided to go for it full force, before the little anxious thoughts tugging on his skin pulled his barely existent bravado away from his grip.

He clicked on the unknown number and let his phone ring, shakily bringing it close to his ear.

The first beep went by unanswered, Hunk’s anxiety only heightening at the sound.The second beep followed, yet before a third one could be heard, the person on the other line picked up.

“Hello?”

The voice was sweet, a light pitch of anxiety clouding over it, yet even with the added stress and the distress of the phone, it was still one of the nicest sound Hunk’s ears had ever heard.

“U-uh, yes?”

Hunk mentally slapped himself, shutting his eyes and shaking his head.Nice going Hunk, he chided himself, way to show you’re intimidated by a person you haven’t even seen before

“Awe babe!” the voice cooed, the words of affection making goosebumps run over Hunk’s body, “you changed your phone number after all? I told you it was about time to!” the person continued, the sounds of background music and chatter now registering in Hunk’s mind.

“I-uh-yeah. Phone number. That’s right.” he stumbled, somewhat astounded at how easily this play of affection rolled through this person’s mouth.

“Well I’m glad you called me. I was just at your favourite coffee shop and wanted to ask you what coffee you wanted me to bring over! I didn’t see you at all today, I missed you.”

Hunk run a hand through his mark absent-mindedly, enjoying the soft voice over the line.

“A coffee would be great, yeah.” he mumbled, slowly feeling more at ease.He wondered if this person had him on loud speaker, or if his own little show of fake-dating this person was more unnecessary than helpful.

“What? You want me to go over straight away? Are you sure?”

A-ha.

Hunk huffed a laugh, quickly realising that the only person that could hear him right now was this guy he was talking to.

“Alright, alright, I’m on my way! Love you, see you in a bit!”

He heard the person mutter something, another somewhat gruffer voice answering back to him, quickly followed by shuffling, the sounds of the coffee shop promptly disappearing.

“…are you still there?” the voice asked, the tone much quieter than before.

The high pitch and sweetness was a show, after all.

“Yup.” Hunk replied, a profound comfort washing over him, all his previous stress diminished.He slumped onto his bed with relief and sighed, waiting to hear an explanation from this unknown person.

“I’ll just go ahead and assume you’re not Steve, are you?”

He laughed at that, shaking his head despite knowing the person he was speaking to couldn’t see him.

“Afraid not. And I guess you didn’t actually mean to text me did you?”

The voice laughed, the sound like water from a creek, crystal clear and joyous to Hunk’s ears.

“No, no, definitely not.” he laughed, “Still, thanks for helping me out. There was this dude that wouldn’t take no for an answer. He only backed away when he thought I was talking to my boyfriend or, whatever.”

“Yeah dude, I hear you, this kind of people are the worst” Hunk grumbled, scrunching his nose in distaste, “Why can’t they just respect another person’s boundaries and get that ‘no’ means ‘no’?!”

The person on the phone hummed in agreement.

“Thank you, that’s exactly what I was thinking!”  he huffed, “it’s so easy and yet some people are just..ugh” he groaned in defeat.

Hunk laughed, letting a short silence stretch that really wasn’t as uncomfortable as Hunk thought it should be.

“I never got your name by the way.” the voice spoke up, a shyer tone in their sound, “I’m Lance, Lance Sanchez.”

He let the name roll through his mind for a moment, trying to think if he’d ever heard it before. He was certain he never did, but there was something about it, about this person’s voice, their mannerism, that made Hunk feel a familiar tinge in his chest, as if something in his heart was tugging it’s way to his brain, smacking it and saying ’of course you know it, silly!’

“Hello?”

Hunk shook himself out of his trance.

“Yeah hi! Sorry, sorry, just tryin’ to figure out if I know you from somewhere. I’m Hunk Garett.”

The voice-Lance, Lance huffed, the sound making white noise travel through Hunk’s speaker.

“Man, I thought you were going to hung up on me or something. Which I’d totally get, but you know, putting a name to my life-saver would be nice-“

“Life-saver? I hardly did anything!” Hunk interrupted, his face reddening at the characterisation. Here he was, talking to thus guy with this soothing voice, that was calling him a life-saver?

“Yes life-saver, don’t be humble, and anyway, as I was saying, putting a name to the voice would be nice, but you know what would be better?”

“W-what?”

“Taking said life-saver with his honey-sweet voice out for a coffee. You know, as a thank-you for getting me away from a creepy flirt even though you had zero obligation to?”

The words died in Hunk’s mouth, his eyes widening at face heating up.

Coffee? Honey-sweet?

Was…was this guy asking him out on a date?!

“I-no-there’s no need-“

“Aw come on, I did promise you a bunch of coffees in the text. Well, I thought I was promising Steve coffees, until I realised I’d saved his phone number wrongly in the first place, but anyway! The offer stands if you want it!” Lance cheered, the sounds of a bustling street failing to dull his loud voice.

Hunk mulled over the idea, feeling like a fish far, far, far out of it’s waters. So far it could just as well be a fish that boarded a plane and landed onto the Sahara desert.

“Look”, Lance continued, his voice more sullen than before, “it’s totally cool if you don’t want to, and I’m sorry if I over-stepped my bounds. Hell, I just escaped a creepy guy, I don’t wanna sound anything like him myself. All I’m saying is, I owe you one, and if you want to, I’ll be more than happy to repay you.”

“You can even hit me up on social media if you want. I’m pretty much everywhere with my full name, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, you name it. Or you can just hung up and we never speak again, that is totally cool too, and uh, thanks again for helping me out-“

Lance started rumbling, and something in Hunk just lit up, a small bold voice flexing and yelling at him to just do it, completely trampling the shyer, more worrisome voices nibbling at his mind.

“I’ll add you on Facebook. Or snapchat or something and we can uh, see and decide. I mean, are we even in the same city? Or the same country?! You could be in the other side of the world for all we know!” Hunk mused, suddenly realising all the ways this could go wrong. Even his little just do it voice had no come-back to that.

“I mean, your phone number’s nearly the same as my friend Steve’s, and it’s a local phone number so…probably not?”

Hunk stilled.Oh. Right.

They both laughed, slowly understanding how obscure the situation they found themselves in was.

“Alright. I’ll add you on facebook. I’ll talk to you there?”

Lance hummed, his smirk evident even through a phone conversation.

“Sure thing”, he smiled, and continued, “Nice to meet you, Hunk.”

His voice calling Hunk’s name felt more surreal than any conspiracy theory Pidge had ever brought his way.

“I-Nice to meet you too Lance.”

Hunk was hooked.This was a do-or-die moment, and he was pretty sure he just broke the do-or-die system.

*****

Lance’s squeal was loud enough to wake up his flatmate, if the knock on his door along with Keith’s rumble of ‘cut it out Sanchez’ was enough of an indication.

But he didn’t care, not right then and there.

He held his phone in his hand since the moment he clicked the hung up button after his conversation with Hunk, holding it tightly like prayer beads, as if that would make his wishes come true.

He waited for this blessed notification for over an hour, a cruel, agonising, torturous hour, and no, he was not being dramatic, or extra as his friends liked to call him, he was being dead-ass serious.

The moment Hunk uttered one single word to him, he felt the heat rise to his face, his heart thudding and threatening to jump out of his ribcage and run around the city to find the cause for it’s irregular beating.

His voice was like honey and cinnamon and spice and everything nice, dammit, Lance was no poet, but the way this boy talked and the way he laughed did things to his brain, things he was certain brains were not supposed to do, like agonise for an hour wether or not a stranger he knew for a total of five minutes would add him on any of his social media or not.

So when his phone beeped with a Facebook notification that spelled out ‘Hunk Garett has sent you a Friend Request’, Lance was not ashamed to admit he screamed louder than he did that one time he saw Justin Timberlake walking down the street.

With shaky hands, he unlocked his phone and clicked on the notification, the screen immediately loading Hunk’s Facebook Profile.

What awaited him was….it was too good to be true, that’s for sure.

The profile greeted him with a picture of the most beautiful boy in existence, a close up of his face, dark chocolate skin and amber eyes, and the sweetest, softest smile one could ever lay their eyes on.

His heart threatened to stop and he still had only looked at the guy’s profile picture.

He scrolled down, taking a look at his profile, which was set to public view.

Another photo awaited him, this time of the same gorgeous face, now placed in a full-body picture, that displayed Hunk sitting cross-legged in a grassy field, a big cheerful dog with golden fur and droopy ears trying to fit itself onto Hunk’s lap, the boy in question fitting his hands around the dog and hugging it, the biggest of grins on his face, enough to make his eyes squint and crinkle at the corners.

‘Did i adopt him or did he adopt me?’ the photo’s caption said, and Lance wasted no time in his next course of action.

He promptly got off of his bed, where he was squealing and agonising in for the past hour, and headed out to the living room, where Keith sat with a bowl of cereal in his lap, a weird alien documentary playing on the TV.

Lance sat by him and placed the phone in front of Keith’s face.

“Mothboy, what do you think of this guy?” he asked, making Keith squint and turn his attention to the phone in front of him.

Keith studied the picture as he took another spoonful of his cereal, humming before swallowing and turning to Lance.

“I don’t even know him and I’d willingly let him hug me to death.” he deadpanned.

“I know right?!” Lance screeched, and before he could re-think it, scrolled up on Hunk’s profile and clicked ‘accept’ on his friend request.

He had never been more thankful to his clumsy fingers for typing a wrong number more than he was in that very second.

*****The familiar ring of his phone made him shake his head and look away from the books in front of him, earning himself a glare from the tiny girl sitting across of him, although it was a short-lived one-her glare turned to a smirk in less than a nano-second.

“Is that the Snapchat notification sound I hear?” she smirked, raising an eyebrow and leaning closer to her friend.

“You got freakin’ bat ears Pidge, let me tell you”, Hunk grimaced, backing away from her stare  with his phone in hand, “And even if it was, what’s it to you again?”

“Nothing?” she blinked, morphing her expression to the purest most innocent face she could conjure, “I’m merely wondering who it is that’s snap-chatting you, that’s important enough for you to stop mid-way of studying quantum physics of all things, so you could answer.”

“That puppy face stopped working like, two years ago, and no, I’m not gonna tell you who I’m talking with.”

“Please, as if I don’t know it’s that Lance guy you keep going on and on about” she huffed, rolling her eyes in distaste.

Hunk  knew better than to try and argue with her on that-Pidge had been his best friend since forever, and if it’s one thing he could never do to her, it was lie.

Besides, he couldn’t ever lie to save his life, nevertheless lie to his best friend about anything.

“Okay yeah, it’s Lance, so?” he asked, not looking up from his phone as he opened the snapchat application and waited for Lance’s snap to load.

When did the two become so close?

It was only a month since that fated phone call, and yet they were talking more and more each day, to the point that Hunk sometimes forgot they hadn’t actually physically met yet.

“Hunk, my dude, my man”, she started, pushing her glasses up with the tip of her finger, “the guy is practically your boyfriend already.”

“No he’s-“

“Must I remind you your full 20-minute freak-out session when you found his Facebook? You said, and I quote” she paused, clearing her throat and turning to Hunk with wide eyes, “His eyes are so blue and sparkly how can a man be so pretty Pidge I am going to dIE” she sing-songed, mimicking her best Hunk voice.

“I definitely did not say that, and for the thousandth time, he is not my boyfriend! He’s just a-“

He meant to continue, but the loaded snapchat caught him mid-sentence, his mouth slack and turning into a soft fond smile.

The snap was of Lance, a quick selfie with a wink and a wide grin, the tip of Lance’s nose reddened as the sun beat down of him, the glimpse of ocean blue waves behind him, neck and chest bare and peeking into the photograph.

‘Water’s great! Wish you were here too xo’ said the caption and Hunk’s soul immediately transcended to the seventh gate of heaven, if that was even a thing-which it should, because only one was just not enough to contain how blessed he felt in that moment.

“He’s just so…pretty…”

“Called it” Pidge snorted, rolling back on her chair and folding her arms over her chest.

She let Hunk have his small blissed-out moment, even let him reply to Lance with a quick selfie that showcased him and the row of books on their table, Pidge pouting at them in the background, before she coughed and nodded at Hunk.

“Do you think he’s maybe…you know.” she nodded again, pointing to Hunk’s right arm, her point of interest hidden behind his t-shirt.

He looked down to his arm too, soft smile fading as he remembered what was hidden in the inner corner of his right arm, an image hidden from the world under bulky sweaters or light t-shirts.

“Do I think he’s my…soulmate?” he dreaded that last word, the thought itself bringing up bile and anxiety into his stomach.

Pidge nodded again, her face open and hands reaching out to rest in-between their piles of books and closer to Hunk.

“The only way to find out is if you meet him you know? You’re getting along so well already.” she prompted.

“I guess.” Hunk sighed and shook his head, averting his gaze in favour of grabbing his cup of coffee and taking a sip, then fiddling with the cover of one of his books.

Damn summer reading and extra work-load. He’d much rather be at the beach right now, enjoying his college years with a certain blue-eyed someone-

Okay. Wrong train of thought. Very, very, very wrong train of thought.

It wasn’t that Hunk hadn’t thought about it.Could Lance be his soulmate?

Yes.With the way his heart fluttered and stomach clenched with each joke or silly meme Lance sent him, with each quick ‘good morning’ text and short Skype sessions, it was no wonder he grew more and more fond of the bright-eyed boy with each passing day.

Hunk was in deep and he knew it.

But what if Lance just wasn’t his soulmate?

What if they met but there was no glow in their eyes, no burning of their respective marks and swirling colours that’d make each of their marks whole again?

He absent-mindedly scratched at his arm, the thought of that bright yellow circle etched onto his skin, waiting to find the colour it’d mix and match with, that’d make the colour that’d bind him to another person for life.

He already had an idea of who he wished that person to be.

He just didn’t know if fate would agree with him.

*****From: Hunky Hunk

>Hey Lance. I’m soooo sorry but i can’t make it today ;-; Jimmy got sick and i had to take her to the vet asap. raincheck?

Lance sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before replying.

>>hey dude!! ya no problem, dont worry! hope jimmy feels better soon

The reply he got was instantaneous.

From: Hunky Hunk

>thanks man. will do. sorry again! i’ll make it up to you on your next day off :)

He smiled at the text, even though a certain disappointment gnawed at the pit of his chest.

He understood that life was hard and sometimes things just happened.

He just didn’t understand how life could work it’s way and destroy his plans five times in the same month.

The first time he asked Hunk if he wanted to meet up, was two months after they started talking, gathering up his courage and asking him out for that coffee he’d promised him.

Hunk sounded excited, but sent him a text the next day, profusely apologising because he’d forgotten to tell Lance he’d be out of town for the weekend.

Lance told him not to worry about it, they’d be able to figure out another day.

Then the next week it was his friend’s birthday, so they’d gone out to celebrate.

Then it was his workload that got Hunk slumped and unable to make it.

Then, surprisingly, it was Lance’s turn to be unavailable, his part time work friend getting sick and needing someone to fill his place for a few days, something that Lance wouldn’t ever say no to.

But this was the fifth time in a row that they tried making plans to meet up, and through he knew it was neither of their faults, it still felt like a blow to the side every time, his ego bruised and his hope battered.

He stared at the offensive blue mark on his left wrist and sighed in defeat.

Through their everyday talks with Hunk, the silly pictures and cute selfies he’d sent (that Lance had to fight off the urge to screenshot and keep by his bed every single time), to their common excitement and bonding over astronomy and flying, Lance had slowly started to get this inkling, this small hunch that maybe just maybe….

….There was perhaps a small, tiny, minuscule chance that Hunk could be his soulmate.

He tried not to get his hopes up, he really, truly did, but it became harder to do so with each sweet text and shy phone-call Hunk sent his way.The boy was sugar moulded into a human being and Lance wanted nothing more than to shove himself into a self-induced sugar coma. A Hunk coma, if you will.

He sighed, slumping onto his elbows on the kitchen table, earning a groan from Keith who was sitting across of him with his computer open and his pale skin reflecting the light off of it.

“What are you moping about?” he asked, his voice all bark but no bite. Lance learned by now that this was just his friend’s way of showing concern. “Is it about Hunk again?”

Lance’s lower lip quivered, his eyebrows scrunching.

“It’s the fifth time we’re unable to meet up Keith! The fifth time! Fate is against me and the universe hates me.”

“The universe is too busy minding its own business to hate you. And you and Hunk are practically dating anyway, stop being so sad about it.”

“But we’re not! I’m just-what if he’s not…the one, you know? What if I’m thinking things too much and he’s not even into me at all?!” Lance gasped, sitting up and bringing his hands to Keith’s shoulders, shaking the lethargic boy with intense emotion.

“What if he doesn’t even want to talk to me and he just feels forced to because he’s too sweet to say no?!”

“Lance, I get that you think the guy’s all sunshine and rainbows, and he probably is, but if he didn’t want to talk to you, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t. It’s not that hard to block someone.” he sighed, moving away from Lance’s grip in favour of carrying on typing on his computer.

“…Besides,” Keith continued, peeking up from his work to look at Lance, “I met his best friend Pidge once and trust me, if he didn’t want to talk to you…she’d have obliterated you a long, long time ago.” he shuddered.

Lance slumped back in his seat, face thoughtful.

“That…is oddly comforting. Thanks buddy.”

Keith shrugged, tugging a strand of loose hair back into his messy ponytail.

“Also, your phone just beeped. I’ll take my best guess and say it’s from Hunk.”

Lance turned to face his phone. Sure enough, his Facebook messenger beeped with a new message, alerting him that Hunk had sent him an attachment.

“Conspiracy confirmed cryptid boy.” he smirked, ignoring Keith’s protest in favour of opening up the chat and looking at what Hunk had sent him.

Attached was a photo of Hunk’s dog Emmy, with half of Hunk’s face in the shot, standing right outside a veterinary clinic.

“Doc said she’ll be in perfect health soon! She just ate something bad. Gave her a hug and told her it’s from you and she wagged her tail a lot so that’s got to mean she likes you!” said the message that followed.

Lance let his phone back down and slumped face-first into the table, ignoring the cackle that came from Keith.

“You really like him huh.” Keith stated.

“…I would willingly eat a bottle of hot sauce for him in a heartbeat.” Lance answered.

The scariest part of the situation was that Lance really, truly meant it.

He was wrapped around the finger of a boy he’d never met before.

*****

Hunk felt his phone beep in his pocket, but for the first time in forever, didn’t move to check it, as much as his mind and heart screamed and begged him to.

He was late, he was so, so late and he’d never hear the end of it from Coran if he was late to his first lecture of the year.

He hadn’t even realised how fast summer came and left.Never realised how fast a certain boy named Lance sneaked his way into Hunk’s life even if he’d yet to see him face to face.

He pushed the thought aside in favour of speeding up his step, only pausing for a moment to take out his phone and promptly check the time.

7.30 a.m

Seven. Thirty. In the morning.

In his dazed state, he’d never realised he read the time wrong. The school was only a half hour away from his house, and thinking it was 8.30 when he woke up and his class was at 9.00, he had run the apartment upside down looking for clothes and his toothbrush so he could run out and into the first bus he could catch

But now it was seven thirty and he was five minutes away from the school campus and he honestly never hated himself as much as he did right then and there.

Luckily that hate wouldn’t stand for long-he noticed a local coffee shop across the street, already busy with people shuffling in and out despite the early hour of the morning.

Hunk rushed inside, placing his order to a cheerful yet tired-looking cashier, then moving to the queue waiting for their coffee, his eyes never leaving his phone as he checked through his to-do list and replying to Lance’s text from last night, figuring the boy must’ve been still asleep when he got no reply.

“One cold brew coffee with caramel syrup and soy milk?” the cashier all but yawned, and Hunk turned his head to her with a smile, reaching for the coffee she’d just placed onto the small waiting table.

He stilled when he felt a warm hand clash with his, tan slender fingers with a blue circle on the wrist of said hand.

His eyes widened when the circle glowed, and swirled, his own mark heating up and his eyes burning, the blues and yellows merging into a vibrant green.

There was no need to look up, to realise who it was he’d just felt this connection to.

He’d known from the first time they talked.From that very first, awkward, embarrassing phone call.

Yet he still looked anyway, if anything, just to see the face he could wait not longer to kiss the smirk off of.

“Morning Lance.” he beamed, noticing the green glow subduing from Lance’s eyes, replaced with the baby blues he loved to finally see up close, the smile on Lance’s face too surreal to even try and describe.

“Morning hunky Hunk.” Lance grinned, “glad to finally know what your taste in coffee’s like.” he added with a wink, and before Hunk could reply, he got his arms full of Lance, the scent of sea salt and comfort and home.

It felt right.

It felt stupid to even question it, to ever wonder if this was his person.

Hunk looked down at the boy in his arms, a lip-splitting grin of his own lacing his face, burying himself into Lance’s neck.

“I guess I can finally treat you to that coffee I owed you?” Lance laughed, the warmth vibrating off his neck and onto Hunk.

Hunk huffed, his eyes already watering before Lance leaned closer and kissed his forehead.

“Idiot” Hunk whispered, “You’ve got a lifetime to do that.”

******

-Support me on Ko-Fi-

[l-x-ie]

1-40 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

1) Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

mmm I’d say romance I guess, I like having an undertone in my fics even if it isn’t the main thing.

2) Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Soulmates :3

3) Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

idk man, like… idk

4) How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

oh ho, oh HO, OH HO! Boooiiiiii 14 at least wait… 15 mmmmmMMMMMMM, which one, which one, I guess I’m most excited about the soulmate au :>

5) Share one of your strengths.

I’m very good at foreshadowing and little hints left in my fics if they need it.

6) Share one of your weaknesses.

Describing feelings, they seem very 2-D to me for some reason

7) Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Despite what he imagined he’d do if Keith ever came crawling back to his life, he never actually expected it. Which is why, when he answered the door he expected Hunk or Pidge, maybe even Shiro, Allura, or Coran. Never did he ever think that it would be Keith Kogane staring at him through too long bangs.

His heart stuttered to a stop and he’s ninety percent sure when he opened the door Keith punched him in the solar plexus because he didn’t have air. And his chest hurt. Just from seeing him in his damn doorway six months of work just flew out the damn window.

He did what he always fantasized.

He slammed the door in his goddamned face.”

Granted I do really like the first beginning of this fic but like, I think this sums it up well. Also, SCIENCE!! I’m proud of the research man.

8) Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

”“—eith! –eith! –o! –an’t do thi–!” A hand touched his shoulder and he screamed, hoarse and raw. Instantly the hand left but two cupped his face, bringing it up to see a familiar one. “What did you do! You’re the Meister! It’s my job to protect you! It’s my job to protect you!”

Black.”

….I just like the line

9) Which fic has been the hardest to write?

…..the fic that shall not be named petal soft but it’s untagged, only on tumblr so no one can freaking find it again!!

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Toss up between Meister of One and Tom Cruisin’

10) Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

I’d say both. it’s a fun hobby that i do and relaxes me most of the time but it is  passion because I love it.

11) Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Just the whole of season 3 fam

12) What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

fudge I don’t know, all of them have points that are valid??? The only tag I really have is writing reference and I think they have valid points.

13) What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

fudgenuggets I don’t know

14) If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Considering one of them is based on a film…. but other than that one I think Meister of One would be super cool to film because of the way I set up the transitions.

15) If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Klance.

That’s seriously a no brainer, that’s all I ever really write hehehe

16) Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? 

Start to finish but if I come up with something good I write it down for later

17) Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

Yeeeetttt

18) Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

…..he had a man in the basement???

Uh, not really

19) Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Physically alone, mid-afternoon, sunny but shaded, inside at a table with snacks and water nearby with NOTHING TO DO BUT WRITE.

20) How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Once or twice through before I say fuck it.

21) Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

*inhales* I think my old writing style for voltron is pretty close to the same but then I’d have to go get my old fics and I don’t really wanna look at that trash.

*looks* uuuggghhhhhh, yeah, I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole.

22) If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

All of them

23) Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Yes, It was very petty. I deleted my friend’s bedtime story because another friend said I wouldn’t.

24) What do you look for in a beta?

Someone who looks for the quality of content I suppose and tells it to you in a respectful but truthful manner but still affirms your faith in yourself as a writer.

25) Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I guess? I like doing it but I’m not “officially” and if I was see above.

26) How do you feel about collaborations?

Fuuuuuunnn

27) Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Uuggghhh witty_name, Zizzani, Mytay, I guess they all have excellent writing quality, the characters are in character for their particular situations, they’re amusing and balanced with the seriousness, and what parts are meant to be funny are, excellent plots, they’re just really good.

28) If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there notwritten by yourself, which would you choose?

Not gonna lie I would do more of a companion fic to Lonely Will Wait by ciuucalata (when she’s done ofc)

29) Do you accept prompts?

yeet! It’s easier writing for people, most of my fics are because they’re for my friends.

30) Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I love being canon compliant but sometimes I feel that you need to take some liberties because they would be in a completely different situation and environment.

31) How do you feel about smut?

Read it, enjoyed some, there are really good fics out there with smut or just smut, have not written any though.

32) How do you feel about crack?

………I don’t wanna talk about it…33) What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

Eeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, no to non-con but if it turns out to be consensual in the end of a dub-con because it was consensual in the first place but needed to be dub-con for the somewhat plot then yeet.

34) Would you ever kill off a canon character?

…I… do not know ….maybe?

35) Which is your favorite site to post fic?

Ao3

36) Talk about your current wips.

Currently written written and published, Altea High, Klance Sky High AU, currently on Ch. 7 a third through Ch. 8 (which is gonna be a big ch. btw) slowburn, briefly has Nyma and Lance but endgame is klance, uh, keith has firepowers, Lance has ice powers, there’s Shay and Plaxum and they become friends with someone and helps with their development.

Others are not published so I won’t speak of those, shhhh

37) Talk about a review that made your day.

How do I choose just one??  

”Hi! I love what you’ve written so far it’s amazing and I love your writing style!!! Keep up the good work!!! Do you know how many chapters you have planned by any chance? No matter what I will enjoy every one so great job!” From AceStuckInSpace

”This was fantastic! I enjoyed the flashback bits that showed how their meister/weapon relationship progressed. I now have an urge to rewatch Soul Eater, aha. Loved this a lot =)” from xLindziex

“Well.Im.FCK off. …. Bye…. Nice writing btw” from @bleusarcelle huehuehue

And, like, a WHOLE bunch of others.

38) Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I haven’t gotten any rude reviews actually.

39) Write an alternative ending to Paper Cranes and Paper Friends (or just the summary of one).

Footsteps approach his seat, he starts to get up, to get out of the way, but a tanned hand lies on his forearm.

”Uhm, excuse me, but, I noticed that you were just sitting here.” A young man with a warm smile and blue, crystalline ocean blue, eyes and rich brown skin fidgeting next to him. He licked his lips and offered another smile. “Do you, uh, have a pen? Maybe?”

“Uhm, sure,” Keith rummaged through his bag and handed him a simple ballpoint. 

The man looked at the pen in his hand blankly for a second. Blinked. “Great! Uh, do you have any paper?”

Keith looked through his bag again and shook his head. “Sorry, no paper.”

The man with the blue eyes looked pointedly at the paper cranes scattered about Keith’s person. He flushed and handed him a larger crane. “If this would work?”

He merely took the crane with a smile, effortlessly unwrapping it and scribbling something before folding it again and handing Keith both the crane and the pen. “If you feel like talking more about origami, Keith.”

With that he smiled and waved before jogging from sight.

Keith looked at the newly folded crane in his hand, the black numbers wrapped around in rounded script, and smiled.

…….I think I’m missing one…

[ptw30]

Okay, I flipping loVE YOUR BLOG??? I MEAN?? YOU JUST SEEM SO COOL AND ALL AND I JUST LOVE YOUR BLOG SO MUCH GAH!! But I must propose: Voltron. But. Shiro's actually happy. :O

Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m glad you enjoy my blog. *tries to act cool* Hey, what can I say? I’m so cool - I have to wear a jacket in the summer. (…yeah, I’m not good at this cool thing.)

Shiro? Happy? Is that allowed? LOL! If so, here we go!

Pairings - Got some Shallura and some Klance hinting. SFW.

Shiro awoke, eyes fluttering with the remnants of sleep and tears, hischeeks tight and cool. Long, luscious hair tickled his nose, surrounding him withthe sweet scent of jasmine and firelight. He followed their shimmering strandsto vibrant blue eyes, dotted with the pink sparkles of Altean magic. Theywatched him closely, filled with amusement and worry and affection. Allurarested upon the pillow next to his, a soft smile teasing her lips, and Shirogave into his impulse, running his cool Galra fingertips along her cheek.

There was no hesitation now, no fear. Allura’s eyes briefly closed,savoring his touch, and then her elegant hand lay upon his.

She was exquisite – and he wanted to draw her. During the two years they’dbeen on the castle-ship, he’d restarted, paper and pencils and colors hard tocome by, but with Allura as his muse, he indulged when able.

But it wasn’t just her, really. His muse was more than one person, butAllura stole his entire attention now, her lips pursing. They glistened,drawing him like a beacon, and he leaned forward as she came towards him.

Pidge’s head popped up between them, glasses askew, hair bunchedagainst her cheeks.

“Can you guys please keep your public displays of affection to…y’know,not public forums?”

Shiro laughed, ruffling her locks. “You are in our bed, Katie.”

Keith’s arms tightened about Shiro’s mid-section from behind, foreheadpressing into Shiro’s back between his shoulder blades. His voice sounded muffledand cranky. “You said your door is always open.”

“Of course our door is always open.” Allura patted his hands. “You’rewelcome here any time. Lance, are you feeling better this morning?”

Lance yawned loudly then, arm slung about Pidge’s neck, face cradled byAllura’s shoulder. “I’d feel better with another three hours of sleep.”

“It’s already been seven.” Pidge poked him in the side.

He grunted. “And I need at least ten hours to keep my beauty.”

“Nothing can get you more beautiful,” Keith mumbled.

“Aw! Thanks, Keith!”

“I don’t think Keith meant what you think he meant, Lance,” Hunkmuttered from the other side of Allura, arm slung over her hip, so he couldhold Lance’s shirt.

“Then shut up, Keith!”

“Make me.”

“All right, you two,” Shiro laughed and narrowed his eyes at the tickerjust over Allura’s shoulder. “It’s barely…six GST.”

He placed a hand upon Keith’s – wait. Only one of Keith’s hand wasfisted in his shirt. The other extended to hold Lance’s.

Pidge wedged closer, pressing her face into Shiro’s chest. “Five moreminutes?”

Allura sighed and grinned, majestic and indulgent, as she trailed herfingers through Pidge’s wayward strands. “Of course.”

Keith shifted. Lance sighed. Hunk pressed further into Allura’s back,and Shiro reached around Keith to grab his pad and pencils off the endtable.  

That was how Coran found them almost an hour later. He came with platesof food goo pancakes and eggs and French toast and nuvill. Shiro sat, backpressed against the wall of the bed, the sketch pad hitched upon his bentknees. Keith hung off one shoulder, Allura on the other with Pidge and Hunk’sheads in her lap. Lance huddled next to Keith, drooling onto the Red Paladin’sshirt.

There weren’t photos. There weren’t cameras or phones on the ship, soShiro improvised. When Coran came over to see the picture Shiro drew, herefused to show the royal advisor at first, asking Coran to stand in front ofhim for a few moments while he finished. Then the Black Paladin presented hiswork, proud and fond.

“It’s a family portrait.”

Indeed it was – Allura laying upon the bed, looking up at the viewerwith a precious smile, surrounded by the sleeping paladins. Shiro drew himself nextto her – or what constituted his portrait – and he added Coran on the edge ofthe bed.

“It’s perfect,” the advisor whispered. “I’ll put this on the foo goomachine with the others?”  

“That’d be great, Coran. Thanks.”

“And shall I reset the ticker?”

Allura nodded, cheek snuggling deeper into Shiro’s shoulder. “Thankyou, Coran, but I believe Hunk fixedit yesterday.”

“Ah. Well, they are precocious young ones.”

“Shhh!” Lance added, hugging Keith’s midsection like he would a teddybear. “We still have five more minutes.”

Coran smiled, winked at the two “leaders,” and left with quiet steps.Shiro settled back onto the bed, arm wrapping about Allura’s shoulders, handreaching out to seize Hunk’s searching one.

There wasn’t anything to say. The morning was already shot, but thatwas alright. Shiro couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.

The End

[braincoins]

Pidge brings smuggles an alien critter onto the castle and tries to keep it as a pet. Hunk is ridiculously allergic to it, and no one can figure out why he keeps having (a harmless but explosive) reaction of your choice.

           The coast was clear. Pidge hurriedher new pet down the hallway into her room. Whatever this critter was, it wasnot stealthy.

           It looked like a web-footed catmonkey with gigantic eyes and the softest fur she had ever touched in herentire life. It was large enough that, even sitting down, it was almost halfPidge’s size, and it was Too. Freaking.Adorable.

           Once safely in her room, Pidgeheaved a sigh of relief. “Sorry, but you have to stay here for now, okay?”

           “Memau?” it mewed, cocking its head.

           Pidge squeed as quietly as shecould. “You are too cute! I’m going to call you ‘Mau’, okay?” She reached outto scritch the adorable critter behind its ears. It leaned its head into herhand and purred in a rough, almost-insectoid way.

           Pidge chuckled. “You’re going to bemy secret, just for a little bit.”

           Mau mewed again and then took noticeof something on the floor. Pidge’s room was filled with various interesting thingamajigsand doodads that she’d come across in their travels across the universe, and…well, Pidge was nothing if not disorganized when it came to materialpossessions. She wrote the tightest, most elegant code this side of AlphaCentauri, but she just hadn’t gotten around to properly organizing the real,tangible objects she had. She was still debating the merits of variouscategorical systems…

           Mau picked up the object in itsmouth and tried to eat it.

           “No!” Pidge dove to save the…doohickey. It was some sort of… engine component? She wasn’t sure; she was justcalling it a “compression coil” for the time being, because it seemed to fit.She pulled it out of Mau’s mouth. “Bad Mau!”

           Mau put its ears back and whimperedat her.

           “D-do you really eat stuff likethis?” She turned the scrap metal bit over in her hands, looking at it. Mau gotup and wandered over to some other kind of dinglehopper, and Pidge once againhad to swoop in to the rescue. This was plastic, not even metal.

           Mau whimpered again and lookedaround. Pidge froze when Mau’s eyes landed on her laptop.

           “Don’t. EVEN. Think About It.”

           Mau mewed plaintively.

           “I’ll find you something to eat,”she promised. “Just… not in here. Stay here and do not eat anything. I’ll be right back.” She set the compressioncoil and plastic dinglehopper down and started for the door… then turned backand took her laptop with her, just in case.

           It turned out Mau was an excellentmotivator for Pidge. She managed to find ways to get all of her stuff neatlyput away and organized because anything left lying about on the floor, Mautried to gobble down.

           If Mau was offered something, itlooked confused, but if you set it down and wandered off, it would sniff at itand then eat it, no matter what it was or what it was made of.

           Pidge was trying to figure out whatsort of critter Mau was without accessing the Castle’s database. She didn’twant to give it away that she’d smuggled a pet on board, and Coran wasdevilishly clever at catching her snooping through Castle archives. “Where’sSpace Google when I need it?” Pidge muttered to herself while absent-mindedlypetting Mau.

           It was draped across her lap,purring contentedly and not caring one whit about Pidge balancing her laptop onit while she did her research. Pidge scritched behind its ears and resumed herinvestigation.

           Hunk wiggled his nose. He was tryingnot to scratch it because he knew it was red and sore and irritated – like mostof his skin, at this point – but he also knew that, through the pain would bethat sweet scratched-itch bliss he longed for. He resisted and returned hisattention to his latest attempt at baking (with English labels helpfullyprovided by Coran).

           Baking distracted him. He likedcreating and building things to solve problems; that’s why he was an engineer.Baking solved not only hunger but loneliness, despair, and a host of othermaladies. Or, rather, eating the tasty results did. Baking itself solved anumber of Hunk’s problems, but the most pressing current one was “keepingmyself busy so I don’t sneeze too much or scratch my skin off.”

           He wasn’t really sure what wascausing these reactions, but it had been going on for a week now. Showershelped, and sleep, but there was only so much of either of those he could get.So. BAKING.

           Coran had also translated a bunch ofAltean recipes for Hunk, and he was practicing them. The princess and heradvisor had proven to be reliable taste-testers for the finished products,giving him appropriate constructive criticism and praising his occasionalinnovations. He did love providing for an appreciative audience. The urge toitch was subsiding.

           He double-checked the recipe. Itcalled for precisely two drops of liquid arcfruit extract. He considered theoptions before him and decided on three drops with a pinch of callen zest tocounteract the extra zing. Arcfruit was sweet in small doses but could easilyget too sour, and had a tendency to make the dough recoil if too much was used,but the callen zest should calm it down nicely without overwhelming the subtleflavors of the pastry. He grinned, already looking forward to the end result.

           He picked up a small shot glass andraised both it and the extract bottle up so he could watch carefully. He wasn’tstupid enough to try to add the drops directly to dough; you could always addmore, but you couldn’t add less, after all. If he poured too much into theglass, he could always pour it back in and try over. Besides, there was stillthe dough recoil effect to worry about; if you splashed the extract around fromthe glass instead of dropping it in directly, it kept everything in place.

           One drop.

           Two drops.

           “Hey, Hunk, whatcha doin’?” Pidgeasked.

           Her entry into the kitchen didn’teven faze him. He had the hands of a surgeon.“Baking. Hold on.” She kept quiet as she came over to take a look up close. Hedidn’t protest; Pidge knew how close to get and when to be careful. He trustedher. Thr-…

           He sneezed so hard that he droppedthe glass and the extract bottle. The glass shattered on the floor and the bottlepractically dove into the bowl. The dough actively fled the presence of so mucharcfruit extract, winding up on the other side of the kitchen, and Hunk feltthe need to scratch (and scratch NOW) snake up his spine. He wanted to cry –partially because of the ruined pastry, partially because of how much it hurtto scratch the spots he could reach and, finally, because of the spots thatitched fiercely that he couldn’treach.

           “Hunk! Are you okay?!”

           “Pidge… can you… get this…?”

           “Yeah, hold on.” And then her littlehands were scratching up and down his back through his shirt and he heaved asigh of relief even as he occasionally winced. He sneezed violently again andthe scratching stopped.

           “Yikes! You almost knocked me over!”

           “Sorry, Pidge.” Scratch wincescratch scratch. “I dunno what’s going on.”

           She came around in front of him.“Yeah, it’s like some sort of allergic reaction, but…”

           “What would I be allergic to inspace?” he asked, still scratching. “The Castle’s practically sterile now thatCoran’s over his case of the slipperies.”

           “Well, it’s possible that long-termexposure to something in the Castle is just now starting to have an effect onyou? But I can’t think of what it would be.”

           “It’s not Goldie, I know that much.”Itch itch wince scratch itch hiss scratch. “And, I mean, yeah, I guess it couldbe something building up in my system just now hitting critical mass, but… Idunno. I think we should eliminate anything new that might be around first.It’s probably a shorter list.”

           “Yeah, good point,” she conceded.“And given how violent your reactions are, it’s a good place to start.”

           Hunk nodded as he scratched. “So,how’s about you help me clean up the kitchen while we try to figure out what’snew that might’ve been brought onboard?”

           “Yeah, sure, I… … …oh.” She frowned.

           “What?” He actually stoppedscratching to look at her. “Pidge, you okay?”

           “Uh… I… might have a good place tostart.”

           “YOU WHAT?!”

           Pidge put her hands over her ears atthe sheer volume from everyone in the room. And it was literally everyoneexcept Hunk, who’d been put into a cryo-replenisher after he’d sneezed hardenough to knock himself unconscious when she’d introduced him to Mau.

           She hesitantly pulled her hands awayfrom her ears. When there was no more loud noise – just the stunned looks ofdisbelief – she gestured to her pet. “Lookit how cute Mau is! How can you sayno to this adorable face?”

           Mau was licking one of its webbedpaw-feet. When it heard its name, it looked up at them with its giant eyes.“Memau?”

           “It’s very adorable, Pidge,” Shirobegan, “but…”

           “It almost killed Hunk!” Lanceinterrupted. “I don’t care how super-cute the thing is!”

           “I’m almost sure I’ve seen somethinglike this before…” Coran was murmuring to himself.

           “I’m sorry, Pidge, but the universeneeds its Yellow Paladin,” Allura said gently.

           “And we need him to make us actuallydecent food,” Keith reminded her.

           Coran was snapped out of hismusings. “HEY NOW!”

           “Is there a problem with thestandard rations?” Allura asked Keith archly.

           “If you like green goo, I supposeit’s fine, but…”

           “I’ll have you know I was anaccredited Puce-Ribbon Chef back on Altea, and that is the 37th mostprestigious chef award IN THE SYSTEM!” Coran informed him.

           “Coran, Allura, KEITH,” Shiro putin, adding some extra emphasis on that last one, “let’s focus up here.” Heturned back to her. “We can’t keep… Mau, you said its name was?”

           She nodded and looked up at Shiro inher best imitation of her pet’s big eyes.

           He sighed. “But we’ll make sure wefind it a good home, okay? We won’t just dump it somewhere.”

           Pidge dropped the act and sighed. “Isuppose it’s for the best.” She kneeled down to be eye-to-eye with Mau. “It’sbeen getting hard to find stuff you can eat anyway. We’ll find you somewherebetter, okay?”

           “Memau?” It cocked its head.

           Pidge wrapped her arms around it andhugged it tight.

           In the end, they found a deep spacehauler with a small crew that thought Mau would be a good ship’s…cat-monkey-thing. They promised to take good care of the critter and Pidgewaved good-bye. The Castle (and Pidge’s clothes) were all given a thoroughcleaning, Pidge took a shower, and Hunk was released from the cryo-pod feelingtip-top again and with no more skin or sinus irritations.

           Still, Coran couldn’t help wonderingwhere he’d seen such a critter before. It was hard to describe to the database,and they hadn’t thought to scan Mau before handing it over to its new home.

           “Are you still trying to rememberwhat Pidge’s pet was?” Allura asked when she found Coran flipping through thexenofauna listings.

           “Yes. It bugs me not being able toremember and I… I think it might be important.”

           “Oh, stop it, Coran. You have toaccept that you’re getting older.”

           He huffed. “I’m still young-ish.”

           “Your memory’s not,” she teased him.“Just let it go. I’m sure it’ll come to you eventually.”

           He sighed and shut off the screen.“You’re probably right.”

           “Besides, we have more importantthings to focus our attention on, like saving the universe from Zarkon’s iron-fistedrule. It’s just a cute little critter that Hunk had an unfortunate allergy to.Pidge learned not to smuggle animals on board. Everything’s fine now.”

           He smiled. “You’re right, Princess,of course. Besides, it’s such an adorable thing. What’s the worst that couldhappen?”

[juicy-cookie]

Through The Valley - Chapter 5

Fic Summary: A deeper look into The Sanctuary.

Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. Boy has a weird obsession with a baseball bat, promiscuity and the word “fuck”. Girl has to find out if she can look past these things. Also, zombies and shit.

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10075958/chapters/23378913

Tags: @rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts @embracetheapocalypsewithme @redisunamused @kinkozan @lupienne @theblack-wolf @lovingzombiechaos @dragonracer @miiraal

Pairing: Negan X OFC

Chapter Summary: Mornings are for coffee and contemplation.

The first light of morning was starting to pierce the blue of the night, carrying promises of another hot day under the merciless Virginian summer sun.

Lilly was standing on top of the stairs that led down to the small garden and enjoyed her first cup of coffee, brewed on the little cooking station she had set up on the back porch. It had been her daily ritual for the nearly three months that she and Jax had been staying at this place. Get up at the first light of dawn, make coffee, plan another day of hunting, scavenging and piercing skulls. She had never been a good sleeper, but living outside of a community had resulted in her tossing and turning each night with barely four hours of sleep in between nightmares and lying awake, listening to every sound inside and outside of the house.

She leaned against one of the porch posts with a content sigh and blew into the steaming cup that she was cradling in her hands. Better to enjoy some peace and quiet before the horde of men came back from their little sleepover in the school. She couldn’t wait to see if Jax was okay, of course, but the thought of having her home invaded by strangers again made her anxious.

It was probably best if she stopped thinking about this place as her home and those men as strangers real quick.

Lilly knew that Jax could handle himself. When he wasn’t glowering at a bunch of invaders, he was actually a very friendly and outgoing guy. He’d probably come back with four new best friends, beaming happily at her and demanding breakfast and sharing inside jokes they had collected during the night.

She took a sip of coffee and thought that her own guest probably wouldn’t be as enthusiastic about seeing her again in the morning. She still couldn’t decide if it had been genius or insane to pull her little handcuff stunt. She may have ruined her chances of joining a new community, but her fear of being alone all night in the house with a man she had just met had drowned out all reason. She would just have to think of something to placate him and hope that he was as reasonable and friendly as he had been before she had gotten his cock up and then blocked.

Negan. Impressive name. Impressive man.

Lilly thought that he had done a damn good job convincing her and Jax of joining his community. The combination of logic, jokes and promises of a safe home had won them over in the end. Negan had laid it on a big thick with the compliments, but Lilly guessed that that was his way of ensuring people that he and his men were friendly. Though she had no doubt that his friendliness would be quickly replaced with something far more sinister when provoked. She could only hope that she wouldn’t be on the other end of a bad tempered leader with a baseball bat when she went upstairs to uncuff him later. Maybe she should have just fucked him. He was attractive enough.

Fucking her new boss before she even started at this new place, great idea.

She would just present him with a nice breakfast and a big pot of coffee for him and his men and hope for the best, she decided.

She was so lost in thought, sipping her coffee, looking over the garden that was slowly basked in soft sunlight and thinking of tall men with foul mouths and leather jackets, that she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud SLAP and felt a stinging pain on her right butt cheek.

She yelped, dropped her cup, which shattered at her feet and spun around, while simultaneously going for the machete on her hip when she felt a hand around her wrist, applying just enough pressure not to hurt, but making sure that she couldn’t draw her weapon. The object of her former musings was baring his teeth mere inches away from her face, his broad frame towering over her. Lilly’s eyes widened in fear and she was sure that she had fucked up by once again utterly failing to read a person’s behaviour. This wasn’t a strict, but benevolent leader who just wanted to recruit new people for his community. He was here to kill her; Jax was probably bleeding out on the school’s linoleum floor at this very moment. These weren’t Saviors, they were killers. And Negan, if that was even his real name, would now proceed to take what he didn’t get last night and then murder her in the most brutal way.

“Told you you’d get a fucking spanking.”

He was grinning at her and she opened her mouth to say something, but her mind was drawing a blank.

“What? You don’t like it? I got the impression that you’re into all this freaky shit after that fucking show of yours last night.”

She blinked. Why was he cracking jokes? Was that some form of sick psychological torture before bashing her head in with his bat? Where was that weird thing, anyway? She looked down at his hands and then back at his face. His grin had been replaced by a look of concern and he released her wrist and took a step back.

“You… you’re not going to kill me?”

 “I still might if you don’t pull the keys out of your ass and take these off.”

He held his arms out in front of him and she realized he was still half naked and handcuffed. She fumbled for the small key in her jeans pocket and gave it to him with shaking hands. He took off the handcuffs, which fell to the ground and put on the shirt he had stuffed into the back pocket of his pants. He then stepped in front of her again and poked his index finger into her shoulder and looked at her with a very serious expression.

“What the fuck was that all about? I offer you a place in my home and go out of my fucking way to make you fucking comfortable and you thank me by going all dominatrix on my ass?”

Lilly sucked in two more shaky breaths before answering.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You wouldn’t be the first man I met to turn into fucking Ted Bundy in the throes of passion.”

“What the fuck? Are you fucking kidding me? Do I look like a fucking raping serial killer to you?”

“I have no idea what you look like. I only just met you, you were adamant about being alone with me and I figured, if we were still cool in the morning, it was a sign that you really are just a bunch of normal people who are interested in us joining your community.”

“Oh we are so fucking far away from being cool, you might as well paint me red and hand me a fucking pitchfork.”

Lilly put a hand on his forearm and the small gesture seemed to calm him down a notch. She noticed him staring at the heavy rise and fall of her chest and figured that she wasn’t above using her female charm to get herself out of this situation. It had already worked on him once, after all.

“I really am sorry, Negan, for deceiving you like that. I panicked. Please don’t be mad at me? I do like you a lot, but being with you last night brought back some really bad memories. It’s a fucked-up world out there, especially for a woman.”

She felt like she needed a shower after spewing so much bullshit.

She hadn’t panicked. Not last night, anyway. She had it all planned out from the moment he had suggested to separate her and Jax for the night. But he didn’t need to know that. She could play the frightened little princess until she got one foot in his community.

His eyes softened and he took his hand away from her collarbone. He looked around and noticed the steaming pot on the camping stove.

“Is that fucking coffee?”

“Yeah. You want a cup?”

“Fuck yes! It’s the least you can do to get back into my good graces. Or my pants. Offer still stands.”

She laughed and hurried to the plastic garden table to pour Negan some coffee. She handed him the cup, took a fresh one for herself and couldn’t help being curious:

“So, uhm, how did you get free?”

He took a sip and grimaced, though she couldn’t tell whether it was from the question, the taste or the temperature.

“The fucking headboard came off. Next time you want to try out some kinky shit, make sure your fucking props are a bit sturdier.”

“Oh… well… I’m not exactly used to having such a hunk in my bed.”

“Stop fucking buttering me up, bitch. I won’t fucking kill you, but I also don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit sweet-talk.”

Lilly frowned and muttered “Don’t call me a bitch.” under her breath and his eyebrows shot up.

“Are you for fucking real right now?”

“I hate the word. It’s degrading to women.”

“Says the bitch that left me with my arms tied over my head all night.”

“Apparently not all night.” she murmured and Negan scoffed, before she gave him a half smile: “By the way… thanks for staying in your room and not taking your baseball bat to my head.”

 “The day has only just begun, so you better play really fucking nice from now on. At least I got to fire one off before I fell asleep… would have been a waste of a perfectly good boner.”

Lilly hid her grin behind her cup.

“Okay, I’ll think of something to make it up to you.”

“You can start by giving me a run-down of all the fucking things we’re going to take home with us.”

“Can I at least finish my first cup of coffee? I really don’t function properly without a good dose of caffeine in my system.”

“Again with the fucking demands.” he sighed dramatically, “We’re not even home yet, and you’re already busting my balls. But yeah, sure, finish your fucking coffee. Might be a long time before you get another cup. My people at the Sanctuary are going to fucking rip each other apart to get their hands on the fucking stuff.”

“The Sanctuary? You named your community?” she looked at him in amusement.

“Hey, don’t fucking look at me like I’m some fucking weirdo. Just for your information, there are quite a lot of fucking groups out there with much stranger names. And it serves a purpose. It increases people’s sense of community. Strengthens the team spirit.”

“Wow. That actually makes sense.” Lilly sat down on one of the plastic lawn chairs and propped her feet up on the table. She was rather impressed with what she had seen of Negan’s leadership skills so far and she allowed herself to relax and soak up some of the sunlight that was hitting the porch now. She watched as Negan eyed the other lawn chair suspiciously, clearly contemplating whether it would survive an attempt of him sitting down. She pointed over her shoulder.

“There’s a wooden one folded up against that wall.”

Negan followed her directions, unfolded the chair and happily sat down next to her.

“Thanks! I’ve destroyed one too many of those fuckers in my life.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want you to land on your ass first thing in the morning, Big Guy. One person with a hurting backside is quite enough… Ouch!”

She rubbed her butt where Negan had slapped her earlier. No doubt there would be an imprint of his giant hand there if she cared to look. He seemed to find her discomfort incredibly funny, judging by the devious grin creeping up on his face.

“Fucking hurts, doesn’t it? Good. You’re lucky you pulled your fucking stunt while we were alone. Can’t let shit like that fly in front of my men. So you better keep your fucking mouth shut about last night. Unless of course you really are into kinky shit like handcuffs and spanking, then by all means, be my fucking guest.”

She grinned and, after taking a final sip from her coffee, swung her combat boots off the table and stood up to look down at him.

“Oh please. Handcuffs and a pat on the butt? A bit vanilla, don’t you think?” she had to keep herself from laughing when he choked on his coffee and asked him with a sweet smile: “Breakfast?” just before a loud knock came from the front door.

The boys were back. Time to get this show on the road.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Kids Again

Kids Again Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Keidge Summary: And when I’m feeling small, You help me through it all. [link] Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: Day 3 of KidgeFest fill! I just want to say that I have associated this song with Kidge since the first time I heard it and I am so grateful to have an excuse to advertise that fact!

He grew sick of the constant lectures he got from Kolivan pretty quick and simply adjusted to taking it in stride.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to go sticking his neck out to save other Blade members on missions. “We may work with Voltron,” Kolivan had said, sounding tired from having the conversation for yet another time, “but we are not them. The Blade has other priorities. Knowledge or death, Keith; that is what it means to be a member of the Blade.” He hated having to hear that phrase over and over again. It just reminded him that he didn’t belong there, with the rest of them. Sure, he was half-Galra like a good chunk of the other members, but he was like them. He didn’t bear any hint of his Galran heritage physically – due to never being injected with small doses of quintessenses as a child, he later learned – and he had spend so many years of his life participating in things that required teamwork that he wasn’t so good at that.

Pidge had once teasingly called him the lone wolf that actually looked out for an entire pack but it was more accurate than he’d like to admit.

He headed back to his own room in their headquarters and slumped against the small cot-like bed there. He’d just been reamed into because Nihaar had gone ahead and saved another member of the Blade while retreating from a Galra-hub with a device full of secret, coded files. It hadn’t been hard for them to figure out where she’d picked that habit up from, all things considered. The other Blade that she’d saved was furious when she woke up – actually tried to attack Nihaar for denying her the glory of death on the battlefield – and Kolivan warned that they would be permenantly kept from working together if the problem persisted.

Nihaar was one of the few Blade members that was good to Keith. She was more a friend than a comrade and he hated the idea of never getting to work with her again. He trusted Nihaar and knew she had his back in a way that only two other people in Keith’s life ever had. She was a great support and had taught him a lot about his Galran heritage that he never would have known otherwise. The older members of the Blade had no patience for his questions and curiosity, while Nihaar was always eager to tell him what she knew as long as he shared the Earth snacks he kept stashed in his room with her. There was only one other place in the galaxy that he felt comfortable being himself without fear of reprecussions.

“Geez, these windows are really easy to open, aren’t they?” An all too familiar voice goaded from the other side of his room.

Speaking of Keith’s limited safe places to fall.

He jerked upright and looked over, needing to verify that his ears had been right. There, with a small stereo playing quiet music, was none other than Pidge, sitting cross-legged in the slightly ajar mouth of the Green Lion. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?” He asked, skeptical that she was actually here. Pidge had been on the Blade’s main base before – she was a Paladin of Voltron and his girlfriend, after all – but to see her here on personal business without him knowing was strange.

She shrugged, adjusting the boombox in her lap, and the little spurs on the leather jacket she was wearing clinked together softly. “I was just in the neighborhood… Figured I’d see if I could convince a pretty little thank like you to sneak out for a night on the town,” She said, winking playfully.

He snickered a bit and shook his head. “Kolivan would kill me if I did. I’m already in enough trouble with him as it is,” He said, shoulders sagging a bit as he remembered the previous conversation.

“What was he getting on you about this time?” Pidge asked, rolling her eyes a bit. She was probably the only other person as sick of Kolivan’s treatment of Keith than Keith himself, if he was honest.

“I guess Nihaar saved another blade from getting blown up after an intel gather went south. Now he���s threatening to break us up on missions if I don’t stop exhibiting behaviors that directly conflict with the initiative of the Blade,” He explained, keeping his gaze casted to the floor. Not too long ago, he would have gotten defensive or shut down at a question like that. Well, admittedly, he still tended to get a bit aggressive when he was pestered about what was wrong with him.

Unless the person asking was Pidge, that is.

“Are you kidding me?” She sputtered indignantly. She huffed and changed the tracks on her boombox to something a bit more intense to match her mood. “That’s absolutely stupid! The Blade numbers are already kinda pathetic compared to any other group we’re allied with! You’d think that maintaining what little they have would be a huge benefit! Want me to Allura on him? I know she’s having another meeting with all the groups in the coalition soon. I’m sure she’d have a field day dressing him down in front of a bunch of other leader-types.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “For as much as I appreciate that offer, I shouldn’t. The fact remains that I shouldn’t be doing things against Blade regulations,”

“You’ll never be able to fit in with them the way things are, Keith. You’re too genuinely loving and compassionate to abandon someone on the battlefield; consequences be damned,” She said in a gentle but serious tone. He paused and stared at her, meeting her blazing gaze. “That’s why you’re still doing it, even after all this time you’ve been working with the, and it’s honestly one of the reasons I love you so much. You’re a real softie underneath that edgelord exterior, and you won’t stop doing something when you know that you’re right, and I sincerely hope that you never do. The galaxy would be a lot better with more people that think like you in it.”

He opened his mouth to say something then closed it again, unsure of how to respond. He learned that, when Pidge was allowed to be honest, she could say things that were sincerely sweet. She – much like him – had a bad habit of shoving her foot in her mouth and being misinterpretted. He had dealt with that a lot growing up, too, and had been so relieved as he got closer to her and found it wasn’t like that. For the longest time they’d both apologize right after saying something that might be seen as harsh or rude, but the other would wave it off, completely unperturbed and understanding.

He knew what she was saying, both what the words meant at face value and the other message attached.

“Now, given that, it sounds like you absolutely need a night out. Get changed and get in the Lion,” She hummed with a small click of her tongue, setting the bookbox off to the side and crawling to the edge of Green’s mouth. If not for the fact the mechanical feline was nearly pressed right up against the building itself, he’d have panicked about her falling out.

“And where, exactly, are you planning to take me?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

She beamed at him, smug and proud. “We – Lance, Matt and I – may have found an illegal spaceship racing derby not too far off from here. Lance is planning to enter the race with Red. The rest of us – Matt, Hunk, Allura and the two of us – are going along for moral support. And to, you know, maybe do some gambling,” She explained, her tone completely casual.

Keith hummed then glanced back at the door to his room. “If Kolivan finds out I bailed -!”

“If Kolivan gets huffy, I’ll lie and tell him that it’s an Earthling courtship ritual or something. I always have a contingency plan, and if I don’t, I can cook one up like that,” She said, snapping her fingers for emphasis. She then clearled her throat and patted one of Green’s large metal fangs. “Now why don’t you get all dolled up for a trip on the space equivalent of a magic carpet?”

“I’ve flown a Lion before, you know,” He laughed, but he turned and headed towards the small closet regardless.

“Hey, I am being suave here. Don’t spoil my fun,” She tsked back at him.

“Have you been getting advice for Lance?”

“Rude. I haven’t gotten that desperate yet,”

“Not yet?” He teased back, disappearing into his closet to actuall change. He left the door cracked a bit so that he could keep talking to her.

“Give me some credit. I came here because I just had a feeling you were gonna need me, so I may not have figured this whole thing out ahead of time. Well, that I thought you’d enjoy going to the race. I know how much you like checking out the craftsmanship behind some of the self-built ships other non-Galran factions use,” She commented.

He smiled as he tugged up his jeans and slipped a belt through the loops. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little interested,” He agreed.

“Damn right you would be!” She laughed lightly.

“You know,” He called, tugging a shirt over his head, “isn’t this situation supposed to be the other way around? Like, you know, the guy coerces the girl to sneak out while Daddy isn’t looking to go to some risky event?”

“Have we ever followed the norms of a situation in our relationship?” She retorted as he opened the door, grabbing his jacket and shoving it on as he crossed the room to her. She stood up, one hand holding the handle of the boombox and the other extended to him.

“No, we haven’t. And I hope we never do; I like the surprise you bring to my life,” He said, smile wide and sincere and warm.

“Right back at you, Kogane,” She mused back, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. He tried to chase after her but she stepped back. “Ah, ah. You gotta wait until we get their if you want more.”

He chuckled and followed her into the cockpit, making a note to remind Pidge to leave hickies in less obvious places this time around. The hour-long conversation hed had with Zartula, another Blade general that was working with Kolivan, about the Galran equivalent of safe sex had been humiliating – hilarious to Pidge when she told him – and was something he’d like to avoid again.

[nicolewrites]

we are all stars - ii

Part II: wormhole

Rating: G/G+ Genre: Friendship Characters: Lance, Coran Words: 1,337 Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

we are all stars and we are joined by constellations—these lines that connect us that we’ll never see, but we’ll never break. this universe is our home, and someday we’ll return to it as stardust. Voltron one-shot series exploring relationships.

AO3

worm • hole {noun}

- a hypothetical connection between widely separated regions of space-time

It's cold, he mused. His fingers were splayed against the glass of one of the Castle’s many windows. A cool sensation spread from the glass across his hand, slithering up until his sleeve hem along his wrists. Beyond the window, stars twinkled.

Lance tapped against the glass with one finger, feeling the familiar tiny vibrations under his fingertips. This feeling was familiar to him. On Earth, in space, on a foreign planet, inside his Lion—the feeling was always the same. Though being a Paladin had thrown him headfirst into an incredible adventure, it was little moments, like these, that made him feel alive.

These experiences validated it all. Somehow it reassured him that it wasn't all just some wild, crazy dream brought on by a lack of sleep. This chaos was real, the people were real, and the memories were real. He wasn't sure which of those things were scary, and which were cool. Most of them fell somewhere in the grey area in between.

Since he was a little kid, all he wanted to do was fly. The Garrison had finally, finally, been his chance to make that dream happen, but he'd been classed as a cargo pilot and everything had shattered before his eyes. That is, until his mad stroke of luck when Keith was expelled and he earned his fighter class status. Then, of course, meeting Pidge and Hunk, the dynamic and dysfunctional and crazy people who would become his engineer and navigator.

Then there was Shiro, and actually meeting Keith and finding Blue. He couldn't lie, being chosen as the Blue Paladin, the first of their ragtag bunch, was freeing because for once he wasn't the second choice. And he got Blue, and she understood him too. Flying her was like no other craft the Garrison could supply. It was how flying was supposed to feel.

But now, deep in space, where he should be, and he felt a deep ache for Earth. He wanted to speak Spanish and to hear familiar music and voices and to swim in an impossibly warm ocean. He wanted the colourful buildings of Havana and the life and party in Varadero. The cold of the glass stung his fingers and he withdrew them. He wanted to go home.

Lance stepped back from the window and swallowed the lump in his throat. Homesickness wasn't new: he'd been feeling it the entirety of his time at the Garrison. Despite his love of flying, and his love of space and adventure, his first love would always be the salty, warm waters of his teal ocean back home and the family that surrounded him when he was there. Cuba was his anchor, and picturing its sunsets and beautiful days got him through the tougher nightmares.

Just down the hall, the doors slid open with a hiss and Lance’s spine straightened. A muttering voice and shuffling feet entered the corridor and Lance watched Coran approach, completely absorbed in his own thoughts.

The Altean stopped short when he saw Lance. “What are you doing in this part of the Castle, Lance?” Coran asked curiously. “And, so late at night too?”

“Just wandering a little,” he muttered in reply, scuffing his toe against the polished floors. “I couldn't sleep.”

Coran remained silent for a moment, an oddity for him, as he studied Lance. “Well, you ought to try. Any sleep is better than none. And who knows when the Galra will pop up again.” The Altean nodded briskly and turned to walk away down the hallway.

“Coran!” Lance blurted, and the man stopped, turning back curiously. “Do you miss Altea?”

The edges of Coran’s moustache drooped down. “Of course I do. All my friends, my family, and my home were destroyed. I would be crazy not to miss Altea.”

Lance licked his lips nervously. “How do you deal with it? You always seem so happy and committed all the time. When do you, you know, grieve?”

Coran stepped closer to Lance and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Lance m’boy, with something like this, I don't believe you ever stop grieving. It's about taking those feelings, and inputting them into something positive, like fixing the Castle or piloting the Blue Lion. I may not be as transparent as Allura, but I miss my people too.” He gave Lance a sad, yet somehow positive smile.

The Blue Paladin paused. He stared into Coran’s face. The Altean was open and gentle and the hand on his shoulder was warm. Lance was surprised to know how safe, and how fatherly it felt. He offered Coran his own smile, taking the words in with respect.

“Since the question came up, I assume that you're missing your Earth?” Coran asked, removing his hand.

Lance nodded slowly. “On Earth, I come from a country call Cuba. It is so different from where we found the Blue Lion, and I miss it a lot. There were beautiful beaches, and vibrant colours, and water as warm as the air and salty enough to sting.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Coran offered. “It sounds a little like part of Altea. Naturally, we had more technology than you, and more water on our planet, but the planets weren't so different.”

Lance turned away a little and stared out the window again, studying the twinkling stars in the distance. One of them might even be his sun. A tiny smile curled the edges of your lips. “At least I have something to look forward to at the end of all of this.”

“That's the spirit!” Coran encouraged.

Lance paused. “Coran, I am sorry about Altea. I'm sorry you lost your home.”

Coran nodded. “I am sorry too: for everyone on Altea, for Allura, and for myself. I'm not sure we quite anticipated that our world would have changed so much in the time we slept.”

“You did sleep for 10,000 years,” Lance pointed out.

“That is true,” Coran agreed. “At least this way, we met the destined Paladins, including yourself. Really, you all have helped lessen the blow of losing Altea, I assure you.”

The man pulled a ticker out of his pocket and checked the time. Lance stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, picking gently at threads inside them, and curled his toes into his shoes. He studied Coran, staying completely silent, and waiting for what seemed like an appropriate lead into the next part of the conversation.

“I think, Lance, I have something that might help with your homesickness,” Coran offered suddenly. “Follow me.”

The Altean spun and walked back the way he had before and Lance scrambled to follow after him. The two walked silently through a few corridors until they reached a part of the Castle that Lance hardly ever visited. Coran picked a door that Lance could hardly make out as it looked like it was a part of the wall and opened it easily. He stepped inside and Lance followed.

His breath hitched. There was some kind of virtual projection going on through the room. He stepped forwards and gaped. Projections of lush green hills and clear blue skies surrounded him. Lance waved his hand through a projection in awe. It looked so real, and he could even smell the clean, fresh air. This place was beautiful, and with a start, he realised that it must have been Altea.

Coran was smiling wistfully at the scene, but he eventually pushed several buttons on a control panel in the wall and the green valley winked out of existence. There were several seconds of darkness before a new scene appeared. Sandy beaches appeared underfoot and the sound of rushing water caught Lance’s attention. The ocean near him was a gorgeous, familiar teal colour and he choked in surprise.

The room had perfectly replicated Cuba, right down to the salty smell on the air. Lance stared, open-mouthed at the simulation of his home. He spun to face Coran, glancing between the engineer and the holograms.

“Thank you,” Lance said earnestly.

Coran smiled.