#mostly just tagging that since its easier to search haha

[wildstar25]

Hello and happy one day until Halloween [:

I’ve been scrolling through your wol posting tag and I absolutely adore Arsay and her throuple with g’raha and y’shtola <3 I was curious, in your canon, what is Raha’s and Shtola’s relationship like without Arsay there and how has it changed over time? Would they count themselves as partners or just partners of Arsay?

Thank you so much for sharing your amazing gposes and artwork for your wol!! It has been a delight to look through. Have a great day [:

omg Thank you!!🥹 I love my catte throuple so much and it's so nice to hear other people like them and the posts I make about them too! That's a really good question. I can't seem to recall making a post about it since being caught up with the msq, so thank you for asking!

This ended up being quite long so I've place it under a read more haha apologies for rambling so much! As well, Happy halloween o/

Initially Shtola and Raha both considered themselves partners to Arsay first and foremost. They both cared for Arsay deeply and agreed to this poly situation because, after everything she's done for them, they wanted to do something for her that would make her happy. I also like to believe because they started off on the wrong foot, it took time for the two to build up trust in each other.

I have many side thoughts about how Raha held himself back while he lived out the persona of the Crystal Exarch, how his hesitance to the relationship caused Arsay to get upset, and how Y'shtola essentially saved the whole polycule very early on by telling the Exarch to get his head out of his ass stop living dishonestly and start thinking about what he really wants to do with his life. How that gave him the spark to think about the possibility of transferring his memories over to the version of himself on the source, since this version of him will never be free from the tower's grasp.

By the time everyone returns to the first, Raha and Shtola consider themselves trusted friends and deeply respect the importance they both have to Arsay. No words about it are exchanged, but there's a mutual understanding that for as long as this can go on for the three of them, it will. Shtola and Raha actually end up spending casual time together in the Rising Stones while Arsay is off doing warrior of light stuff. Turns out they actually have a lot to talk about together. Mostly about magical studies, but Y'shtola strikes me as someone who would be mildly curious to know of the event that took place in the timeline they erased, and Raha for sure would have loved to learn about Y'shtola's involvement in the warring triad stuff and the alexander raids. Plus they can theorize about history and mysteries of both the first and the source! By the time Endwalker starts, Arsay has noticed everyone seems a lot more comfortable with each other. She started asking to spend time all together more often then not. There was no real objections to this surprisingly. They all settle into a consistent dynamic around each other pretty naturally. If you were to ask Raha or Shtola how they defined their relationship at that point they would probably say they were just Arsay's partners and leave it at that. Ask Arsay and she might let slip how she caught the two snuggled up to each other while they were reading on the couch at her apartment.

[end of endwalker 6.0 spoilers from this point]

The next shift between the two is while on the Ragnarok waiting for Arsay to regain consciousness. I have a particular scene in my head which i cant gpose out since I don't have access to the environment so here it is described: --

Y'shtola has placed herself against the wall of the ship, shifting from pose to pose doing her best to contain her nervous energy. They did all that they could to seal up as many of Arsay's wounds as possible. Still it was impossible to tell just how much blood Arsay had split prior to her arrival. What Y'shtola could see is that Arsay's aether was unbelievably weak, having been all but spent in a final clash with (presumably) Zenos. For all Y'shtola knew, Arsay's body arrived to them too late. Her head began to spiral at the thought. So much so that she had failed to notice G'raha had torn himself from Arsay's side to stand next to her. He looked at Y'shtola with a pitiful face, eyes puffy and red, lips pressed into a trembling frown. Neither of them had the wherewithal to speak at this point, and Y'shtola most certainly did not want to. Twelve forbid if a single being on that ship heard her voice shake or crack even the slightest. Instead, G'raha timidly put his hand around Y'shtola's and held it. It was a small gesture, something he'd often do whenever Arsay looked in need of support. It was a comfort to her, to hold hands with a loved one. The two stood together in silence. Their gazes fixed on to Arsay's motionless figure laying in the centre of the room. Y'shtola squeezed G'raha's hand ever so slightly. Holding on to someone you love was a great comfort indeed.

-- Perhaps its not an as romantically charged love, but its love! Shtola and Raha are part of Arsay's tribe and they've come to care deeply for each other. Again, I do not believe either would readily admit to those feelings publicly, but in private conversation with Arsay it's obvious how fond of each other they have become. (this is also when shtola and raha begin feeling more comfortable being intimate together with Arsay >w> she is notorious for doing everything for her partner and not really letting herself be focused on. The two of them work as a team to make sure arsay gets some attention *nods* )

And, imo?, their closeness is kinda backed up by the endwalker patch content where G'raha already knew where to find Y'shtola and did not hesitate to get her for the treasure hunt. And then many of the proceeding patches has Y'shtola saying in passing that she's been in constant communication with G'raha. okay yes im not delusional, I know they are brought up because of them having relevance to the things happening or being done in the plot but still! The way the dialogue is phrased I can't help but put my wolship glasses on lol. I figure Raha and Shtola keep pretty consistent contact even when they are busy doing their own thing, same as Arsay does with them. The most recent development for my wolship is that by 6.5, they are all pretty much married to each other. Unofficially, that is. No ceremony is held or anything of that vein. It was more that they all finally managed to say out loud how much they want to be in each other's lives no matter where the future takes them.

Eventually I picture the three of them getting a proper house together. Arsay surprises G'raha by importing a bunch of furnishings from the crystarium, and dedicates an entire room just for Y'shtola's book collection. She also brings back some flowers native to the Greatwoods for decoration. Until then though home is wherever they are together!

So yeah! thats the break down of grah and shtola part of graharshtola!

thank you for reading, asking the question, and sending such a sweet message about my blorbos. Hope you have a fantastic day <3

[syilcawrites]

flickering

Series: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Type: One-shot Main pairing: Zelink (Zelda and Link) Rated: T Tags/Genre: post calamity, pre botw2, what’s the tag for his adventuring in between?? just botw?, then that’s it LOL, angst Summary: Link scouts out Hyrule Castle to see how he should prepare to fight Ganon, and stumbles upon Zelda's bedroom and her diary after he believes he sees her there. Snippet: “It was a silent vow that always lingered around in his thoughts—from when he spoke to the remainder of the Hylians to listening to the sweet melodies of a past long gone, sung by Kass.” A/N: I am terrible at summaries and was never good at them LOL. Anyway, this is just a little something for linktober Day 19: phantom/ghost! This is also loosely based off of my other fic archived memories chapter 6 :~) (which will be out tomorrow on Oct 20 haha). Hope you enjoy!! I like to spend a week editing whatever I write 'cause I tend to change it a lot but didn't have the luxury of doing it for this piece since I wrote it last night afouhgkjds.  You can also read it on ao3!

The first time Link stepped into Castletown, he was barraged with an incessant amount of echoing whispers.

Chaotic, haunting, loud and quiet, begging, pleading, bargaining. It felt like they were whispering about him, but he couldn’t decipher one word drifting into his ears.

He was by no means ready to take on Calamity Ganon—he had simply wanted to scope out the area, to see what he should expect—and he was hit with a wave of nostalgia that he didn’t understand.

Then came the nausea, and the painful throb against his head whenever he gazed upon the castle. It was different up close—the pain was worse, the stench that rifted off the malice was almost unbearable, and his eyes watered by being within ten feet of it.

But he marched onward—past the rubble and decay of a once grandiose town—or at least that’s what he assumed. It was hard to decipher what it used to look like amongst the ruins.

Link strolled up to one of the glowing eyeballs, staring into it for just a moment, before he stabbed it. It sputtered, shrinking, shriveling, before it withered away. He tightened his grip on the handle of his sword as he scanned the rest of the area.

More, his mind chanted. He wanted to see more of them crumble up into dust.

An unbearable anger always overcame him when he encountered anything inflicted by the malice—he wanted to tear at it with his own hands, rip and shred it into pieces until there was not even a speck left.

The overwhelming sense of hatred and revenge that dwelled deep within him feared him—because he couldn’t pinpoint why. He understood why, knew why, from an outside perspective. It took all of his dear friends and family one hundred years ago, but how the anger simmered within him like it ran through his veins felt unfamiliar to him.

His body remembered but his mind didn’t.

Link traversed the ruins of Castletown speedily, taking out the glowing eyeballs one by one and watching with satisfaction as they faded away—it felt like he was reclaiming the town back from the Calamity—whatever was left of it, at least. It was all he could do now.

“Okay,” he huffed out, peering at the large iron doors that stood between him and the castle. “One quick look inside, then you come right back out.” He whispered, gulping. He more frequently than not spoke to himself whenever he was alone—it grounded him, reminded him to stay focused.

“Free Zelda and all will be well,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on the various Guardians loitering the front. He would chant this before he fell asleep and it was the first thought that passed his mind when he woke up. It was a silent vow that always lingered around in his thoughts—from when he spoke to the remainder of the Hylians to listening to the sweet melodies of a past long gone, sung by Kass.

Link pulled out his shield and sprinted forward—holding his breath as he struck his sword at a stationary Guardian before it could respond to his presence.

Again—that bloodthirsty anger laughed in joy as he watched it implode, and he pushed down the desire to tear apart the ones that had long stopped working, and forged ahead.

The heavy metal doors of the entrance slammed open as Link used magnesis, echoing. His nose scrunched up as the putrid stench of the malice slammed against him at full force—causing him to double over. Link his behind a crumbling wall to hide from the wandering eyes of the Guardians as he gathered his bearings.

“Do not encounter Calamity Ganon, not yet.” He whispered, warning. He wasn’t going to go in until he was absolutely prepared—he had already failed once. Link gritted his teeth as his grasped at the small, vague memories that he’s so far recovered. They were so fragmented and confusing, full of questions and questions and questions that lingering on them for too long caused his head to split open while his mind desperately tried to remember. But he never did, and in the end it only left him feeling like a hollow and fractured version of himself.

All he knew was that he had to stay alive—stay alive long enough to seal Calamity Ganon and to free Zelda.

Zelda.

His blood ran cold at he thought of her.

“Will she fade away, too?” Link whispered to the castle, glancing up at it.

It did not respond.

He forced his way through the entrance, using the wreckage to avoid needless confrontation. He needed to be quick, no matter how much he wanted to slaughter the rest of the Guardians and the malice. Once Link was inside, he found the orange glow enveloped around the castle unsettling, as if the air around here had stayed stagnant for the past century. It felt it was holding its breath, waiting. Or maybe it was slumbering.

Zelda. She was here, waiting.

Then, he thought of Mipha—and the way his heart dropped when he saw that cursed blueish glow around her, just like with the late King. She smiled at him with so much familiarity, but he could only stare blankly at her, mostly just confused. Her eyes gazed upon him with such love and comfort, but he could not return the same affection, even if he wanted to. He found it easier to—to detach himself a little bit. Untangle himself from the Champions when he encountered their spirits. He had one left—Urbosa—but he had to mentally steel himself to confront her, like he had to for Revali and Daruk. When he confronted the both of them after Mipha, he forced himself to reflect upon those past memories—his own past memories—as a mere spectator, and it helped.

Link shook his head, drawing himself back from the depths of his plagued mind. He circled around the ransacked interior—taking note of the blocked passages, the crumbles in the walls that acted as a makeshift pathway to another part of the castle, and attacked slumbering monsters who blocked his path with an all too personal rage.

And then he saw a tower outside from one of the windows, set a little apart from the main building. He would have to paraglide to it and climb up if he wanted to get in.

His eyes trailed up the tower, to the caved in wall and blinked—eyes widening when he saw something shift—blonde hair, green eyes, flickering.

He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head and peered again, but it was still there—she’s there—looking at him.

Link, without a second thought, jumped through broken glass window, his paraglider wide open as he headed toward the isolated tower, heart racing.

He latched onto the broken tower and glanced up—he saw her peering down at him, smiling. She was familiar and warm, and... and so close. So, so close.

Link desperately climbed up—almost slipping toward the end—but reached up just far enough to latch onto the edge of the opening, and threw himself over. He fell onto the ground of the room with a heavy thud, and found himself face to face with an alarmed moblin.

Link quickly rolled off to the side, narrowly missing getting slammed head first with its stolen weapon, and was up in a heartbeat, his own weapon drawn. He mindlessly went through the quick, precise motion of eliminating it—simply allowing his body to move on its own, because if he dwelled too much on it, he became rigid.

He hated being out of sync within his own body.

Link exhaled with the final blow, and watched the moblin scatter into thin air, leaving him alone in the room.

With no one in sight, to his dismay. He wasn’t sure how long he searched every nook and cranny for those familiar green eyes and golden hair, but there was not even a hint of her ever being there in the first place.

With a heavy heart, Link walked toward the rotten desk, observing the scattered, torn books that lay in its wake. There was a flimsy notebook—leather ripped and torn, pages missing, but some of the writing was still legible.

Link flipped to the first page, reading the barely legible text at the front.

Zelda’s Diary.

He flipped through the carefully, as to not tear the pages, and found various scribbles and sketches—then a pressed cherry blossom flower in one of the pages, now brittle and brown. When he brushed a gentle finger over it, it crumbled immediately. His eyes scanned the next pages—various face portraits of Hylians. His lips tilted up a little when he passed by some sketches of food, of pastries and breads, or at least that’s what he assumed they were. It was hard to tell since many of them had faded away into the obscurity of time.

Then he found a familiar face, a face that he knew all too well.

It was messily sketched, but it was him—smiling, laughing, sometimes stoic, and it peered back at him like a stranger. It was him, but not really him. Link wished he could talk to the person he used to be, to ask him all of the questions that had piled up, but it was a futile desire.

He sighed as he peeled his eyes away from the sketches and flipped through the pages once more.

“Bit by bit, I’ve gotten Link to open up to me…”

He paused, lifting the journal up closer than ever to his face. His eyes drank in the words—words about him, who he was, how she saw him. He stopped at the end of the paragraph and closed the journal, staring down at it with confliction.

He took out the Sheikah Slate and slipped it into his inventory, and along with it, a little hope.

“I’ll keep this journal safe for you,” he whispered into the quiet room, his eyes roving around the falling, rotting objects that Zelda once owned, “so when you return, you’ll still have something.”

He waited for a couple moments, listening to the still air around him, as particles of malice floated peacefully by. He found it foolish that he even considered the possibility of her responding back and slapped his cheeks.

“Get ahold of yourself,” he muttered tiredly. He knew coming here would prove difficult—in terms of physicality, at least. He thought with time, settling into this new world would prove easier, but the distant reminders of the past associated with the wreckage of a world he once knew seemed to nail in how... alone he was.

Even without all of his memories, his heart ached with a heavy loneliness amidst a vast and broken land, because when it mattered most, he couldn’t save a single one of them. And then he left her, he left Zelda, to suffer by herself for one hundred years.

But he could do something now, even if it couldn’t bring back the lives lost. Even if she was going to simply drift away into the sky with the others, he could at least free her from the century of pain and torment she had endured waiting for him.

[mateasha]

rendevous 18.6y

summary: chikage shows up at the front door of MANKAI after disappearing from the face of the Earth for 3 years. itaru is not happy. fandom: a3 pairing: chikage x itaru word count: 5516 tags:  original characters for the sake of plot, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, flashbacks, mentions of death, bad attempts at action, bad attempts at comedy

chapter 1: realizations He should be happy for him. Chikage is okay. Chikage is alive, and didn’t… just go somewhere and do god knows what, (which, well, he already did, didn’t he.) but at least it isn’t anything bad, he’s safe and sound and maybe the troupe members will be overjoyed to hear how he’s been doing...

Out of respect, no one has ever taken their spots in their respective troupes.

He observes him even harder from the lounge area in the office, a good break, he thinks, as he grinds some gacha game with his husbando, a little tired from staring at the stupidly “gendered” pink UI with the characters flying across the screen. 

He’s happy. He looks healthy— maybe skin even glowing brighter than ever.

And it’s good for him. It’s amazing to see how happy Chikage looked, “laughing” with his friends, almost heartwarming to see Chikage doing just fine. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s talented, strong, mentally adept, better than h—

He stops that train of thought immediately.

He was happy. So then Itaru should be happy. Even if he was that stupid, unromantic senpai that always was offstandish with just a bit unromantic caring for others when he felt like it.

At least, should be.

He watches as his coworkers walk around him, slinging their arms around each other in camaraderie, as one of them asks him out for drinks after picking up lunch. His smile is almost as wide as he remembers when he figured out Hisoka was alive. And innocent.

He watches Chikage and he doesn’t look back, walking into the elevator without him, because he works on this floor. It’s fine.

But it’s just so fucking funny, when all he wants is just another word, just a reason why he left without even asking Spring Troupe, or literally anyone else for help. He would even trade his life for Hisoka’s, even though he knows that wouldn’t make anyone happy. Well, maybe Chikage. He could go off into some sunset with him and run away from whatever responsibilities he wanted to not deal with. Like Itaru. Izumi. The others. 

He wants to scream out so bad, just for him to come back, but he can’t, like that stupid horror novel that made him feel like shit and all existential for no reason. He feels like he can talk to him about everything, in a sense. Which would make sense, of course, if they were still close. Roommates. But he could only do that in a world where Hisoka is still alive.

—

Chikage knows he’s here.

Why? 

Intuition.

Not really. He looks at him, but chooses not to “look”.

But when he sees his face, almost heartbroken, which is almost questionable. He wants to ignore him so bad. Just move on. Easier said than done, when every week you see him share out information with the company execs.  A Chikage-senpai, no more.

He wants to move on so bad.

But everytime he goes to bed, he can’t stop thinking. He crosses another day off the calendar, it’s been three years, almost three and a half years. 

He tears down his calendar. Who the fuck uses those anyways?

He tries to move on.

But of course, when you have something good, and it gets taken away, you want it back, right? You throw a tantrum like a little child at first, like a baby crying for their pacifier their mom took away from them. Then, you silence yourself, deny you ever wanted it in the first place. But you can’t stop wanting more, wanting it back. You yearn for it so hard that it hurts, almost twists your heart into a fucking pretzel, your stomach bubbling like the filter of the damn fish tank in your too-large-for-one-person office— thanks Boss, not complaining— but you can’t have it. You ignore it.

He knows he wouldn’t be able to deal with it again. It was all his fucking fault. He slams his hand on the desk again, before opening up his work computer.

His vision is hazy, like the only thing he can see is his hands, just a foot in front of him, trying to find his ground, but all that runs through his mind is, “it’s your fucking fault you idiot stupid you shouldve worked harder to protect everyone, cant even do that” it turns out harder than expected. 

But it’s not his first time at the rodeo, of course. He picks up the stack of paperwork, straightening it all into a neat little tower of paper, before typing away with a nasty scowl on his face.

He can’t accept this.

—

It’s his anniversary.

Chikage is on “vacation”. If your definition of “vacation” is sitting in a fancy car in suburban Tokyo, near Veludo Way. He already regrets his decision. Closure, my ass, he thinks to himself as he drives his car. 

He’d already picked up tickets to their show in a month. Itaru is the lead this time. He searched it up, but it seemed not to have anything that Spring Troupe would do. Minagi always changes it up. 

Maybe visiting his grave today wasn’t the best idea, Chikage asks himself with a slight melancholy in his inside head voice which he wants to shut up— so he tells it to shut up with its own voice (which of course, would never work, because he’s telling himself to 

shut up).

Chikage doesn’t know what to say. Do people speak out loud to their graves? No disrespect to them, but not for him.

In their head? He tries it, kneeling down a bit to the headstone, setting down a bag of marshmallows.

Hisoka. I don’t believe in God or reincarnation, or whatever religion. But I want to give the universe, no matter how little it cares, the benefit of the doubt. I hope you’re in nirvana, heaven, or reincarnated into some “cute” baby in whatever country, eating marshmallows. I never understood that. It’s not like I needed to. I guess. But wherever you are, I hope you’re up there. With August. 

He shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water, except instead of water, it’s a somber liquid covering him, coating him in some syrupy hotness that feels like the embodiment of orange with speckles of blue.

He gets up and turns around to head back to his car.

“...Utsuki. It’s been quite a while.” He pulls up the cuffs of his outfit.

 He’s not surprised to see him here. Arisugawa. He looks the same, the same haircut, the same outfit, same everything. He’s happy to see he’s been doing well.

“...I’m not surprised to see you here. You were his roommate, after all.”

“Yes, yes, indeed I was. Was is the word I want to put emphasis on.” It’s like he reminded himself of what happened. “Why? Why come back here after all this time?”

“I was just… reminded.” He straightens his back, as if it wasn’t straight in the first place, almost scoliosis levels of effort into “straightening” posture, as if to become more defensive.

“Are you going to interrogate me, at least? Inquire about the troupe? How well has it been faring?”

“... I don’t think I need to.” He’s reminded of the last time he went to watch a play. Around Christmas time— where he could take enough time off.

Minagi always does well. Sakuma is always just so passionate you can feel it through the character. Usui is always perfect, staring back at the Director in approval. Chigasaki… is…

He interrupts his own thoughts just to respond to Arisugawa, who’s been waiting for another word for 3 seconds at least. “I saw the play around Christmas. Well done. Very much so.”

“We are all aware Minagi-san always does an amazing job. Why, he is at the same level as me. But of course, I must come here and mourn every once in a while.” He walks past Chikage to look at Hisoka’s grave. “These marshmallows were his favorite brand, Chikage.”

“I know.”

A moment of silence ensues as Homare places a bouquet of anemone on the grave.

“Come back.”

“What?” Chikage is almost startled as he looks down at Homare, squatting at the grave.

“Come back.”

“You know I can’t.”

“You can, and you have always been able.” 

“I can’t. Arisu. What am I meant to say to everyone? ‘Oh, I left for 3 years, haha big surprise now I’m back!’ They’re them. I’m me. They don’t need me.” Chikage laughs nervously. Nervously? He calms his nerves— at least tries to, conflicted on what to do, because it’s been a while since he’s been like this.

“It’s what Hisoka would have wanted. We all need breaks.” The mention of Hisoka alarms Chikage, and makes his voice venom tipped.

“Don’t even try to bring up that fucking sleepyhead.”

“My, your language. This place is sacred.” He doesn’t even seem phased by his biting tone or his venomous words, just continuing to talk to him as normal— at least normal to him. “But you must admit… he would want you to keep acting. He was very, practically fully aware that you enjoyed what you did immensely.”

“I don’t care. It was good to talk to you again. See you around.” He storms off before Homare calls out for him again.

“Just… take this.” He hands him a card, Chikage acquiescing halfheartedly, already thinking about throwing away that flimsy card. “Call the number if you ever yearn for us too much.”

Chikage doesn’t say anything back— at least doesn’t feel the need to.

—

“Itaru?” The rest of the Spring Troupe knocks at his door, mostly Sakuya’s voice piercing through the little symphony of voices piping up just in an effort to wake up Itaru. (If he’s asleep of course— sleeping now to save energy for ranking all night.) “We have pizza?” Masumi looks at the noticeable lack of pizza in their hands, which, knowing Itaru, would make him close that damn door again.

Tsuzuru knocks on the door again, Izumi coming by, looking at them with a puzzled look on her face. “...Can I ask what you guys are doing or is it private?”

“Itaru hasn’t come out of his room in like… a week.” Tsuzuru takes out his phone to check the phone date to see if he’s actually not come out of his room for a week. “Yeah. A week.”

“And why is that surprising? He’s probably ranking.” Izumi almost has a visible question mark hovering over her head, that would be drawn over her if they were in an anime. “Although he should be working on his role… he is the lead after all.”

“Yeah, but I know that he has no thanking to do for this week!” Citron looks almost frustrated, going to the door to bang on it before Sakuya holds him back, calming him down. “I wanna play with him…”

“Ranking.” Tsuzuru mumbles through the word, correcting him.

“Ranking!”

Izumi parts them into two to make her way to the door, knocking harder. “Chigasaki! Get out of the room before I break in!” No response. “...Itaru?” Izumi grabs a keychain from her pocket, with the master key. “I’m coming in.” She unlocks the door quickly, opening the door, being blasted with a rank scent— the scent of body odor (which isn’t surprising now that he’s alone) but when it’s festered and accumulated for a month. Which is terrible considering he’s only been in there for a week.

“...Yes?” Itaru sits up in his loft bed. “...Oh.” He gets down from the loft bed, his hair almost matted to his face, with oil stains and chip crumbs all over his t-shirt. “...Hi.”

“Itaru.”

“Director…?”

“Take a bath. Come back here. We are going to talk, because you haven’t let it get this bad in a while.”

“...Whatever you say.”

When Itaru takes a shower, he doesn’t feel refreshed— rather just a clean feeling taking him with the same unidentifiable emotion. Probably a mixture of disappointment, discontentment, and self-loathing; which isn’t a particularly new mixture but it’s almost defeating this time, for no damn reason. Well, he does know the reason, but he refuses to acknowledge the idea, even entertaining it. Calling in sick to work because he just didn’t feel like going isn’t going to last forever, especially when He is practically his boss. He doesn’t want to get fired of course. He did just lose another job, so getting fired now isn’t the best idea.

Itaru picks up his phone on his way out of the bath, and turns on his phone to check his waifus this time, at first checking out his Best Girl. Humans are complicated, he says to himself, as he taps though some loading messages and downloading messages. He thinks back to work before getting interrupted by Izumi, who’s staring at him from inside his dorm, picking up trash and stuffing them into her makeshift trash bag, which is really just a plastic bag from the convenience store. “Itaru, come in. It’s your dorm after all.” He walks in unwillingly, hit by the smell he produced himself. He even wonders how he can take it.

Izumi wants to talk, he knows that much, as he feels the type of anxiety coming on when he gets the message, “we need to talk”. He hasn’t gotten it that often, but he does definitely freeze up. He definitely isn’t that stupid to not get a hint. Maybe. Izumi starts speaking after a moment of silence.

“So… Can we talk about this? You’ve never let it get this bad… even you have standards.” She glares at the side of the room that’s basically caked in chip bags, surrounded by an anime summoning circle made of chip crumbs. 

“Do I have to?”

“Listen… this can’t go on forever. Just… talk about it. My lips are sealed!” She “zips” her mouth shut and throws away the invisible key from her hands. Itaru knows she isn’t going to leave without an answer— which is just the type of person she is— determined for no good reason. He can’t understand why Izumi is still here, even “helping” him clean. Helping in quotation marks because Itaru’s splayed out on his couch, head hanging off an armrest.

He holds out his phone to tweet something on his streamer Twitter, like “sorry for not streaming i was sick” which is convincing, until he realizes Banri follows him. Fucking NEO. Whatever. He sends it anyway.

“Can you keep it down? I don’t know what emotion you’re gonna feel when I tell you whatever has gotten me so… down. But I know you’re gonna scream about it, which I don’t want to hear.” Itaru scrolls through his personal, looking at fanart of his main games staring at a couple to just appreciate the artistry. Talent.

“I told you. Lips are sealed!”

He adds a snarky tone to his voice. “Someone with their lips zipped together wouldn’t be able to talk.” Itaru smirks.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“LOL. Do you seriously, most definitely, want to hear me out?”

“Yes. Obviously? I’m cleaning your room just to buy myself time so you don’t kick me out.”

“Good strat. Whatever.” He goes to the training section, sacrificing some of his cards in the name of evolving his best girl. “I got laid off, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“And I got a new job, remember?”

“Mmmhm.”

“So I got hired as an assistant to this high up exec, which is like… hell yeah. Level up from that old company.”

“Didn’t you just get hired? I don’t think being absent for a week is a good look for your Refreshing Handsome Man persona. Trademark.”

Itaru laughs.“I— Well… Yeah? But I just didn’t want to go because of a certain person.”

“Do we have to beat someone up?”

“No. But guess who it was.”

“... Was it someone from highschool?”

“It was Chikage-san.”

“...Chika—“ Izumi puts her own hand over her mouth to shut herself up because of the up and coming scream that is about to pierce the skies.

“You heard me right.”

“...Yeah, I definitely did.” Izumi almost has a solemn tone, a tacit agreement of how they should be feeling about this.

“I just… I don't think I’m ready to see him. Mentally preparing for what shitshow might go on. Seeing him drained all my LP in a split second. And this week is me recharging, and a little more. Like I need it to overflow this time, like when I claim daily login quests for them.”

“Makes sense. Well… nothing you can do about it, right?” Izumi sounds a bit defeated, tying up the trash she’s picked up in the convenience store plastic bag, taking out another one and cleaning up again. “Just… deal with it till you can find a new job. Or… you could bring him back here. I want to— need to talk to him.”

“Mmm. I don’t want to do it.” Itaru sounds even more defeated, like he was born with that stupid Archeops abiltity. 50% HP lost already, and he’s not ready to lose that other half. “But if it comes to that… Sure. I’ll try. Not very hard of course.”

“Yeah, yeah, Itaru. You keep doing that.” She picks up some more trash before Tsumugi looks through the door. 

“Director-san?”

“Tsumugi?”

“Someone is at the door.”

“I’ll get it.” Tsumugi leaves quickly to his dorm. “Itaru. Finish cleaning. Get the broom and sweep that damn pile of chips. We can’t deal with another infestation. Sakyo is gonna get so mad at you and me, and we don’t want another wifi outage caused by him. Also… please remember the play. I know that we aren’t super close to opening night, but this one has to be one of our more intricate ones, okay? Study your role well.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been doing that in here too.” Itaru follows Izumi out of the room, heading to the lounge to grab the dustpan and broom lying in the corner of the kitchen. Itaru takes it, wondering how much money it would cost for Itaru to get a damn maid around here. 

But he wouldn’t want anyone to see his room, of course, as he gets almost scared of someone walking in, and seeing his shelf of games, and his cute and sexy gamer setup. Not the right choice of words, but it’s cute and sexy to him. (He also doesn’t want anyone to wash his body pillow of his waifu, or see it, matter of fact. Plus, he’s worked to make it so comfortable he can sleep instantly with it.)

Itaru heads back to his dorm, the door still open, sweeping up the chips, and spraying some damn Febreeze in there. Hawaiian breeze, or some other tropical scent will do. He hears frantic footsteps from the lounge, Izumi holding onto the doorframe.

“Itaru!” She stands up straight. “Chikage… is here. At the dorms with us.”

“What?” 

Chikage pops up behind her, with a small suitcase in hand. Less of popping up, but more of fully revealing himself behind her.

“Please don’t tell me he’s moving back in.”

—

Chikage is less than aware of the reasons he’s here, before regrouping himself and making some stupid mental list in his mind. Thanks, self-help/business book that his boss gave him. He leads up the events in his mind.

Chikage gets a call from the landlord of his apartment building. 

The landlord tells him that the rooms are flooded because some guy on the upper floor took such a big shit that it flooded the entire apartment complex. How does one even do that?

He is distressed. He goes to book a hotel.

All the hotel rooms are booked again.

Chikage, understandably, gets angry. He drives back to pick up some non-wet stuff. He can sleep in a car for a night.

He starts it up, and it doesn’t start. His car is broken.

He kicks the tire in frustration, and the side metal plate just falls off. He sighs in the ultimate defeat.

He now has nowhere else to stay— hotels are all booked and reserved for the waves of plays about to be released. His hideout is not an option— he doesn’t have much of a bed in there, or actual facilities he needs. No wifi.

Chikage is reminded of the conversation he and Arisugawa had back at… there.

He comes back with a damn Uber.

He sits down at the couch, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in more than frustration at what situation he’s gotten himself into, already regretting his decision.

Izumi runs back, opening the lounge door. “...Chikage-san!” She goes to the kitchen. “It’s… a pleasure to see you back here. It’s pretty late. Almost everyone has gone to sleep. Tea?”

“Sure. Lavender, thank you.” Chikage is fidgeting, which is super out of whatever character he plays, almost struggling to not have a tone when he says his next words. “I’d… hope no one else is awake.” He thinks back to Itaru, but forces the thought of him out. “How has it been?”

“Not the same without you and… yeah.” Izumi looks down at her own cup, the teabag soaking. “Why are you here anyways? You just… disappeared.”

Chikage swallows his pride for just a little bit longer. “My apartment is flooded. My stuff is fine but I can’t stay there for now. Every hotel is booked here. My car is broken because I’ve been forsaken. I can’t stay anywhere else. I need to stay here.”

“...Well… you’re always welcome here anyways. You’ll always be a part of us, even when you don’t think you are.” Izumi takes a sip of her now finished tea. “Well… I know this might be uncomfy but for now, our only open room is 103.” He gets flashbacks to the number, when he got assigned it the first time he came here. “I don’t want to put you in 205. Homare has been doing a lot of stuff in there ever since.” Izumi pauses. “...And I know how you might feel about it.”

“I see. Well… I’ll take what I can get, no?” He sighs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” He takes a long sip of his lavender tea. Nothing has really changed, he observes, as he looks around slowly taking everything back in. The smell is even familiar, which might just be the smell of lavender tea, but he doesn’t really think so. But an air about it doesn’t have as much life as it used to— which he might attribute to the fact that it’s now 12:30 am, but he knows deep in his subconscious the real reason.

Izumi smiles wide. “Great. I’ll lead you there. Itaru is cleaning right now.”

—

Yes, it is awkward, Itaru confirms to himself— something he doesn’t even need to do when Chikage is literally just typing away at his computer, as Itaru fiddles with his phone up in the air, playing some new KniRoun thing. Great. Lancelot is idly whacking at some large dragon on his phone screen, while Chikage’s loud typing begins to fill up more and more of his headspace until Itaru finally gets over the air that’s as thick as butter. “Can you type… quieter? Please?”

Fuck. That is not how he meant to say it. “...sure.” Itaru is surprised, doing a little “Oh.” to himself. He expected more resistance, especially with his tone.

Chikage can almost feel Itaru’s eyes burn into the back of his skull, which would almost be fitting for him and those damn carnelian eyes. “If you want me to leave, I can leave. I understand you have to do that ranking thing, or whatever.”

“Don’t act like you care, Utsuki.” Itaru just keeps fumbling with his tone, always going a little too biting. Which he should probably stop, when he’s basically talking to his boss. Technically. Not really his boss, because he’s been appointed to Chikage. They’re supposed to be working together. But it’s not like Chikage has power in a setting that is now his. He’s in Itaru’s domain. “You never cared about my ranking in the first place.”

“Can we fucking not today? Be happy I’m even dealing with you.”

Itaru shuts up immediately. He isn’t going to do this today. Or ever. He turns on his side to try to ignore whatever that cabbage head is doing on his laptop. But he doesn’t. He looks at the laptop, already looking for hotels to stay at, and sending out emails, with some decryptor on the side. Itaru isn’t one for confrontation. He knows he’s less than welcome with Chikage’s presence— which he can’t understand.

But Itaru is already tired— be it from the event that just happened, or the fact that it’s 1 am. Which is baby hours for him. He goes to do some final things, use his stamina, the sorts, and lets his body drift away.

—

Itaru wakes up midday, as usual for a weekend, and for some reason, Chikage is still there, typing away. He climbs down from his loft bed, stretching a bit and going to turn his computer on. 

It seems like a normal weekend to Itaru, except for the fact that he’s here now. For whatever reason.

“Have you been awake this entire time?”

“...What’s it matter to you?” Chikage doesn’t even look back or stutter in his typing.

“Nothing, I was just wondering. Jeez.” Itaru doesn’t even want to try to fight back with the man who could snap his neck in 0.5 seconds. He walks out into the atrium, heading to the kitchen to grab some food from Omi, who had probably covered some leftovers from breakfast in plastic wrap, and probably already getting lunch ready.

“Itaru. Good morning to you!” Omi speaks to Itaru from the counter, giving him a smile.

“Thanks.” He grabs the leftover breakfast for a nice brunch.  Izumi comes through the door with some bags of groceries for the next week.

“Itaru! Let’s talk later, okay? Practice is soon. We don’t want you to be absent this time. As the lead, you have the most importance for the play, and we need you to—“

“I know. I’ve been studying this role, okay? I just can’t seem to wrap my head around it.” 

“And that’s why we should talk.” Izumi looks serious again, the look she gave him last night when cleaning his dumpster room. “It’s nothing serious. Just sit down here.”

“I have things to attend to, Director.” Itaru looks smug, and walks towards the door, plate in hand. 

“I swear it’ll be quick!”

“Can’t we just do it in my room? Omi is here, and if it’s so serious, we should talk about it in a private place.”

“You’re gonna be distracted if we do it in your room. Just follow me to mine.”

“Ugh…” He walks over to Izumi, and follows her to her room, pulling out a chair for Itaru and she sits on her bed. “So…?”

“So… guess what…” Izumi’s voice is light, like she’s trying to break something to him slowly but surely.

“Don’t tell me. Is he going to be staying for a while?”

“...Damn.”

“You have to be kidding me, Izumi. Like I can’t believe you would do this to me. Rooming me with my boss.” He puts his back over the chair he’s sitting in, like a standard damsel in distress, woe is him. “Woe is me! All I know is pain and suffering.” 

“You might be an actor but that was not an opening night performance.” Izumi laughs. “It might be for a while so bear with me. It’ll be until at least closing night.”

“... At least closing night?” Itaru is confused. “Why does he even need to stay in here?”

“Well… His apartment is flooded. Some guy took a fat shit in the toilet on the upper floors and now his apartment is flooded with toilet water. Hotels are booked for a while, Godza n’ all the other performances. People do book hotel rooms months in advance here.”

“Well, that’s tough. Why not put him with Homa—“ He stops and realizes what he’s going to say. “Oh.”

“Right.”

“Well, can’t he drive? Like… to a place with hotels?”

“Well, his car is broken. Listen, even if he did get it fixed, it’s the least we can do for him. He tried his best, Itaru. Everyone… grieves differently and it’s not in our place to judge him, no? Even if it was self-destructive…”

“Yeah, by hurting us? That’s his grief? Why’d you even let him stay? He doesn’t act, he wouldn’t do shit around here. Do you think he’ll come back? After three and a half years, no goodbye, just a complete disappearance? I don’t see how you can forgive some old cabbage head like that. He’s not even part of MANK—“

“Itaru, can you shut the fuck up? Like, actually.” Itaru immediately shuts up in almost prey-like fear. ”You of all people should know what it felt like when he left, and after everything that went down.” Izumi is absolutely fuming, like steam is coming out of her ears, getting up and turning away and looking at the bookshelf. “Do you know what it feels like? I worked so hard for this— to build this up from when it was failing to a place where we can stay and lean on each other and you… you of all people should know what the hell that feels like.”

“Izumi, I—“ He gets up, reaching out for a bit.

“I’m not finished.��� Izumi is tearing up and getting more red by the second, like she’s going to burst. “How do you think I feel about all this? Chikage is back. It’s overwhelming, Itaru. It reminded me of Hisoka, and what would MANKAI be if he was still here but he isn’t. He’s not back. He won’t ever, and when we find an old member like Chikage, I will always accept him back in, even if he’s not committed to the acting gig. It’s almost like we’re completing ourselves again.”

“I understand that, but—“ Itaru can barely get a word in.

“He’s staying there. I don’t want any backtalk from you, Itaru. Have a good evening.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just go.” She sits back down, her back turned to Itaru as he walks out.

Itaru feels bad. I mean, who wouldn’t, but he didn’t expect Izumi to take it that hard. Itaru has every right to say that he doesn’t want him in his room, feeling no remorse for making Izumi almost cry from pure anger, walking slowly back to the room. Omi stares at him as he goes through the kitchen. 

“...Food?”

“Nah. Not hungry, I want some chips.”

“Don’t overindulge. It’s almost dinner anyways.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks Omi.”

He walks out of the kitchen and back to his room, still thinking about Izumi. Izumi is angry. Izumi is more than angry at him and it was because of him— which has never happened before and he is distraught. 

He walks back into the room and no one is there. Bless. Today his room feels a bit more lonely, even though there’s more stuff in it, looking to his left to see the duffel bag of clothes with his desk underneath the loft bed already set up with tons of electronics. What is he even doing? He takes a look at Chikage’s stuff before he comes back.

Another laptop? A walkie-talkie… and the thing that catches his eye the most is a picture of MANKAI, and behind that, a picture of Hisoka and Chikage. Itaru remembers taking this photo, looking closer at it. Okay, now he really feels bad, he thinks as he looks at the photo more and more.

If he missed us that much then why didn’t he come back?

The door opens and he shuffles as fast as he can to the couch, posing in one of the most awkward positions.

“...H-hey, Utsuki-senpai.”

“Hm.”

He quickly walks past, suspiciously looking at Itaru as if he was a cat that pushed something off a desk while their owner was gone. Itaru quickly skitters to his desk, starting up his computer. The room feels a bit more lively with both of them in it, even if they’re both just trying to ignore each other, something within the room metamorphosing, like something is changing. He shakes the thought out of his head quickly before he slumps into his chair to get into the Gamer Position (trademarked by Itaru himself) and getting his software up.

Itaru needs to stream today. Not really— he didn’t announce anything, but he has to feed his fans some sort of content. He gets ready to film something, anything. He picks a random game and starts filming a bit, Chikage in the room completely tuning Itaru out and vice versa. 

Chikage slowly drifts off to sleep for once, but this time, it’s a deep sleep. chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6

[officialthiamlibrary]

Meet The Mods - iftheskyisthelimit

We’ve had a few requests to do something similar to our “Behind The Screens” features in order to introduce ourselves, and we felt that after around a year of running this blog, and having another few people come on board along the way that now would probably be a good time to do it! 

The idea is that we’ll each take a turn at filling out and posting one of these so that you guys can to know us all a little better including our own personal tastes/preferences and get a little bit more of an idea of how we all work and what we each bring to the team etc…

About You

Username/Name: 

iftheskyisthelimit / Lisa

AO3/Tumblr: 

https://archiveofourown.org/users/iftheskyisthelimit / http://iftheskyisthelimit.tumblr.com/ 

How did you find your way to the Thiam fandom? What about them drew you in? 

I’d lurked in the Teen Wolf fandom for a while on Tumblr, and became really interested in Theo’s character and his story since he’d shown up in Season 5 (okay at first it was his looks that got me interested… let’s be honest), which evolved into being interested in his backstory when we found out a bit more about him. It wasn’t until his return in Season 6 that I enjoyed watching their characters together and their interactions and started looking around more on Tumblr for their characters that I discovered it wasn’t just me... then I randomly came across the Thiam ship through seeing some fics on Tumblr and found the Official Thiam Library as result of that... 

Using a sentence, where the word count is either equal to or less than the number of letters in your two favorite Teen Wolf episode names, tell us about yourself. (ex, Motel California + Werewolves of London = 33 ; Raving + Galvanize =15)

Memory Found + Apotheosis = 21 - I’m slightly quirky but serious, love music, reading and travelling... kinda funny and always overly organised. Can’t ever cut something short...

What’s one thing about you or your life that we’d be surprised to know about?

Do you want serious, interesting or fun facts? I’ll do both as they might surprise people. Serious/boring: I have at least 3 chronic illnesses which tend to floor me, hence my long absences between writing & updating what I’m working on. Interesting: I can speak/read/understand around 5 languages and I’m a bit of a different cultures & sociology nerd.

One other thing I guess is when I get interested in a topic I get interested and have to know aallllll the ins and outs of it and thoroughly research it, so I’m probably full of boring random facts about a bunch of things that come in handy on general knowledge quizzes, but which no-one has any interest in knowing...

Other Shows/Movies You Follow:

Does too many to mention count as an answer? No? Okay… In no particular order *deep breath* 

Shows: The Handmaids Tale, Animal Kingdom, The 100, Vikings, Stranger Things, All American, Riverdale, Scream, Supernatural, Parks and Rec, Vampire Diaries, Big Bang Theory, Modern Family, Twelve Monkeys, Shadow Hunters, Game Of Thrones, Reign, American Horror Story, Buffy… There are literally a ton more but I really can’t think on them at the moment….

Movies: I can’t really say that I follow movies per-se… if I had to choose I’d say Marvel movies though if that counts as an answer? Umm… genre wise I like a wide range but mainly gravitate towards comedy, action and thriller movies. Or something with a good twist in the story where it either throws what you thought you were watching on its head, or you get an “aaahhhhh that’s was happening” moment. To watch a horror, it has to have that something that makes me want to watch it or get invested in it… whether it’s a character I really relate to or can get invested in, or a really good story. My favourite horror is probably Haunting In Connecticut, and I saw Midsommar recently and thought it was really amazingly done!

Other Fandoms You Follow:

I don’t really follow a lot of fandoms if I’m honest. I would probably say after Teen Wolf I follow the Marvel, The 100 and Supernatural fandoms more. Mainly the Captain America/Steve/Bucky fandoms. I love a good discussion about Animal Kingdom too!

Other Favourite Characters from shows/movies?

Uuuuhhhh…. Okay you asked for it, I was going to explain my reasons for why I love each but I’d be here all day and this part alone would end up turning into an essay.

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things), April Ludgate (Parks and Rec) , Sam Winchester (Supernatural), Craig Middlebrooks (Parks and Rec), Mickey Milkovich (Shameless US), Bucky Barnes (Marvel), James Cole (Twelve Monkeys), Jack Kline (Supernatural), Michael Langon (American Horror Story), Catherine de Medici (Reign), Constance Langdon (American Horror Story), Dean Winchester (Supernatural), Alec Lightwood (Shadow Hunters), Anya Jenkins (Buffy), Raphael Santiago (Shadow Hunters), Stephane Narcisse (Reign), Kai Parker (Vampire Diaries), John Murphy (The 100) 

What do you like to create (writing/art/videos)? 

I’d really love to be creative enough to make art or videos, but I’m really not! I’m far more comfortable with writing… I find it a lot easier to plan a story, or just to start writing and let the words flow that way and see where it goes. It’s a good way for me to express myself and to work through feelings or to just switch off for a while and create words on a page.

Do you only create for Teen Wolf/Thiam?

I have written for Supernatural in the past and I’m planning to write a Raphael fic for Shadow Hunters at some point and maybe a John Murphy one because I’ve not found many for him that cater to my angsty tastes when there’s so much that can be explored... But at the moment yes it’s only for Teen Wolf. I’ve also posted one Sceo fic which I would like to continue as well!

Which genres do you prefer reading and creating for?

Angst, angst, angst… did I mention angst?? It just feels right to me to write angstier fics, the words and ideas just seem to flow really well, which is a surprise as I’m not really an angsty person in life. It’s just what I’ve always gravitated towards writing and I find a lot better to express myself in that way. I have a humour/angst WIP which I decided to attempt a while ago and I did quite enjoy writing something a little different from what I normally do and people seemed to enjoy it.

If your creative process was a person, what type would they be? What would they do? Wear? Listen to? How do they handle conflict?

Quite probably the most disorganised messiest person alive… No not really… just sorta… kinda… maybe… In all seriousness, they’d be half organised and half “ lets see where this road takes us”. They would probably wear all black all day every day, and be a half emo kid who listens to punk pop and emo music from their teens with a healthy mix of dance and sad songs. Handling conflict? We don’t do that here… we bottle up our feelings and hide them away until they come out in the wrong ways. No really… I think they’d express themselves pretty clearly with 1000 words instead of 100.

Official Thiam Library

How did you find the Official Thiam Library?

I found the Official Thiam Library through searching the Theo Raeken tags on Tumblr and seen the page name pop up a few times, I had a look at the page not long after and followed pretty quickly, I needed my Theo/Thiam fix and this page covered it very well!

First impressions?

“Woah, they’re on the ball!” and then when I saw a few of the events the page done I was really impressed at how often they posted recommendations and how they could organise it all.

How did you come to be involved on the mod team?

I filled in the form for Beta Readers and Helpers for the Thiam Big Bang, I’d have loved to have participated but I didn’t know if I’d have been able to commit to having such a large work completed on a deadline, so I thought I’d offer to help in another way, having helped to run the Supernatural SummerGen for a few years. Tiffany got back to me pretty quickly about it and I came on board at that point.

What do you feel that you bring to the team?

Uuuhhh… I hate these types of questions haha! I really feel like I mostly bring my organisational skills, along with the way that like to try and help out where I can in the background with writing/explaining things or getting back to people with asks/emails etc... With the Big Bang I brought my experience of things I’d learned from the Supernatural events I’d worked on too which I think/hope was of use?

How do you help out?

Mainly what I’ve answered above applies to this question too I think?

What would you like to see for the Official Thiam Library over the next year?

I’d really love to see the page continue… continue on as is, doing a few more fandom events, grow as a page and fandom... also to help keeping the fandom going which is important right now I think… we’ve managed it so far though! We were just speaking about how thrilled we are that the fandom is still going strong. I also think it’s important to give older and newer fandom creators the recognition & cheer that they deserve too, which can be done through reblogging/recommendations and different events too. 

 Cute BTS Questions

Let’s imagine you’ve landed in a Zombie apocalypse, Walking Dead/Zombieland style. You’re among seven survivors–yourself and six characters from Teen Wolf. Which five would be your first choice for survival, entertainment, etc? And who would be the sixth character, the one you’d willingly push in front of a rage-filled zombie mob given the first chance? 

I can’t help but feel that my choice for the last part will be unpopular but here goes:

Theo and Chris for survival… they seem like they’d both be good to have around in this sort of situation, Stiles for entertainment because he had his funny moments and would keep everyone going I think. Melissa because we all need a mother figure who knows when to be tough but can also provide you with the loving support you need. Scott because… well… he’s a the alpha and we’d need someone to lead our small group and take charge when needed. 

Who would I willingly throw to the zombie mob given the first chance? Allison and Kira are both a tie here. Can’t I throw them both?? I never really liked Allison as a character… I don’t even really know why I just never gelled with her as a character I would like or could even get behind. Kira… ugh… just ugh… I feel like she was quite a forced character, they tried too hard to make her this cooky/funny character who could also kick ass and it just came off wrong to me… I never really warmed to her as she just felt forced. 

If you could read only 5 fanfictions for an entire year, which would you choose? Thiam or another fandom, if not Thiam, which fandom? 

In no order at all because I never tire of reading any of them:

1 - Airplanes by Captainmintyfresh - Teen Wolf - Thiam fanfiction

2 - Despite The Threatening Sky And Shuddering Earth (They Remained) by praximeter (Zimario)  - Captain America - Steve/Bucky fanfiction

3 - The Call by DemonzDust - Teen Wolf - Sceo fanfiction

4 - The Crow On The Cradle by Refur - Supernatural fanfiction

5 - Gotta Have Faith by arxiver - Captain America - Steve/Bucky fanfiction

You are our sensei and us your pupils, can you impart any life/writing wisdom? 

Life wisdom: Don’t sweat the small stuff... seriously… it wastes so much time and energy that you could be using for other things. If you can’t control it or you don’t feel it’ll be bothering you this time next year, then don’t let it bog you down.    People will come and go, that’s a part of life, take the lessons that they taught you from their time in your life (whether positively or negatively) and use them wisely. 

Writing wisdom: Don’t force yourself. If you’re having an hour, a day, or a week where the words or ideas won’t come then don’t force it to happen, you’ll only feel worse. Step back, put on some music which suits the tone of whatever you’re writing and try to get in the mood of your story that way, it’s amazing the words that can come or the complete change in direction you can go from doing that. 

Finally, what’s next for you?

Hopefully getting back into the swing of things with the Official Thiam Library and writing more again, getting ready for the Reverse Big Bang, and planning a few things in my personal life, like a few trips, my wedding and a house move (yes… I’m becoming a boring adult and it’s a scary new world!)

[today-only-happens-once]

Hero

Summary: When Logan shows up at the front door hurt one night, Roman can’t shake the feeling that he should have been able to prevent it. Platonic Logince (or I guess it could be read romantically if you want to), Platonic LAMP/CALM.

Warnings: Bullying, bruises, blood (not a lot), getting thrown into a lake , nearly drowning, near hypothermia, violence (past), Roman feeling inadequate, protective!Roman, protective!Virgil, and as always let me know if I missed anything.

Prompts: Why not smash FOUR prompts together in one fic? “You’re freezing. Come here.”/ “Man, people are cruel. Who did this? I’ll make sure nobody can ever do it again.” /“Don’t tempt me.”/ “Are you afraid?” “Yes.” ((changed the last one a bit, but its in there.))

A/N: Can Sides get ambushed and hurt in the mindscape? I dunno. Maybe this fic is asking for some suspension of disbelief, haha hope you all don’t mind. Have some more Logan hurt/comfort and some Roman angst, friends, because apparently I am incapable of writing anything but angst/hurt/comfort right now. POV is mostly limited to Roman, though, which is new for me! Hope you like it! ^u^ Oh, and it was edited by yours truly so all mistakes are mine. 

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff, @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @lizaelsparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist (if you want to be tagged at all, let me know!)

…

When Roman opens the door just past midnight, the last thing he expects is to find Logan standing on the front porch.

He’s sopping wet, strands of his hair dripping and plastered to his forehead. His tie is in his hands, the collar of his shirt torn and the top few buttons missing entirely. His glasses are nowhere to be seen. As the light from the house illuminates his face, Roman can see a dark bruise and a small tear in the skin along his cheekbone.

He’s pale. He’s shaking.

“Logan?” Roman asks, but doesn’t wait for the response as he grabs the Logical Side and pulls him back into the house. Virgil—who had been almost asleep on the couch as Hunchback of Notre Dame played quietly on the TV—is on his feet in seconds. He’s wide awake and alert now.

Logan sways slightly and Roman wraps Logan’s arm around his shoulders and places a steadying hand on his chest. Roman can feel the dampness of Logan’s shirt and skin seep into his white suit, but what really has his attention is just how cold Logan is.

“Virge,” Roman says suddenly to the other side, “Go wake up Patton. And stop by Logan’s room and get him some dry clothes.”

Virgil looks at Logan again, and something darkens his expression before he gives Roman a solemn nod and sinking out of the living room.

“R-R-R-R-Roman…..” Logan stutters out, his teeth chattering. “Th-that’s not n-n-n-necessary.”

“Easy, Teach,” Roman says softly, leading him over to the couch. “You can’t stay in this.” Logan doesn’t put up much of a fight—whether because he agrees with Roman or because he simply doesn’t have it in him to argue, Roman isn’t sure—and gingerly sets himself on the couch.

Roman sits beside him, his worried gaze flickering over his form. He isn’t sure what to say, even as he gently pries Logan’s ruined tie out of his hands. Logan doesn’t let go at first, his fingers clenched stiffly around the fabric. It’s not until then that Roman also notices the bruises and split knuckles along both of the other Side’s hands. As Logan uncurls his hands to relinquish the tie, he’s able to see that his palms don’t look much better off.

The Prince tries to look him in the eyes, but Logan’s stare is glazed and distant. Roman takes a breath to ask what exactly happened when Patton’s quiet gasp catches both of their attention.

“Oh, Logan…” Patton says softly before rushing over and kneeling in front of him. He’s still pale and shaking and Roman glances at the stairs. He really needs to get out of his wet clothes. Where is Virgil?

Patton reaches up and brushes some of the wet bangs out of Logan’s face. Patton takes in a sharp breath, his hand stilling for a moment at the icy feel of Logan’s skin. “You’re freezing,” Patton says, his dark eyes worried and searching. Logan says nothing, quietly meeting Patton’s gaze. Patton purses his lips for a moment, then moves to sit on the other side of Logan. “Come here…”

Patton wraps an arm around Logan’s shoulders. Logan closes his eyes for a moment, doubled over on himself slightly. Behind his back, Patton casts a worried look to Roman. The Creative Side clenches his jaw and shakes his head silently at Patton’s unasked questions.

“Kiddo,” Patton says, brushing Logan’s bangs back again as they fall across his face and drip onto his nose. “What happened?”

Logan sucks in a shuddering breath just as Virgil reappears. In his arms is a stack of clothes, towels, blankets, a first aid kit, Logan’s spare glasses, and his unicorn onesie. He shares a glace with Roman before setting the pile in his arms down on the couch beside Patton. He pulls the clothes out of the pile, neatly folded, along with the onesie.

“You really should get out of those clothes,” Virgil says quietly, holding them out to him. Logan looks up at him before nodding silently. Roman watches carefully as the Logical Side stays sitting for a moment, as if working up the strength, and then pushes himself to his feet.

“D’you need help, Lo?” Patton asks gently.

Logan takes the clothes from Virgil’s hands. (He leaves the onesie. All three of the other Sides share another glance.) “N-n-no,” Logan manages softly through still-chattering teeth. “Th-th-thank you, Patton.” He starts to sink out before Virgil grabs his arm.

“Hey,” Virgil says gently. “Come back when you’re done, okay? We’ve gotta clean up your hands.”

Logan looks away, nods again, and sinks back out.

Roman can feel the anger starting to simmer up, hot and thick in his chest. His clenches his jaw, and catches the smoldering look in Virgil’s eyes. Patton sits very, very still.

“Did he say what happened?” Virgil asks, his voice careful and measured.

“Not yet,” Patton says quietly.

Roman uncurls his fingers from the tie he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in a white-knuckled grip ever since pulling it out of Logan’s hands. Now that he can look at it more closely, he sees that there’s no salvaging it; it’s ripped almost completely through, dirt and mud caked and frozen to it. Roman suddenly feels nauseous as all the different potential explanations raced through his head.

Virgil winces. “Roman, could you not?” The Anxious Side rubs his forehead. “I’m having a hard enough time without all of your creative spins on it.”

Roman sighs and tries to push the thoughts out of his head. Virgil couldn’t read his mind, exactly, but during heightened moments of crisis, sometimes the overflow of negative creativity could adversely affect the Anxious Side. Roman did his best to keep it in check, but it was much easier when Logan was there to balance him out.

“Sorry, Virge. Creative Side and all that.”

Virgil gives him an appreciative look and lowers his hand from his head before casting a glance at Patton, whose gaze was still trained on the spot where Logan had sunk out to change.

“Patton?” Virgil asks softly. “You okay?”

The Moral Side takes in a deep breath and looks back at Virgil. The last time Roman had seen that look in his eyes had been when they’d been talking about Thomas’s breakup. Now Roman knew the name for it. Heartbreak. And could Roman blame him? Seeing Logan like that had shaken even the Prince to his core.

“Who would want to hurt him like that?” Patton asks softly.

Roman opens his mouth, hoping for consoling words to come out, but finds empty air instead. He doesn’t know. Virgil just shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and scowls at his feet.

Logan reappears a moment later, rising up slower than normal. He’s still missing a tie. His hair is still wet, the bruises and cuts a stark contrast against his paler-than-normal skin. At least his clothes are dry, Roman thinks. It doesn’t do much to settle the unease in the Prince’s stomach.

Virgil gently grabs his upper arm and helps him over to the couch to sit down again. Patton grabs a towel from the pile on the couch and starts gently rubbing it over Logan’s hair. Roman expects the Logical Side to take it from him, or protest, but Logan looks too exhausted to care much. Virgil drapes a blanket over his shoulders.

Roman grabs the first aid kit and kneels in front of Logan, taking his hands in his own. He pulls the bottle of antiseptic out and wets a cotton ball with it.

“You wanna tell us what happened, kiddo?” Patton asks softly.

Logan sighs. It still sounds a bit shaky to Roman. The Logical Side grabs the glasses case off the stack of currently unused towels and blankets and unfolds the black frames. “They a-ambushed me on my way back. Threw me into the lake.”

“They what?” Roman demands, furious. He spills a few drops of the liquid onto his pants as his hand slips.

Patton looks aghast. “Logan, it’s February! It’s been a high of 33 degrees all week. The lake is still mostly frozen over....”

Logan gives him a dry, humorless look as he slides the spare frames onto his face. “Yes, I’m quite aware of that.”

“Man, people are cruel,” Virgil says through gritted teeth. “Who did this? I’ll make sure nobody can ever do it again.”

Logan hisses quietly as Roman dabs the cotton ball on the broken skin along his knuckles. Roman winces in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs before pressing it back to his hands.

“The shock of the cold water could’ve given you a heart attack,” Virgil continues, his eyes darkening even more. “You could’ve drowned. What if you didn’t know how to swim?” Roman looks up in alarm as Virgil’s voice starts to distort. “What if you got pulled under where it had iced over and—“

“I did,” Logan cuts in quietly. It’s all Roman can do to not draw his sword and go hunt down these evil, villainous— “And I believe that drowning was their intention,” Logan continues. He doesn’t meet any of their gazes. “Given their choice to use my tie to bind my hands.”

Everyone freezes for a moment.

“Logan,” Patton says, but his voice sounds uncharacteristically tight and strained. “You could have died.”

The Logical Side takes a breath as if to reply, but something catches in his throat and he swallows instead. As gently as he can, Roman turns Logan’s hands palm-up to get at the cuts and bruises there. They are dark and angry and still bleeding slightly in some places.

“Focusing on what may have happened,” Logan says carefully, “will likely only lead to cognitive distortions. It is better to focus on what has, indeed, happened. I am still alive.”

“You wanna focus on what actually happened?” Virgil hurls at him, angry. Not angry, Roman realizes in the next instant. Scared. “They actually tried to kill you. They left you for dead.”

Roman’s vision blurs suddenly. He can’t help but picture it all; it came with the territory of being the Creative Side. Images of Logan struggling as hands grabbed and shoved and pulled at him, too many for him to fight off even if he tried. Logan nearly making a break for it only to be yanked back by his tie, the top few buttons ripping off as they yanked it loose and held his hands behind his back. Logan shouting for help right before his body plunged into the water, his muscles seizing for a moment from the frigidity. Logan sinking into the dark before trying to kick back up to the surface only to find it iced over. Struggling in the water to get his hands loose, to bang and slam them against the ice to break it to get to the surface, his lungs screaming—

“Roman?”

The Prince blinks, causing a few tears to fall onto Logan’s upturned palms. He can feel Logan watching him closely. Roman shakes his head quickly, doing his best to look casual as he brushes the tears out of his eyes, and reaches for the bandages beside him. “Sorry. Almost done.” He uses his teeth to pull the packaging apart.

“What were their names, Logan?” Virgil asks, his voice low and dangerous but at least it wasn’t distorted anymore.

Logan looks up. Roman chances a quick glance up at him, noticing with surprise—although he knows he probably shouldn’t be—at the deep exhaustion in Logan’s dark eyes as he looks at Virgil. “I am not sure I see a reasonable explanation for why I should give you their names.”

“Kiddo,” Patton tries but Logan shakes his head.

“What would you all do with the names anyway?” Logan asks. “Retaliate with violence?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Virgil growls.

“No.”

“Logan—“

“Virgil, please,” Logan says sharply, his eyes flashing. Roman swallows as he secures the final bandage in place on the Logical Sides’ hands. He reaches for a butterfly band-aid in the box. The rustle of the paper covering seems too loud in the abrupt silence in the room. He reaches up and gently places a hand on his jaw to tilt his head as he secures it over the tear in the skin along his cheekbone. Logan sucks in a small breath at the pressure against his darkening bruise.

“Were you afraid?” Roman asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He feels like he has to know the answer.

Logan’s gaze flickers up to the Prince, but he averts it in the next second. “Yes.”

Roman’s stomach twists. He is the Prince. A knight. It is his duty to protect his kingdom and his friends alike, no matter the odds. He’d failed, and the failure sits heavy and hurting in his chest.

Logan is still curled in on himself slightly, engulfed in the blanket around his shoulders. His hair still hangs in limp, wet strings despite Patton’s attempt to dry it off. Roman can’t remember the last time Logan looked quite so… small.

Patton gives the Logical Side a sad smile, fruitlessly trying to brush the strands of hair out of his face. “You should probably get some sleep, honey. You’re exhausted.”

Logan closes his eyes and leans ever so slightly into Patton’s touch. “Yes,” he murmurs in agreement. “I think that’s probably the best call.”

Roman chews his lip, hating that he couldn’t have done more. That he couldn’t do more. He’s a prince. He’s Creativity. He’s supposed to help people. Surely he could think of something. Surely…

Logan stands up, the blanket falling off his shoulders as he does so. Without thinking, Roman jumps forward and catches it, draping it back over the exhausted Side’s shoulders. It’s then that Roman notices Logan is shaking again. Not as bad, not as hard as when he first showed up, but his shoulders are trembling slightly.

Roman frowns. “Logan?”

“Hm?”

“You… you know you’re safe now, right? All of us… we’ll protect you.” It doesn’t feel like enough to Roman. Saying it after he’d already been hurt didn’t change the fact, did it?  

Logan looks at him for a long moment. Then he nods. “I… I know,” he says, with some hesitation.

Roman’s throat constricts slightly, but he swallows past the growing lump. Could he blame Logan for being doubtful?

…

Roman is staring, unseeing, at the canopy over his bed when he hears a knock on the door. His thoughts already swirling, the sound is just another reminder of everything that had transpired through the night.

And also just like earlier, when Roman gets up and swings the door open, it’s Logan standing on the other side. His hair looks dry now, if still disheveled.

“Logan? What’s wrong?” he asks, worry blossoming in his chest. He steps aside to allow him to enter.

Logan crosses past Roman into the room. “It would appear that as exhausted as I feel, I cannot quite find it within myself to fall asleep,” he’s saying, glancing around the room before looking back to the Prince. “And it also occurred to me that I never thanked you.”

Roman’s confusion only deepens as he quietly closes the door. “Thanked me?”

“Yes,” Logan says simply. He walks over the French doors that lead out to the balcony. Beyond that is a sky full of stars. Roman was able to change the landscape beyond his room to fit whatever he felt like dreaming of. He hadn’t consciously chosen stars, but sometimes the mindscape would fill in blanks based on what Roman was thinking or feeling.

“For what?”

“For helping me tonight.” Logan stares out into the starlit sky.  

“I… I don’t understand…” He hadn’t been able to protect him. So what reason would Logan have for—

“Roman,” Logan says, looking back to the Prince, evidently confused by Roman’s confusion. “You… you saw me on the porch and… and you immediately sprang into action. Even more than that, you gave Virgil some important things to do so that he wouldn’t panic and could instead focus on his assigned tasks. You knew I needed to be in dry clothes, you knew Patton would want to have been woken up. You cleaned some of the… the damage and did a remarkably good job at bandaging them.” He pauses, glancing down at his bandaged hands, and then adds a little softer, “I am very grateful to you for that.”

Roman swallows. He looks at his sword laying forgotten on the desk. “You owe me no such gratitude. I… I should have been there, Logan. To stop it from happening in the first place.”

But the Logical Side is insistent. “You demonstrated great leadership.” Roman looks away, and Logan sighs. “Roman, you cannot always prevent bad things from happening. None of us can. But what we can do is control how we act and react in the aftermath. We can be there to support and take care of ourselves and one another. And you did that tonight. That’s all I can ever ask of you. Of any of you.”

Roman’s hands ball into fists even as the weight of Logan’s words eases some of the tightness in his shoulders. He can feel new tears pressing against his eyes, and the Prince can’t help but be grateful that the bedroom is still pretty dark.

The hurricane of “what ifs” that had been plaguing Roman all night slowly fade back into quiet, white noise in the back of his mind.

“I… Thank you, Logan,” Roman says quietly. He is suddenly aware of just how quiet his room is at this late hour.

Logan is about to say something in response before it’s cut off with a yawn. “I suppose I should try to sleep again,” Logan says instead, stepping away from the French doors and crossing back to the door leading to the hallway.

Roman nods. “Yes, of course. Good night, Logan.”

The Logical Side opens the door but stops for a moment in the doorway. “Roman?”

“Yes?”

“You’re my hero.”

Roman barks out a suddenly watery laugh. He brushes the back of his hands across his eyes. “I didn’t peg you for the sentimental type, Teach,” he says, in hopes that the joke might cover up the emotion that rests just below its surface.

Logan gives him a dry look, but there’s something warm and soft in his eyes.

“I’m not. I mean every word.”

[aether-asterisk]

As I said earlier, I noticed you look like a friendly person !! but are you by chance introverted like I am ? It's always nice to meet another introvert here. ;w;

why, how’d you guess??? :0

no but seriously, even more venting under the cut but tl;dr: yes

active engagement with friends was never my strong suit, long story short the internet was my only friend when i was younger (which is.....not a good friend to have at such an age. it really isn’t) and through this site i’ve made some other friends but they all came and went relatively quickly (either it just kinda faded out or i scared them away with some dumb bullshit i did.....i didn’t spend several hours deleting a whopping 1414 files from my dropbox for nothing (well okay it was actually for the sake of storage but half of those files were related to that bullshit. the other half was a mix of old and unnecessary tomodachi life pictures and very old art that already exists on my computer and does not need to exist anywhere else it’s already done its damage))

and i guess it doesn’t help that the content i draw generally goes unnoticed by public because:

it’s not fandom art (i was always so nervous to draw the funny skeleton monsters.......well sans i had an easier time with but unlike the rest of the fandom he wasn’t my favorite of the two....which probably helps even less)

i post so infrequently that it gets easily washed out in a slew of other post that flood the tags that no one would even think to search up because.....they’re not fandom art

60% of my drawings used to be just dumb colorless traditional doodles of my ocs that wouldn’t really stand out or catch anyone’s eye

my newer drawings that use Professional Art Software (read: photoshop) that would catch the eye still don’t because.....haha..........it’s not fandom art

tl;dr (or at least....an extended tl;dr): i’ve strongly preferred my alone time ever since i was like 9 or 10 and i use it to browse the internet and talk to myself (not like normal people would, it’s mostly dialogues and quoting things from other shows n videos n etc. that i just saw like.....2 minutes before that like some kinda parrot) and just being me, i guess,

[maychorian]

Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #45

It’s been more than a year since I started this weekly rec list. No, I didn’t quite do it every week, otherwise there would be 52 now, but I’m pretty impressed that I kept it up this well. I honestly wasn’t sure how long I would keep wanting to do this, but my obsession with Voltron fanfic is still going pretty strong, though it’s waxed and waned at times. Let’s see if we get another year out of it. Thank you to everyone who likes and reblogs these rec lists, and especially for reading the fics and letting the authors know that you appreciate them. That’s why the list exists.

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. Also follow @maychorianrecs for individually tagged posts, the easier to search and reblog. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

Returns and Lost Belongings by Itsjez Words: 8,986 Author’s Summary: Shiro curled up in his small bunk, legs tight to his chest as he stared at the control panel on the wall opposite. Even now, days since he’d “returned”, everything felt different. Oh sure it wasn’t as if he’d been gone for a year or worse ten, but still. Just where had he gone?That question weighed most on Shiro’s mind. My Comments: Angsty and suspenseful post-Season 2 fic in which Zarkon is an incredibly present and dangerous threat not only to Shiro, but to the entire team. Great resolution and great comfort.

Back to the Future (With a Dash of the Past) by SteamPowered514, theeyesofthestorm1848 for (the entire discord) Words: 11,914 Author’s Summary: Haggar gets mad, messes up, and sends the Paladins back in time one day before they leave earth to fight the good fight against Zarkon. The paladins get to say goodbye, make their peace, and go back to their lions for the first time again. Too bad Commander Mitch Iverson sees the dramatic changes in his students and jumps to the conclusion that they have to be alien spies. My Comments: I love the fact the paladins get a choice time, and they want to go. They have time to prepare, time to grab hold of each other and jump. Hopefully everything will go better this time around. The addition of a tenacious and genuinely concerned Iverson was a very fun touch. What a great fic.

Whump Week by bookwormgir1LH Words: 2,400 Author’s Summary: A collection of triple drabbles written for Voltron Whump Week. 1. Fever: Lance 2. Hypothermia: Pidge 3. Blood Loss: Keith 4. Torture: Shiro 5. Insomnia: Hunk 6: Poison: Allura 7: Head Injury: Coran 8: Free Day: Pidge & Coran My Comments: Can you believe I’m STILL finding gems from Whump Week to rec? Good grief, what a gift. Enjoy this lovely variety pack of whump.

The Space Race Is Over (And I’ll Never Get to The Moon) by Schistosity Words: 14,939 Author’s Summary: The garrison trio stumble into trouble on an undercover mission after they uncover a surprising and eerily familiar piece of space junk. But with the harsh reminder of how far they are from home comes an opportunity to, in a small way, help it. A fic about kids who love space, miss home, and don’t know correct museum etiquette. My Comments: This is such an incredibly fun and good fic. There’s some angst, some action, some humor, some great characterization, but mostly it’s just about how cool space is and how cool humans are for wanting to be in space. It brought up a lot of RL feelings for me, haha, things I feel when watching videos of shuttles launching or visiting the Air & Space Smithsonian. Highly, highly recommended.

Swear On It by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 7,449 Author’s Summary: “Geez, Keith. You kiss your mother with that mouth?” My Comments: Absolutely wonderful Dads of Marmora fic with a sometimes angsty, mostly humorous Lance POV and wonderfully protective Kolivan. And curse words. So many curse words.

A Former Shade of Blue by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk) Words: 8,590 Author’s Summary: The Blue Paladin crash-lands on Earth after Alfor sends the Lions away and is trapped in her healing pod for ten-thousand Altean years. When she wakes, she must come to terms with the Galra Empire. This was started before season three was released. You can take the three generations of paladins headcanon from my cold dead hands. My Comments: Really angsty and action-packed look at the life of the former Blue Paladin, Keith’s mother. I’m still kinda sad this theory got jossed, but at least we have fun fics.

Catch Me If You Can by wingedflower Words: 3,485 Author’s Summary: Hunk only wanted to make a pie and Lance only wanted to be a good friend. What could possibly go wrong? My Comments: Aww, so cute! There are not NEARLY enough fics in this fandom of Hunk and Lance just hanging out and being adorable together. I’m begging you, fandom, more like this please.

Too Little Too Late by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 3,890 Author’s Summary: “That was where Kolivan found Keith, spacesuit big enough to pool around his feet and flap over his hands, both of which were curled tightly around a sword as he stood in front of Pidge like the fiercest little warrior Kolivan had ever seen.” My Comments: Urgh my heart. Tiny, deaged Keith is distrusting and wary of adults, probably for some extremely good reasons, but Kolivan manages to win him over in the most Blade of Marmora way possible. The ending gave me cavities, and I’m happy about it.

It’s a Losing Battle - No Need to Feel Ashamed by kyanve Words: 6,849 Author’s Summary :While the Castle’s getting its final repairs to leave, Shiro spends some time in the Arusian village helping rebuild, and finds out one of the Arusian elders has been around long enough to know better than to believe his assertions that he’s “fine” - and that the Black Lion is stubborn, opinionated, and also not falling for it. (Occurs around chapter 3 of Truce.) My Comments: Stand-alone companion to a previously recced fic. I loved this view of Shiro and Black early in the series, and the worldbuilding for the Arusians was really cool. This author seriously excels at the worldbuilding, I highly recommend their stuff.

A Life in Pink and Blue by Sand_Cursive Words: 4,796 Author’s Summary: So long in stasis had done a number on her faculties, on the only ones that mattered, and for a few brief, blissful moments she had forgotten that there was a war. That her people were being decimated, that the horrors of the galaxy had descended upon her home, that she had great cause to be afraid. An Allura Character Study My Comments: A great look at Allura’s thoughts both pre-series and during some key moments in Season 1. Good backstory and worldbuilding for Altea, too.

Singularity by acestriker Words: 8,201 Author’s Summary: Nothing feels right anymore, and Keith finds an unlikely ally in Matt Holt. Things go downhill from there. A face gets punched, and the team is in tatters. (formerly “Unravel.” I thought this title fit better.) My Comments: Angsty post-season three fic with Matt and Keith teaming up to figure out what’s wrong with “Shiro.” It’s a little rough on everyone, but I really enjoyed the relationship between those two, very supportive no matter what.

Let Me Be Your Shelter by StarryFeathers Words: 5,780 Author’s Summary: What happens when the one who always saves needs the saving? They are used to following, used to him doing the saving, but this time it’s their turn to bring him home. Alternatively: Shiro should really trust his instincts but the Paladins make him proud. My Comments: Really great, tense fic in which the other paladins fight against time to save an injured Shiro, plus some backstory for Keith and Shiro. Very emotional.

A Bone To Pick by Ahhuya Words: 9,557 Author’s Summary: It started as a tingling sensation. Keith shoved it off as training in the Red Lion for too long. Soon enough however, he started to lose control of both his own body and his lion. My Comments: I’ve never seen this particular way to whump a character in fanfiction before. Poor Keith is much too stubborn for his own good, but his motivations and actions make sense. Still, he has to accept help in the end.

Get What You Need by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 3,114 Author’s Summary:“Shiro taught me everything I know about being a pilot.” A look back at the beginning. My Comments: Thoroughly enjoyable fic about Shiro giving Hunk some pointers, not just on piloting but how to deal with things in general. I absolutely adore how they were help each other here and the development of their relationship throughout. Extremely satisfying.

To Love a Lion by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan) Words: 1,403 Author’s Summary: Just as important as the bond among paladins is the bond the paladins have with their Lions. In this, a kiss for each of the Lions who have accepted them for who they are. My Comments: Sweet and short collection of bonding moments between the lions and their paladins.

Space Tortuga by ozbian Words: 1,379 Author’s Summary: Allura chats with an alien monarch, then decides to let her hair up. (What happens on Space Tortuga stays on Space Tortuga) My Comments: You know what’s more fun than diplomatic Allura? Allura deciding to go, “Screw diplomacy, I’m gonna have fun now.”

Don’t Commit Felonies, Kids by fandomsnstuff Words: 2,858 Author’s Summary: When Sam Holt gets rescued from the labor camp the galra put him in, he’s reunited with his daughter a whole lot sooner than he expected. My Comments: Wonderful Holt reunion with some great banter to lighten it up at the end.

Garrison Trio for Life by A_Zap Words: 1,261 Author’s Summary: Pidge had made her decision: she was going to stay. That doesn’t mean that she stops reflecting over her decision and her team as she sits in front of Lance’s cryopod. Luckily, the third member of the Garrison Trio knows what to say. My Comments: Nice missing scene with Hunk and Pidge talking while Lance is healing in Season 1.

The Moments When You’re (Not) Alone by Voidfish Words: 2,809 Author’s Summary: Five times Lance comforted the team (and one time the team comforted him) My Comments: Sweet fic, all the way around. Love everyone being open with each other.

Take A Break by WildWolf25 Words: 2,223 Author’s Summary: They drew a shuddering breath and released it. “And no matter what I do, no matter how much code I write or what kind of enhancements I make or how many numbers I crunch in whatever way… none of this looks good for us. None of it. And… I’m scared. I’m terrified, and I don’t know what to do besides keep trying to make more improvements to the lions, decrypt more Galra tech, do more even though I know that what I’m doing will barely even make a dent.” They sniffed and leaned into his hold more. “Why does the universe have to be so big?” They asked, voice watery. Lance hugged them from the side and rubbed their opposite arm. “I don’t have an answer for that.” He said quietly. “None of us do.” Pidge groused. “That’s the problem.” Lance took a deep breath. “I’m scared too. We’re all scared.” (Lance finds Pidge working late again due to stress, and does what he can to help) My Comments: Aw, Pidge gets herself worked up thinking about the odds of their fight, and Lance offers some comfort. Lovely fic.

In Your Arms by Copiel Words: 6,286 Author’s Summary: In which Lance gets sick, the team takes care of him, and Keith realizes a thing or two. (And yes, there is some cradling in arms sprinkled throughout) My Comments: Endgame Klance. I just love feverish, delusional Lance and a worried team so much.

Beneath a Sky of Orange Leaves by Zurela Words: 36,366 Author’s Summary: Thanks to the druids, Keith and Lance are launched through a corrupted portal and crash onto a mysterious planet. Stranded, alone, and with no one else to rely on but each other, they quickly realize that rivalries don’t last long in survival situations. My Comments: Engame Klance. Great characterization and bonding in here, some very deep discussions about why Keith and Lance both push others away when they should be seeking in help. In the middle, Lance get desperately sick and Keith has to care for him. Excellent survival fic with teamwork and dumb boys learning to take care of each other.

Rough Week by taylor_tut Words: 2,517 Author’s Summary: It’s been a rough week for the paladins, especially Lance. My Comments: Lance is too self-sacrificing, and too stubborn, and his team loves him very, very much.

Turn Up the Heat by Copiel Words: 2,546 Author’s Summary: Lance just wants someone to make his room warmer, and he gets more than he bargained for. My Comments: I’m always up for weak, feverish Lance and a worried team. This is a great fic for scratching that itch.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

Light on the Dark Side of Me (26634 words) Water and Blood (27612 words) Coran's Guide to the Care and Keeping of Earthling Humans (33273 words) As Color Fades Away (138083 words) The Field of Blood (22769 words) The Machinations of Perception (53464 words) I'm not the Lance You think I am (59352 words) Little Crystals (2304 words) The Ones Who Were Left Behind (44569 words) The Lion in Winter (29107 words) - now complete