#also say what you will I think that bit where he slams down the girders in the shape of an X barring apocalypse's way is dope

[martianbugsbunny]

I love when the hero chooses their loved one over the world, like to hell with saving everything if you can't be part of it, but I also love when the villain chooses their loved one over the world, like to hell with destroying everything if you have to go down with it

[jaskiersvalley]

I just wanted to say a) oh my gods the cute laiden fluff I die. b) holy crap you wrote that cute Little!Lambert fic I found a bit ago! Nice!! And c) rawrkin explicitly told me you were nice and worth messaging and who am I to pass up such an endorsement? I love your stuff it's very good. 💜💜💜

Considering I’ve already come and made a twit of myself in your inbox in response to this, I’ll keep it brief (and in reverse order). C) @rawrkinjd is out there being lovely and spreading rumours that I’m nice XD We all know they are the real sweetheart here! B) I’ve had a few more asks about Little Lambert come in (with Aiden getting involved too...) so there may be more of that to come. C) Fluff is where my heart will always lie. There are so many unhappy endings in real life, let fandom be where everyone gets to be happy and cute. With that in mind, I may work a hint of Laiden into your thank you ficlet which is a vague companion/follow-up to this one. :D

It seemed that Yennefer wasn’t best pleased with how winter was shaping up. The path up to the keep was still open and Lambert had been glancing out towards the approach regularly, as if expecting someone. Eskel seemed to be in on it, sometimes standing with him, a hand on the small of Lambert’s back, murmuring a soft “he’ll be here” at times. That already had Yennefer rolling her eyes. She still seemed quite bitter that her spell to turn the witchers into children hadn’t taught whatever lesson she wanted to instill in them.

As it tended to be, things came to a head with Jaskier. He had tugged playfully at one of the decorative ribbons on Yennefer’s dress as they moved around the dining hall, settling down for dinner. As Jaskier sat down, Lambert glanced longingly towards the door with a sigh.

“Have your happy families,” Yennefer growled and Jaskier was enveloped in a puff of purple smoke. As it cleared, a large eyed child sat in his place.

Nobody dared move for a moment, taking in the sight of a de-aged Jaskier until Lambert cleared his throat. “Oh no. He’s adorable.”

Not just adorable, also impeccably well mannered. Jaskier ate his dinner, already behaving like a dainty little lordling. It was all endearing and none of the witchers could look away from a toddler who had more table manners than the lot of them combined.

“Thank you very much for dinner,” Jaskier lisped. and Vesemir could see every stone cold witcher heart thaw in the room - including his own.

Settling Jaskier down for the night was an easy affair, he was sleepy, seemed quite determined that as it was evening, he would go to bed. That night, the wolves gathered in front of the fire and sighed.

“I didn’t think children could ever be this polite.” As he spoke, Vesemir stared into the fire. “None of you lot were ever this good.”

Famous last words. In the morning, Jaskier was gone. Not disappeared but definitely nowhere to be found. His altered scent led the witchers on a merry trail across the whole keep. Even worse, there was the occasional childish giggle and the patter of feet but Jaskier was nowhere to be found. They spent a whole morning looking, splitting up and taking different floors and wings of the keep, even going into areas that had been considered closed off for decades because nobody wanted to remember what happened behind certain doors.

It was futile, Jaskier was nowhere to be found. Even worse, the trail grew cold, there were no pattering feet or more giggles. The witchers reconvened in the dining room, looking haggard already, only to find Vesemir stood in the middle, staring up into the rafters, one hand raised to silence his wolves. Without a word, he pointed up into the vaulted ceilings. Only thanks to enhanced vision did the witchers see the small figure draped over a girder, arm dangling limply as Jaskier slept.

“How to we get him down from there?” Eskel asked, looking around.

“My question is, how did he get up there?” The counter from Lambert was also a fair one.

Before any answers could be give, Geralt broke into a run with “he’s rolling!” grunted between puffs of exertion. Sure enough, Jaskier had turned from his back to his side and gravity was doing its thing. Almost in slow motion, Jaskier toppled from the rafter.

“Eskel! Aard!” Geralt yelled. Only years of training together had Eskel sending a moderate blast towards Jaskier’s falling body. It won them enough time that Geralt could leap the final few meters and he caught Jaskier in his arms, his own shoulder slamming into the ground rather than their bard’s.

“Again! Again! Again!” Jaskier trilled, seemingly waking up without any kind of transition from sleep to sleepy to awake. Before anyone could react, he was up and off, rushing into the kitchen and, a moment later, running across a beam up high. “Catch me Geralt!”

The next minute Jaskier was falling again with a childish “whee!” and Eskel had to use aard to direct him towards Geralt once again. Thus the newest game was born. Jaskier had boundless energy to run, climb and jump, only to repeat again. And again. And again. Even Eskel was feeling the strain, his signs coming out weaker while Geralt huffed and puffed at having to run around to catch Jaskier who jumped off random beams, never the same one.

“Last one, then it’s lunch time,” Vesemir’s voice was clear through the hall and Jaskier took a running jump, almost missing Geralt as Eskel’s aard didn’t give him enough of a boost.

Sitting at the table, Jaskier eyed the plate of food, heated up remains from the previous night. While the witchers tucked in, Jaskier pushed it around on his plate before shoving it away.

“I don’t like it.”

“You ate it yesterday,” Geralt replied around a mouthful.

“But I don’t like it today. I want grouse.”

Even if Kaer Morhen had a stash of grouse, they wouldn’t have cooked any just because Jaskier was being picky. They ignored his indignant kicking of the table leg. The first sniffle and smell of salty tears had all of them looking up. Jaskier’s cheeky were ruddy red and large crocodile tears trickled down his cheeks.

“But I want grouse,” he wailed, voice breaking on a shriek.

Vesemir had honestly thought he had seen everything in his many years. But not once had he watched a child slither down a chair, muscles lax yet tight with rage. On the floor, Jaskier truly let loose, screaming, little fists pounding into the stone of the floor. The witchers all froze and stared at each other, not knowing what to do.

“If you won’t eat it, you’ll go hungry,” Vesemir ventured when Jaskier took a breath. Another howl of rage was his only answer.

Eskel was the first to decide this wasn’t for him. He picked up his plate and carried it into the kitchen, finishing his meal there, Geralt rapidly joining him. A look was exchanged between Vesemir and Lambert, neither wanting to be the last one left with a hysterical child. By virtue of being nearer the door, Vesemir won and made his hasty retreat.

Left alone with Jaskier, Lambert looked at his plate and then towards the door that led to the entrance of the keep. When no help seemed to come, he shrugged and kept eating.

There was a lull in Jaskier’s theatrics and Lambert felt a small wave of relief. “Hey kid, you done?”

“No.” More screaming.

“Okay.”

Eventually, Jaskier ran out of steam. After lying under the table for a little longer, he climbed out and sat back on his chair, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at the plate.

It was less than a day since Jaskier had turned into a child and already the witchers were tired. Not just the regular fatigue but the kind where they would have fallen into a pile in front of a fire and slept for probably a whole day. Eskel was worn ragged from all the signs, Geralt from the stress of catching Jaskier, Lambert’s nerves were fraying from the screaming and Vesemir thought he was too old for this shit. Sadly, his concoction only worked on witchers, otherwise he would have already pinned Jaskier down and forced a dose of the stuff down his throat.

The main door to the keep opened and a newcomer strolled in. A little put off by the lackluster greeting, Aiden followed his nose and found the others in the dining hall, a child opposite Lambert.

“You came,” Lambert sighed a waved. Three heads peered out from the kitchen and Eskel waggled his fingers with a tired smile.

“I did. And who is this? A Child Surprise?”

“Jaskier. The brat. I mean. The bard.”

Looking around, Aiden suppressed a smirk. He had a good idea what had been going on. Rather than make a big thing of it, he pointed at Jaskier’s plate. “You going to eat that?” A stubborn shake of head was his answer. “Sweet. I’m starving so you won’t mind if I-”

He cut off his words as a fork almost stabbed him in the hand. “Guess I’ll get my own plate then.”

The others watched as Jaskier glared at Aiden and hurriedly stuffed his food into his mouth, hunched over the plate. For his part, Aiden hid his triumphant grin and walked into the kitchen, getting a slight shoulder bump in greeting from Eskel.

After lunch seemed to settle down, the wolves were rather hopeful of an afternoon nap. Children did that, right? They piled in front of the fire, grumbling. Aiden joined them, Jaskier sat triumphantly on his shoulders and clutching his hair.

“Now,” Aiden said, “we need to put these big babies to sleep. Can you help me tuck them in?”

Little hands patted the throws down that Aiden draped over the other witchers. He tried not to laugh at how they were all drooping, cuddling up into a tangle of limbs.

A few hours later they woke in various states of decoration. Lambert had a candle stuck up his nose, Eskel’s hair was tied into a lot of small bunchies while Geralt’s face was scribbled on in charcoal and ash, giving him the most incredible eyebrows and scowl. Meanwhile, Vesemir was adorned in anything shiny that could be found in the keep.

“What the-?” Lambert growled and looked up at Aiden who was far too entertained.

“You left me with the kid. We kept ourselves entertained.”

Sitting up, Vesemir had to try and hide his own amusement. “How are you so good at keeping up?”

“He’s no worse than any other kid.” The shrug from Aiden seemed genuine. “You had them here too, didn’t you?” A look at the wolves and Aiden’s eyes went round. “You were all quiet and serious, weren’t you? Other than Lambert but even his firecracker ways were muted by comparison.”

It seemed that destiny had already matched the children to the schools they would fit in with the best. And it was safe to say, if Jaskier had been destined to be a witcher, he wouldn’t have been a wolf.

[bigtimetired]

Red ‘n Blue

another one-shot in a wider au- in which robin and superboy meet for the first time (set near the beginning of reign of the supermen, in this au not long after damian wayne meets his father)

Sunday 5th November 1989

[Palisades Avenue, Metropolis, DE]

Tim’s never been in Metropolis in person before, which is far from ideal.

Obviously, he’s looked at maps and pictures- he’s not an idiot- and he’s fairly confident that he could navigate the main streets. There are plenty of signs on the ground after all.

Unfortunately, Tim is neither on a main street nor on the ground.

He’s on a cold and miserable rooftop, somewhere rather far from where he stowed the bike he shouldn’t be riding between cities- between states- after dark, but hey, that’s just life.

It had been a spur of the moment idea, coming to Metropolis- an idea Tim had had (purely coincidentally) after a phone call from Bruce, reminding him that patrol tonight was cancelled.

(Tim hadn’t heard anything to suggest that he was there but had been fairly fucking certain that Damian had been smirking somewhere nearby.)

(Tim had also very carefully not thought about how this was the third time Bruce had either cancelled on him or brushed him off since his son had come to America. He had also very carefully ignored the burning feeling in his chest at the thought- such things didn’t bear further investigation.)

It had been a spur of the moment decision which Tim might be starting to regret, just a little bit.

One would have thought that there would be plenty of crime to stop here, considering what had happened to Superman a few weeks back. (Rest in peace, Big Blue.)

One would have been wrong though, because Metropolis has been cool and quiet and melancholic so far, and altogether very lacking in the crime department. That’s good obviously- great even- but if Tim doesn’t find an outlet soon he’s going to start fucking screaming.

He’s just a tiny bit on edge, recently.

He wonders why.

Tim makes the leap to another rooftop, peers down over the side with disinterest- a darkened movie theatre, shutters drawn, and doors locked. Just like every other building around here seems to be.

(Would Gotham do the same for Batman?)

“Nice costume, dumbass,” says a nearby voice, and Tim whirls, heart thumping and staff in hand.

There’s a boy- only about his own age- floating (actually floating) by the edge of the roof, arms crossed and face unimpressed.

Tim’s eyes skitter around, desperately trying to find some inspiration for a plan. His gaze catches on the bright insignia just visible under the boy’s leather jacket.

Tim blinks. Surely this isn’t…

“Superboy?”

The boy huffs, annoyed. “No, I’m the new Superman.”

Tim eyes the boy’s messy hair and very young face and snorts rather rudely.

Normally he would feel bad- Robin has faced similar disbelief in the past- but Tim hasn’t been in the best of moods lately.

“Sure thing, man. Whatever you say,” says Tim, and the boy’s face twists.

“Yeah, and who the fuck are you?”, he spits, and Tim scoffs, feeling like an absolute asshole and enjoying it.

(And if he’d much rather direct all this vitriol at a certain assassin-in-training rather than a complete stranger, then that’s no one’s business but his own.)

“Robin,” says Tim, as if it’s perfectly obvious.

“Uh-huh,” says Not-Superboy. “Don’t you have a gargoyle to be standing on or something?”

“Don’t you have kittens to be saving from trees or something?”

Not-Superboy floats closer, mouth opening in response.

And then there’s an explosion from down the street.

Tim stumbles badly, is saved from tipping off the roof by Not-Superboy himself, who looks more than slightly dazed.

“Thanks,” says Tim quickly, before taking off towards the smoking crater which used to be a building.

Finally, finally, something to do, to investigate, to-

After a moment Tim realises that he seems to have acquired a shadow.

He slants a hard look at Not-Superboy, who takes this as an opportunity to grab his arm and yank him to a halt.

“What the fuck man?”

Hot, simmering, rage is starting to build in Tim’s chest.

Not-Superboy frowns at him. “What are you doing?”

“My job? What’s it look like?”, Tim snaps, and Not-Superboy rolls his eyes in response.

“No, you’re gonna stay here, out of the way.”

“And why’s that?”

“‘cause you’re just a kid?”

Oh hell no.

“Oh yeah?”, Tim’s ears are burning, and he finds himself stretching up- because the bastard’s still floating like a complete dick- into Not-Superboy’s personal space. “You’re pretty fresh-faced yourself, bud.”

Not-Superboy throws his hands out from himself in frustration. “Yeah, but I’ve got superpowers. You’re just a civilian with a stick and a cape.”

Tim would very much like to smash said stick into someone’s face right now.

It’s at this point that the cause of the explosion decides to make itself known; a huge, spider-like, machine of gleaming silver trundles its way out of the wreckage and into the street, headed towards what Tim thinks is the city centre.

Not-Superboy lets out a harsh breath. “Fine. I don’t have time for this- if you get yourself killed, that’s on you.”

He shoots off after the machine, and leaves Tim standing there, fuming.

A civilian with a stick and a cape.

That’s a fucking challenge right there, in Tim’s book.

He unholsters his grapple gun and zips ahead of the metal spider-thing, mind already whirring with plans and ideas.

If he creates a blockade up here, that’ll hopefully limit collateral damage and buy him more time to shut this thing down before it gets to somewhere slightly livelier.

Tim squints at the scene behind him- the silver thing is still making its way towards him, seemingly undeterred by the colourful shape floating alongside and hammering dents into it.

Tim rolls his eyes, before snapping back into professionalism.

Assess the situation, Robin.

It’s got spidery leg things, that’s for sure, but the machine is actually trundling along on thick caterpillar treads, which gives Tim an idea.

Out of his belt he pulls the largest and hottest flares he owns, and chucks them at two faded patches of road, roughly around where the treads will run over them in several moments’ time.

Hopefully, the tar should start to melt around there and stick to the treads for a few minutes until Tim can stop this thing permanently.

Tim jumps from the roof, swings himself onto the back of the spider with his grapple and a well-placed girder, and starts poking around for a weak spot.

A vent, an escape hatch, any gap in the armour.

Tim narrows his eyes at a tiny space next to a panel of some sort and unceremoniously wedges the end of his staff into it.

Levering a panel that doesn’t want to move is easier said than done- even more so when one is on the back of a trundling monstrosity and in danger of being flung into the street at the next sharp turn.

Tim glances up and catches Not-Superboy’s eye, who has stopped whatever it was he was trying to accomplish and is instead staring at Tim in askance.

Tim jerkily beckons him closer with his chin, not letting go of his bo staff for a second.

Not-Superboy drifts over and yanks the cover up with relative ease- that fucking show-off- and Tim slams the end of the staff into the revealed circuitry over and over until it sparks.

It’s inelegant, but it generally works.

Some of the spidery legs rise up and twist around on themselves in an admittedly very impressive display of dexterity before one of them shudders violently and pierces the shell of the machine with a horrible scraping sound.

The vehicle judders then- once again Tim nearly falls and has to be steadied by the floating dumbass- and slows its steady trundle forward.

Tim glances around and realises that they’ve driven over his melted asphalt and mentally pats himself on the back.

Not-Superboy has landed at long last and is currently stomping on the shell with one foot. Tim wants to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, but it becomes obvious as soon as one stomp makes a slightly different sound than the others.

He’s found another weakness.

This panel is also ripped off with sickening ease, though this time Not-Superboy goes, “Ha!” and reaches in.

Finally showing some sort of effort- see how it feels motherfucker? – Not-Superboy uses both hands and starts levitating again to pull out a full-grown, wriggling, man dressed in various shades of grey and not in the least bit pleased about the current state of affairs.

The man breaks free and takes a swing at Not-Superboy who dodges it, and Tim decides to delegate that particular task to him and instead focus on turning off the whatever-the-fuck’s engine, as the whatever-the-fuck is still slowly inching forward and may or may not have some form of explosive on board.

Tim drops down through the hatch and into the cabin. There are a whole load of monitors and wires and stupidly complicated-looking panels in here, so Tim takes a nice, deep, breath and compares it all to the most complex machine he can think of- the Batcomputer.

Tim knows how to turn the Batcomputer off- he pictures it in is head, the flickering lights, the hum and whirring of machine parts, the button sequence required to switch it all on and off.

And then he slices as many wires as he can with the side of a Batarang until all the lights go out and the ground stops shaking.

Never fails, that one.

Tim clambers up on the ladder back to the top and peeks his head out strategically.

Not-Superboy is still struggling with the man, taking a glancing blow to the arm and being knocked back surprisingly far.

Tim decides to not be an asshole about this and creeps up on the pair.

He kicks out the man’s legs and Not-Superboy takes advantage and socks him in the jaw with an audible cracking noise.

The man crumples, out cold.

For a moment, neither of them say anything, just catching their breath.

Then Tim says, “Do you wanna call the cops?”

“…yeah,” Not-Superboy decides. He hesitates then, “Do you have, I dunno, zip ties or something?”

Tim nods.

“Cool- back in a sec.”

Tim watches Not-Superboy dip down to ground-level, making a beeline for the nearest phone-booth.

Tim rolls the man over with some difficulty and cuffs him like Bruce taught him to. He predicts then and there that Bruce will have called him by midday tomorrow about this whole thing and a part of him lights up with a savage kind of pride.

Not-Superboy is back then, staring up from the ground with an unreadable expression.

Tim raises an eyebrow and nudges the man’s unconscious form with his boot. (Lightly, because he isn’t a complete ass and is feeling a great deal more vindicated than earlier, for some unknowable reason.)

“You gonna help me with this or not?”

Not-Superboy’s face crinkles. “Huh?”

“We’re not leaving him on top of this thing, dumbass,” says Tim, with significantly less venom in his voice than earlier.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Not-Superboy blinks, and Tim rolls his eyes, dragging the man to the edge by the armpits.

Not-Superboy takes him then and Tim hops down to the ground, surveying the scene. He decides that this is a victory for Robin on the collateral damage front and awards himself bonus points for managing it on someone else’s turf.

There are already police sirens in the distance, and Tim blinks.

“Huh. That was quick.”

“There’s a precinct a couple of blocks over,” says Not-Superboy matter-of-factly.

“Ah.”

Tim grabs his grapple again and decides that the top of the movie theatre looks promising.

“Wh-where are you going?”

Tim shrugs, cocks his head slightly. “I dunno how you do it over here, but back home we don’t tend to stick around for the cops too often. Vigilantism, and all.”

“Oh.” Not-Superboy seems to consider this for a moment. “Alright, I guess.”

Tim salutes him and zips up to the rooftops again.

He makes it all of ten seconds before a voice calls after him, “Wait a sec!”

Tim obligingly waits a sec and is only kinda exasperated to see Not-Superboy floating up to him. (Again.)

Not-Superboy rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t quite look at Tim when he says, “Thanks, I guess. I mean, I had it covered, but it was nice of you to stick around, so, uh, thanks.”

Tim nods, not quite willing to unbend yet.

“Am I still just a civilian with a stick and a cape?”

Not-Superboy winces. “Yeah-uh, that was maybe kinda shitty of me and, uh, I guess I was wrong. So sorry about that.”

It’s definitely not the best apology in the world, but Tim’ll take it.

He shrugs. “It’s okay- I was kinda a dick earlier, so we’re even.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“Where’re you going now?”, asks Not-Superboy.

Tim rolls his shoulders. “Home, I guess. Just gotta find my bike first.”

“Bike?”

“Yeah? I mean, I hardly walked here from Gotham, did I?”

“Guess not.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Not-Superboy glances around furtively.

“Is he here?”

Tim blinks. “Is who- oh, you mean Batman?”

Not-Superboy nods.

“No,” says Tim, and he decides not to elaborate on that.

“Alright,” Not-Superboy’s shoulders relax a little. “Where’s your bike?”

“In the alley next to some diner back that way,” Tim gestures vaguely behind them.

“Lou’s?”

Tim squints, tries to remember. “…maybe?”

“Oh my god.”

Not-Superboy’s rolling his eyes but his tone is light, so Tim doesn’t feel too offended. He drifts back a few feet, gestures that Tim should follow him.

“C’mon- I don’t think Gotham will ever forgive me if I leave Robin stranded over here.”

Tim snorts but follows anyway.

 Tim’s bike is stowed neatly in the alley next to Mary-Anne’s diner, as it turns out. Not-Superboy stares at it for a few moments, eyes starry.

Tim grins. “Her name’s Redbird.”

“She’s gorgeous,” says Not-Superboy, sounding as if he means it.

Tim nods. “Yeah, she is.”

“You know your way back, right?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Dude.”

Not-Superboy grins, honest and open. “Just checking, man.”

Tim swings his leg over Redbird, settles down and brings the engine to life.

He looks at Not-Superboy, who looks much friendlier than he did earlier.

“Thanks again,” says Tim, meaning it. “This was fun.”

Not-Superboy shrugs, but he’s still smiling. “Yeah, it was a lil bit. See you around?”

Tim nods. “See ya.”

He shoots off into the night then, feeling much lighter than he did on the trip in.

 (He gets to school by lunchtime the next day, waves a forged doctor’s note at the necessary people and doodles in the margins of his notes until the final bell.

Bruce is either busy or getting old- he doesn’t call the house phone until 6pm. Tim lets it go to voicemail, grins a little as he listens to it over dinner, despite himself.

Bruce is disgusted, Tim is benched until the weekend, and somehow he’s not quite as upset as he thought he would be.

Funny, that.)

[lollipop1141]

It Takes Awhile For Friendship to Bloom

This was written for Klance Month 2018. It’s a crossover between Miraculous Ladybug and Voltron where Keith is Ladybug and Lance is Chat Noir. can also be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16130813

Summary: Of course, Lance just had to stick to Keith like a leech in the middle of an akuma attack

Ladybug looked over the edge of the Eiffel Tower, his bangs whipping around his forehead. With a grin, he did a running start and leaped over the edge, arms and legs spread wide. It felt as though he was suspended in the air for a moment, and then the next, he was freefalling at an alarming rate, with his arms tucked to his side.

Closing in on the asphalt, he whipped out his yoyo at the last second, hooking it around the tower's lowest beam, yanking him up in the air, his red soles barely brushing the surface.

He somersaulted into the air and landed safely on the girder, retracting his weapon with a snap.

"I knew you were bad for the heart, but I didn't know you were out to give me a heart attack, bugaboo."

Ladybug sighed. Looking up, he met the gaze of his superhero partner. He said flatly, "You're late."

"I’m sorry but beauty waits for no one." Chat Noir drawled, playing lazily with his tail. "But I know I can't outshine you.”

Ladybug rolled his eyes and snapped his yoyo up to the top of the tower, swinging him upwards. Chat Noir followed suit, his silver baton glinting in the moonlight.

Ladybug and Chat Noir, Paris's very own superheroes. They were good individually, but together, and they were a force to be reckoned with.

However not all were peachy perfect.

Because Chat Noir was a flirt and Ladybug was not having that crap around while they were on duty.

“Chat, c’mon, we don’t have all night.” Ladybug grumbled as his partner snapped picture after picture with a fan.

After an eternity (which was only two minutes, don’t be overdramatic, bugaboo) Chat faced him, tail flicking with amusement. “Aw, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were bugged by all of the attention.”

Ladybug’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. With a huff, he said, “You take the West side and I’ll take the East. Meet you back to the tower in three hours.”

“Wha – hey, wait!”

But Ladybug had gone, leaving a sole grumpy cat standing alone. That was their typical night.

To say the next morning left the two on the wrong side of bed was a heavy understatement.

“Good morning, medusa. What brings you out of your lair?” Shiro greeted Keith. His adoptive younger brother just groaned and helped himself with breakfast.

It was a traditional Japanese breakfast, complete with rice, grilled mackerel, miso soup and a side dish of pickled cabbage. Well, it was to be expected, since Shirogane’s was a high standard Japanese restaurant. How Shiro was able to get up at four in the morning and still look like a ball of sunshine, Keith would never understand.

As he munched, he idly wondered how Lance was doing.

Lance wasn’t faring much better. After being left by his partner again, he wasn’t in the mood to exchange pleasantries with his assistant.

After signing up the modeling contract, he was forced to move to France where the base was located, thus isolating him from his large boisterous family - which left him in a large hotel where he had Natalie and a bodyguard whom he nicknamed Gorilla, the two sending him to and fro from school and the shoots.

He wasn’t complaining about his job, but on most days as he ate croissants and hot chocolate for breakfast, he tended to miss his mom’s traditional Cuban meals and garlic knots.

So to say that they were at odd’s end with each other when it was barely past homeroom time, well, that was to be expected.

“What is your problem?”

“Well, if you weren’t such a stick up the ass, there’d be no problem!”

“I wouldn’t have one if you weren’t such a busybody and get off my case!”

“What do you know, mullet!”

“You tell me, Lance!”

They hadn’t noticed the screaming, seeing as they’d been screaming at each other’s faces for the past five minutes, but by the time they did, half the class had run away while the others stayed huddled at the corner of the room.

Maniac laughter sounded off outside. Lance and Keith exchanged looks. It was another akuma attack.

“Stay here!” Both of them said at the same time as they rushed out.

Both stopped and gave each other weird looks.

Lance said, “Dude, you gotta stay here.”

“And what, get yourself turned into an akuma victim?” Keith snapped. “This isn’t the time for your hero act, Lance.”

Lance hopped from foot to foot, impatience and exasperation buzzing off him. “This isn’t – you can’t go out there! It’s dangerous!”

Keith snorted and wrenched the door open, “Leave it to me and keep your pretty face out of this. You wouldn’t want a top model having a scar now, would you?”

“Dude! Just leave it to Ladybug and Chat Noir!”

Keith ignored him. He mumbled under his breath, “Yeah, if you would just stop sticking around enough for me to transform.”

Lance watched in annoyance as Keith slipped out. Of for the love of – “Seriously, every time, I have to look out for this mullet.”

Running outside, he stopped as the whole school seemingly turned into one giant botanical garden. “What the cheese?”

“I told you to stay inside!” Keith hissed at him. Lance just jogged to him, his face masked with rare concentration and concern. He bit back a groan as Lance crouched down, eyes searching for the akuma. Now he couldn’t transform because if he knew any better, Lance was going to stick to him like a leech.

Looks like this problem would have to be solved without Ladybug and Chat Noir this time.

There was a blast and a student who was running across the basketball court turned into a nice bush of roses.

“Oh.” Lance scooted a little closer to his classmate. “No wonder it’s a garden out here. The akuma probably turned half the school into plants.”

“Stay here. I’m gonna go check it out.” Keith said as he slipped out a knife that he kept hidden in his boots.

“Uh, no.” Lance pulled him back by the collar. “One, you can’t go out there without a plan and two, where the heck did you get that?”

“Lance, we don’t have time for this.” Keith insisted.

“Nope, I can’t let you go out like a psycho, swinging your knife everywhere. What if you hurt people when you rip off a leaf or something?”

Keith stopped. He had a point. “So what, you got a better idea?”

Lance grinned. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

It took a few minutes for them to gather the materials they needed and another to wait for the akuma to come out.

They still hadn’t seen it, so they didn’t know what they were expecting, but a large butterfly-man wasn’t it.

“Mothman.” Keith gasped. With sudden vigor, he leaped off the balcony and landed at the back of the akuma. It was shrieking and moving around, trying to get him off, but Keith held on. Flipping his knife, he slashed through the wings. With a wail, the akuma spiraled down with Keith at its back.

“Lance, now!”

With a cry, Lance ran out with a volleyball net rolled in his arms. Keith rolled out of the way as Lance threw out the net with expertise, trapping the butterfly akuma underneath. As it struggled, tangling itself, both of them searched for its corrupted – “There! The necklace!”

Keith snapped it off its neck and crushed it underfoot. The akuma butterfly fluttered upwards and at that moment, Keith blatantly realized he couldn’t purify it.

Suddenly, Lance trapped it in a small jar, slammed a lid on it and screwed it shut. Keith raised an eyebrow. “Won’t it escape?”

“Nope!” Lance said. “Pidge made modifications to this glass when she took samples from an akuma incident that gooed the whole city.”

Keith vaguely remembered that. “How’d she do that? Isn’t it, like, magic or something?”

Lance just shrugged. “I dunno. Science stuff about molecules or something.”

“Huh.” It was then that they realized that everything had returned back to normal. The akuma villain turned out to be a gardener who had his crop field torn down to make room for a mall.

As the principal comforted the man, Lance turned to Keith and tossed him the jar. “Here. You give it to Ladybug.”

Keith blinked, a sudden cold sensation washing over him. Does he-? “Why me?”

“Just a feeling.” Lance said lightheartedly. He didn’t seem to think much of it. “Besides,”

Lance held out his hand for a fist bump. He grinned. “We make a good team.”

Keith stared at him and then slowly smiled. With a chuckle, he returned the gesture.

“I guess we do.”

I finally have something for Klance month! This is also an excuse to write an ML fic since it’s been a year since I’ve updated on this fandom. Also, I haven’t watched season 2, so everything is still season 1 based. Just a general overlook on the love square and all that.

Anyway, I hope you liked it!

[mischiefandspirits]

Beauty and the Beast

Sequel to Roar & We Are One

The team begins their journey to free the universe from Zarkon's rule. First up, a Balmeran named Shay…

Oh, along with her people and the Balmera they live on.

Find more. Also on: AO3 & Fanfiction

Part 1: Tail As Old As Time

Hunk, Coran, and Pua leave to retrieve the crystal they need to power the Castle.

When Hunk and Pua stumbled into the pod bay, Coran was already inside a pod, tapping at the controls while Pidge and Chip hung over the side.

“Where did you go?” Pidge asked as they walked up.

“Had to pick up something,” Hunk said, gesturing towards Pua as he climbing up into the pod.

The three were surprised to see the armor the lion was wearing. “Where did you get that?” Pidge asked, hopping down to circle Pua, looking over the armor. It technically looked like the armor Coran had given Merla and Ryou when they’d raided Sendak’s ship for the Red Lion, but it was painted like Hunk’s armor, only with the yellow portions switched with the white on the chest and hind legs. His shoulders were also painted red and the lower portion of the helmet yellow.

“Lance. He made armor for all of them. Something about sidekicks, I think. I figured if Pua was coming with us without the Yellow Lion, he should have some protection.”

“Where’s Chip’s?”

“I don’t know. Lance just gave me Pua’s once it was finished. We were going to try it on him later, but… this happened.”

“Aha!” Coran exclaimed and the four turned to him. “It's our first bit of luck. There's a source not too far. We won't need a wormhole to get there, thankfully.”

Pua huffed and climbed into the Pod behind Coran and Hunk.

Pidge stared at the armor for another moment before refocusing. She climbed back up the pod to point at the screen in front of Hunk. “I made some modifications to the shuttle. The first change is a cloaking device that I reverse-engineered from the invisible walls on the training deck. The second is a tank of booster fuel that I mounted on the fuel line.”

“Using that during flight would turn the whole pod into a bomb!” Coran shouted.

Hunk and Pua each shot the girl a look, whimpering.

Pidge gave them a nervous grin. “Okay. Maybe you shouldn't use that modification after all.”

<Not your brightest moment,> Chip sighed.

Hunk turned to Coran and asked, “We ready to hit it?”

“Right. Let's go.”

Pidge and Chip stepped back as Coran started the engines. The windshield formed as the the pod lifted up.

“Good luck,” Pidge called and gave Hunk a thumbs up, which he returned.

The pod shot out of the bay and up into the sky. As they left the atmosphere, Hunk began tapping his fingers against his cuisses.

“So,” he hummed. “How far are we going?”

“Oh, not far. As I said, we don’t even need a wormhole.”

“Yeah, but exactly how far? How long is this trip going to be?”

“Oh, I’d say about a varga, maybe two.”

“A varga?”

“Fifty-five doboshes.”

“Uh…”

<An hour,> Pua huffed. He tried to scratch his neck and frowned when he couldn’t feel anything through the armor.

“Can I get that in English?”

“Een-ga-lish? Is that your language?”

“Yeah… What are you speaking?”

“Cavni Altean, an offshoot of Royal Altean.”

“Well it sounds like English.”

“That would be the translation system. A wonder of Olkari diplomatic technology. It can translate any spoken language loaded into the system, allowing you to hear my words in your language.”

“That’s amazing! But wait, how do you have English loaded in the system?”

“No idea. Perhaps someone visited Earth and cataloged the language. It’s a universal system, so anyone could have added it before you arrived at the castle.”

“Wait, so aliens have seriously visited Earth? Like, in real life? The crazy foil people are right?”

“Foil people?” Coran asked while Pua gave a chuffing laugh.

“Nevermind. It’s nothing,” Hunk muttered. “So a varga?”

“Oh, yes, well… a varga should be little longer than one of your Earth hours.”

“So we’re stuck in here for somewhere between one to two hours?”

“Yes.”

Hunk groaned and slid down slightly in the chair. Pua growled in agreement. “You wouldn’t happen to have road trip games or something in here?”

“Road trip games?”

“Wonderful.”

“... -nk… -un-... Hunk!”

“Huh, what?” Hunk asked, jerking up.

“We’re almost there. I thought you’d want to be awake.”

Hunk hummed and looked out the window. As the pod flew up to a large yellow-green orb, he asked, “Is this the Balmera planet with the crystals?”

“It's not a planet. Balmera are ancient animals. Petrified, but still alive. Their bodies naturally create the crystals that help power many Altean ships.” Coran hit a button and a display came up, fist showing the outline of a Balmera, then a picture of a glittering landscape. “I often accompanied my grandfather to visit these majestic creatures when he was building the Castle of Lions. I'll never forget the first time I saw the sparkling surface of a Balmera. You're in for quite a treat!”

The display fell away just as the pod slipped below the clouds. The two were met with the sight of not the glittering crystals from the photo, but barren rock and giant chasms interspersed with hulking machines boasting the typical purple lights of Galra technology.

“Oh, no. This is horrifying. The Galra have turned this into a mining colony! They're completely destroying it! They have no regard for the poor creature!”

An alarm started blaring as a Galra ship appeared on the radar.

<What time is it?> Pua yawned, sitting up from where he had curled up behind the pilots’ chairs.

“Uh-oh. We've been spotted.”

Pua sat up straight as a voice announced over the enemy ship’s intercoms, “Hailing unidentified craft. State your ship ID, entry code, and landing destination.”

“Oh, no. What do we do?”

<Does this thing have weapons?>

“Just stay calm.” Coran turned on their own system and replied, “We don't really need to land. Uh, we're just looking around, if that's okay.”

“Unidentified craft, land immediately and prepare to be boarded.”

“Okay. Thank you. See you down below.”

Coran slammed on the reverse and they shot backwards. Hunk screamed as they went into a spin and Pua scrambled to brace himself so he wouldn’t be thrown about.

Coran swerved around laser fire before diving down a mine shaft as he shouted, “Not done yet. Hang on!”

Hunk’s screams slowly lost energy as their nosedive just kept going. Finally he stopped and looked at Coran. “How deep is this thing?” Suddenly the light from the pod caught a web of girders. “Oh, no, no, no!” Hunk shouted as Coran tried to fly around them, but one of the wings hit a metal beam. Thankfully they were only a few feet off the ground. The crash was jarring, but they weren’t injured.

<Is this what it feels like to be in a crash? That was terrible!> Pua groaned rolling onto his feet.

Hunk pulled his helmet off and was turning to look at Pua when he spotted something.

“Coran, what lives at the bottom of these mines?” he asked.

The Altean turned to follow his gaze, but instead got a faceful of yellow armor as Pua shoved forward to see what his paladin was looking at. He stood up and he saw two figures standing in the gloom of a cave. The trio jumped out of the pod and Hunk summoned his bayard.

<Stay back,> Pua growled as the figures started to approach. He unsheathed his claws and the armor reacted in turn.

“Okay, don't come any closer!” Hunk whimpered, raising his energy cannon at the figures. “I don't know how to use this very well.”

The figures finally stepped into the light, revealing themselves to be bipedal creatures with reptilian skin and rock-like horns.

“Wait a minute. You're not Galra.”

“Nor are you,” the smaller said.

A buzzing came from above and the group looked up to see a ship floating down into the cavern.

The smaller one gasped as the larger said, “A patrol! Shay, we must take leave from these ones, now.” They turned away and set their hand on the shoulder of the smaller one, Shay.

“Wait, please!” Coran called out, making them pause. “We need your help. If the Galra find us, they'll kill us.”

“Or torture us,” Hunk added.

“Or keep us as some sort of creepy pet to play with how they please.”

<Are you feeling alright?> Pua huffed, sending the Altean a look.

“Not our problem, Hairy Lip,” the larger said. “Galra see us near you and they kill both you and us. Shay, exeunt!”

“No!” Shay objected. “These many years only Galra have been seen here. I will not turn my back on the skylings.”

“Vex!” the larger hissed before running over to the pod. They went to one side and Shay to the other. “Grab a side.”

The trio quickly helped grab hold of the pod, Coran next to the larger and Hunk next to Shay with Pua going around back to push.

“In here. Hurry!” the larger called as they dragged, pushed, and carried the pod until it was far enough inside the cave that the ship wouldn’t see them.

Hunk put away his bayard and turned to the strangers. “Thanks for saving us. I'm Hunk.”

“Shay. And this one, my brother Rax. How did you fall to us?”

“Well, we came looking for something. And you guys might be the right people to help us find it.”

The ship made another pass by the cave and Rax said, “Not here.”

Hunk glanced at Coran and then nodded. Shay and Rax led the three through the caves until they reached what seemed to be a communal area. More of the strange aliens -- Balmerans? -- looked up at them and Shay went over to explain.

An elderly Balmeran came up to them with a smile and offered them bowls of soup before gesturing towards some rocks near a fire.

“Thank you,” Coran said.

Hunk nodded, taking two bowls and setting one down for Pua. Hunk sat down as the others all came to sit around the fire. He smelled the soup and smiled, “Thanks for the delicious soup. Are these potatoes in here?”

“Grandma's special dish for special visitors,” Shay said. “Cave-root for the skin. Cave bugs for the soul.”

Hunk gagged and Pua snorted. First plants now bugs? He missed Earth food.

“Oh!” Coran said, looking just as thrilled as the Earthlings. “Thank you for the bugs.”

The elderly Balmeran smiled and poured some more soup into his bowl.

“O-okay, I think that's too many.”

“So, how many of you are down here?” Hunk asked.

An older Balmeran spoke up. “There are thousands here on Balmera. We work and live in these mines.”

“We harvest crystals for Zarkon,” Shay added.

Hunk and Pua both growled the emperor's name. “That's so… sad that he's enslaved an entire planet.”

“Zarkon may rule, but we still have family. That's where true happiness comes from,” the older Balmeran said.

Rax snorted and stood. “Galra would tear our family asunder if they found these ones. Everyone comes to Balmera and takes, but gives nothing in return.”

“In the past, those who took the Balmera's crystals would replenish her with energy,” Shay explained. “It was an equal exchange. But the Galra only take. It is no wonder we can feel her suffering.” She placed her hand on the ground and it glowed. A whale like moan came from around them.

Hunk frowned and looked around at the family. “I'm sorry that we put everyone in this situation, but the faster we get the crystal and get out, the faster everyone is out of danger.”

“We're looking for a battleship-class crystal,” Coran requested.

The older Balmeran shook his head. “Battleship-class crystal? Those are most rare. Galra soldiers guard them ceaselessly until their harvest. Your quest is in vain.”

“There is one, found only weeks ago. It is almost excavated.”

“Quiet!” Rax hissed at his sister. “Even if they could steal the crystal from the Galra, battle patrols wait to take down their ship. These ones have no chance of getting out of here alive, with crystal or without.”

Hunk turned to Coran. “Okay, so this crystal we need is basically the hardest thing in the universe to get.”

Coran hummed. “Well I don't know about the hardest. There is the scaultrite mineral found only in the stomachs of giant weblums. Collecting that stuff's no picnic.”

Pua frowned as a foreboding feeling briefly filled him.

“Uh, but, yes, this seems very difficult.”

“You may stay here until Balmera gives another crystal,” Shay offered. “One that is hidden from Galra eyes.”

“We don't have that kind of time. I got an injured friend who needs to get into a magic healing machine, stat.”

“Hunk, you fix the pod,” Coran urged. “I'm going to do some reconnaissance and see if I can come up with another plan.”

Hunk nodded and finished his soup.

Pua sent the food a glare but did the same before standing up. <I think I’ll have a look around too,> he growled softly, nudging his paladin before following Coran.

“Don’t wander too much, Pua,” Hunk called.

Pua followed their scents back to the Pod. He shrunk into his housecat form and was surprised when the armor did the same. <Right, Altean tech,> he chuckled. He started exploring the caves around the pod, keeping an eye out for any Galra, but the sentinels he saw only seemed to patrol the areas near crystals, which were quite a ways from the pod. When Pua eventually returned, Hunk was working on it as Shay watched.

“A child's tale,” Shay was saying.

“It's real. I'm one of the paladins, and Voltron is going to defeat Zarkon.”

“You are?”

“Stop filling this one's head with your shadow show!” Rax barked. “The cavern is our home. This will never change. Come.”

Shay sent Hunk an apologetic look before following her brother.

Pua saw Hunk frown and came up to wrap around his legs, purring.

Hunk knelt down to scratch under his chin. “There you are. Where have you been?” He blinked, then his eyes widened. “Did you armor shrink with you?”

<Yup,> Pua chuffed. He shifted back into a lion, his armor growing with him.

“Well that’s… convenient.” Hunk turned back to the pod. Pua watched him work for a few moments before he shut the compartment. “Finished. Now we just need the crystal. Do you know where Coran went?”

Pua ducked his head.

“Maybe he went back to Shay’s,” Hunk hummed and the two headed down the tunnel. When they got there, Coran was standing with Shay and Rax.

“Is your ship repaired that you may depart our presence?” Rax snapped as they walked up.

“Uh, are you saying that you want us to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it's working, but we can't leave without the crystal.” Hunk turned to Coran. “You come up with any ideas how to get it?”

“Actually, yes.”

Pua snorted as as Hunk scrambled to keep his feet with Coran on his shoulders. <This is never going to work,> he called quietly, weaving around stalagmites as a house cat.

“I can't believe I'm the legs again. I'm the one who took down the guard. I should get to be the head.”

“Shh! Legs don't talk.” Hunk and Coran approached a pair of sentinels guarding a crystal and Coran said, “Oh, hello, gentlemen, shift's over. Boss needs you back at the guard shack.”

The sentinels looked at each other before one said, “Verify identification code.”

Coran stuck out one of the robotic arms they’d taken from the sentinel they’d destroyed earlier -- the wrong one Pua noted -- and waved it about. “Right. I didn't want to have to do this, but I'm going to have to pull rank. You guys are in big trouble, right? So, hand over those blasters and ID badges.”

The sentinels pointed their guns at the two. “Verify identification code or be destroyed.”

“Okay, okay. I've got it right… here!” Coran threw aside the robot pieces and the cloth they’d wrapped around themselves to reveal Hunk aiming his bayard at the sentinels. Coran pointed at the boy as he fired on the sentinels, taking them down.

Coran jumped off Hunk’s shoulders and ran up to the crystal. He placed his hands on it and it began to glow.

“What are you doing? We got to hurry!”

“I'm not just going to pry this out of here like some Galra monster. The Balmera is a sacred being. You have to communicate with it. Let your life forces connect. This is the way it was done in our time.”

“Whoa. You really know your Balmeras.”

Pua’s ears twitched and he turned. <Hunk!>

The crystal stop glowing and the rock holding it up crumbled away. Coren jumped forwards to catch it when it began to tip over and he grunted under the strain. He suddenly flinched and his head slowly turned to Hunk. “I think I'm broken.”

Hunk sighed, then froze at the sound of laser guns charging up. “Huh?”

Pua ducked down behind a stalagmite while his paladin turned to see a group of sentinels behind him, guns at the ready.

Coran stumbled towards them as he slurred, “Okay, guys! All right, I hate to do this. Blasters and badges. Come on. Give them up.”

He fainted.

Hunk gave the group a nervous smile and held up his hands.

Pua watched as the two were apprehended and dragged away. He couldn’t take all those guards on his own. Even if he could buy Hunk enough time to get his bayard again, they were both built for strength, not speed. They wouldn’t be able to get away with Coran in tow. They needed help.

An idea occurred and Pua shot off after sending Hunk one last look. There was no one in Shay’s home when he reached it, but he managed to track the girl’s scent to where she and a few other unfamiliar Balmerans were being herded about. Pua was trying to figure out how to approach the girl when the sentinels did his job for him and separated the girl from the others. He wasn’t close enough to hear what they said to her, but she headed off on her own.

He followed her until he was sure they were out of the sentinels’ view.

<Shay,> he called, slipping out of the shadows and to her side.

The Balmeran jumped and looked down at him. “You are Hunk’s friend. I heard he was captured. Is that why you are small?”

<He was,> Pua whined, then looked up at her with wide eyes. <I need your help.>

She stared down at him in confusion.

He slipped ahead of her and sat in front of her, making her stop.

She tilted her head to the side. “You are… asking for my help?”

<Yes,> he purred, walking over to nuzzle her.

Shay glanced around. “I can help. Follow.”