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bundrops-n-fluffytops · 1 year

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Welcome Home Agere Fic - A Parent’s Love Endures Through All

Characters: CG!Poppy Partridge, CG!Howdy Pillar, Little!Eddie Dear, Pet!Barnaby B. Beagle, Little!Sally Starlet

Setting: Poppy’s Barn (Backyard Garden)

Premise: Poppy and Howdy meet and chat during a playdate with their little ones. They bond as caregivers and what they have to do to take care of them.

Author’s Note: This is not a ship!! This is simply an analysis on Howdy and Poppy’s friendship and roles as primary caregivers in the town of Welcome Home, so no romance! Plus Poppy’s a lesbian so no chance anyway :9

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Being a caregiver was fun, but boy was it also tough. Take Howdy and Poppy’s word for it.

Being arguably the oldest and closest things to parental figures in the town of Welcome Home, the feathered and fuzzy fellows took it upon themselves to play the “mom” and “dad” roles for the townsfolk.

Age regression was no stranger to them, they’ve been around children for quite a while themselves so they were more than prepared. Because of this, an unspoken agreement had been made between the two: Poppy would play as the worried, overprotective yet quite caring and loving mother, and Howdy played as a fun and playful father, always there to make the little one smile.

When someone had a nasty bruise or needed a warm and comforting hug, Poppy would be the shoulder to cry on. She would bake them goods, kiss their boo-boos, and cradle them to sleep. When someone needed a playmate or somewhere to stay when they were bored, Howdy was their best buddy. He had toys, games, stories, anything up his sleeves he could give ya.

Naturally, the town absolutely adored them, and they made sure that they were respected and loved for their service and kindness towards them.

However, they never really spoke directly about it. At least, not often enough. They would pass by each other on the street or would spot each other while Howdy was at work, but there were no direct conversations.

Although, one playdate made that a bit different.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

The sun shone down on the colorful town of Welcome Home, greeting the birds and the trees with its radiance. A garden of flowers and bushes stood tall in response, taking in the sunlight.

That garden, coincidentally, belonging to Poppy’s barn.

Poppy had been busy tending to the flora in her backyard, her feathers tied back with a yellow headscarf, and wearing an apron filled with gardening tools. Beside her sat a small Eddie Dear - normally the town postman, who now sat in overalls, a comfy sweater, and some rubber booties. He would mostly sit and watch Poppy tidying up the plants, all the whole suckling on a blue and white striped paci, though he would occasionally point to a flower and babble quietly about what it is, prompting Poppy to describe it to him.

The company between them was calm and welcoming, and they both enjoyed the quiet atmosphere.

After a while, a doorbell rang across the barn. Someone was at the door.

“Ooh, I might as well get that,” Poppy quipped, turning to Eddie beneath her, “you stay put while Mommy gets the door, alright dear?” Eddie nodded his head, humming ‘yes’ in response. Poppy tucked her clippers and shovel into the pockets, making sure that Eddie wouldn’t hurt himself with them, before making her way inside and towards the front door.

Opening the door, she met with a familiar caterpillar, dawning a sunhat that shielded his placket knit and slacks from the warm rays of the sun. He looked a bit frazzled, maybe a bit sweaty too, but he was otherwise in a good mood.

“Well howdy, Poppy!” he greeted her, “hope I’m not barging in!” He held out one in his hands to shake, the feathered fellow gladly taking with her wing.

“Well good afternoon, Mr. Howdy! What brings you here on this fine day?”

“Well, I was taking care of a few lil’ rascals today, silly lil’ things decided to pop into the shop,” the shopkeeper started, “but after a little while, they wanted to come to your place!” Poppy raised an eyebrow before looking around him. He found one such little holding on to one on of his hands - the lovable yet rambunctious Sally Starlet - sucking her thumb and covered head to toe with bandaids, dressed in a lovely summer dress. She then found another behind Howdy’s shoulder - the resident dog Barnaby B. Beagle - wagging his tail and tilting his head towards the bird lady.

“Oh, is that so? Well if that’s the case, Eddie and I were just tending to the flowers out back, if you would like to come and stay for a while!” Poppy stepped aside to let the three inside her barn, the aforementioned guests filing in quickly before they all made their way back to the garden.

Eddie’s eyes lit up as he saw them all arriving back to the garden, his fixation mainly gearing towards Howdy. He quickly climbed to his feet and scampered towards him, his arms wide open to hug the taller man and giggling as he did so.

“Woah, hey! Who’s this lil’ man here? Is he happy to see me?” Howdy teased, scooping the shorter man up into his arms for a tight hug, making him laugh loudly in response. Barnaby took notice of the sudden excitement and shoved towards Eddie, beginning to playfully lick at his cheek. This only made Eddie laugh louder, reaching to pet the dog in response.

Howdy made his way to a swinging bench near the entrance to the garden, carefully sitting back with the little in tow as the others followed. Poppy sat beside him and Eddie, before Sally hastily and quickly climbed up to her lap.

“Hiya, mama!”, the starlet exclaimed, bouncing on her lap and making the bench shake. Poppy and Howdy quickly tried to steady the seat, all the while holding their little ones tight as to not make them fall.

“Oh dear, hi there Sally dear,” Poppy started, “how about you go play with Barnaby, will you?” Sally nodded, before climbing off and running towards Barnaby. The titular dog followed suit, running on all fours around the garden to play with the small starlet, barking towards her.

Howdy and Poppy were left alone for that moment, the shopkeeper holding and coddling Eddie sitting on his lap, Poppy joining suit in the “conversation.”

The feathered friend spoke up soon during the coddling.

“How in the devils do you do it?” She started. Howdy lifted his gaze towards her, a light “hm?” in response.

“You’re so easy with these children, I’m quite jealous really,” she continued, chuckling as she did, “how do you make it so easy to do?”

Howdy tilted his head, confused.

“What makes you say that? You’re doing just peachy, from what I see.”

“Oh, no no no,” Poppy disagreed, shaking her head, “I wish I could agree. Every second, I’m worrying about whether or not they could get bruised or bumped or cut or scarred, it’s madness!”

Howdy frowned at this, he hated seeing the lovely lady so upset.

“Would you like to tell me why? I’m all ears if you want to talk,” Howdy asked, resting a free hand on her shoulder. She hesitantly nodded, fiddling with her feathers.

“I remember one night poor Wally was playing with Julie in the first and he suddenly got covered head to toe in mud! The poor baby was devastated and sobbing his little heart out, it took half an hour to get it out of his hair!”

“Another time, I remember Frank and I went shopping for some gardening tools, he was big at the time. After a while of looking for a new set of clippers, I turn to my right and he was completely gone! I was plump terrified for him, I thought he got caught and hurt, but I found him crumpled up beside the butterfly enclosure. My baby had walked to go see the bugs, but had gotten lost while doing so.”

Poppy sighed, leaning back in the bench and lowering her head down sadly.

“I feel like every time I’m around one of them, something goes wrong. Am I doing something to make all of this happen? Do they not like me as much? Am I this bad of a caregiver to them? What am I doing wrong that could have all this happen to them?” She turned to meet Howdy’s comforting stare, his hand rubbing her back reassuringly.

“You just have so much good with you and the kids, it feels easy as pie with you around! You��re always playing with them, rocking them to sleep, reading them stories… my feathers are turning green of envy! Just… how do you do it?”

Howdy felt oh-so guilty at this time. Here he was, having all this fun with the kids, and Poppy was worrying herself sick with everything. He felt terrible for the frazzled friend…

…but wow, was she far from the truth.

He began to laugh softly, trying not to make himself look as if he’s mocking her.

“Poppy, I love you, but you are nowhere close!”

Poppy tilted her head in confuzzlement, blinking once and twice to him.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Well for one, taking care of those kids is nowhere as easy as you think it is. I’m running myself cold with these kids just as much as you are! Why, I remember I had decided to take the girls out on a picnic on one of my days off, and a whole hive of bees came flooding in! We all had to hide in Julie’s house until it cleared out, but the whole town got stung one way or another. It was chaos!”

Poppy gasped in response, raising a wing to her beak in shock.

“Heh, that’s not all! Another time, I was actually out with Eddie while he was big, we were both babysitting Frank and had gone to go pick some apples. Out of nowhere, a massive storm rang out of nowhere! We all rushed inside Frank’s home, but we were all soaked. Frank was freezing and sniffling from the cold, and poor Eddie regressed out of stress! In the end, I had my arms full with two soaking wet babies in one night, and we didn’t even get any apples to spare, hehehe!”

Poppy sat there in disbelief, shocked at the misfortune that Howdy had gone through. She didn’t know she wasn’t the only one!

“What I’m trying to say is that you are not alone when you say that taking care of them is a challenge! Anything could happen, and it’s hard every time.” Howdy turned towards Eddie, who had fallen asleep from the rocking of the bench and the conversation between the shopkeeper and the bird.

“But along with that, that doesn’t mean it can’t be a good thing! How many times do you get to cuddle up and play with this lil’ guy?”, he says, petting Eddie’s red hair with one hand and rubbing his back with another.

“Oh, well,” Poppy started, “you’re not wrong, I suppose! These tiny little things are a hoot when it isn’t running you cold. I think I recall one time I had taken Frank inside because he was having some trouble with his dear friend Julie. Turns out, he was scared of going small and being taken care of because he thought others viewed him as less of a person. I reassured him that this was far from the case, and soon he was snuggling away, small as a kitten!”

“Hehe, you see? It’s not bad at all! For instance, remember when Wally and you visited the Bugdega to grab a bite to eat? While you were busy finding something for Wally to eat, he actually came up to me and pulled a drawing out from his slacks. He actually drew me holding flowers, it was a delightful sight! I darn-near teared up, but I didn’t wanna show it.”

Poppy giggled at that, she did recall seeing him color one time before they headed to the store.

“Really? I didn’t think he was drawing you! I think there was also another time that I had been at home, it was during the cold and snowy winter. Eddie had come to visit and chat for a bit, but I could tell he was going small. At some point, he went almost silent, and I had decided right then and there I would let him sleep over. I couldn’t bear to see him in the cold!” Howdy nodded, squeezing Eddie extra tight in his embrace.

“That’s not the end of it! Whenever I had finished changing him and put him to bed, I was saying my goodnights, and he looked up to me. You know what he said?”

Howdy leaned forward in anticipation.

“What did he say?”

“‘Nini, mama… I love you fery much.”

Howdy melted at that. Eddie almost never spoke in littlespace, and he said that? He was floored!

“He said that! How did I not know that, I would’ve loved to hear that for myself!”, he exclaimed, laughing heartily.

“I know! I remember almost crying with joy that night. I felt so happy at that moment, I was practically flying, haha!”

They both sighed happily at that, Poppy leaning and resting her head atop Howdy’s.

“I guess I’m just so worried about them, I just got caught up with everything that could go wrong that I ignored what went right!” Howdy looked up to her, humming and nodding towards her.

“There’s necessarily nothing wrong with worrying for them, Poppy,” he reassured, “you just want to protect them! But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t anything good in taking care of them. They’re a handful, yea, but they’re also absolutely lovely when you know them and have fun with them, okay?”

Poppy smiled, reaching to pet the sleeping mailman’s hair. He smiled beneath his paci, making the feathered friend’s heart flutter.

“You’re darn tootin’, Howdy,” she said.

The garden soon fell into that quiet peaceful state once more, with the caregivers sitting quietly with the napping postman. Sally and Barnaby had fallen asleep in the grass during their playtime, both tuckered out from their burst of energy. From there, the only sounds one could hear was the birds chirping and the wind blowing the leaves in the trees.

In that moment, Poppy felt quite nice being a mom.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

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doctordiscord123 · 2 months

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Hiya there, i saw your latest post about you opening, hope you dont mind me requesting ;) I have 2 in mind, you can just choose one btw

A Guns n Roses one with jackie and silver bonding before jackie was sent to his mission, or an ego manor one where bim messes up with magic again with Wilford and Eric Personality/Body Swap

Alvis belongs to my love, @regalrain

"Come on, Jackie! Don't be rude!"

Silver pouted as Jackie laughed, straw still in his mouth after having blown the paper at Silver's forehead. They currently sat in a little bakery called Bake Those Buns, a favorite of Jackie's -- not in some small part thanks to the cute waiter that currently busied himself behind the counter. Silver took a bite of his blueberry muffin, and Jackie winked at him. "Sorry Silver. Didn't think you'd be so stuck up about it."

Silver flipped him off, and Jackie snorted, taking a sip of his coffee, just to nearly choke as Alvis -- the waiter -- appeared at their booth. Alvis was a tall man, with a few ear piercings and fluffy black hair that rested just above his shoulders and big square glasses. The uniform for the place was a soft, pastel blue suit that fit Alvis quite nicely, accompanied by a little white apron around his waist. Alvis kept his hands folded in front of him, glancing between the two of them. "May I get you anything else, while you are waiting for the rest of your food, sirs?"

Jackie nearly choked on his coffee, blushing, and Silver fought a smile. "No thank you, I think we're okay." Alvis nodded, and went off to attend to other customers that just entered the little cafe. Silver's smile turned into a full grin, and he leaned closer. "You should get his number~"

Jackie spluttered, glaring at Silver. "What!? No! He's at work!" It took him a moment to realize he admitted to wanting Alvis number, and his blush darkened. "Besides! Why would I want that? Shut up, Silver."

Silver laughed, and waggled his eyebrows at Jackie, voice a little singsong. "Whatever you say, buddy. You should still ask him out."

Jackie threw a crumpled up napkin at him. "Just eat your damn muffin, Silver."

#ask discord #supremelia12 #my writing #ego guns n roses #jackieboy man #silver shepherd

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shsy7573 · 10 months

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Quiet

Part two, by shsy7573

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The next time they saw Lance was 12:00 the next day. He dragged himself from his room after much prompting from the team that it was really time for him to wake up.

He didn’t look like he’d slept for seven hours. In fact, he looked like he’d barely even slept one. But when they asked him if he was feeling alright he smiled and insisted he was fine.

Because he was. Totally and completely fine. He’d gotten out of bed, and he was only feeling slightly weighed down by the quiet that followed every sound. That roared in his ears every time he stopped to take a breath.

And sure, it’d taken him three hours to pull himself out of bed. But he was still feeling just fine.

They didn’t have to worry about him. He never wanted them to worry about him. These were Lance’ problems and he could deal with them on his own.

He was fine. Even though he could only stomach two mouthfuls of food goo. Even though he could barely focus during team training. Even though his body willed him to do anything but be a contributing member of society. Even as he felt the quiet creeping up, and up, and up through his veins. He was fine.

He was always fine.

It was 15:30 when Lance went in search of something to drown out the quiet. He made the usual rounds.

First Hunk. But Hunk was busy, and Lance didn’t want to bother him. He didn’t even ask.

Then Pidge. But Pidge was crabby and he didn’t want to annoy her. He slipped out as she cursed insults at her game.

Then he found Coran and Allura. But they were reminiscing about Altea and Lance didn’t want to intrude.

Then he spotted Shiro and Keith. They were having one of their teaching, bonding, brotherly moments. Lance didn’t even announce his presence.

And through it all Blue called out to him. Begging him to talk to her. To let her in. To tell someone about the heaviness, the despair, the loneliness. To talk to her about the quiet.

But Lance refused. It was one thing to find others to distract him from it. It was another to tell them about it. To spread it to them like a disease. To bring them down with his own stupid bullshit.

And Blue would have it even worse, because they shared a mind.

So he refused, and he retreated back to bed.

The next day came by fast. Probably because he slept through the rest of the last one.

His mind woke up at 6:00. Lance couldn’t drag his body out of bed until 10:30.

He put on some moisturiser. Threw on some clothes, and left his room. With his hands in his pockets, he walked down to the lounging area, where everyone was already in full conversation about something. He watched for a few moments, not quite feeling up to joining in on the antics.

And then someone noticed him.

“Lance!” Hunk rejoiced, “you’re awake! We missed you at breakfast again, buddy.”

“And dinner.” Pidge added grumpily

And Lance did what he always did. He smiled. He smiled and waved as he stepped into the realm of socialisation.

“Yeah, sorry. I must be coming down with something, I keep falling asleep,” he lied.

“Well hopefully it’s not too serious. We’ve got that big infiltration mission coming up soon,” Shiro proclaimed, walking over and pressing a hand to Lance’s forehead.

“I’m fine, Shiro,” Lance said, batting the hand away, “I promise.”

The Black Paladin furrowed his brow, “if you say so.”

“Just don’t get the rest of us sick,” Pidge muttered.

Lance lifted his hands in surrender, “I’ll try my best, Pidgeon.”

Shouldn’t be that hard considering I’m not really sick.

But that seemed to be the end of the conversation, and Lance was thankful for that.

Until another one started. “Have you eaten yet today?” Shiro asked.

Suddenly a ping of hunger stabbed Lance in the gut, and he was painfully aware of the fact that he hadn’t eaten much at all in the last give or take 48 hours. Let alone this morning. He just didn’t have the stomach for it.

He shoved his hands in his pocket. They were shaking.

“I… yes?” He lied. It didn’t sound very convincing. He’d blame it on the weariness of hunger.

“Lance, you need to eat.” Shiro said. Lance sighed, looking at his feet.

“Why don’t you come with me buddy. I’ll make you something really good. I know that goo stuff isn’t the best when you’re sick,” Hunk placated. Wrapping an arm around Lance’s shoulder and leading him away.

“K,” was all Lance was able to reply. As they walked the quiet thickened. As Hunk sat him down the quiet thickened. As he left to prepare the food the quiet roared, suffocating him. Choking him with its intoxicating will to just give in.

His hands were quivering badly now, and he felt himself sweating cold. Forgoing food for so long may not have been the best idea.

When Hunk presented him his dish, Lance forced himself to eat it semi-normally. He didn’t want Hunk to think he didn’t like it. He did. He loved it. And he was hungry. He just didn’t feel like eating.

But he did. And he told Hunk it was good, which it was. And he felt some of his strength returning.

When he stood up he didn’t feel as wobbly, and he smiled at Hunk as they went to locate the others again.

But still, between every footstep and every heartbeat and every inhale or exhale of breath it was there. It was too much. And Lance pushed onwards, spurring Hunk into a ramble about his culinary genius. The way Hunk’s eyes lit up as he explained his passion for food made the quiet duller. Its grip is weaker. Its edge duller.

And Lance smiled more warmly.

He carried on through the day with a cloud shrouding his view of the world. And he tried his best to ignore the quiet. To focus on the small sounds. To not let it consume him entirely.

He forced himself to train.

He forced himself to do castle chores so that he didn’t sit with idle hands. Alone with his thoughts.

He forced himself to stay up and eat with the team, before retiring to his bedroom for the rest of the night.

The next morning, he pried himself out of bed at 8:00. Going to breakfast and shovelling food into his mouth.

The team split up, and Lance found himself once again in search of companionship.

It went about as well as the last time he tried.

He barely made it to lunch before retreating to his room.

He barely managed to force himself out of bed to eat supper.

He didn’t stay awake long enough to partake in the team’s movie night.

The next few days felt pretty much the same. Some days he’d get up early and face the day with a smog over his brain. Some days he’d hide away as long as possible before he felt he’d worried the team enough. Some days he’d train. Some days he’d seek out others. Some days he’d show up to evening meals with the team, and some days he’d go to bed in the afternoon and not emerge again until morning.

And then the day of the mission came up, and he forced himself out of bed at 5:00. They were supposed to leave at 7:30, so he had two hours to get his shit together.

He splashed water on his face, performed his skincare routine, threw on his Paladin uniform and headed downstairs for breakfast with the team.

He forced lumps of food goo down his throat. Put on the same old act of cocky, goofy, slightly irritating, humorous Lance.

He got into Blue, insisting over and over again to his Lion that he was fine.

And at 7:30, they set off, and Lance's brain snapped into mission mode. The quiet receded to the outskirts of his mind. Still there, but not enough to cloud his judgement.

They approached the Galra base from its blind spot. Sneaking up in the cover of the blinding rays of a nearby star.

They’d planned this out for weeks. They knew exactly what to do. They landed on the rings of the planet next to the base. Keeping their lions in the blindspot of the sun. Then, they all piled into the Green Lion, and snuck right up close to the ship.

Pidge dropped off the Paladins, along with some BLIP tech and Galra scanners before flying back to the planet’s rings to monitor the Paladin’s progress from a safe distance.

Hunk and Shiro tackled the first floor, aiming to find the base’s prisoners and set them free. Meanwhile, Lance and Keith made their way as stealthily as possible to the control room.

They were proceeding cautiously through a long, empty corridor when Keith turned to Lance, both their mic’s off, and started talking.

“Has there been something going on with you lately?” He asked. Looking over his shoulder, before lowering his voice even more from the mutter it was at.

“No,” Lance replied, lying through his teeth, “why?”

“I just… you’re not around as often. You don’t talk as much. You just seem less… yourself.”

Lance rolled his eyes, “I told you all I was getting sick didn’t I?” He questioned. Suddenly grateful for that lie. “I just gotta wait for it to pass. You don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna compromise the mission.”

“That’s not what I—“

“You guys have incoming!” Pidge whispered through coms, and the two Paladins both ducked behind the pillars on each side of the wall.

They listened as marching footsteps slowly approached from the direction they’d been coming from.

Lance listened to the sound, holding up his fingers and slowly, silently counting down from three.

When his last finger fell, he and Keith both jumped out from behind their cover, catching the sentries by surprise and disabling their control panels before they could scream for help. Not that they could, really. They were robots.

Keith and Lance continued on, locating the control room not long after that.

“Okay,” Keith whispered in his ear, “you take out the two on the right, I’ve got the big one on the left.”

“Copy,” Lance responded. He manoeuvred himself into position, waiting for Keith to signal their go.

That went as well as the altercation before. They incapacitated their opponents easily —or, as easy as it was to fight the Galra— and Keith walked over and inserted a small flash drive-esk thing into the panel. Pidge talked Keith through the process of downloading Galra data while Lance kept watch.

And as he stood near the entrance, coast supposedly clear, he began to feel heavy again as quiet surrounded him.

His shoulders slumped and his eyes scanned the hallway lazily. Nothing. No footsteps. No eyes. No lights. Nothing to focus on.

He couldn’t turn his microphone back on. He knew he’d get distracted by what was happening. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t give in to the need for an out right now.

But as it turned out, the quiet was just as distracting as the others, because he didn’t even realise the blast heading for him until Pidge called over the coms.

“LANCE WATCH OUT—“

A beam collided directly with Lance’s shoulder, and he was sent careening backwards. He landed on his ass, and lifted his bayard to shoot down the hallway at the figures approaching.

“Lance? You good?!” Keith asked, turning around.

The Blue Paladin forced his way-too-heavy-for-the-motivation-he-had-right-now body to its feet, and continued shooting at their oppressors.

“Yeah, I’m good. Keep doing your computer-y thingy” He hissed, but in reality he could feel pain radiating through his shoulder.

He ignored it, sending more beams of blue energy towards the Galran centuries.

One good thing about this base: the entirety of its population were robots. The only biometric signatures on the ship were that of the prisoners.

A couple more well aimed shots and the robots were deactivated. Lance breathed heavily, lifting his free hand up to press his shoulder. He winced, biting back a yelp. Probably dislocated. He could deal with that later.

“You guys alright up there?” Asked Shiro over coms.

“We’re fine,” Lance replied, though his breathy voice wasn’t super convincing. “Just got into a little spat. How’s the prison break going?”

“Good.” Shiro reported. “We’re just loading the last of them onto the escape pods now.”

As if having perfect timing, Keith turned around, holding a disconnected chip in his hand. “Good, then we’ll all meet at our exit point at the same time.”

And they did.

As they all swarmed back into the hull of the Green Lion, Lance was aware of the quiet. Nobody spoke, concentrating on evading the many Galran ships that were now patrolling the base.

He couldn’t take it.

“So… that was close, huh?”

“Lance, shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Pidge spat as she veered out of the path of an energy beam.

His mood sank again, “right… sor- AGH!” he exclaimed in pain as they made a harsh turn, and his bad shoulder was rammed into Keith’s elbow.

Light danced on the edge of his vision as white hot pain radiated from the area.

“Lance?! Are you okay?” Kieth asked.

Lance nodded. Gritting his teeth against the pain as he raised a shaky, unstable finger to his lips, before pointing at Pidge.

Keith gave him an exasperated look, but was forced to stay silent as the lion veered right again and he fought to keep his footing.

“Just a couple more minutes guys! Then I can turn the cloaking back on!” Pidge said as she dodged out of the way of another ship.

The entire hull shook as the Green Lion was hit. Hunk gripped tightly onto the wall, grabbing Shiro with his other hand before they could be thrown forward. Keith caught himself on the back of Pidge’s chair.

Lance was not so lucky. He was sent sailing over the top of Pidge’s chair and right on top of her lap. This many people in a Lion’s cockpit was definitely not safe.

“Lance!” Pidge screamed, kicking at him as she struggled to keep Green under control. “Get the hell off me!”

Her foot shoved him to the ground, and he couldn’t help the scream that escaped as he landed on his dislocated shoulder.

“My Cub! Hurt!” Blue fretted. He could hear her concern.

No, Blue, it’s fine I— “FUCK!”

He screamed in pain again as the ship lurched back and his shoulder was sent ramming into the bottom of Pidge’s chair.

He was trying to get up, but with only one hand and the ship being jostled around like crazy he didn’t think he could.

“Danger! I will protect!”

Blue, no! Stay— he couldn’t keep a proper train of thought Pidge kicked him away again. He’d managed to stand up, but fell on top of her again as the ship barrel rolled.

“Lance, stay off me!” She spat as she steered the ship sideways.

Lance’s back slammed into the side of the cockpit. He felt dizzy and disoriented. He wasn’t even sure where he was.

“My Cub! I’m here!”

“Blue no!” He shouted, voice raw with pain. But it was too late. Blue raced past the Green Lion, blasting ice at the surrounding ships.

But there were too many of them. Too many for a pilotless lion to take on her own. Sure maybe if he had time to concentrate and guide her, but he could barely get out two words before being flown across the length of the Green Lion’s cockpit!

“What’s the Blue Lion doing here, Lance?! This wasn’t part of the plan!” Keith exclaimed. Very much panicking.

But Lance’s mind was fogged with pain and he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of Blue’s cries as she tried desperately to save them.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Pidge exclaimed as now she was not only fighting to defend them, but Blue as well.

“Dammit! Blue! Get out of here, I’m fine!”

“No! Cub always say that! Not fine!”

“This time I am Blue, please! I promise! You’re just hurting yourself!”

“My Cub is hurt! I will protect! Hurt with you!”

“BLUE, DAMMIT I DON’T NEED—“

“LANCE, WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON?!”

“There’s more of them!”

“We’re getting swarmed!”

“I can cloak now, but we need to get the Blue Lion out of here!”

“FUCKING HELL!” Lance screamed. He turned on his jet pack and finally, finally was able to right himself. Pain screamed down his entire arm and his head was pounding and despite all the yelling his head still felt so goddamn quiet!

“Pidge, line me up! I’m gonna eject over there and fly her myself!”

“You can’t! It’s too dangerous to go out there Lionless!”

“You got a better idea!”

“No, but that one’s stupid.”

“Well I am fucking stupid, so I don’t give a shit. Just do it!” Lance yelled. He didn’t leave much room for arguing as he made his way towards the ejection pad.

“Lance, I’m not doing it!”

“Pidge is right, it’s too dangerous!” Hunk agreed

“Lance, get your ass back here!” Keith demanded.

Lance hovered his hand over the eject button. “I’m gonna fucking press this, so if you want me to have a chance at surviving you’re gonna fucking line me up!”

Pidge let out a yell of anger, but she had no choice. She looped Green around, then aimed her towards the Blue Lion’s mouth.

Lance watched, waiting for the exact right moment.

“See you guys on the other side!” He yelled, ramming his hand down on the button and feeling his body being shot out into space.

For a couple, terrifying moments, he was surrounded by nothing but stars, Galra ship, and space lions. And then, Blue, in her desperation to save him, opened her mouth and collected him into her safe embrace. Sheltering him from the battle and from the screams of his friends who were 100% still arguing his decision despite it already being made.

Gritting his teeth as his shoulder pain intensified tenfold, he ran to his pilot chair, sat down, and began trying to get control of Blue.

“I made it!” He called over intercoms, barely caring to hear the response as he commanded Blue to action.

“Lance! Oh my god! When we get back to the ship I swear I am gonna fucking kill you!” Pidge screamed in his ear.

“Yeah well, let’s focus on getting back to the ship first, alright?!” Lance suggested, trying his best to dodge the fire of the Galra ships.

Pidge was screaming over coms, “how do you suggest we do that?!”

“You get cloaked and go to the other lions!”

“And leave you behind?!”

“I’ll be fine! I can evade long enough for everyone to get to their own lions and provide support! But none of us are gonna get out of here if you don’t hurry the fuck up!”

As if to reiterate his point, another shot landed on the Green Lion’s side.

Pidge growled in irritation, before responding. “Fine! Just don’t fucking die while I’m gone!”

And then the Green Lion disappeared, and Lance was all alone. It was just him, Blue, and the quiet.

And, of course, an entire Galra fighter fleet, but that's besides the point.

Lance was just starting to doubt that his plan would actually get him out of here alive when the rest of the Paladins returned with their lions.

He’d never been so happy to see the giant, metal, multicoloured lions in his life.

“Lance! Get out of there!” Keith yelled as he shot a fire beam towards some of the ships flanking Lance.

They fought together, and with all five of them, they managed to escape only slightly banged up and, by some miracle of the universe, alive.

Soon, the Galra base, as well as the ships, were out of sight.

And as they journeyed back to the castle, the quiet crept in once more. It settled over the static on the coms. Its presence the same as all the other times it had reared its ugly head. It was always the same. The same heavy feeling. The same unbearable silence. The same feeling of swimming through a river of molasses. Limbs heavy as the ocean.

“Lance.” Said someone over the coms as the Castle came into view. The tone was small, quiet. Lance wasn’t quite sure who it was, until they continued speaking and he recognised the familiar rasp of Keith’s voice. “That was… incredibly stupid.”

Lance didn’t reply for a moment. The quiet in the hull felt almost too difficult to penetrate with his own voice.

“I know.”

“You could have been killed.” Kieth continued.

“I know.”

Lance flew through the suffocating silence. His hands were definitely not shaking.

“Is your shoulder alright?”

“It’s fine.”

That was a lie. It hurt like hell, actually. But he wasn’t going to make the team worry any more. He hated it when they worried.

They returned to their hangars, and Lance forced himself out of the pilot seat. Slowly dragging himself down and out of Blue’s mouth onto the floor of the large room.

He commanded his feet to carry him towards the med bay. And was met halfway by the rest of the team. The very worried, very pissed off team.

He stopped as they appeared in the hallway before him, leaning on the wall as they made no move to let him by.

Pidge stalked forward first, face contorted was a mixture of concern, fear and anger. She punched him in the gut.

“What the hell was that! Fucking throwing yourself into space in the middle of a battle! Do you know how fucking idiotic that was!?! No- you know what- of course you do! You just get a kick out of giving us all a fucking heart attack, don’t you?! Fucking—“

And then she was hugging him. Wrapping her small arms around his body so tightly that he struggled to breath.

Lance couldn’t force himself to find humour in her fit, though. He was too strung out. His shoulder hurt, his brain felt like mush, the adrenaline of battle had subsided and, most importantly, he had fucking fucked up again. He had worried all of them so much. He had compromised the mission by not being able to keep his shit together, and tell Blue to stay the fuck where she was.

He couldn’t even bring himself to smile.

Shiro stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Lance’s very much shaking body.

“Why don’t we get you to a healing pod. We can talk about… all this after.”

Lance nodded mutely, and allowed himself to be guided silently to the med bay. The quiet clung to him like a wet blanket. No matter how many ways he twisted his mind, he just couldn’t pry it off him. He didn’t have the energy to try.

So, as he changed into the appropriate clothing for the healing pod, and stepped himself inside, Lance stopped fighting. He was going to be medically unconscious for at least half a varga, so he figured the quiet could have its way until then.

For now, Lance would let the quiet win.

Just until he had the energy to fight again.

Lance tipped forward as the healing pod slid open.

For a moment, he was free falling, and he didn’t have the energy nor the care to catch himself.

But then something else kept him upright.

The Blue Paladin looked up to see himself limp in the arms of Keith Kogane. For a moment, his mind didn’t register it. Didn’t register the vulnerability he was in. Didn’t care to do anything but stay there. Limp. Unmoving. Cold.

Quiet.

But then his senses caught up with him, and his face flushed, and he found his own feet supporting him as he pulled away.

“Keith?” He questioned, shocked.

And then he remembered.

“You—“ he looked behind Keith to the rest of the team, “you waited?”

“Of course we waited, Lance. We wanted to make sure you were okay.” Hunk said, coming forward and bringing Lance into his embrace.

“Oh… well, I’m fine.” Lance supplied, hugging Hunk back before pulling away again. The bitter cold fatigue of the healing pod coupled with the viper grip of the quiet as it coiled around him made him eager to push past whatever conversation they wanted to have and get to his room.

“Look, I know what I did was stupid, but there weren't a whole lot of options and I couldn’t get Blue under control until I was able to actually be in control. I’m sorry I scared you guys, but I knew what I was doing… mostly.”

His voice was flat. Monotone. Exhausted. It wasn’t Lance. Not like they were used to.

Shiro sighed, “It’s okay, Lance. I can tell you’re tired, and I’d rather not get into a whole lecture. How about we just let it go and move on, okay? I think that’s what’s best for everyone at this point.”

Lance nodded, very grateful despite his inability to express it. He couldn’t express anything right now. He was too cold. Too tired. Too numb.

He brushed past everyone, walking in a slow, mechanical gate all the way up to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, and curled up tightly in his assortment of blankets. Twisting his whole body between them until he felt every pocket of cool air snuffed out by their warm embrace.

The quiet made itself at home in the familiar confines of Lance’s bedroom. Lance didn’t give a shit.

He closed his eyes, ready to sleep off the events of the day, and move on with his life.

Sadly, he was aware that his brain wouldn’t allow him to just forget about it.

For now, though, it was nice to pretend that it could.

He got up at 8:30. And by up I mean up, out of bed, dressed. Lance was feeling stubborn today. Stubborn, and slightly terrified. He didn’t want to spend another day holed up in his room, with nothing but the quiet to keep him company. Because he hated the quiet. And even though moving through it was hard. Even though breathing in it seemed near impossible. He felt like he had to.

After yesterday, he had expected hostility. Irritation. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Every time he said something, or made a joke, or tried to participate, the others would look at him disdainfully. They would barely allow him to interact. Their worry from the day before morphing into anger now that he was for sure okay.

But Lance was feeling stubborn today. So when mealtime ended he stayed with Hunk, who went to the engine room to tinker.

The clacking of metal and scraps comforted Lance. He picked up a small, miniscule object and began rolling it between his fingers.

“Hey Hunk, what is this? It’s kinda squishy.” Lance asked, and to demonstrate he squeezed his fingers a bit to feel the compression of the material.

“Lance don’t—!”

The ball exploded in a brilliant ray of multi-coloured paint. Splattering the stuff all over him, Hunk, and the workspace.

Lance sat there for a moment, then smiled. “Paint bomb! Cool!”

Apparently Hunk didn’t think it was cool. At least, not when it was… everywhere. “Listen, Lance. Maybe you can— I don’t know, go do something else.”

His voice wasn’t… aggresive, but it was curt. Sharp. On edge.

And Lance felt heavy again. His shoulders sagged, and he got to his feet. “Oh… yeah, sure thing, buddy.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out of the engine room. The quiet lulled around him. Thick and suffocating, like the smell of ax body spray. Lance shook his head. He pushed through it. Trying to force it to let up, but it stayed. In all it’s soul consuming glory, it stayed.

So he ignored it instead. It weighed him down, but he pretended it didn’t.

He found Pidge next. He was nervous to talk to her. She was scary when she was pissed. But his fear of the quiet outweighed his fear of being yelled at.

Yelling was better than silence.

Anything was better that the quiet.

“Hey, Pidge?” he questioned, walking over as she preformed a roundhouse kick on the video game they’d got from the space small.

“Not now, Lance. I’m busy. Whatever you need help with, get someone else to do it.”

Lance shook his head. “I don’t need and help. I was just… I was just wondering if I could chill with you for a bit.”

His voice was casual, but hopeful. He begged her to say yes. He needed her to say yes.

“I— I’m not really in the mood right now.” Pidge stated, he saw the movements on her controller falter.

“Oh…”

Pidge paused the game, turning around to apologise. To say she just wanted some alone time after yesterday. She didn’t mean to be snippy with him. She was still more worried than irritated. But Lance was already walking away. His posture slumped. Defeated. Dejected.

Pidge stared for a moment, then hesitantly went back to her game.

Lance found Coran next, but he was running a high intensity diagnostics test.

“Sorry, I just don’t think you’re, uh… skillset is required for this. I’m afraid you’ll only get in the way.”

Lance sighed, his eyes downcast. He knew what Coran really meant. That he was too stupid. Too much of a fuck up to be anything useful.

“K.” He murmured, before leaving the Altean to his work.

He missed the man’s guilty, worrisome gaze as Lance walked away.

With every rejection the quiet grew stronger. Like it was a butter churn, and each person who turned Lance away sent another stroke through the substance. Letting the silence cake in his lungs.

Then he found Shiro and Allura. They were talking in the control room. He walked in, straightening ever so slightly, but not making any more effort to conceal his misery.

He couldn’t.

“Hey guys.”

They didn’t even look at him.

“Feeling better, Lance?” Allura asked, though her voice was curt. Like she wanted to reprimand him instead.

“Mhm,” he hummed, but didn’t do much more.

“We’re just working on the castle’s defense systems. Trying to find ways to improve them. Coran is downstairs right now running a diagnostics test.” Shiro explained. Though Lance could guess he wanted to be able to focus.

Lance looked back down, dropping his shoulders again. “I just saw him. Suppose my skillset isn’t required here either.”

“Afraid not. Not to worry Lance, we’ve got this under control.” Allura assured, though she wasn’t paying much attention.

Lance figured he’d find no escape from the quiet here. In fact, this room felt more clogged with the stuff than the rest of the Castle. So, Lance hummed, turned, and left the team leaders to their business.

As he walked he found the mounting emptiness grow heavier, and heavier still. Lance struggled to breathe. He felt his eyes watering, but there was no outward emotion behind them. No screwing of the face. No sobs. Just misted eyes and he hauled himself down the Castle hallways.

He needed an escape. He couldn’t let himself be taken over. He didn’t want to. He hated this feeling. He hated the quiet. He didn’t want it!

So, when he found himself knocking on Keith’s door, I guess he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Normally he wouldn’t bother the Red Paladin if he was alone in his room. He hardly bothered anyone when they were alone in their rooms. But especially not Keith.

Lance needed some noise, though. He needed the quiet gone.

So he knocked.

And he heard Keith yell. Not hostile. Just prompting. “What?!”

Lance stood there for a moment or two, leaning on the wall beside the door, bracing himself against it. Then, finally, he managed to fight the quiet. Just enough to utter one word.

“Keith?”

His voice was dry. Exhaustion seeping through as he stared at the door.

Behind the door the Red Paladin sighed, “what do you want, Lance?!”

Lance didn’t have a concrete answer. He just needed a distraction. He needed to be away from the quiet. He needed something.

But he couldn’t tell that to Keith. And Lance was done with the lying. He couldn’t lie, and pretend he was fine. Not today.

He just didn’t have the energy.

So he didn’t answer. Instead, he diverted. Asking, “what’re you doing?”

“Why is that any of your buisness?!” Keith snapped. Lance could tell he hadn’t come any closer to the door.

Lance sighed, leaning his head against the wall. More tears filled his eyes, and in that moment, he was just…

Done.

He couldn’t do it anymore.

He could tell he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Keith and he was so tired of trying.

Of fighting.

Of pretending.

So he shoved himself off the wall and started walking away. He made the short trip to his room (and by short trip I really mean short. Like a metre or two), tears slipping from his eyes as he began to walk inside.

He heard the tell tale sign of a door opening behind him, but he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t even look back as he walked into his room and closed the door behind him.

The Blue Paladin flopped onto his bed and yanked his comforter around him.

He couldn’t do it anymore.

He was so sick of fighting.

The quiet was too much. He couldn’t get away from it. He never would.

Lance gave up. He was too tired. He fucking gave up.

And the quiet lunged in. Taking the hopelessness in his soul and milking it for everything it was worth.

Keith regretted his response immediately. He’d been in the middle of a good book. And I mean, a really good fucking book.

But even as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He didn’t want to snap at Lance, it just… sort of happened.

Guilt churned in his gut as he heard Lance sigh. It was a heart wrenching sound. So full of despair, and Keith couldn’t stand it.

He shoved a bookmark between the pages before tossing the book aside. The Red Paladin stood up and hurried to the door.

He opened the door just in time to see Lance retreating into his bedroom.

“Lance?” He asked. But the door to the boy’s room was already closed.

Keith didn’t know what to do for a moment. He stood there, feeling awkward. Out of place. Of all the people on the team, Keith was pretty sure he was the least equipped to deal with social situations like this.

On the other hand, Lance had seemed so… defeated. So resigned. So sad. Keith hated it. He wanted to do nothing more than burst into Lance’s room and demand he be happy because dammit if anyone deserved it, Lance did!

Lance was their happiness. Their ray of sunshine. He was their shelter against all the threats this war faced. He was the roof over their heads. Shielding them from the rain and snow. Protecting them when the elements became too much to bare head on.

He mattered so much to Keith. So fucking much.

So Keith took a deep breath, bracing himself, and strode into the Blue Paladin’s bedroom.

What he saw was… shocking to say the least.

Lance was laid on his bed, wrapping his comforter around him burrito style as he stared blankly at the room. Tears slipped down his face, and he breathed slowly, but other than that he did not move.

Keith paused. The atmosphere in Lance’s room was heavy. Extremely heavy. And quiet. Way, way too quiet for the boy Keith hand grown to love.

No- not love.

…

Actually, yes. Love.

Fuck! Not now brain! Keith scolded himself, pushing past his momentary gay panic to the situation at hand. Even though he had no idea what to do.

“Lance?” He asked. The boy twitched, and he turned his bloodshot, teary eyes to Keith. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t get up. He didn’t move. Not the way Lance would move.

Keith began walking towards the bed, and Lance made no effort to stop him. “What’s… what’s going on?”

The Blue Paladin didn’t respond. He just looked away, turning his face ever so slightly away. Keith could see shame in his eyes, and he felt himself moving on autopilot.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. You… can talk to me if you want,” Keith soothed, stepping toward and laying a hand on Lance’s shoulder. The boy looked back up at him with sad, pleading blue eyes. Keith could see it, the struggle twisted across his face as he tried to put some semblance of energy into speaking. But alas the boy seemed to not be able to find the strength, and Keith felt his heart breaking even more.

Keith knew that Lance was the type of person who found great comfort in physical contact. He was a hugger. The type of person to wrap his arms around somebody or lean against them as they sat next to each other. He was the type of person to show his affection by brushing hands as you passed them in the hallway, or placing a hand on your shoulder when someone seemed distressed.

So, that’s probably why Keith found himself crawling beneath Lance in his blanket burrito. He manoeuvred the comforter so that it still stayed tight around Lance, but allowed room for himself as well. Keith propped his body up against a pillow, and pulled Lance close against his chest.

The Blue Paladin turned his head into the warmth of Keith’s chest, his hands letting go of the blanket in favour of clutching the Red Paladin’s shirt. Keith found that he did not mind. It felt a little uncomfortable at first, but as Lance cried into his chest, the overwhelming need to comfort him overtook any other sensation Keith was feeling. The Half-Galra ran his hands through the team sharpshooter’s brunette hair in slow, soothing motions.

Lance seemed to relax as well. His whole body shuddered in, what Keith hoped, was relief as strong arms held him tight and close. Sheltering him from whatever had been weighing on his mind.

They stayed like that, silently drinking each other in, for a couple of minutes before Kieth heard Lance murmur softly into Keith’s shirt.

“Talk.” He pleaded. Gripping Keith tighter. As if he were afraid that the words would make Keith pull away.

Even though that was not Keith’s intentions, at all, he was still a little confused. “Talk? About?” He asked, keeping his voice quiet and soft.

“Anything.” Lance breathed. After a few moments he added in a much more desperate tone, “please?”

“Okay… why… don’t I tell you about the book I’m reading?” He asked. It was a question, he wasn’t sure if Lance would be interested in a topic like that.

But, Lance nodded slightly, not even making a jab at Keith for being a nerd. Keith took it as a yes. Whatever was bothering Lance, it must be pretty bad if he wasn’t even trying to make fun of Keith.

So Keith started talking.

“That’s what I was doing when you came by, you know. I kinda lose track of stuff when I’m reading sometimes.” He explained, before pushing on. “Anyways, it’s about this kid. He’s always been different from other kids. He’s got ADHD and dyslexia, and weird things always seem to happen that get him kicked out of schools. He’s got this cool mom and this deadbeat dad. But then his mom dies and he’s taken to this camp where he finds out his teacher is a centaur, the Greek gods are real and he is a demigod…”

Keith was sure he was being boring. Uninteresting. He was sure Lance didn’t care and he’d want Keith to talk about something else.

But, when Keith looked down he saw Lance peeking out from where his head was buried, just a little bit, to look up at Keith. He had relaxed even more now, and Keith took it as a good sign.

So he kept talking. Even when he was sure Lance was bored out of mind he kept talking. Because for whatever his rambling was worth, it seemed to help.

So he kept talking. Pushing away the silence with his words of grandeur, fantasy and adventure.

As he spoke, Lance’s presence seemed to become lighter. Happier. More like the Lance that Kieth had grown to love. The Lance, he realised, that he hadn’t seen much of in a long time.

That made Keith happy.

The more Keith spoke. The longer he laid there, running his long fingers through Lance’s hair, the farther away the quiet fled. Lance knew he had no idea how much he was helping, but the sharpshooter was grateful for him nonetheless.

When Keith’s narration of the novel he was reading came to an end, Lance was able to pull himself up, and drag himself off Keith’s lap. He unwrapped the comforter, and repositioned himself so that he was sitting beside Keith. His cheeks flushed a bit at the proximity, both now and previously. But he supposed he was kind of past the point of pulling away now.

He leaned against his companion’s shoulder as he spoke, “thank you, Keith. I…I needed that.”

Keith turned his head to him, and Lance felt sweat on his brow as the Red Paladin asked, “do you… wanna talk about it? You seemed… really upset.”

Lance wasn’t sure he wanted to. But… Keith was here. He’d seen Lance wrapped deep in the claws of the quiet… and he hadn’t run away. It hadn’t plagued him too. In fact, he’d made it go away.

So… maybe…

“You don’t have to. But you can… if you want.” Keith added as Lance pondered. The Red Paladin took Lance’s hand in his own. Lance wasn’t sure when Keith became so keen on physical contact, but he liked it. “I promise I’ll listen.”

Lance smiled, and apparently that was all the reassurance he needed.

He took a deep breath, resting his head on Keith’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt right. Being this close to Keith just felt… safe. Homey. Like he belonged there. “I… I don’t know how to explain it. I just… sometimes it’s just quiet. Too quiet. And heavy.”

He didn’t think he was making sense. But Keith listened regardless.

“And it’s like… it’s hard to do things. Like talk. Or move. Or just… function. And lately it’s been… I don’t know, it’s just been so much. And I just—“ his voice broke as tears filled his vision, but he carried on, “I keep trying to find people. Because hanging out with people usually makes it go away. But I haven’t been— it hasn’t— and then today I tried and…”

He whisked his tears away as Keith moved his arm around Lance and pulled him closer.

The Blue Paladin took a deep breath before continuing. “Today nobody wanted me around. And I just- I really needed— I didn’t want to be alone again. I didn’t want it to be quiet. I just needed someone but… but everyone kept telling me to go away and that made it so much worse.”

Lance was aware that he was shaking now. Keit’s grip tightened.

“And I just couldn’t… do it anymore. I was just so tired of pretending that I was okay. Of fighting to keep going despite how much I just wanted to stop. And I just couldn’t— I just wanted to give up and I couldn’t—“

He sobbed, and turned his head so that his face was buried in the soft, pale skin of Keith’s neck.

The hand returned in his hair, and Keith cooed at him softly.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Lance sobbed harder, and Keith let him.

He didn’t cry long. Most of his tears had already been spent, and also he just… didn’t need to. Having Keith here, it helped. He didn’t feel so alone in his mind. The world didn’t feel as chokingly silent.

It made the tears dry faster than they ever had before.

“Thank you Keith. For listening and… and for being here. I really didn’t… didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you, Lance. We all will. But…” he paused, unsure if this was the right thing to say. He shook off the hesitation, he had to know, “why didn’t you just tell us what was going on in the first place? You never had to be alone. We could have helped you.”

Lance shrugged, keeping his body situated comfortably against the Red Paladin. “I… I thought I could deal with my own problems. I didn’t want you guys to worry. I didn’t want to be a… a burden.”

Keith shook his head, “Lance, if you’re hurting, I want to be able to help. And I know the rest of the team feels the same. You can’t, — fuck— you can’t let yourself suffer all alone. Knowing that you’ve been struggling and I didn’t even know. I— it— it fucking hurts man.”

Lance sighed, but he didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure there was anything that needed to be said.

Keith sighed as well, letting his head lean against Lance’s.

“Just… promise me you’ll tell me when you’re feeling all… gloomy. No matter what I’m doing, I’ll help. And— and when you’re ready, I think you should tell the rest of the team. If I’m not here I want to know you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’d be okay.”

“No, Lance, I mean really okay! Not ‘I’m pushing through it and ignoring it so I’m fine’ okay!”

Lance wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“Promise me?” Keith pleaded, squeezing Lance’s hand tighter.

Wow, Keith begging was new. Lance didn’t think he could say no to it. So, feeling like he didn’t have much of a choice, he surrendered.

“Okay. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Keith breathed, his grip tightening again.

Lance, for the first time in a while, completely forgot what it was like for the world to be quiet. Lance relished the feeling. This feeling of complete and utter contempt. He knew it wouldn’t stay forever. He knew the quiet would return and he’d return to the daily battle of just existing in his own brain.

But the task didn’t feel as daunting anymore. Because Lance wasn’t fighting alone anymore. Laying in his bed, wrapped up in Keith’s warm embrace…

It was the farthest from the quiet than Lance had ever been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Note: Did I shamelessly plug Percy Jackson into this fic? Yes. Do I also feel like it’s in character for Keith to relate to a book about kids not knowing who they are and feeling different their whole life only to find out they are NOT completely human? Also yes!)

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moonkkives · 2 years

Text

— ( THE LOVE CLUB! ) ft. carlos sainz

pairing: charles leclrec x fem!reader ft. carlos sainz ( tiny bit )

summary: you weren’t interested on formula one at all, but bonding with the fiery ferrari boys on a golf club certainly brought the heat up.

warning: swearing, friends with benefits, smut ( dirty talk, praise, kinda rough, masturbation, cocky!charles, exhibitionism if you squint ), ferrari boys🥵, tiny bit of carlos thrown in the mix

word count: 2.2k

them: the love club by lorde

author’s note: sheesh, that was hard. i could not stop thinking about this plot and i wouldn’t focus on anything else until i rote it down so it started to become a problem lmao. also, i’m in my carlos era🌶 so excuse me for putting him literally everywhere.

the monte carlo golfing club was a green paradise lined with blue between the sea and the sky. it was also the the perfect place to find rich bachelors hoping for a perfect match. or a fuck buddy, whichever happened first.

the sun was beaming high through your overly expensive sunglasses as the wind blew softly, short white skirt lifting almost teasingly and leaving little to imagination as your long toned legs stole the show and caught a few eyes. you had a relaxed smile on your face: chin always high and a posed stand. a complete nepotism baby. you let out a breath before hitting the ball with a swing full of precision, ball lifting into the air and landing a few inches closer to the hole.

you hummed in satisfaction, wiggling her manicured fingers inside her gloves and becoming aware of your surroundings. the light chatter around the golf course was suddenly interrupted by her brother’s loud voice greeting someone. you turned around, long hair swinging as she watched a certain monégasque man you knew very well smile at your brother.

charles was accompanied by who she could recognize as his teammate, carlos sainz. you watched him smile and put his hand inside the pocket of his shorts, whilst charles introduced him to your brother. carlos eyes wandered around the place, taking in the scenery before his eyes got caught in the french beauty standing a few feet in front of him. he couldn’t help but bite his lip, taking you in.

“good to see you back man!” her brother exclaimed with a smile, “we missed you around here.” he patted charles’ back.

your heart started beating faster as you watched charles intently. you allowed your eyes to travel lower, appreciating the way his white shirt hugged his body. hard chest bulging out and strong legs confined in perfectly tailored pants. you couldn’t help but bite your lips as you remembered eagerly taking off his pants whilst he roughly pushed you to your knees and had you suck his cock in the club’s bathroom a a few months ago.

whilst continuing your admiration and, like your body was waiting for it, you suddenly felt a heat travel through her. looking up, you catched charles looking directly at you. his eyes sparkled with desire and he winked teasingly, his brother too busy talking his heart out with carlos whilst looking for something on his phone to realize his best friend couldn’t keep his eyes off of his sister.

charles smirked and you couldn’t help but raise a brow, the corners of yours lifting and reciprocating his. you rested your golf stick on the fresh grass in front of yourself, both arms holding onto it as you supported your body weight, long legs crossing. you gave them a smile, before turning back to your game.

that not only brought the attention of charles, but of carlos too. thankfully for them, your father came by and interrupted her very talkative brother, needing his son’s presence for a few minutes.

as your brother walked away, carlos would help but let out a sigh. “dios mio, what a beauty.”

charles’ chest bubbled with jealousy and he had to contain himself very hard so as to not punch his teammate. mattia certainly wouldn’t appreciate that, “careful with those eyes.” he said lazily, but with a tone that couldn’t be mistaken as a warning.

carlos’ eyes widened, looking at him in realization, “fuck mate, is she your girl? sorry, i didn’t know.” he mustered the most sincere apology he could but damn, it was so hard to stop looking at that face and— fuck, that body, he thought, as she swinged the golf ball.

“she’s not.” he chuckled. lies, “but she is my friend’s sister. your certainly don’t want to get involved in that.”

“mierda. what a shame. she’s beautiful, man.”

charles hummed in acknowledgment, “she is.” he simply said: he knew you were beautiful. and you were also his. his beautiful girl.

before carlos’ could say anything else your brother arrived and once again engaged in a conversation with the drivers. however, charles’, and now carlos’ minds were somewhere else.

charles couldn’t keep his eyes out of you and almost had to resist a groan as his eyes raked through your body; the nails that were coated on a pretty white color that had left marks on his back, the legs that had been wrapped around his waist and the mouth that had once been around his cock and lips, moaning his name. he couldn’t wait to put his arms around your body, again.

you peeked over your shoulder and couldn’t help but chuckled as charles jumped slightly, completely startled as he was asked a question about a conversation he clearly wasn’t a part of. you turned back around as charles patted your brother’s shoulder before leaving him talking to carlos. the spaniard he threw his teammate a confused glance when he saw him approach the girl.

you felt a sudden presence behind as one of his arms wrapped around your waist. his big hand spread on your stomach as he held you close, “hello, mon amour.” charles purred, lips brushing your ear. you bit your lip in hopes of suppressing a smile and your head turned over his shoulder, discreetly looking past to see if by any chance your brother or father were close: thankfully, your brother was too invested in his conversation with carlos and your father was nowhere to be seen.

charles tutted, firmly grabbing your jaw with the hand that wasn’t pressed on your stomach, “eyes on me, babygirl.” he said in a low voice. you finally met his honey eyes.

“i thought you weren’t coming this week.” you replied hoarsely, eyes never leaving his.

charles hummed, slowly moving the hand that was spread on your stomach traveling up your torso, fingers teasingly brushing your breasts and stopping on your collarbones, “i wasn’t supposed to—” he applied slight pressure on the base of your neck.

your let out soft gasp and the hold on your jaw disappeared, charles’ hand on your neck bringing you colder face closer to his face, “but i was going crazy without you by my side.” he whispered, noses brushing softly with a feathery touch.

‘are you watching carlos?’ he thought, almost wanting to turn around to see if the spaniard had his eyes on them. however, with the beauty in front of him, it was almost impossible to look away. he wanted you to know you had his full attention.

you gave yourself a mental slap, pulling out of the state of hypnosis you always found yourself in whenever his hands were on your body, “you know..” you started, seductive voice dripping with longing. and craving. and lust.

your hand found his, still holding onto your neck. you put your hand on top of his, slowly sliding it back down your body. slow. slow. slow.

“everyone’s talking bout you. the hometown hero,” their fingers travelled back down through the middle of your breasts, “the town’s heartthrob.”

charles chuckled, “what about it, baby? are you jealous?” he smirked, a smug look on his face.

you breathed out a small laugh and smiled teasingly, “maybe,” you directed their hands to go lower and lower, reaching past your lower belly and going down your upper thigh. charles’ fingers dug into the material of your skirt, bunching it up on his fist, “actually, sometimes i do,”

“—but then i remember those girls have never and will never be fucked by you.” charles’ jaw clenched, eyes darkening and never leaving your mischievous ones. you smirked at his reaction, once again grabbing his hand and this time leading it up. towards your center.

“sadly,” you pouted, “they’ll never know how you fuck as good as you drive.”

charles let out a breath, resisting the urge to press his mouth into yours and fuck you right there. as much as they didn’t care that they were in public, your brother was a few meters away and they couldn’t risk it. although charles wondered if that would make carlos take the hint.

with her hand still on top of his, charles roughly cupped your pussy. you could help but let out a moan, finally breaking eye contact and throwing your head back on his hard shoulder.

“it seems like a week without my cock made you turn into a brat.” charles growled. you felt your body on fire, legs tingling as his finger pressed harder into your cunt through your panties, wetness seeping through the thin material, “how cute.” he chuckled darkly. your own fingers tightened on top of his as he applied more pressure and started rubbing into circles.

“fuck” you whined softly. charles pressed your bodies closer together, making you feel his hard cock poking through his pants and onto your short skirt.

“it seems like i’ll have to fuck the brattines out of you, mhm?” he asked with a smirk. he watched his sensitive baby desperately writhe and whine into his arm. you kept your fingers clutched to the hand that was rubbing your pussy, lips red from your own biting in an attempt to keep your moans down.

charles chuckled, fingers finally leaving your pussy and letting you take a breath, “i think we have a lot of catching up to do, don’t you think ma chérie?” his eyes sparkled with amusement. maybe even something more. but you were way too eager to kiss him to even think about the repercussions that that would bring.

you turned your body to face him and he gripped your waist in a possessive manner. you angled your head up and smiled at him. “we do.”

charles couldn’t see it since he was facing the other way, but you catched the jealous eyes of a certain spaniard. hands craving to touch you.

you moaned as your hands slammed on the mirror of the club’s bathroom, looking for anything to hold on to whilst charles had you bending over the sink counter. he held your waist in a bruisingly strong hold, finger digging into her skin whilst he roughly pounded into your with jagged breath.

“fuck baby,” he growled, lifting the skirt higher up your ass, watching as his cock disappeared inside of you, “such a tight fucking cunt. mérdé.” he said, slapping your ass repeatedly, making you moan louder and leave dark red imprints on your soft skin.

they hadn’t even bothered removing your skirt, eagerly taking the rest of their clothes off trying as much as possible to keep their lips together in a sloppy, desperate kiss, before he turned you around over the sink and buried inside you.

charles roughly grabbed your shoulders, making you stand upright and pressing his chest into your back. he slowed his pace, thrusting hard and deep. “holy fuuuck.” you said gasping for air, mouth and eyes wide as your eyebrows furrowed. your body was overwhelmed by pleasure.

he pulled your head back by your hair and spit on your open mouth before smashing your lips together in a bruisingly hard kiss, teeth clashing together.

he didn’t stop pounding as he pulled back from the kiss, “you’re such a beautiful baby, aren’t you? huh?” he grabbed your waist, before sliding his hands up and groping your tits. you mewled at the feeling, body feeling hypersensitive. “look at these beautiful tits. fuck, i have been think all week about them.”

he let his hand wander further down, completely intoxicated by you. he grabbed your hips once again, his thrusts becoming faster, “and then i come here and see this legs.” he slapped you thigh. “in the shortest fucking skirt ever. that was just for me, right sweetheart?”

you moaned, nodding desperately and thrusting your hips back to meet his cock. “yes baby. it’s all for you. only for you.” you whined, letting out a high pitched moan. charles kept thrusting into you, and with you head completely filled with immense pleasure, you didn’t hear the door opening. except charles did.

he smirked devilishly, locking eyes with the person looking at them with wide eyes before sliding his hand down the girl’s clit, “are you sure baby? or were you trying to impress someone else?” he kept pounding into you.

you shook your head fast with your eyes closed, moaning louder and as his hands rubbed rough circles on your clit. charles hummed, “i don’t believe you, you dirty girl.” he slapped your clit, making you jump at the impact.

carlos was really trying to kept the composure, but the bulge in his pants was difficult to ignore. he was desperate to pull his cock out.

“maybe you were trying to impress someone else. someone like my teammate.” he rubbed your clit harder, charles eyes not leaving carlos’ darkened ones. “someone like carlos.” you couldn’t help but clench at the thought, letting a loud moan. you mind hazy with desire and eyes closed as you imagined carlos’ hand around your throat.

charles laughed, “oh, you’d love that, would you? what a little whore.” he teased, “you’d love carlos fucking your mouth while a fuck your pussy, wouldn’t you? or maybe the other way around.”

you moaned back, eyes finally open catching your wrecked reflection in the mirror and, standing behind charles and you, was the most surprising sight you’d ever seen: you saw carlos shorts unbuckled while he fisted his very hard cock, darkened lustful eyes focused on your face. you bit your lip unashamedly.

charles noticed, smirking widely, “now baby, why don’t you show carlos just what a good girl you are, mhm?” he teased.

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himebushou · 1 year

Text

I need to share this because I have literally Galaxy Brain'd; stay with me —

Kurusu Kazuki:

A young man from a poor background

Ends up working for The Organisation and getting into 'bad business'

Regarded as being bad at his job

Good at applying bandages

Sometimes wears disguises

Things start to shift after he begins working with his partner, Rei

Life changes completely after becoming part of a trio (family)

Associated with the colour red.

Does this remind you of anyone?

Why of course! Kazuki's background is strikingly similar to that of Jessie's from Team Rocket!

Jessie:

Grew up in a foster home

Was so poor that, as a child, sometimes all she had to eat was snow

Now enjoys the finer things in life

Went to nursing school (where she became good at applying bandages)

Joined Team Rocket — an organisation that changed her prospects

Is regarded as being very bad at her job by her boss, Giovanni

Wears a lot of disguises

Developed an unbreakable bond with James and Meowth

Originally had red hair.

Let's continue!

Suwa Rei:

Grew up in a wealthy household

Under a lot of pressure to meet the family's expectations

Left the family home

Regarded as being sloppy in his work by his boss, Suwa Shigeki

May or may not have had a pet dog (in any case, we see Rei with a dog in Ep. 3)

Initially disliked his partner, Kazuki

Life changed completely after becoming part of a trio (family)

Associated with the colour blue.

Does this bring anyone in particular to mind?

Naturally! Rei's background is shockingly similar to that of James from Team Rocket!

James:

Grew up in a wealthy household

Was under a lot of pressure to meet the family's expectations (was engaged from a young age)

Ran away from home, leaving behind his beloved dog, a Growlithe

Regarded as being sloppy in his work by his boss, Giovanni

Initially didn't get on with Jessie

Life changed completely after forming a trio with Jessie and Meowth

Has blue hair.

What's more...

Even the similarities between Suwa Shigeki and Giovanni are notable — both are known as 'The Boss' and, when they first appear on-screen, they're cast in a lot of shadow.

But let's look at both trios as a whole. If we compare Kazuki, Rei and Miri with Jessie, James and Meowth, can we see any similarities?

Well...

Finally, I have one more flabbergasting piece of evidence!

Kurusu Kazuki even dresses like a Team Rocket Grunt!

Conclusion?

Forget comparisons to other anime — Buddy Daddies is truly inspired by Pokémon!

#buddy daddies #pokémon #team rocket #kurusu kazuki #suwa rei #I'VE CONNECTED THE DOTS #IT WAS THERE THE WHOLE TIME #just imagine these two reciting team rocket's motto #IMAGINE!!!

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hiraeth-witch-11 · 1 year

Text

Bond to Happen Part 6:

Part 6: Meeting Billy Russo

Warnings: fantastical racism, some general anxiety, let me know if i missed something

Word Count: 3500ish

Canon Divergence: At this point, Frank has reached what he believes to be the end of the conspiracy that killed his family. Rawlins has not made any move to kill Frank since the initial shooting. The public never finds out the Punisher’s identity.

After about 3 months of knowing them, Frank decided to go legit as best he could. Of course, at that point, just about everyone involved with the murder of his family was dead (at least as far as he was aware at the time). His identity had never gone public. It was hard to identify a man usually only seen in the dark and covered in blood and bruises. To make doubly sure no one could identify him, he agreed to allow you to put the ‘don’t look at me’ spell over his face. Since you didn’t want to be constantly renewing the spell, you designed it to be triggered by violence. Even cameras would find it hard to focus on him, the picture often blurring. He never truly gave up his night job, but he kept a low profile and went to work for his old Marine buddy’s company, Anvil. That’s how you meet Billy Russo only a few months later. One of your closest friends and the reason you are alive today.

“I really don’t look like I’m supposed to be here, Frank.” You complain for the second time as you wait outside Mr. Russo’s office. Frank didn’t know the exact details of your abilities, but he’d pieced together enough on his own. He knew to trust when you said jump and that if anyone wanted a glimpse into their future, you were the one to ask. He’d seen you do more and knew that you were capable of things outside your licensing, but he never pressured you into telling him. He thought the mandatory licensing and registration laws were unconstitutional. He would never judge you for fibbing on the evaluation for them.

“You’re fine, Blue, half the people here are outta place anywhere else. It’s meant to bring people like us together,” Frank insists. “The other day we had a hyena shifter come through and they half shifted when they sneezed. Fur everywhere and big ol’ ears. Everyone saw and no one gave a shit.”

“But I’m not a soldier. Officially, I’m just a mid level witch with a focus in the Sight. I don’t have a right to be here.”

The laws in the US regulating magic changed for the worse after Sokovia was decimated by ‘witch’ magic based violence. It gave people something to rally behind as politicians fought to crack down legally on witches. You had been close to shutting down your shop anyway, business was poor and you could barely keep up with your rent. You had been Karen’s roommate for the last two months, working at a diner and trying to keep your head above water.

You had been forced to register as a witch. It wasn’t like before where you could practice in your own home and business legally. It wasn’t even like the licenses ‘differential’ magic uses and other supes got. Anyone with ambiguity in their power and abilities was tested. If they were categorized as a witch, they were added to the registry. You labeled your designation as a Seer. They weren’t uncommon (not nearly as accurate or clear as you, though), and it would be the first thing another witch would see if they were ordered to inspect you.

You’d had to go to a testing site and submit to an evaluation which included taking several vials of your blood. Luckily, this was routine for the handlers. They agreed that you were a seer with some other spell and energy manipulation based magic. Non-threatening enough to not look deeper. You’d never been so happy in your life to be weak magically than during that evaluation. Their diagnostic work assumed you were at full strength, that’s why you were allowed to slip through so easily. It didn’t take into account that you’d only truly fed 3 times in your entire life when most feeders did so monthly at the least. That was fine, though. Non-threatening was good if you were to get a job. Not that anyone really wanted to hire a witch. Not in this day and age. So Frank had talked you up to his friend, William Russo, and now you were here to interview for a position at Anvil.

Fuck, you’re so nervous you’re hands are shaking. You smooth them over your white button up shirt. It’s uncomfortable, especially tucked into the black slacks, but it was the most professional attire you had. The only items on you that pointed to you being a witch were your boots, the laces covered in beads carved with protective runs and charms for good luck. It was such small magic that realistically only kept the shoes themselves safe, but these boots had been with you for years and were almost like a security blanket at this point.

“Think about it like this, kid. You’ll be helping protect and save lives, while getting paid for it. And Billy and I can keep an eye on you while you do it. No more running around by yourself,” Frank scolds just a tad. He had told you numerous times that he doesn’t like you ‘fighting crime’ by yourself. You didn’t do it often, though. You had originally tried to go with DareDevil as you got stronger, but found out even though your strength increased, your ability to block out the noise coming off peoples’ auras was getting worse and worse. Rarely, you dealt with something by yourself if the danger was immediate. It was best to just tell Frank or Matt and have them take care of it.

“I’m not doing that anymore. It’s been weeks,” you insist, honestly.

“I believe you, Blue. Last time, you got stabbed in the kidney, though. You coulda died. It’s better you get a desk job and stay safe.”

You agree with him. You are getting more and more easily distracted and it would be best for you to stay out of the direct violence. Less risk of snapping again.

“Fine, fine. But I’m hexing anyone if I get called a slur!” You insist under your breath, somewhat jokingly. You’d gotten some looks walking through the building. Sure you stand out a bit. While you don’t think it’s obvious in these clothes, you’re a queer, female witch and you are a bit worried about how that’s going to be received here.

“If someone calls you a slur, I’ll happily watch you hex them,” an amused male voice says to your right. An absolutely gorgeous man has stopped next to you with a grin. His aura comes at you like the ocean, but not in the painful, smothering way you are used to. Instead, it feels like sitting on a beach, listening to the waves as the water barely touches your legs. He’s taller than you by several inches, he even has an inch or two on Frank, but that might just be the volume to his carefully gelled near black hair. The darkness of his eyes seem so familiar, though you’re almost certain you’d never met him before. It takes you a moment to process and realize who is speaking to you. Billy Russo.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not expecting anyone to be- I mean, I’m not a violent-” You stumble trying to apologize to your potential future boss. “I didn’t mean for anyone to hear that.”

“You're fine. We have a zero tolerance policy for harassment of any kind here, so if anyone does say anything, it will be dealt with.” Mr. Russo says it so seriously that you find yourself nodding. Frank claps a hand on your shoulder in what is meant to be a comforting manner. Instead, you suppress a flinch. He seems to remember your dislike of physical contact and quickly removes his hand.

“Why don’t we chat in my office?” Billy says, opening the door and ushering you in. You look back at Frank.

“Are you not coming?” you ask, unsure of how you feel about being left alone with a man you don’t know.

“Billy already knows what I think of you. You’ll be fine, Blue.” Frank sits back down and pulls out his magazine.

Billy gestures for me to take a seat on one of the couches filling his office. He sits opposite me and leans back, resting his left foot on his right leg.

“Where does the name Blue come from?” He asks with a smile. He looks almost like a shark. A very attractive shark.

“Oh, that’s because of my magic, it’s usually bluish,” you answer with a shrug.

“Frank does love his nicknames.” Billy shook his head with a grin.

“Yup, the more obvious the better.” He chuckles politely.

“Okay, let’s get down to business. I run a personal protection agency that also has a variety of other aspects, many of which can be high risk. I’ve been in the market for a seer to help reduce injuries and prevent any big problems that may arrive in certain jobs. Frank tells me that you are very good at what you do, which is high praise coming from him, and that he trusts you with his life.” Billy looks at you closely, sizing you up.

“Well, that’s nice to hear. And um, yeah, I am good at seeing as long as I am within the parameters I think he explained to you?”

“He did, but I’d like to hear you go over them, make sure we are on the same page.”

“I work best with direct contact to whoever is going to be doing something potentially dangerous. As much information about the situation as possible helps. Any big changes in plans should involve me or at least allow me to double check my sight.”

“When you say direct contact…?”

“Skin to skin contact. Usually touching hands is fine. Depending on how far I have to look and how complex things are, I may need one hand near the brain and another near the neck or heart.”

“Interesting, I’ve never heard of a seer who needs that type of direct contact before.”

I was prepared for this question. “There are records of Seers who work similarly to me, but it is uncommon. I do see without touch, but it’s not nearly as specific. It’s why I’m rated the way I am on my license. The bureau technically considers me as a lower level seer because of it, but I’m also more accurate than most seers so it’s a trade off. “

“From what I’ve heard, your licensing doesn’t do you justice.”

You stiffen slightly before forcing yourself to relax. “The system for evaluating witch ability and even for deciding who counts as a witch is very subjective.”

Billy gives a quick nod, accepting your vague response. “Tell me about the side effects you get. Frank says you get overwhelmed?”

“I um, can see a bit too much if I’m around a lot of people, especially strangers, or if I’m very tired, or if I’m not prepared and someone touches me, I get overwhelmed with my sight and see so much that I can’t actually see anything. It all looks and feels like tv static.”

“I can understand how that would be uncomfortable. We’ll make sure your boundaries are respected and we’ll do our best to keep your symptoms low. If you take the job of course.”

“You want to hire me?”

“Of course, why else would you be here?”

“As a favor to Frank.” you shrugged.

“I would absolutely love to have you working with Anvil. Let’s talk details?”

You nod.

Russo lists the salary, hazard pay, and extensive benefits associated with the position. It would most assuredly be enough for you to live on and put some aside. “Plus housing,” he adds. “Due to the nature of the job and your abilities, I’d prefer for you to be nearby, as long as you are comfortable with it.”

Your eyebrows jump to your hairline. “Plus housing? In New York City? That seems a bit excessive for a seer position. What’s the catch?”

Russo grins at my suspicion. “Nothing nefarious, I assure you. You will work regular hours, but I would also like you to be on call, solely for projects I am directly handling.”

You think about it. “Would you mind if I check the general vibes of the future if I accept the position?” you ask, holding out a hand, palm up towards him. His smile falls just slightly. You understood, most people feared a witch ‘casting spells’ on them. Or treated you as if you were diseased. While other supernatural creatures and magical beings were increasingly incorporated and accepted, those who could access and direct magic were still leagues behind.

“Of course,” he says warmly. Surprising you.

He gently placed his hand in yours. You felt a shock go through you, but it didn’t hurt. Instead it felt invigorating. You looked into you and Russo’s combined future, ever so slightly. Just enough to see if this was a bad idea. All you could see was the new glowing white of a magic thread spreading between you. Vague, but instinct told you to accept it.

“I accept,” you say. Removing your hand quickly. You weren’t used to touch not hurting, let alone feeling… nice?

“Excellent. Can you start Monday? Frank says you're waitressing right now, but if you want more time, we can get you settled into your apartment first?” Billy says as he stands.

“I can start Monday, I’m more than happy to leave waitressing behind.” You grin, flashing your teeth.

“Great, Frankie can show you to your apartment, here are the keys. Hand me your phone, will ya?” Billy hands me a set of keys as you pass him my phone out of confusion.

“Could you unlock it, sweetheart?”

“It’s Blue, but sure.” You didn't want meaningless pet names from him, or anyone. He seemed like the type of guy who called everything on two legs flowery names. You didn’t want him to think you were so easily won over.

Billy quickly types his number into your phone and gives himself a call to save your own on his cell.

“I will see you soon, Blue,” he says with a wink. You try to frown, but it slips into a sort of smile.

Frank gives you a ride to Karen’s to help you pack up the few belongings you have. Karen was ecstatic about the opportunity, even though she laments no longer having a midnight margarita buddy. “Now you have more uninterrupted Frank time,” you whisper, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Karen shoves you with her shoulder and blushes. The two of them had an intense relationship, though as far as you knew, neither had actually made a move.

“Well maybe you’ll find yourself a strapping young veteran to spend your time with,” she teases back. “There are plenty of good looking men and women at Anvil.”

“I don’t know if that’s really my type, Kare.” You wrap yet another crystal in newspaper and tuck it into a box.

“You know who everyone’s type is?” She nudges in a singsong voice.

“Who-” you realize too quickly who she means. “Don’t say it, don’t you-”

“Billy Ruuussssoooo,” she giggles.

“Jesus, Karen,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“That man should’ve been born an incubus,” Karen states, taping up the box of crystals.

“Thank the gods he wasn’t. Can you imagine how much trouble he’d be if he fed on sex?”

“I most definitely can,” she grins.

“Gross, Kare. I thought you only had eyes for a certain bear of a man currently doing the heavy lifting so we can sit here and gossip?”

“I mean yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate other men.” She shrugs standing and reaching out a hand to help you up. You take it without thinking, casual touch something you were safely able to do with Karen.

“I’m going to miss you,” she says, pulling you in for a hug. “You can come back if you hate it there. And if Russo gives you any trouble, tell me before Frank, I’m scarier.”

“It’s true,” Frank yells from across the room, hoisting a box of grimoires onto his shoulder.

Much of it was leftover stock from your shop or borrowed from the gang. It didn't take long to put everything you owned in his truck and make the painfully slow drive to an apartment walking distance from the Anvil building. The apartment was on the 7th floor and was much bigger than you were used to. For one, it wasn’t a studio like you had lived in before. You actually had a kitchen, your own bedroom, a proper closet and a bathroom with a nice tub. The place alone was worth the job.

Your twin size bed and tiny nightstand were the only things in your bedroom, making it look empty. The living room had the old green couch you had found on the side of the road and 3 flimsy old wood bookshelves filled with crystals, herbs, plants, bones and anything a witch could want. The space actually looked bare, but with a proper job now, you could make it a home. You spent that Friday and Saturday sleeping, organizing, and doing your damndest not to think about Billy Russo’s aura.

Turns out, you live in the apartment just below Russo. Apparently it was the most convenient way to keep you close. You were a bit irritated at not being told previously, but you weren’t going to complain at least anymore than you did initially.

“It slipped my mind, honest,” Russo repeats, stifling a grin while looking down at your crossed arms.

“Do all your employees live in the same building as you?” You ask, annoyed.

“A few do. I wanted Frank to, but the man is too damn stubborn.” He shakes his head fondly.

“Why not a different building nearby? Separate work and home life and all that?”

“Well, I own this one, so there’s that. I have a couple other places, but I spend most of my time here since it’s so close.”

“You own the building.” You say in disbelief.

“Yup, no need to sound so shocked,” he says, brow furrowing slightly.

“This place is huge, with a ton of security and all sorts of fancy shit. I thought you only owned Anvil.”

“I branched out over the last couple years. Diversifying the portfolio is good practice.”

“Rich people shit,” you say, nodding sagely. Russo lets out a sharp laugh of surprise.

“Yeah, ‘rich people shit’.”

It just made it harder for you to ignore the weird way your magic reacted around him. Even now, it was leaning towards him in a way you hadn’t seen before.

Russo and you took a few weeks to get used to each other. He was flirty, outgoing, and overly friendly. You were introverted and skittish around new people. Eventually, the two of you fell into a bit of a rhythm and actually worked well together. You started off doing small readings on simple security jobs. Your magic followed him around like a fucking puppy, which was honestly irritating. Sure, he was a magnetic, charismatic person, but in less than a month You had a fully formed tendril of magic and aura as thick as your thumb bridging you together. That was almost as thick as your connection to Karen who you’d known for over a year and lived with for months. It was ridiculous. He would walk into a room and your entire aura would lean towards him. But you ignored it and did your damndest to keep your walls up around him.

Your work days were easy. The occasional reading and then the documentation that it required. Plus any post op checks. Most of the time, though, Russo let you chill and fuck around in your office…. Which was right across from his. He made it clear you could wear what you like and decorate the space however you pleased.

“So if I show up to work covered in every color of the rainbow, that’s fine?” You ask suspiciously.

“If that’s what you’re most comfortable in, then sure. I know you hate the clothes you’ve been wearing, so wear something you actually like.”

You look up at him with narrowed eyes. “How did you know that?”

“You take off the blazer and unbutton your neck and cuffs the second you enter your office. Plus Frank told me.” He grins, distracting you and you quickly look away.

“Fine, I’m putting a bean bag and a rocking chair in here.”

“Sounds good, charge it to the company card. You can charge the clown costume you’re thinking about buying too.”

“I was not thinking about buying a clown costume for work, Russo…. I was thinking of a cowboy costume.”

“I would expect nothing less from you, sweetheart,” he says before quickly leaving your office. You stick your tongue out at his back.

“I saw that,” he yells over his shoulder.

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 11 months

Text

tti episode 20

“Last time on Total Takes Island: the campers set foot on the most wild parts of the island to practice the ancient pastime of trapping animals using whatever they could find. Ass-slash-Natalie conned McLovin into helping them when Julia was too busy trying to get Staci out of a sticky situation after she discovered Patrick had been working with the long-eliminated Kitty. Michael and Bonnie bonded over missing their friends, and Michael cinched the win. Ultimately, Patrick’s scheming got Staci eliminated, leaving only six campers left. Who will be mauled by bears today? And who will form another shaky alliance? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Island!”

Ass and Julia sit on the girls’ and such cabin steps early in the morning, the former filing their nails again and the latter reading War and Peace out loud.

Finally, Julia sighs, slamming the heavy book shut. “Am I done yet? This is boring,”

“No, this is educational. Not everything can be solved through software and the internet or whatever it is you do,” Ass rolls their eyes. “I swear, this generation!”

Patrick walks by, smiling merrily and waving on his way to the mess hall for a late breakfast. Ass glares.

---

ASS: “Okay, so Julia’s idea of using Patrick was dumb, obviously. I’m not making that mistake again. But I still need her on my side, seeing as how Bonnie and Michael are all buddy-buddy now. One slip up and Julia’s dead, which means I’m next,”

---

A helicopter flies over the cabin area, Chris hovering in the control seat. He pulls out a megaphone and grins. Ass and Julia brace themselves in anticipation, covering their ears. Patrick raises an eyebrow as Chris’ voice blares at an insane decibel.

“GOOOOOD MORNING, CAMPERS!”

Patrick squeals and falls backwards, ears immediately ringing and hearing fading out.

“Over the past six weeks, 16 campers have tried- and failed- to get to where you are right now! Fren, Joner, Peter, Patrick, Kitty, Mal, O, Sha-Mod, Frollo, Caesar, Ass, Austin, Scruffy, Kelly, Courtney, Scary, Max, and Staci! Only six campers remain, but only one will be winning the million!” He pauses to land the helicopter between the two cabins, nearly blowing Ass and Julia away.

Michael and Bonnie poke their heads out of the cabin to witness the commotion, and McLovin follows from the bathrooms shortly, dragging a roll of toilet paper stuck to the heel of his shoe behind him. “Today, we’re going to test everyone’s patience to the extreme, juuuuust to see who breaks first,” Chris chuckles. “Your challenge is a camp favorite: a triathlon!”

“And?” Ass says.

“And, you’ll be attached with some of these,” Chris grins, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “You’ll be sorted into three teams of two- now, our marketing team thought it’d be fun if we paired you up based on what province you’re from, but seeing as how most of our remaining campers are international grifters, I thought each player could represent which province they’re currently most popular in instead.”

“You took a poll?” Julia asks as Chef walks out from the mess hall holding a few buttons with province flags on them.

“Yes indeed. Winning team members will both get invincibility from today’s elimination, by the by, so cheer up!” Chris smiles. “Alright- let’s see- Bonnie, you’ll be representing Manitoba,”

Chef walks over and adorns Bonnie with a red button. They stare at it for a moment. “The things I do for this show,”

“Michael- Quebec!”

Michael accepts her pin without a word.

---

MICHAEL: “I’m… not totally surprised. Both of my parents speak French… albeit, different dialects, and my name is pretty French-sounding. I don’t know the first thing about Quebec, though, so who knows,”

---

“Julia- Ontario,” Chris says as another button is attached to her lapel. “McLovin- the Yukon!”

“What?” McLovin asks as Chef approaches with a green, blue and white button. “There’s nothing up there!”

“You were actually most popular in Ontario, but we let Julia have this one,” Chris chuckles. “And finally, Natalie and Patrick scored a perfect tie in British Columbia. Not surprised, considering how full of themselves everyone is over there.”

Patrick and Ass look between each other and then to Chris. “Okay, what now?”

“Now you get your assignments,” he smiles, holding up three pairs of handcuffs. “We’ve designated your pairings based on your provinces- Ass and Patrick,” he walks over, pulling the two together and handcuffing Ass’ left wrist to Patrick’s right. “You stuck-up BC faves will be forced to work with each other. And since no one likes Ontario or Quebec, we decided to place you two over there with boring Manitoba and non-offensive Yukon,”

“Oh, no,” Michael says. “Does that mean-?”

“Yep!” Chris says, dragging her over to McLovin and cuffing the two together. Both glance at each other in terror.

“No way,” Bonnie says, backing up into Chef as Chris approaches, trapping them. Julia glares and crosses her arms as soon as they’re cuffed, yanking Bonnie forward to the ground.

“Alright, now that that’s settled- to the mess hall for your first challenge!”

---

Chris stands in front of the pairs as they line the remaining table. Bonnie and Julia have been yanking each other’s arms around for the past few minutes, McLovin and Michael are standing as far as physically possible away from each other, and Ass and Patrick have already begun pinching and shoving each other.

“This is the competitive chow down!” Chris paces in front of them. “Each team will choose a feeder and an eater- the eater must put their hands behind them as the feeder gives them a delicious meal. And one last thing- this here is the wimp key,” he holds up a key with a skull emblem. “Once you’re ready to cry chicken and forfeit, this key will release you from your binds.”

Chef emerges from the kitchen, holding platters of furry food. Everyone winces.

“Um. Ew! Okay, I’m feeding!” Julia says, turning to Bonnie.

Bonnie glares. “Says who?”

“Says me!”

The two begin yanking each other to the floor again, growling and shouting. Ass rolls their eyes at the display and turns to Patrick.

“I’m being the feeder. I don’t trust you for a second,”

“But-”

Ass turns their head in the other direction, ignoring his pleads. Patrick sighs in defeat, then shrugs- “Our loss,”

The two take a seat at the table as Bonnie and Julia stand from the floor, hair tangled and each covered in tiny scratches. Bonnie gives their teammate one last shove before they sit down.

Michael watches the two pairs, then turns to McLovin. “Okay. Which do you want to be?”

He blinks. “I dunno, whatever you want,”

“Well, I don’t have a preference, so can you just choose?”

“Why can’t you choose?!”

“Because- fine! I’ll be the eater,”

“Okay!”

Michael squints. “No- you be the eater,”

“That’s good too!”

"Actually, I'll be the eater,"

"Sounds good to me!"

Michael groans and sits, pulling McLovin a little too hard. He falls backwards with a yelp.

“On your marks- get set- eat!” Chris flags the teams as Chef blows on a whistle. The designated eaters- Julia, Patrick, and Michael- put their hands behind their backs.

“Could you slow down?!” Julia sputters as Bonnie shoves spoonful after spoonful of watery mac n cheese down her throat. Bonnie goes faster.

McLovin’s hand seems to become uncontrollably shaky every time he lifts the utensil. They’re far behind the other teams, and after the sixth spoonful of dropped chicken, Michael gives up. “McLovin, you need to get a hold of yourself,”

“W-what do you mean?” he asks, smiling nervously.

“I mean we’re wasting food and we’re about to lose if you don’t pick things up,” she says, having to scooch close to him to lean forward and bite off the spoon.

“I’m- I’m trying!”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Sometimes intent isn’t good enough. Sometimes you actually have to act,”

He swallows a lump in his throat as her double-entendre sinks in. Meanwhile, Ass is forcefully shoving straight handfuls of cheesecake into Patrick’s mouth, overstuffing it and causing him to cough. He manages to swallow one last mouthful of furry cream before the plate is clean.

“Okay, we just need to get through the chicken next,” Ass says. “This’ll be a cinch!”

Patrick coughs dryly. “Is it spicy?" he asks, looking at the green bird. "You might want to-”

Ass forces another spoonful of food to the back of his throat and he coughs before leaning forward and throwing up on their shoes. They scream.

“OKAY, I’VE HAD IT!”

Ass stands, dragging Patrick along behind them before snatching the key from Chris’ hands and unlocking them.

“I hate all of you!” They yell, fists clenched and eyes narrowed as they storm out to the showers. Patrick groans on the floor.

“Oookay,” Chris says. “Early, but not unexpected.”

Julia finishes the meal and groans, glaring at Bonnie once she regains her balance and stops feeling too nauseous to speak.

“And that makes Julia and Bonnie the winners of the first leg!” Chris says, walking over to the two. Michael sighs.

---

The remaining duos stand at the beach before two canoes. Julia is a sickly shade of green and looks close to passing out, though Bonnie is determined. Michael and McLovin just look sad.

---

MICHAEL: “Yeah, there’s no way we’re winning this one. But on the bright side, I could get Bonnie and Patrick to help me vote McLovin off. That would make all this worth it,”

---

MCLOVIN: “I just hope no one’s mad at me,”

---

“For this leg of the challenge, you’ll be paddling your canoes- handcuffed- to Boney Island, in which you’ll find a package waiting for each pair,” Chris says, gesturing to the boats. “Whenever you’re ready!”

The pairs rush down to their respective canoes, with Bonnie and Julia setting off first.

---

BONNIE: “I’ve seen Julia’s style- she wants an easy ride to the finale. I’m just giving her what she wants,” they grin.

---

“Paddle faster!” Bonnie yells, yanking Julia around as they row to the island.

“I’m- trying!” She gasps, barely able to hold onto the oar in the back of the canoe.

A few minutes behind are McLovin and Michael, who are attempting the “slow and steady” approach.

“One- two- one- two!” Michael shouts, methodically directing the paddling as they work one handed.

McLovin’s weak noodle arms are shaking as he strains between trying to row and trying to keep a safe distance from Michael. He wheezes. She, on the other hand, is completely focused on the game, trying her best to ignore him as he goes between glaring and grumbling to himself and whimpering pathetically.

Despite their lead, Bonnie and Julia make it to the island at the same time as Michael and McLovin, where two backpacks are waiting for them.

“Please be some antacids,” Julia mutters, opening the bag. Instead, inside is a piece of a tiki doll, a banana, a map, and one measly bottle of water.

“What is this?” Bonnie asks, holding up the rounded charm.

“That is a tiki doll!” Chris says, helicopter hovering overhead. “While no one this season cursed their team, it’s a bit of a callback to-” he pauses as the campers stare, confused. “Ugh, nevermind! I miss Scruffy. Anyway, The pieces in your packs must be returned to the cave of treacherous terror, ASAP! Oh, yeah- and they're bad luck to hold onto, so you better piggyback fast!”

“Piggyback?” Julia asks.

“You heard me!” he chuckles, helicopter flying off.

Michael sighs and crouches down, allowing McLovin on her back. Julia waits for Bonnie to follow suit, and when they don’t, she frowns. “Well? What’re you waiting for?”

“Who said I’m carrying you?” Bonnie says, shrugging. McLovin and Michael are already gone. “You could use some endurance training, four-eyes.”

Julia glares at the name.

---

BONNIE: “I actually use contacts, and I have a pair of glasses in my bag. I just like getting on her nerves,”

---

Bonnie sits comfortably on Julia's back as they haul through the woods, in close pursuit of McLovin and Michael.

---

Ass steps out of the communal showers, grumbling about not being able to get the smell of cheesecake off of them as they walk back to the cabins. The camp is now empty, Chris and Chef both occupied with the campers on Boney Island, and Patrick is nowhere to be seen.

The cabins finally have some peace to them, and Ass takes their sweet time getting dried and dressed, savoring every moment of quiet. They already have most of their afternoon planned out- heading to the kitchen to grab an edible snack (and maybe then some for later), looking through their cabinmate’s belongings, and then relaxing by the beach with a good book until the losers returned.

They snatch up their copy of War and Peace and step outside, stretching in the sunlight.

---

ASS: “Am I worried about getting eliminated? Why would I be? I have Julia on my side, and as long as Patrick isn’t holding any grudges today, McLovin should be an easy ally. I already told Julia to go for Bonnie next. They’re flying a little too close to the finale for comfort,”

---

Ass walks along the path to a shady sitting area on the far corner of the island they do most of their reading at when they don’t feel like being around Julia (which is most of the time).

The breeze is warm today, the sun shining but not too hot- Ass chuckles, thinking about those poor losers running around all sweaty on the other island right now.

The further they walk inland, the warmer it gets. As they’re enjoying their quiet walk, a faint giggling catches their attention.

Ass stops, scanning the treeline, but sees nothing.

“Just the wind,” they assure themselves- not quite nervous but not entirely dismissive, either.

The giggling returns, accompanied by the sound of a louder laugh.

“Okay, not the wind,” they lower their voice to a whisper, and follow the sounds into the woods.

The closer they get, the more they can make out- chattering, rustling, the crunching of leaves and sticks underfoot. But who’d be out here now?

Ass crouches to the ground and peers through a blueberry bush at the source of the commotion. As their eyes adjust to the light, they can make out Patrick sitting on a boulder (atop a towel from the kitchen to avoid dirtying his suit).

Another figure emerges, scampering over with a stick in its mouth. Ass squints. “A dog? Where’d Patrick find a dog on the island?”

But it’s not a dog.

Their eyes widen.

---

“Just a few more steps, if you can handle it,” Bonnie taunts, the cave rapidly approaching. Julia is walking slowly, steps shaky and uncoordinated. She stumbles to the mouth of the cave, but is promptly stopped by a faint growling.

“Don’t throw up now, we’re almost there!” Bonnie says.

Julia shakes her head, backing away slowly. “That wasn’t me,”

A few giant wooly beavers emerge from the depths of the cave, baring their teeth. Bonnie and Julia scream and start off in the opposite direction, the beavers close behind.

As they vanish, McLovin and Michael appear, stepping up to the mouth of the cave.

“So, do you think this curse thing is real, or…?” McLovin asks nervously, watching Michael pull the tiki piece out of the bag and set it inside the cave.

She sighs. “Probably not, but what do I know? Oh- and next time, I'm not carrying you through the challenge," Michael says as she begins to walk back to the beach. "Why don't you do something for once?"

---

“Our two remaining teams both have a point each,” Chris explains, walking between two picnic tables back at camp. “In order to break the tie, one of you will have to win this leg of the challenge- the pole of shame! Your task is to assemble these heads of your past fellow campers in the order they were eliminated.”

Bonnie looks around. “What heads?”

Chris grins, walking over to the lumpy messes covered in tarps on either picnic table, and then dramatically pulls the covers away with flair. Underneath are 16 wooden heads of each eliminated contestant. McLovin screams in terror and falls backwards, much to Michael’s annoyance.

---

MICHAEL: “Is it just me, or did McLovin get significantly lamer since this summer started?”

---

“Final call for the wimp key!” Chris says, waving it around. No one steps up but Julia, who is promptly sat back down by Bonnie.

Michael gets to work assembling the pole while McLovin recalls who goes in which order. “Fren, Joner- rest in peace- Peter, um… Patrick- no, wait he’s still here,”

“Okay, who was after that, then?” Michael asks.

“Kitty! Mal, O…”

---

MICHAEL: “But… credit where credit is due. McLovin is really good at remembering people’s names,”

---

Julia sighs dramatically, holding up the wooden replica of Scruffy. “Poor Scruff. You’d know what to do here,”

Bonnie rolls their eyes at the display, but is clearly more gentle with Caesar’s head than the others.

Across the space, Michael sighs while she attaches Joner’s head to Fren’s. “Poor Joner. Probably watching us fail miserably right now,”

“Technically, the season hasn’t aired yet,” McLovin says, sorting through the pile. Michael rolls her eyes as he breaks the brief conversation to stare longingly at Sha-Mod.

---

MCLOVIN: “Okay, I’ll admit it. Not having any friends on the island is really wearing me down. But that’s not even my fault! Humans are social creatures, and we have strength in numbers! Everyone left on the island are more like bears…”

---

"What's this?" Chris asks, spinning Max's head around on the tabletop. There's a tiny heart painted on his cheek in mud.

McLovin winces as Michael goes red. "NOTHING!"

“Was it Austin or Kelly first? I keep getting them mixed up!” Bonnie says, holding the two heads in either hand.

“Austin. Kelly got voted after Scruffy,” Julia informs her partner, taking the heads from their hands.

“Okay, what about Frollo?”

Julia picks up the wooden carving. “Frollo was five players before Scruffy,”

Bonnie raises an eyebrow.

---

BONNIE: “In a way, it’s comforting to know that I’m not the only person on the island who’s been counting days since their friend got voted off. But having that other person be Julia is… concerning,”

---

They smile sympathetically. "You really miss Scruffy, huh?"

"Whatever. I don't," Julia looks at the ground, avoiding eye contact. "I was just using them to get ahead! It was strategy!"

"Sure. Listen- losing friends is never easy, but you just gotta keep on going, though, right? There'll always be someone around to support you," they place a hand on Julia's shoulder. "Just, you know- stop taking the good people in your life for granted, 'kay?"

"Whatever," she snaps, though as Bonnie leaves she looks up.

The two continue working, making their way up the line of losers. Bonnie tosses Julia Staci's head, but they’re not quite fast enough.

“And we have our winners!” Chris says, looking up the pole of heads on McLovin and Michael’s sides. The two sigh in relief. “The rest of you are up for elimination, though- and I’ll be seeing you tonight!”

---

“Final six, huh?” Chris chuckles. “Not for long! Let’s see- since Michael and McLovin got immunity, they’re exempt from today’s ceremony. But they’ll still get their marshmallows,”

He tosses the two their treats, which McLovin eats and Michael just smiles down at.

“The following are safe- Ass,”

“Julia.”

“Bonnie- Patrick- you’ve both been here a long time,” Chris says, nodding solemnly. “And while the votes call for Bonnie’s elimination, a certain… incident has come to my attention that forfeits that.”

Julia raises an eyebrow. Ass smirks.

“Patrick- my man- we have a pretty strict no-cheating-off-camera policy, and from the looks of it, you’ve been doing that for quite some time. I mean, come on! Using an eliminated contestant to get ahead?” Everyone turns to Patrick with confused expressions. “But I could forgive even that, if you were at least honest about it. And on camera. Unfortunately, Chef and I have made the very hard decision to disqualify you from the race.”

“What?” Patrick asks, standing. “You can’t-!”

“Oh, but I can! And Chef?”

Chef walks out in a hazmat suit, carrying Kitty with him in a solid lead cage. They gnaw at the bars of their enclosure.

“Your little pet has a Geiger count of 190 CPM. We’re actually not sure how they’re still alive, dude,” Chris says. “So you two are getting medical evac-ed off the island.”

Everyone turns pale as Chef walks over and grabs Patrick by the scruff of his neck. He kicks his legs around for a moment before being tossed inside the cage with Kitty and hauled away.

“The rest of you should be safe, unless you were close to Patrick recently,” everyone turns to Ass, who suddenly doesn’t look so smug anymore. “Yeah… I’d spend the night in the quarantine section of the medical tent if I were you.”

Chris chuckles as Ass stands and runs away. Bonnie smiles slightly.

“Who will be poisoned with mold? And who will be poisoned with radiation? Find out next time, on Total! Takes! Island!”

#tti #total takes island

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