#paladin incident? never heard of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winx-blood-and-bone · 4 months

Text

Chapter 1

Word Count:

4642

Warning:

This is a Fanfic Rewrite and low key fix it fic.

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

Alfea, the College of Fairies, the stepping stone of Teenage Fairies.It has turned Girls into Women and created Heroes out of them, the Prime Example would be the Winx Club, who now Teach at the very School that taught them so much and now passing the torch to those younger than them.

A Knee-length Red-Orange haired woman re-adjusted her parted Bangs, as she carried a small luggage which contained anything from Test Assignments to Clothes, she got out of the Magix Bus, the Girl took a deep breath and exhaled, as muttered under her Breath,

"Can't believe I'm finally here...time to get to Work"

She looked down and as she got into the School Gate, she soon got confronted by Freshman Students, they crowded around her asking for Selfies, Autographs and wanting to know if they would get taught by her in School,

"There she is!"

"Bloom! Will you teaching my Class?"

"Bloom could you sign my Book about Earth?!"

"Would you take a Picture with us?"

At this point, Bloom is pretty used to the Crowds of Students and was about to move on her own excuse herself, but she didn't expect Stella to come and pull her out of there, she asked in a Hushed tone,

"Do you have a Pen this time?"

"Uh yeah I uh didn't think about that"

Stella sighed as Bloom laughed abit nervously, took out her pen, and enchanted it to write her Autograph, it zoomed and went to people's notebooks and Sketchbooks as Stella and Bloom quietly get out of the crowd and went into the Entrance Hall where the Rest of the Winx Club were.

They were Breathless, sweating even and Aisha spoke up in a concerned tone as she raised her Eyebrows a little bit,

"Jeez what happened to you guys?"

Stella responded back in quick but tired and sassy tone,

"Oh nothing just crowds, being unnecessarily Famous, same old same old, the Typical Monday Morning"

Aisha sighed and replied back to them, she understands immediately ever since the defeat of Tritannus, studying the New Syllabus and returning to Teaching Position, Freshman Students ought to be excited, Musa and Tecna added some of their thoughts too,

"Ah I feel you, I got asked by countless Students whether I'll be teaching Gym and Combat classes"

"Some asked whether I could make a Robotics Club"

"Freshman Students just asked me whether we could have Jazz Club"

"I understood the Combat Class part but Gym? Since when did Alfea have a Gym?"

Bloom asked and Flora was about to reply then Faragonda came down the steps along with the rest of the staff,

"Winx! It's so good to see you all again, I hope you all have rested well"

"Miss Faragonda! And yes we're doing just fine, you wanted to meet us why is that?"

Flora asked curiously, that's why they were in the Entrance Hall, they were waiting for them,

"Well as you may know, Alfea is going through a partial Renovation, we are going to have a state of the Art Gymnasium, Technology Sector and a simple Music Cafe, this would probably be disturbance to your Classes so we would like you all to attend an Opening Ceremony"

The Winx Club looked at each other a bit confused this was recent news to them, not even Tecna knew of it, Faragonda replied to them,

"It is the Re-opening ceremony of the New and Improved Linphea College of Fairies, since we can't be there ourselves due to the amount of Freshman Students this month's intake, we would like you all to represent Alfea over there"

Flora's eyes went wide when she heard Linphea,

"My Sister Miele just enrolled there! We have to go there"

The Winx hadn't seen Miele since the Valtor incident of their Senior Year, Roxy never met her before and only heard though Mentions by Flora, it was decided they would be going to Linphea College.Faragonda also added,

"The Specialists will be there too, they are holding a Open Arena Training and Performance for the School against their Paladins"

"Wait the Paladins? Like Professor Avalon?"

Stella asked and Professor Avalon nodded and replied,

"Yes but these Paladins are still in Training it will take years to even get to my Level especially in the usage of Wings, now get Ready, you all, don't keep the Specialists waiting"

The Winx Club quickly went to their Rooms, Bloom lagged behind, she placed her hand on her chest and breathed in and out before Griselda tapped her shoulder, her tone Less strict than usual,

"Bloom are you alright?"

She looked up and a small smile plastered onto her face,

"I'm fine Griselda thank you for asking"

Bloom quickly ran off and Griselda sighed looking at Faragonda and telling her,

"Faragonda I worry that Bloom is not adjusting, she seems more off than usual"

"Give her some Time Griselda, Bloom has faced Adversity before, this one is no different, it's harsher but everyone needs to grow up and leave the nest eventually"

They leave the Entrance Hall to Greet the students, Bloom told herself,

"It's not going to be awkward, It's not going to be awkward, he's King of Eraklyon now, It's not going to be awkward, It's not going to be awkward-"

She says that until she got into her Room.

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

Arriving at the Linphea College Arena, the Specialists were preparing Combat performances and doing training with the Paladins, among the Crowd, the man with Ashen Brown hair blend into it seamlessly, his Weapon hidden as a Ring on his Rough fingers, he was dressed in Paladin Trainee Uniforms, those of Red and in the middle of their chests contains a yellow colored gem.It in a way tracks the Trainees around the Campus, but it was easy to fool in this situation.

The Man felt his Companion's words pops into his head, 'Found it yet?' The Man Telepathically responded, 'No I just got there, security was tighter than I thought but no one has found me'The Man was walking around, pretending to do something, than soon saw the Arena training happening in front of him.

The Specialists were Teachers, Interns to be exact, they were dressed in Blue versions of the Paladin Trained Armor, they looked brand new, 'Hmm they seem to be Prototype Armour pieces and not the standard hmm alright then'The Man said to himself in his Head before hearing the Specialists greet them,

"For Today's Training, we will be Trying out the Prototype Phantoweapons that will be used by Linphea College Solely"

"None of us know what these Weapons can do either"

Sitting on a small Golden Table with a Wood covering, there sits a Hilts of Blades, Wooden Sticks and Firearms, the man was little impressed with the Selection,

"We'll demonstrate the Usage of the weapons and we will select one of you to attack us...if you can"

One of the Teachers and Specialists, Riven, replied as he picked out his Weapon, a Khukuri with Glowing Purple Energy around 18 inches long, he looked around and soon points to the man,

"You there! What's your name?"

The Man looked up, he was trying to leave but he was called and so he introduced himself,

"The Name's Thoren"

Thoren walked to the Center of the Arena and asked,

"So just to be Clear, I could use any weapon right?"

"Yeah dude come on Im itching for a fight"

"Oh then I'll just have to use my fists"

The Specialists looked at the match, they were abit worried for the Outcome for using Fists against blades were not good and they were teachers, but Riven does not care, he likes the attitude,

"Bring it then!"

Riven drew his blade and lunged forward, he slashed left and right in which Thoren dodged, he jumped off the blade and backflip kick before landing in his Stance, it drew an open fist, one facing up and another facing down, his leg at the front was standing up at the ball of his feet while keeping parallel with his other foot which was on the ground.

The Paladins and The Specialists looked intrigued at the battle before them, Thoren was holding back, he had to anyway besides this was simply a Sparring Session to him, there was an awkward silence between them before striking, Riven went in for Slash with his Moon Khukuri and a wave of Magical Energy came out from the Weapon from each slash, Thoren dodged the first Wave and slice of Energy hitting just near his cheek then jumped over the second one, Thoren sighed to himself and whispered to himself,

"Time to end this"

He launched himself forward and punched his solar plexus, Riven lost his footing, Thoren took advantage of that and quickly disarmed his Sword and let him fall to the ground as he held the Moon Khukuri almost like a Dagger but pointing it directly at him.

Thoren and Riven looked at each other, Riven hadn't seen someone that fought so daringly, unarmed even, he smirked as Thoren stretched out his hand and he took as he stood up, they complimented each other,

"That was some good movement but I can tell you were holding back"

"Yes I was and but you too was also doing that, so we can call it even"

Thoren went back to the crowd, but separated from it besides he was here to get his Companion, Selina, something, Brandon nervously smiled, he cleared his throat before saying,

"Alright that was a good demonstration! Who's Next?"

Meanwhile with the Winx Club, which was about 2 hours later, they reached Linphea with Stella's Ring, Flora looked around the Nature of her Realm,

"Oh Linphea how I miss you!"

"Flora! Winx!"

They turned her head around and saw a Pre teenage girl with a Light Tan and had Ginger Orange coloured high ponytail and decorated with some flowers on her hairband, she wore a Pink and Yellow flowery dress and her shoes are green and pink.Flora hadn't lived in Linphea for awhile ever since her mission to Earth and the Tritannus Incident, but it did not take her a second to not recognise the Person running towards them.

It was Miele, but of course siblings being Siblings, Flora pretended to not know her,

"Oh who are you strange person?"

"Flora I'm trying to have a moment with you can you please not?"

"Gasp! How do you know my name little one"

"I'm not Littl- Flora...Winx is Flora Broken?"

Initially the Winx Club didn't want to participate in this Chaotic Banter but the opportunity was too good to pass up, starting with Bloom and ending with Aisha, except Roxy...she didn't know what's going on.

"Oh I have no idea who you are"

(Bloom)

"Winx Club what Winx Club?, we are the Stellar Club"

(Stella)

"I'm not with them I was simply passing by with my band Musa and the Muses"

(Musa)

"I think we are missing the point but who is this girl?"

(Tecna)

"What was your name?... Petals? Gypso?"

(Aisha)

"What is going on here?"

Miele and Roxy said at the same time before everyone started laughing and Flora replied saying,

"Oh hahaha you should've seen your face!"

Miele was so done and just rolled her eyes and whistled, the Sound of Giant Insect wings were heard and landing to the ground were the Giant Ladybugs, Miele hopped onto one of them and said to them in a sarcastic tone,

"Oh I can just leave right now since you're not the Winx Club~"

"Okay okay We're sorry Miele and yes I remember you....still very little"

"IM NOT"

"Yes you are cause you're still my Little Sister"

"You're such a bother sometimes"

The Winx got onto the Ladybugs, Stella has lost her fear of Ladybugs just LADYBUGS, Flora sat on a Ladybug and pet one of them and said to Miele teasingly,

"Don't say that, you love me too much"

Miele rolled his eyes and soon the Ladybugs took off, flying through the Sky, looking down they saw the City of Trees, Flower Village, across the Shimmering Flowers Valley and it's Roots living in the Ocean of Flowers and the Water Stairway to the Black Willow.Memories from their adventures flood back to them then up and flying over the Lush greenery and Woods of Linphea, they soon reached Linphea College or rather the New and Improved name is Linphea High.

It was no longer a College, it was a High School for Fairies.It consists of waterfalls with Large green Canyon with Plants of all kinds, the School took a Circular sort of Shape with a Large and Open Area.The High School looks guarded by Large Trees and last but not least the Arena was at the Center display almost like a Colosseum.

Tecna pointed out to the Arena,

"Look! It's the Specialists"

They saw the Arena filled with the Specialists training the Paladins for one last demonstration of tactics and Combat, and of the new weapons that they hold.While Landing, Aisha frowned and saw Roy going up against a light navy blue haired Paladin with side burns, fair skin, and light hazel-colored eyes. He usually wears a pair of piercings on his left ear, he was beating Roy, who was using a Sword made of Yellow Green Thunder energy, and Nex holding a War Scythe in which the blade was almost Invisible, you could see a shimmer of it if you're perceptive enough.

Aisha shouted to Roy and to motivate him,

"Go Roy! Give him Hell!"

Roy turned to Aisha a little before concentrating on the Battle as he was briefly knocked to the ground but he stabbed his Sword to the ground to cause Friction to be in his favour, he dodged a thrust of Nex's Scythe and a blunt hit from the blunt end of the Weapon.

Roy noticed the shimmering invisible blade and frowned as he threw his Sword at Nex which almost as if it turned into a Lightning Bolt and barely graze Nex's cheek but Roy quickly jumped and kicked him to the ground and grabbed his Sword mid-air and pin Nex to the ground with his Foot and placed his sword on his neck,

"Yield"

"Tch fine I yield"

Roy sighed and placed his foot off him and stretched his hand out,

"That was good combat skills though nearly had me"

"Yeah nearly...HAH!"

Roy caught off guard saw a Phantoblade Dagger nearly reached his neck but then Pink goo came and rescued him, sealing off Nex hand with a blast of Morphix and disarming his dagger, Aisha cast that spell and picked Roy up,

"Roy are you alright?!"

"Yeah...Yeah I'm fine...I just didn't expect that"

Aisha looked at Roy passionately before giving that same amount of Passion to Nex but in a completely different way, Aisha calmed herself down and replied to Nex,

"This is a Civilized Training Session, it's a chance to learn from each other and perfect each other's Skills, but the only Skill you perfected so far is how to get a big head"

Aisha walked off with Roy, who did not expect to be Defended like that but he's not against it, Nex wiped the dirt off his face and looked away, standing up and Walking off.

The Winx Girls went to greet their Boyfriends, the Party to set up for the Opening of Linphea High, all except Bloom, she wandered around the Campus, Sky wasn't present in this event so she wasn't as tensed...until she felt it.

"Huh?...What the"

A wave of Energy almost like the Wind flowed past her, she looked around in confusion but ignored the Feeling, 'Its probably nothing, new place, new shivers' She thought to herself, she saw Flora and Miele stood Infront of 8 Massive Trees, and went towards them.

"Hey Flora, Hey Miele what are these?"

"Oh Bloom! These are called the Tree Ents, not much is known about them but what we do know is that they were here before the construction of the School and now acts as the School's Natural Defense System"

Miele explained and Flora touched one of the Tree Ents's massive Roots, she exclaimed in delight,

"There is so much life in single touch! It's incredible"

Bloom smiled, perhaps that Bad Feeling she was feeling isn't going to happen at all.

Meanwhile, Thoren went to the Second Floor of Linphea High, he looked around and found the Library, it was Rock cut design room with Books of all kinds, from History of the Linphea, Theories of the Magical Dimension and a mere Book about Botany, there wasn't anyone in but the Librarian was present.

"Tch"

He went in and the Librarian greeted him,

"Excuse me, no one else is supposed to be up here until the Opening of the Campus, please leave"

"Understood"

Thoren replied, then he put out his Weapon and knocked the Librarian unconscious and entering the Restricted Section of the Library, looking through the Scroll section and soon found a Dusty,tattered and torn leather scroll with a Lapis Lazuli gem embeded in it, Thoren Smirked.

He connected his mind to his Partner in Crime, 'I found the Scroll, you got a base for us?' Words appeared in his head, 'Yes Cloud's Tower will soon be ours...get back here...but take your time' Thoren exited the Restriction Section, but the sudden ring of the Alarm flared and soon the stomping of the Guards was heard nearby, Thoren covered his mouth and Concealed his Identity, he said to his partner in his head, 'I need a Distraction, Powerful Fairies down there especially that Dragon Flame Holder'

Words Sprung in his head once more, 'Noted, I got the Perfect tale' Thoren got his Weapon out, a an old looking Phantoblade Halberd with Red Wood surrounding it and a portion of it looks like a gun, he faced the Experienced Paladin before him as the Room goes dark, only the Red flares of Alarm remains, Thoren gets ready for Combat.

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

Silena thought it would be Hard, she honestly thought it would be Hard to infiltrate the School of Witches, like minded individuals that deal with the darkness of Magic, the Ironic thing about this is that the Shield was a Magic Spell on the side of Good and it just bamboozled her completely,

"Well this is just sad, relying on Positive Energy solely on the spell"

Silena entered the Building, she was still being cautious, she is Adult looking and infiltrating the school as a College student... however no one questioned her, Silena was so confused, the two teachers, Professor Ediltrude and Zarathustra, did not question her and immediately let her in as one of the Freshman, Silena is Evil yes but even she has standards as a professional, 'They didn't even check, I just could've strolled in? Who made this system?' Silena is freaking out internally but her tough exterior says otherwise.

She joined in line with the rest of the Freshman with Auditorium, seeing the Senior Witches, she could only be disgusted these Witches didn't learn Jackshit, Silena thought once more in her head, 'Okay I'm just going to take over, all of these people here are meat suits and shields let's go' She waited for the Headmistress to come, a tall lady with pale greenish white skin, and has a hooked nose, her purple hair that is pulled up into a shape similar to that of pointy hats worn by Ancient witches, with two lighter purple strands on either side. She also wears heavy make-up around her eyes.

The Headmistress introduced herself and began her small speech,

"Welcome Back Everyone! To the Freshman, my name is Headmistress Griffin, the current Principal of Cloud's Tower, it will also be my final year as Headmistress!"

Mutters of disbelief was among the Crowd of Senior and Junior Witches as Headmistress Griffin has been teaching for so long even before their time, as soon as the Mutters stop via a thousand yard stare of Headmistress Griffin, she continued,

"With each new Harvest of the Year, a young crop will always survive the Reaping, you all are the young Crops, young Witches that shall fine-tune and sharpen their Craft to the fullest extent"

As she walked the Center she continued and concluded her speech,

"Here in Cloud's Tower you will become Modern Witches, ones that will help those Pixies in aspect of Darkness, but you all shall prove your worth first"

She referred the Fairies as Pixies, Silena frowned as she heard Modern Witches are to help the aspect of Good, she held that thought in disdain as Griffin invited the freshman to show off their craft, Silena stepped forward and Griffin noticed her,

"You there, what's your Name? And where did you come from?"

"My name is Silena, I come from no realm, but a Nomadic Tribe from Dyamond"

"Dyamond? The Council of Magic lost contact with that Realm for a long time"

"I've never been there myself, I just know my tribe came from there"

This was a Lie, Silena has a connection to Dyamond but never familial, it was something different almost contractual,

"Your Craft? What is it?"

Silena summoned a Grimoire of great Power, the roots of a tree was seen on the Cover, Silena smiles as she opened the Grimoire and says,

"This is the Legendarium, I hold the power to bring Storybook characters from all of the Magic Dimension's Folklore to life, and twist them to my will"

"Oh my...go on"

Looking down at the pages of the Grimoire, was the page dedicated to the Gloomywood Trolls, Silena gave small smirk and read out,

"This is the Story of Gloomywood Trolls, Creatures that once walked the forests of the Magic Dimension exerting their Dominance over the realms, had it not been the Ancient Pixies of all the Realms, the trolls would've kept spreading"

"Ah yes that used to be my favourite bedtime story while growing up, if I recall, most of the Trolls are Chained underneath the grounds of Pixie village"

"That's right and now let's wreck some havoc"

Silena held the book up and she heard her partner, Thoren, in Linphea had found the Scroll of Astraea and just in time for a need for a distraction.The Winds Howled and the Windows burst open as Silena lift her hand, the Legendarium glowed Purple and Green, Dark Shadows swirled and formed around her legs and up into the Air,

"Legendarium, Bring me Storybook Monsters to Life!"

Griffin couldn't believe it, all of her senses was telling her to run at the sight of this magic, it wasn't Negative nor Positive, Good nor Evil, but it was certainly powerful, the Whole school of Young Witches were Blinded by sheer Power of the Legendarium, some turn away or even put up Shields.

"Gloomywood Trolls unchained once more, claim the Vengeance you sought after!"

The Spirits of Trolls were seen coming out of the Book, it's Cage, it's Confines and it was finally Free.

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

The Party was being set up, Bloom helped out along the Girls to distract herself from the Thoughts in her head, Stella was fixing up Dresses for the Staff Members, Musa and Tecna was handling Sound Production with Linphea College's Local Club, Flora was with her Sister and Helia, Aisha was patching up Nex's Wounds and Roxy was tending to the Animals of the Tree Ents.

Bloom was focusing so much on distracting herself that she didn't notice this part of Campus, it was only when caught a glimpse of a Paladin with Ashen Brown hair with a face mask zoom past her, their eyes met for a passing moment before hearing a School Siren play,

"CODE WOOD, CODE WOOD, ALL SENIOR PALADINS AND FAIRIES INTO POSITIONS!"

"HOSTILE IN SIGHT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT THIS IS NOT-"

The Siren sound fizzled out Aburptly and Bloom was about to act but seven rings were heard from their Phones and all came from the Winx Club, the Winx came together and opened the message, Faragonda's holographic image came out,

"Girls get back to Magix! We're under attack!"

The Winx gasped and Stella asked,

"By what? Miss Faragonda we can deal with it!"

Faragonda shakes her head and replied, her mouth shaky, her face was covered in sweat, on closer inspection there bruises on her face,

"It's a Legendary Creature I can't explain it to you at the moment!"

Stella looked at Bloom in confusion then Roxy asked,

"Just a brief description please Miss Faragonda tell us!"

As Roxy asked, Faragonda stood up from her office chair, the Headmistress burst into Action and she erratically fired spells at Supposed Beast, the Roar was deafening even through the Tele communication, the Winx Girls were unsure what to make of the Situation but we're deeply disturbed when the communication started to fade, Aisha asked Tecna,

"Tecna can you-"

"On it!"

Tecna raised her hand, her technology powers tried to maintain stability of the devices connecting to Communication between them but it backfired, a blast from their devices threw Tecna to the ground,

"Tecna!"

Musa, Flora and Roxy gathered around her and helped her up the Ground, before the communication and Holographic Image faded, the Winx Saw the Creatures appear behind Faragonda and Roxy gasped.

Transmission was lost.

Roxy said out,

"Those were Gloomywood Trolls, I heard of them in a Myth and Monsters Course! I thought they were just a Myth"

Tecna shook her head and said,

"That's a bold reason but illogical it could be something else"

Musa clenched her Fist and said,

"Whatever it is, it was strong and we need to do something!"

The Girls turned to Bloom, as Bloom gathered the strength to speak out as the Leader of the club, she felt something tugging at heart but shook off the feeling as something inconvenient and said to her friends,

"Musa and Tecna are right, we don't know what those things are but the people at Magix are going to get hurt"

"What about the Sirens?"

Flora asked in concern and Bloom thought hard, as much as she dislikes the thought was spiltting up but considering the severity of Magix and Linphea she was put into a Standstill but Miele had other plans as she said to them,

"Magix is the Central Control of the Magic Dimension, it's where most of the Council of Magic live and sit, if Magix falls then we all fall"

"Miele..."

"Don't Worry me and My school can handle this, I'm sure of it!"

The Naivety of a Child was painful to Watch but the Winx had always believed in the Positive scenarios but yet the Worry was still there,

"Miele be careful okay? We don't know who or what this Hostile is at Linphea, fight well and fight Smart, just like what Dad said"

"Just like what Dad said..."

Miele looked at her big sister and nodded before heading to help her friends, the Winx club ran passed the guests and other students, Bloom briefly saw Sky but that's not important right now, lives were in Danger.

Brandon, Riven and Nex joined up with the Girls and headed to the Red Fountain Aircraft, soon they flew over the Realm of Magix, Bloom got her Girls together,

"Girls are you Ready?"

"Ready!"

"Here we go!"

The girls had fought so many battles, maybe this would be Regular fight, nothing Special and that's a good thing, but this was Different.Bloom felt the tugging in Heart, she doesn't know what this feeling but once again shook it away as she focused on the most Important thing right now.

To Save Lives

"Magic Winx! Enchantix!"

youtube

4 notes · View notes

justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 7 months

Note

Please may I have a Blue exorcist headcanons of being Rin Okumura's female S/O and her name is Emily O'Malley *she is the older twin sister of Yuki O'Malley* (her name is different definitely) and her nationality is Japanese and American. She is half goddess and half human. Her mother is Amaterasu who is the Japanese sun goddess and the head of all of the gods. Amaterasu is the highest deity in Japanese mythology. In the most famous legend about her, she shuts herself away in a cave, bringing disasters to both the world and heaven but that wasn't true considering that she fell in love with a human who was an American nevertheless. Due to complications with Amaterasu being a goddess and her father being human..Amaterasu couldn't survive very long on earth for understandable reasons and left on Emily's and Yuki's seventh birthday. Emily spoke both Japanese and English considering she is multilingual and her father taught her and her sister both languages so they could have the best of both worlds and the O'Malley twins live quite near the Cram school and the Exorcist school. Their father owns a café there and the O'Malley twins worked there and it is generally very popular because the exorcist students and cram students often went there for tea and mostly for Emily's food..she is a skilled cook and oh my god if you haven't heard of the godly Café..People absolutely raved for her cooking and her family's, perfection and balanced sweetness or savoury..you name it they made it but Emily was certainly a skilled cook.

Emily O'Malley is a sweet, cheerful teenager who is always willing to lend a hand for someone who is in some kind of trouble and she never shies away from a friend or family member needing help. Being the eldest daughter of Amaterasu, the head of all gods *she would've never realised that her mother and Rin's Dad hated each other* she didn't think that she would fall for Satan's son when she first met him when he came to join the Exwire class. Emily will absolutely not hesitate to defend someone if they were being unfairly accused of something and she was not someone to piss off on a good or bad day if you wanted to dig your own grave. She is highly intelligent as a Exorcist who taught the Exwire class as a teacher..she was very informative about her lessons and gave her students good tips on how to deal with highly difficult demons...Emily is a Paladin *she controlled nine tailed foxes as a tamer* (her family were quite good people but they were absolutely brutal during training when she was a kid). Emily still loved Rin..and it didn't change what she felt about him after his secret was blown wide open and hers (she was treated like a fragile bit of glass when the angels basically went in front of her like bodyguards and basically gave the hint that she was not to go near him)..a book should never be judged by their cover. Emily understands Kuro big time. Emily can basically control nature and it is fully resistant against blue flames.

Yuki O'Malley is different person to her older twin sister and even Yukio stated that he couldn't believe that they're twins and he couldn't believe that they're related. Emily is often rather exasperated by her sister's behaviour and Yuki is described as a doer, not a thinker. She has a passion for design and aspires to become big in the fashion industry. Impulsive and spontaneous, she is Emily's polar opposite..for some reason Emily feels more like her mom than her sister when she got into trouble in the Exwire community and Yuki is Yukio's girlfriend. Yuki is rather talented in the Exwire class as a gun user but she is too impulsive..and Emily and Yuki had arguments often about Yuki's behaviour and attitude..Yuki became a better person when the incident that caused Yukio to become possessed by his Dad caused her to open her eyes more and she evidently became a better person. She is still a fashion designer. *Emily and Yuki share the same face and appearance but have very different clothing choices*

Their Dad..Patrick O'Malley is an American in a Japanese country but he is a kind man and he loved his daughters dearly. He is always ready to help when he can and he is a very loving man when it comes to his daughters. Patrick speaks both English and Japanese. He is a Paladin like how Emily is..but retired considering that he now worked in a restaurant that everyone loved but he was still a skilled young man and he knew Shiro..they worked together back then.

Rin's relationship with Emily (his girlfriend) and her sister

Yukio's relationship with Yuki (his girlfriend) and her sister

How did the Exwire students (Renzō Shima, Izumo, Shiemi etc..) felt about twins dating twins.

*My apologies for the request being too long if that is the case*

Hi! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like the headcanons!

Fandom: Blue Exorcist

Characters: Rin Okumura, Yukio Okumura, Renzo Shima, Izumo Kamiki, Shiemi Moriyama, Konekomaru Miwa, Ryuji Suguro x Emily and Yuki O'Malley (separate)

Oh, Rin thinks Emily’s the best. She can cook, she’s smart, she can understand Kuro, she’s resistant to his blue flames, and she’s pretty? There is nothing about her that Rin doesn’t like.

He is a bit intimidated by her status as a demigod but he can’t be bothered worrying about what other people think. He’s never done that before, why start now?

Rin also quite likes Yuki but gets along with her better as a friend. They both tend to jump into situations rather than think them through carefully, so they often bond during their punishments.

He’s glad Yukio has someone fun in his life that he’s not related to. He thinks his brother can be a bit of a stick in the mud and is hoping Yuki can help him loosen up a little.

All in all, he thinks the O’Malley sisters are great. He does think it’s a bit strange being around twins who are so similar in personality to him and Yukio though…

Yukio is so glad Emily’s around to help him keep Rin and Yuki in line. Or at least as best in line as possible…

He hopes she’ll be a good influence on his brother but honestly wonders why she chose him of all people to be in a relationship with. Well, I guess they do say opposites attract.

Poor Yukio. He thought he only had to deal with Rin and then Yuki came along. Don’t get him wrong, he thinks she’s a lovely girl. He wouldn’t be dating her otherwise. But she can be a lot.

He tries to help her use her head more before she jumps into situations and Yuki does certainly listen. But being spontaneous is something that won’t change overnight. Yukio just has to learn to accept that.

Overall, Yukio thinks the O’Malleys are good people to be around. They’re honest and hardworking and, despite their flaws, he cares about them both deeply.

Shima definitely has a crush on both Emily and Yuki. It’s in his nature, what did you expect. He’s definitely going to flirt with them a bit until he finds out they’re in relationships with Rin and Yukio. Then he’s backing way off. He respects the code.

Loves Emily’s cooking. If he had to choose between her cooking and Rin’s, he’d struggle to make a decision. Can he just say both and be done?

He thinks Yuki’s a bit too much like Rin for his comfort, especially when they’re on missions together. They already had to deal with one spontaneous ball of energy and now they’ve got another one? Ah well…at least it keeps them on their toes…

Not really put out by the whole twins dating twins thing. He’s just jealous that the Okumuras are hogging all the lovely ladies. Leave some for the rest of the guys, huh?

Izumo is definitely intimidated by both Emily and Yuki. She knows she won’t be able to push them around the same way she did with Shiemi so she’s not sure how to act around them.

Plus, they’re both demigods which is a whole other level of not being able to bully them. She feels like she needs to borderline worship them and that makes her angry.

Once she gets to know them though, she gets a lot more comfortable around them. She has more tolerance for Yuki than she does for Rin but that may just be female solidarity. She definitely prefers hanging out with Emily though, since they can have intellectual conversations.

Not really phase by twins dating twins. She thinks there are way worse things in the world that she needs to worry about. Really, the demon they could be fighting in a few days is a much bigger issue than someone’s relationship.

More girls! Shiemi is so glad. Don’t get her wrong, she loves hanging out with Rin and Yukio and all of her other friends at True Cross. But hanging out with girls is just different in a good way.

She is definitely intimidated by the O’Malleys when she first meets them, and it will take her a while to stop bowing deeply every time one of them talks to her. She’s very conscious of their demigod status.

Once she gets comfortable around them, Shiemi has the time of her life. She loves chatting with Emily, and hanging out with Yuki always an adventure. Between the two of them, Shiemi’s catching up on everything she missed out on growing up.

Twins dating twins is weird? Shiemi didn’t know. She’s been away from society for most of her childhood so she doesn’t know about a lot of societal norms. She’s just glad both Rin and Yukio have found such perfect people to be with.

Konekomaru is one who definitely struggles with getting over the O’Malleys’ demigod status. He considers gods and demigods so far above his status that he finds it difficult to be in the same room as them.

Once he gets over his fear of Rin, he’s more open to overcoming his struggle with Emily and Yuki. It will still take him a while but he’s making progress.

He enjoys Emily’s company but finds Yuki a bit draining. He can deal with Rin since he’s a guy and Konekomaru doesn’t feel the need to be overly polite with him. But I see Konekomaru as someone who is very polite to woman. He feels the need to treat them with respect which means he can’t voice his opinions about Yuki’s behaviour.

Out of everyone, Konekomaru is probably the one who will have the most problems with twins dating twins. He thinks it’s strange but won’t say anything. After all, if they’re happy, that’s all that matters.

Bon finds Emily delightful. He can’t stand Yuki. She’s way too much like Rin and, unlike Konekomaru, he has no qualms about telling her exactly how he feels.

Considering how similar Yuki and Rin are, there will likely be even more arguments in the classroom now that there’s a third person involved. Yuki and Rin often team up, shouting across their desks at Bon who is reciprocating with enthusiasm.

All this being said, Bon would protect the O’Malleys with his life. He cares about them deeply, even if he won’t say it out loud and if anyone or anything tries to hurt them, emotionally or physically, you can bet he’s defending them.

Truly couldn’t care about twins dating twins. If anything, he’s more concerned about the spawn of Satan dating a demigod. But, much like Konekomaru, he knows nothing he says will change their minds.

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

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

#writing #fanfic #headcanons #headcanon request #request #blue exorcist #rin okumura #yukio okumura #renzou shima #izumo kamiki #shiemi moriyama #konekomaru miwa #ryuji suguro #emily o'malley #yuki o'malley

4 notes · View notes

shashibasket · 2 years

Text

A heads-up for the MG RP community (UPDATED)

Oh boy. I hardly use this thing anymore except for extremely infrequent image posts, but now recent events have me looking for a platform that hopefully people still might glance at.

I wanted to get word out that someone out there is impersonating a friend of mine who plays a Draenei Paladin that has the in-game name Tiberíus (and that accent aigu as you will see is important) in Warcraft on the Moon Guard server by using a copy of his TRP3 profile and sending people unsolicited unsavory whispers.

As a quick note, there are about forty variations of the name “Tiberius” around being used for active RP characters and one of them you’ve probably heard of as the guild leader of The Imperium, a human character. He is not that one. ONWARD.

“Riiiiiiiight, it’s not really your bestie who would never ever do anything like that, suuuuuure,” I can hear you saying already, and honestly, that would’ve been my knee-jerk reaction on hearing the same from anyone else. I’d say, you don’t REALLY know what your friend is up to, they could live a whole secret life of youth-of-a-male-ing it up at random people and you’d never know.

Fortunately, one person got in touch to let me know that it was going on in an attempt to warn me about my friend’s behavior and one got in touch with HIM to confront him about his behavior as told to them by one of the people who received one of these whispers and they both provided screenshots that made it clear what was happening. Unfortunately, the screenshots don’t say who would even DO this, holy heck, how crazy do you have to BE? But they do make it clear that the actual player of the Tibs character who is one of the kindest, most accommodating, most respectful people that I’ve ever encountered in RP and who I’ve been writing interconnected stories with for about four years and who NEVER showed any signs that they were this kind of person, isn’t living some kind of low-key scumlord life on the sly. Incident One happened in early September. Someone who I didn’t know sent me a whisper asking if my ‘buddy’ was the kind of person who would send unsolicited mature whispers to people? I was baffled, alarmed, and defensive about someone potentially just looking to cause trouble, but asked if they had a screenshot so that I could look into it. They did! https://imgur.com/ocDLoDp On viewing the screenshot, a few things stood out: 1) The TRP3 icon for the character was wrong. It was the default Draenei male icon, which he doesn’t use for his profile, but it was present meaning the person who heard the whisper had loaded in the profile of the whisper-er, which would make the character name display as whatever the sender set it to. 2) The writing style is ALL wrong. I wouldn’t expect many other people to know this, but it’s LAUGHABLY not his writing style. Tibs is a casual character and is played casually, without any of the formality that Draenei characters can have sometimes. Even in the midst of the general perplexion we both had a big laugh about ‘the bull’. It has turned into a running joke, it’s just so ridiculously not a phrase he’d use. 3) Tibs has never once used the word ‘compatriot’ IC in the years that I’ve done daily hours-long RP with him, but he definitely knows how to spell it. 4) Being a person possessed of a full-time job, he wasn’t online at the timestamp that day (although it’s unclear what day it was from)

So this was a bit of a mystery! And all the rabbit holes of "but who would even do this and why, holy CATS?” lead nowhere solid, and since the whisper didn’t come to either of us and we didn’t know who it went to we couldn’t verify the OOC name of the character who sent it. It got filed under “Huh, That Was Weird” and we both moved on.

Incident Two was last night, where someone who I was actually aware of but never spoke with before got in touch with him directly to ask him what the heck was up with the whispers that he sent his IC wife. They also provided him with a screenshot! But this one, thanks to how WOW Instant Messenger works, had an important detail:

https://imgur.com/XtDDN3r This time they had finally swapped in the actual character icon that he uses, but it showed the actual OOC name of the character, which was not Tiberíus (with a single accent aigu on the second ‘i’) but Tìberìus (with an accent grave on each ‘i’). Still, they had put his real IC name in as the character’s name in TRP3 which helpfully displayed that as the name of the whisperer. TRP3 is a great tool for immersion and has some really neat functions that don’t draw you out of it, letting people have OOC names like “Googlymoogly” and having it show an IC name like Lord Jacob Whittington the Third, but unfortunately those functions can also help someone with malicious intent impersonate another character very convincingly.

The Draenei Paladin that someone made named Tìberìus no longer exists, the character has been deleted. Attempting to add the character to a friendlist confirms this. But that name was used within the last 30 days, as you can see when you try and make a new character with that name, the name is still reserved, and will be by whoever made it for a month:

https://imgur.com/nl0HvHA

It was a relief to have solid proof that it wasn’t him, but at the same time, there’s still a whackadoo out there who is apparently continuing to be terrible to people while deceptively pretending to play his character. There are, unfortunately, a whole lot of other alt codes that could be subbed in and used to continue to harass people in the name of the “real” Tibs. Neither one of us can think of who might be doing this and why they’d be using his profile of all the characters on the server to do it, he seriously doesn’t have enemies. He’s not a big-name player. He OOC and the character IC (slightly less so, Tibs IC can get flustered and cranky, but still) are friendly welcoming inclusive respectful cinnamon rolls. All of our various shenanigans pretty much fly under the radar of the server in general. Why, of all people, if someone was going to go around being terrible to people would they do it while pretending to be him?

Which brings me to the point, finally, the one that elevates this from perplexing annoyance to Community Warning, which is that someone is out there sending unasked-for mature-content whispers to people (which isn’t a new phenomenon, unfortunately, I put in a message asking to not get unsolicited scene-starter whispers in my TRP ages ago) but also that if someone out there is doing it while imitating his RP profile, they might be imitating others.

If you get one of these whispers, please right-click report it to the GMs. You won’t be doing any harm to Real Tibs by accident, because he’s not sending these whispers and TRP profiles don’t really factor in for GMs, they can see which account actually sent the message. He also has a ticket in for Ongoing Harassment, but there’s about a 24-day wait on tickets right now and situations like this can be complicated to get the GM team to understand when his character didn’t receive the harassment directly. Hopefully whatever crazy person is doing this will get their account dinged for it, but if they’re not banned or if they have the disposable income for a new account they might just double down on their efforts to be a nutty, nutty cocoa bean.

Watch out. UPDATE: A version of the impersonator was spotted in the wild! This one was Tíberìus - as predicted, with new variations on the alt codes. This time, the real Tibs WAS online at the same time.

#moon guard #moon guard roleplay #moon guard rp #warcraft roleplay #warcraft rp

7 notes · View notes

sw4tch · 1 year

Note

Hey! *Kicks open your door* tell me about your OC's on main! I want to hear about them! (If you want to)

I DO, I DO WANT TO!!!

since I'm stuck during a long bus ride you get to hear my long long rambles about my dnd ocs!! (They're the ocs i think about constantly because they're the ones i get to Play With more lol)

They're all from different campaigns I've played. I'll give you quick info and thoughts about them in chronological order (aka, which one did i create first)

Michi Haasi

- fun fact his name is literally an endearment term for a cat in spanish (something like "little critter")

- which makes sense since he's half tabaxi, aka literally a cat boy. Full anime cat boy! He's a rogue that was trained as a spy assassin from a tender age because his parents got murdered in an unjust massacre carried out by a random noble lord. Now left to care for his little sister and brother, he took on a life of crime with high risk but high reward.

- since he specialized in being part of political conflicts from the shadows, he knew it would make him enemies that would put his siblings in danger. So he left them in an orphanage and cut all possible ties with them. He cares for them deeply though and sends all the money he can to the orphanage so that his siblings may be cared for properly.

- it feels weird not to mention it even though it has never come up in the story and i doubt it ever will, but Michi is a trans boy :3

- outside of the role, there was another player in my table that kept pushing for his character (a hobbit druid girl) to have a hardcore crush on Michi and i didn't feel comfortable with that so uh now my experience rping Michi has been soured a bit. Like yes i do love him as one of my creations but if i never play as him again i will not feel too bad about it (which is good bcus the DM got too busy with his own life so uhhh i guess we'll never play again!)

Ishana Aavrih

- My sweet tiefling paladin girl ♡ the joke i had is that she's literally just a nun with a sword. She's a tall and strong looking blue tiefling woman with fiery red hair. A devout follower of Fantasy Jesus (Ilmater) and her core beliefs were that anyone can be redeemed, anyone deserves a second chance, and that her duty was to protect other's from harm.

- i wanted her to be a pacifist but uhm since that campaign was heavy on the combat she did indeed kill many people. IN HER DEFENSE i did make her ask before the killing blows if they were willing to give up their life of Evil Deeds. No one ever did lmao

- her backstory never came up but: in this setting tieflings are loathed as an "inherently evil" race so Ishana grew up in a convent of a group of tieflings which main ideology was to "repent for the sins of their race". She was an orphan there so she was raised on these beliefs which marked her ideology forever. We love catholic guilt.

And to make it more tragic, she had a best friend growing up with her too in that convent and she loved her a lot, but her friend was more rebellious and mischievous (not bcus she was evil but bcus teens are just like that!). Anyway her friend gets killed to make an example out of her after a Nebulous Incident (aka i never worked out the details here ahdjjdjd) and Ishana is left heartbroken. It does lead her to escape and later on find comfort in the teachings of Ilmater because of the ideology of "everyone deserves a second chance" (since her friend deserved a second chance!)

- anyway in the campaign we had to stop cultists from bringing the apocalypse and one of the head Priestesses named Vannifer wanted help in stopping the apocalypse (because she was basically a slave to the Evil God trying to bring the apocalypse and she wanted to be free).

Vannifer was also a tiefling with a tragic backstory so when Ishana heard her tale and plea she immediately decided she wanted to help her no matter what! It became her life duty to try and free Vannifer from her chains so that she may be happy.

The rest of my party was pretty murder happy so even they wanted to kill Vannifer on several occasions so it became a running joke that only Ishana saw Vannifer as an ally (and she was!!! Like literally she's a NPC meant to help u!!! Why would u kill her!!!!)

Alongside this, in one of the cursed temples my party freed a group of Kenkus (bird people) and one of them was a small orphan crow boy and he immediately got attached to Ishana (and i became attached as well!!!!!!!!!!!) So Ishana adopted him as her son. His name was Purulento (pretty sad name in spanish bcus it's something akin to "infected wound"). Anyway i love him so much and he's my little son boy. My little baby. My sweet little boy. He became a cleric mostly so we could deploy him if any of our players missed a session so Purulento could fill that space in combat.

At the end of the campaign, Ishana realized she wanted to give up the sword and go live with her son and Vannifer in a cabin in the woods. So yeah she basically got her happy lesbian ending and sobs im so happy. BCUS PURULENTO HAS 2 MOMS AND GETS TO GROW UP IN THE HAPPY HOME HIS 2 MOMS DIDN'T GET TO HAVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SOBS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love her so goddamn much.

- Also her name is a valid homestuck troll name fun fact.

Eshuu Teevan

Ohhhh boy oh boy oh sweet jelly goddamn crackers HOW TO START WITH ESHUU MY DEEPLY BELOVED!!!!!! He lives rent free in my head even if i have played with him like maximum 7 sessions. Gonna try to TL;DR him bcus if not we will be here all DAY and maybe it's better if i show u the 40 powerpoint presentation i have on him later

- he's a satyr warlock! His patron is Caiphon, an old god and distant star. Akin to a lovecraft horror. Eshuu has a HORRIBLY debilitating Ego so when this elder god came to him in a dream and promised him the secrets of godhood it was all over.

- he's a scholar that loves nature, but most of all fungi! He's fascinated by the idea of Rot As An Extension of Life. In a better timeline he's some sort of druid ♡ we're not in that timeline ♡

- to understand what's wrong with him u gotta know that he lives in a world where Gods walk among them and each year the world celebrates "A Harvest" which is kinda like uhhh the hunger games but the prize is that the winners get to Ascend To The Heavens.

Eshuu being part of the Fey knows that the gods are capricious and not to be venerated. But his best friend Jakobi (an elf) is a devout believer who's purpose in life is to win the Harvest and ascend (as his people have trained him for). Knowing that his most likely fate is death, Eshuu tries to discourage Jakobi from making this his Life Goal but they fight and break up their friendship and something inside Eshuu snaps that makes him want to take over the gods and destroy them ♡ because he could do so much better ♡

- anyway Eshuu is my babygirl and i love him so goddamn much. His favorite spell is acid splash. He thinks he's owed everything. He's obsessed with one (1) guy that didn't let him have the last word. I could fix him but whatever is wrong with him is funnier ♡ He's doomed to go mad with eldritch knowledge and I'm crossing my fingers Jakobi is the one to kill him ♡

Cyril Nightclaw

- my most recent character! I love him lots! He's inside a horror campaign with vampires!!! Aaah!!!

- he's a dark elf (i forgot the term but they're the ones with Advanced Darkness) and he's sensitive to sunlight. He's a cleric of the grave! He dresses like a plague doctor!! He's a devout follower of Anubis!!! He's literally part of a pyramid scheme!!! This adventure is one of the first times he's been allowed outside of the temples!!!!! He's a hoot i love him.

- i say he's a hoot but mostly because i think he's incredibly endearing. He's stoic, genuine, and blunt. Party says he has autistic swag and i am inclined to agree. Perhaps even make canon.

- his one goal is to Maintain the Balance between life and death, which means that any time he sees an Undead Creature he wants and needs to destroy them on sight. This is made much more difficult because we have a sorcerer in our party that likes necromancy and he likes to bring walking cadavers around a lot. Such is life.

- in the campaign we are tasked with protecting this one lady named Irina bcus the Dracula controlling the region has targeted her as his Bride To Be. Cyril, being so new to the outside world, fell in love with Irina because she's the first pretty lady he's ever seen in his life. So you can see how this further motivates him to destroy The Goddamn Dracula Final Boss That Keeps Showing Up And Trying To Kill Us.

- he has a prosthetic leg because his parents tried to use him as a human sacrifice as a baby but the ritual failed (it did take his leg though). He was left abandoned in the steps of a temple of Anubis during a storm and he drowned. But Anubis revived him so that he may serve him. We love a guy that died once but got better ♡

So that's all!! Will share my powerpoints later!!! u need to see my arts for all of them too!!!!! They all have playlists too bcus i love em.

#ask box #pyrokittensinsuits

2 notes · View notes

made-some-ki-points · 1 year

Text

Character Ideas Day 9: Totem Warrior Barbarian

The time has come again for you, a career warrior, to go out and fight whatever evils come your way, and though it excites you, it breaks your heart to leave your partner and young child. Thankfully, your child doesn’t seem upset, just eager to give you a hand made gift for good luck: A necklace carved from wood in the shape of… Well, you’re not sure. It’s got ears, and a strange, wide mouth, and feathers, you think, but what exactly it is is far from clear. Your child has never been talented, and only calls it “your friend” when asked, but the gesture was too sweet to refuse, so you wore the little thing regardless. When you enter the battlefield, you find yourself suddenly awake with strange power, somehow coming from whatever creature your child carved. It raises too many questions to name, but your curiosity is certainly peaked, even if it is overshadowed by pride for whatever it was your child managed to do.

For years, you have been under the impression that you are a paladin sworn to the trickster god who is often associated with foxes. You raise a little hell, and manage to defend yourself, a fox like laughter always seeming to follow you. When you finally make it to a temple, the god expresses confusion, and amusement. They’ve never even heard of you, and inform you that the fox spirit residing in the “holy symbol” you wear is actually the one giving you power. Now facing a bit of an identity crisis, you’re out for any distraction, anything to help you focus on making an identity based in reality.

During business dealings with a usually cordial mage, tempers flared and spells were cast, resulting in your beloved housecat being turned to stone. The incident that inspired within you the rage to get the mage far from your establishment. Quickly, you started to take your petrified friend around to many healers, with no luck so far. However, something odd happened when you ran into a scrape on the road, power seemed to surge through the statuette, allowing you the power to win an ugly fight. Now, your curiosity is doubled, and not only do you want to free your little friend, you want to know what exactly is allowing them to give you such power.

Beginning to work in a mine at a tragically young age, you were always the first to dive into the tightest spaces in a mine regardless of what happens to you. After a particularly bad accident, you take to reading while recovering, and learn about the way you are now performing a job once done by birds. Angry and undervalued, you find feathers around the medical areas and make yourself a bird charm to wear when you go back in, keeping your new charm close to you as you worked. When you return, you heard a distant birdsong, which coursed through you enough to take you through the mines safely, and gave you strength anew. After surviving a mine collapse, you walk out and into the world, the strange birdsong at your side, ready to see the world above ground.

You come from a swamp town, small and tight knit, that has recently been terrorized by a monstrous snake, killing many townsfolk throughout the last several months. Tired of living in fear, you consult the spirits your town reveres, asking for help to kill the snake. They give you only one piece of advice: Alligators eat snakes. So, you make yourself an amulet with an alligator tooth and scales, attempting to channel the nature of the threat’s natural predator. When you face it head on, you find yourself almost immediately victorious, earning accolades quickly as your town’s chosen hero. Now, you’re out to celebrate, and perhaps even make a few friends with similar renown as you.

After surviving a shipwreck by the skin of your teeth, blood staining the water as you struggle to a rock, you were convinced you were going to die. Exposure would get you if bleeding out didn’t, and food and clean water were a distant dream, so all you could do was sit, and wait. Through your despair, you recall finding a shark tooth on your scrap of land and deciding to take it, not knowing why, but thankful to have something to look at other than the endless sky. After falling asleep with it in your hand, you awaken feeling stronger, and suddenly filled with the drive to survive. So, you swim. Despite your exhaustion and injuries, you manage to make it far, washing up on land with a relieved sigh. Now, still familiarizing yourself with the town, you refuse to let go of that tooth, fully crediting it with saving your life, and wondering what else it could help you do.

When you were a teenager, you turned on your home in an act of rebellion, selling valuable information to a prominent enemy for a quick buck. Though you were bold, you weren’t careful, and you were swiftly brought before your town’s council. They delivered a simple punishment: You were to be exiled, and forever shamed with the label of “snake.” Resentful and upset, you make a choice to own the title, making a snakeskin garment and truly sinking in to the identity of the “town snake.” You weren’t exactly expecting any new abilities, but you welcome them, anything to prove you more powerful than those who shunned you. After all, they made you a snake, and now, you have the bite to prove it.

You run a home for abandoned lycanthropes, a safe area that they can live and transform without fear of being hunted or even judged. It’s a stressful job, but an important one, and to help you get through it, you keep a few butterflies, a reminder that transformation is not always full of blood and violence. You also wear an earring partially made from an old chrysalis, a constant reminder to keep near you. One day, when a confrontation with an individual who wants to hurt one of your tenants turns violent, you win without issue, your earring glowing with arcane power. After that, you left the home to your co-leader to find out what had happened, and to investigate a strange transformation of your own.

As a low level worker in an illegal trading empire, you’re often sent to extremely dangerous locations without much regard for your preferences. So when you’re sent to an island no one has returned from in decades, you’re upset, but not terribly surprised, and reluctantly go to meet the mysterious client. Almost instantly, you are confronted by venomous monitor lizards, some of which were actively chewing on far too humanoid looking bones. They begin attacking you instantly, and, desperate to survive, you fight a few back, but eventually you snag one of the venom laced bones and managed to kill one with it. Before you know it, the client arrives and is quickly overpowered, allowing you to leave with the bone in tow. Now, you’re on the run from your former employer, and in possession of a very unconventional weapon that seems to be teaching you unconventional fighting tactics. And with dangerous people on your tail, you see no reason not to learn.

When you were young, your life and the lives of many others were saved by a skilled Beast Master Ranger, their animal companion a shining symbol of power and love in your world. When you went off to a military academy, one of your parents gave you an amulet carved in the shape of the animal companion for good luck, and soon enough, you became the top of the class. Now a talented user of the animal spirit, you hope to meet your hero one day, perhaps even return the favor for them. Maybe you’ll even find a party of your own, one to make your hero proud, even if they never meet you.

#d&d #d&d 5e #d&d homebrew #Dungeons and Dragons #Dungeons and Dragons 5th edition #barbarian 5e

1 note · View note

silvokrent · 4 years

Text

Slings and Arrows

Some wrongs cannot be righted. It’s a lesson Pietro learns a lifetime too late.

[The rise and fall of Dr. Arthur Watts, M.D., PhD.]

“Phase-II trial of Auratic synthesis, test number—” The rustle of papers was followed by a sigh. “—test number sixty-four. Initiating.”

The monitor on his desk whirred to life. Pietro watched the numbers on the holographic screen climb as the program ran the simulation. Thirty seconds without anomalies. A minute. He knew better than to get his hopes up, but the longer the systems operated without rejection, the harder it was to suppress the mutinous optimism at the back of his head. Maybe, this time, he’d finally found the right—

The monitor let out a dejected-sounding beep, and the screen flashed.

Insufficient variables. Analysis results too unstable for implantation.

Only when he slumped back in his seat did Pietro realize how tightly he’d been gripping the arms of the chair. He tapped at his scroll and activated the audio function.

“Test number sixty-four was unsuccessful. The simulated Aura was deemed too structurally unstable to survive grafting to a biotechnic lattice. Recommend recalibrating the values for ω, λ, and ρ to increase viability. Describe what mistakes were made.” Pietro contemplated the scroll in his hand, before lifting it to his face and smacking it into his forehead. Repeatedly. “My mistake was deciding to pursue a degree in bioengineering, followed by the even bigger mistake of my alma mater handing me a diploma. All other setbacks are incidental. End recording.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Pietro called up the diagram from earlier. The hologram cast his office in various shades of blue light that, while it had a calming effect on him, unveiled the minefield of loose papers, folders, and post-it notes that had become his workspace.

For a moment, he considered setting aside a day in his schedule to reorganize his desk. Only when he couldn’t find his calendar did he remember why it had gotten so bad in the first place.

His calendar was buried somewhere underneath.

Brokenly, Pietro stared at the untamed bed of chaos before him. On one hand, he needed to clean his desk. On the other hand, incineration was faster, and the chemistry lab had a blowtorch.

“You look desperately in need of this,” said a voice from behind.

The unexpected drawl startled Pietro out of his thoughts. He swiveled around in his chair to the sight of Arthur Watts leaning against the doorframe, a steaming mug in each hand. Judging by the amused smirk, he’d been there for some time.

“Arthur!” Pietro minimized the program with a wave of his hand. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

His friend stepped inside and carefully kicked the door shut with his heel. He strode across the room and reclined into the vacant chair opposite of him, ankle propped on his knee. He held out the second mug. “Kuo Kuana roast. Extra cream, and enough sugar to give you every cardiovascular disease known to man.”

Pietro accepted the offered drink, and for a moment simply held it to his face. The aromatic scent was blue water and white sand, and it never failed to make him nostalgic for the coast. He let out a long, quiet exhale that took some of the tension from his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he said, “but how did you—?”

“I saw the lights on under the door and took an educated guess,” Watts said. He took a draught from his own mug before continuing: “The janitors left at the end of the day, and no one else is unhinged enough to stay after hours.”

Pietro arched a brow. “Apart from you?”

Watts snorted. “I had a meeting that I couldn’t reschedule.”

“At ten o’clock at night?”

“I made the mistake of postponing one too many times. They couldn’t be dissuaded.”

They lapsed into companionable silence. Pietro indulged in his coffee while Watts picked up a folder and flipped through it at random.

The company was a welcome respite, and not just because it came bearing gifts.

Their office arrangement had started off rather unextraordinarily, all things considered. Handing off paperwork, returning a piece of equipment, passing along department memos—the sort of banal normalcy one would expect between colleagues. Pietro hadn’t begrudged the unexpected interruptions from Watts (quite the opposite, in fact), and Watts never protested when Pietro ventured into his space long enough to drop something off.

Only a few months after becoming acquainted did Pietro notice the shift in their interactions. It had been subtle at first: an animated conversation during a faculty meeting that led to Pietro following Watts back to his office to continue the topic. A request from Watts for a second opinion on a patient chart, which led to Watts loitering in Pietro’s office long after he’d humored him. A day where Watts had cleared his schedule to allow Pietro to vent about his latest experiment following an incident in the labs.

It hadn’t taken long for the intrusions to devolve from legitimate reasons to half-contrived pretenses. The reed that broke the Dromedon’s back had been a memorable afternoon where Pietro’s office door swung open, and Watts—bag strap slung around one arm, a stack of documents tucked under the other—announced that he needed somewhere to hide from his interns, and no one would think to look for him here.

There were, admittedly, more unconventional ways to start a friendship, though Pietro hardly minded. Especially not after Watts had treated him to dinner as an apology for the inconvenience.

It was an aspect of their relationship Pietro was both fond of and deeply appreciated, though he was tactful enough to not comment on it aloud. Watts wasn’t exactly the sentimental type. (Though the steaming mug in his hand begged to differ.)

He watched as the other man returned the folder to its original spot in exchange for a file.

“No luck, I take it?” The question was as much rhetorical as it was a tacit invitation to brainstorm. Pietro gladly accepted.

“I had a thought after yesterday’s meeting: ‘What if it’s quantitative rather than permutational? Maybe we only need to adjust the inputs rather than the sequence.’” He shot a rueful glance at the monitor. “You can imagine how that went. It feels like the answer’s staring right at me and I’m too stupid to see it.”

“If you were stupid”—Watts turned the page, not bothering to look up—“we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation.” He took another sip from his mug. “Sleep-deprived, on the other hand…”

“Can you blame me?” Pietro asked.

This time, Watts did look up.

“We’ve been at this for six months and have nothing to show for it. We’re running out of time.”

Watts set the file down. “James never stipulated a deadline,” he murmured.

“No,” Pietro agreed, “but he’s not the only person we have to justify ourselves to.”

“If this is about the lien, I wouldn’t fret. As long as our funding comes from the military, they’re not going to pull the plug.”

Pietro frowned at the drink in his hands, at the contemplative reflection that mirrored his own. “James may have greenlit the project, but that doesn’t change the fact that the military budget comes from tax revenue. The other councilors get a say in how that money is allocated. And if they think our research is a waste of public resources…”

An uneasy quiet fell between them, and it was telling that Watts didn’t immediately refute him or attempt to assuage his concerns.

For lack of anything constructive to say, Pietro sighed. “For thousands of years we consumed willow bark as an analgesic. When people learned that salicin was the culprit, a chemist learned how to make it from scratch. Pharmacies around the world now manufacture and distribute that medication to millions of people.” He leaned back into his seat. “How is it that we figured out how to make an artificial compound, but we can’t figure out how to make an artificial Aura?”

“Well—” Watts motioned with his drink in a vague sort of gesture. “That might have something to do with acetylsalicylic acid being a synthetic chemical, and Aura being the manifestation of the soul. They’re not exactly analogous.” He stroked his chin. “It would also be remiss of me not to point out that up until a few centuries ago, pneumatophysicists were regularly executed for heresy. It’s not as if we have the breakthroughs of our predecessors to build upon.”

A weak, self-deprecating laugh escaped him. Reflexively, Pietro combed through his hair.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?” Frustrating might have been putting it charitably. Pietro still had half a mind to fetch that blowtorch.

A knowing look crept across his handsome features, though Watts deigned only to shrug in response. Obstacles and setbacks were held in a similar estimation to success; they seldom bothered him. Nonetheless, he offered, perhaps by way of consolation, “Nothing worth doing is ever easy.”

“I’m not looking for easy. I’m looking for possible,” said Pietro, “and right now, we’ve hit a dead end.”

The holographic diagram from earlier rematerialized over his desk—a simulated Aura field superimposed atop the three-dimensional render of an android. He parsed through the accompanying schematics with a wave of his hand, calling forth and highlighting relevant segments of data.

“We know that Aura is related to the sum product of a person’s neurological pathways, because it’s the same system responsible for generating consciousness.” Pietro activated the synaptic filter. A branching web of neurons lit up the hologram in tandem with the Aura field. “Here’s the problem. Functionally and behaviorally they’re similar, so you’d think replicating one system would mean the simultaneous generation of the other, right? But it doesn’t work like that.” His brow furrowed. “Not only is Aura’s reliance on this system facultative, but it verges on metaphysical. It means that we’re missing something. You can break down the physiology of the CNS and PNS into all the various electrochemical signals, but the second you try to do the same thing with Aura—”

He dismissed the hologram with a flick of his wrist, and slumped in his chair.

“I’m starting to think James picked the wrong proposal,” he quietly admitted. “At least yours didn’t hinge on reconciling a decades-long conflict between pneumatophysical models and—”

“Self-pity doesn’t become you.”

The brusque statement startled Pietro out of his rambling. It only took a second of being subjected to Watts’ flat, unimpressed stare before Pietro ducked his head.

Watts snorted under his breath. “For better or worse, the general picked your proposal. You have an obligation to not fail, so I suggest you pull yourself together.”

Embarrassment quickly faded to mild annoyance. “You’re as sobering as a cold shower. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Watts’ expression softened. “Sometimes a little cold helps to clear the head.” There was thoughtful pause before he unhooked his ankle and leaned forward, elbows braced against his legs. “You know,” he began, “success isn’t always contingent on understanding.”

Coming from the man who actively condemned ignorance, that surprised him. Pietro stilled with the mug halfway to his lips. “True,” he conceded, lowering the coffee back to his lap. “But I don’t think we’re in a position to trip over the answer like it’s a sleeping cat.”

Another pause followed, longer than the one that preceded it.

“What if we had a way to circumvent it?”

“What do you mean?”

With a soft thunk Watts set his mug on the desk. “Your proposal requires grafting an Aura onto a mechanical vessel. It never specified where that Aura came from,” he said. “Whether it was artificially created…or acquired from somewhere else.”

He laced his fingers together.

“Someone else, perhaps.”

He’d been told more than once that he had a terrible poker face. Clearly that hadn’t changed, if the way Watts pursed his lips was anything to go by.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m not suggesting we go abduct people and harvest their organs in a back alley.” He rolled his eyes. “I would hope you’d have a somewhat higher opinion of me.”

“You have a way with words, Arthur. A questionable and slightly terrifying way with them.” Pietro fidgeted with his tie. “Let’s, for the moment, ignore all of the potential obstacles involved. Like receiving an extension on our funding to cover any unanticipated costs. Or getting approval from the Atlesian Ethics Committee to perform an unregulated and untested surgery on a patient. Or even finding a candidate who would willingly consent to such a procedure. Even if we hypothetically resolved all of those issues, we’d still be left with a problem.”

“Only the one?” asked Watts. He arched a slender brow. “Very well, I’ll bite. Enlighten me.”

Another frown tugged at his lips. “Even if we found a way to perform such a surgery, removing even a fraction could be fatal. You can’t survive without Aura.”

“That’s not, strictly speaking, true.” The mug had made its way back into his hand. Watts idly traced the rim with a finger. “I’ve treated patients with Chronic Aura Degradation before. It’s not uncommon to see cases where up to 45% of the Aura was eroded. And in every one of those cases, the patient survived with weekly EMF-DS therapy.”

Pietro shook his head. “You, better than anyone, know that ‘survived’ isn’t the same thing as ‘cured.’”

“Of course not,” he agreed. “Forgive me if I insinuated otherwise. I only meant that regular treatments resulted in a negligible impact on their quality of life.”

“I’m not denying that.” Only when Watts stilled his hand, and began circling the rim in the opposite direction, did Pietro realize he was staring. He snapped his head up and cleared his throat. “But that’s an archotheronotic disease. You’re talking about using Auratic intercision to create a manmade version of CAD. There’s no telling what that would do to the donor, or if the amount of Aura donated would even be enough to sustain an entirely new person.”

Watts conceded with a sigh. “It’s just a thought.”

It wasn’t the most outlandish thing Pietro had heard—the staff breakroom regularly churned out weirder ideas on a weekly basis, and gods knew he’d contributed to quite a few of those himself.

Still…

“I’m not opposed to alternatives,” he replied at last, “but I can’t imagine anyone condoning a surgery that mimics a Grimm-based illness. The controversy alone would be a nightmare.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted.”

Watts made a noncommittal noise as he stood.

“Scientific progress has always been controversial. What matters is how we deal with it.” He lightly clapped a hand on Pietro’s shoulder. The residual warmth from the mug lingered; it was oddly soothing. “Do me a favor, and try to get some rest?” He smirked, and the hand retreated. “Sleep on my suggestion. See if you’re not better disposed to it in the morning.”

Pietro sipped at his coffee, eyes crinkled in amusement. “I’ll pass on the sleep for now.” He motioned with the cup. “Keep these coming though and you might just persuade me.”

Watts let out a low chuckle. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned on his heel for the door, tossing a parting glance over his shoulder. “Good night, Pietro.”

Pietro smiled into his drink. “Good night, Arthur.”

“—has to be something we haven’t thought of yet.”

“We could give the pneumatograph another go. Run the Dust vortex generator with different configurations.”

“And waste more Dust in the process. Repeating the same tests isn’t going to get us any closer to generating an Aura.”

“Okay. Well, what about Grimm exposure trials? We could map out field fluctuations and look for any biopenumatic discrepancies.”

“After what happened last time? We’d be lucky if the Grimmoire loaned us a bloody paperclip, let alone a Boarbatusk. Try again.”

Will pulled a face as he crossed out a line on the clipboard, before tossing the pen back to Watts. He cast the cages lining the wall a glum look. “I guess we could go back to rodent models,” he said.

The mice Pietro was feeding began to squeakily protest. He lapsed into momentary silence before agreeing, though not without some reluctance. “It couldn’t hurt.” Not in the technical sense, anyway. But if the thought of their work regressing back to animal trials didn’t sting a little. Given the dwindling list of alternatives, however, he wasn’t about to object.

One of the mice nosed at his hand, and Pietro obligingly scratched it between the ears. “I’ll fill out the requisition forms. It shouldn’t take more than a day to get the approval.”

“As long as the technicians remember to give us an Aura-active batch,” Will added. “Last time they forgot.”

Their conversation petered out, replaced by the high-pitched din of the mice and the clink of the pellets in their food bowls. Pietro sealed the latch on the enclosure and placed the dispenser on the nearby counter, thinking.

“Even in a worst-case scenario, if the rodent models end up not working out, we could always repurpose our findings for later studies. Once the Penny Project is over”—though whether or not they succeeded, he chose not to theorize on—“if we can get the grant money for it, well, who knows? Apothymetics is relatively uncharted territory, and it’d be a shame to see all those mice go to waste…”

Watts slowly lowered the chart in his hands, and pinned him with the full intensity of his stare. “You want to run tests…on the mice…to see if you can unlock their Semblances,” he said. He broke apart his sentence as if he were running it through a translator.

Pietro shrugged. “It’s theoretically possible. If an animal can unlock an Aura, by extension it should be able to acquire a Semblance. Haven’t you ever wondered what that would look like?”

Sometimes, he liked asking questions because it was fun to speculate on the possibilities of the hypothetical. Sometimes, he liked asking questions because it was fun to see what sort of face his friend would make. Watts had yet to disappoint.

He watched with delight as Watts squinted his eyes, as if the mere idea were an affront to common decency. “No,” he said, “I haven’t wondered what that would look like. Perhaps my imagination isn’t as vivid as yours, but I’d rather not contemplate the horror of a 700-kilogram polar bear learning how to run at Mach 1, let alone a lab rat.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Arthur,” Will chimed in, in a voice far too casual to be anything but. “Think of all the possibilities. Telekinetic service dogs. Self-cloning chickens.”

“We could solve world hunger,” Pietro said. This time he was unable to suppress a grin.

It took a second for Watts to register the look on his face; his expression evened out, and he let out a loud sigh. “Stop enabling him, Will. He doesn’t need a co-conspirator.”

“I thought you were my co-conspirator,” said Pietro, feigning a look of wounded betrayal.

“No. I’m your impulse control. And I seem to doing a rather poor job as of late.” Watts jotted something on the chart in his hands, his brow momentarily furrowed in concentration. “Those mice are supposed to be euthanized anyway. I doubt they’d let you repurpose them for another project, even if you pitched it as a financial incentive.”

Pietro considered. “I can be persuasive.”

“That’s what concerns me.”

Will set the clipboard next to the dispenser and leaned back, his amusement tempered with intrigue. “I know you were kidding—mostly—but eventually, someone else is going to ask the same question, and they won’t be. Sooner or later, it’s going to be proven or disproven.”

“With any luck, they’ll disprove it,” Watts replied. “It’s already bad enough when people unlock their Semblances.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure Huntsmen need those.”

“Huntsmen, certainly. Their line of work requires it.” Watts glanced up from the chart. “The average person, on the other hand, would frankly be better off without.”

“Come off it, Arthur. I know we’re supposed be scientists and demystifying this stuff, but…” Will shrugged. “You can’t deny that it’s a little exciting for someone to try and imagine what their Semblance might be.”

“Oh, no, you’re absolutely right. It’s very exciting when someone with no training accidentally unlocks their Semblance, only to discover they now wield the power of fire, and proceed to give themselves a second-degree burn.” He clicked the pen, and pocketed it in the folds of his lab coat. “That was last Tuesday, by the way.”

Will crossed his arms. “I take it you wouldn’t want to find out what yours is?”

“If I was going to do something that permanent and that irrationally stupid, I’d get a tattoo on my left—”

A scroll dinged. Will jumped like a tasered cat, and fished through his pockets until he found it. “It’s Meg.” The sudden tension eased from his shoulders as his eyes darted over the screen. “She just wanted to let me know how the appointment went.”

Pietro’s eyes lit up. “How is she?”

“Good. She’s due in another nine weeks.” Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from his scroll. “Since I need to call her, now seems like as good a time as any to take a lunch break.” He started for the door. “I’m heading to the cafeteria. Do either of you want anything?”

“Pastrami on rye. Toasted,” Watts called after him.

“If they have any tuna salad left, I wouldn’t say no,” Pietro added.

Will gave a parting wave as he slipped out the door, the scroll already held to his face.

There was a brief silence, filled by the squeaks of tiny mice.

“So.” Pietro side-eyed the other man. “Where did you say you were putting that tattoo?”

Watts swatted him with the chart.

With nothing else to distract them for the time being, Pietro dug out his scroll and consulted his schedule.

“Busy this afternoon?” Watts prompted.

“Nothing too exciting. The hospital wants me to review some patient files and see if I’d be willing to consult on them. And around three I’ve got an appointment with a new client needing cybernetic optimal implants. The insurance company approved her for a fully-integrated interface, similar to the model James has.”

“Which reminds me…” Watts turned his attention to his own scroll. “I need to notify him about his follow-up. His prostheses are due for inspection.”

“Good luck getting him out of his office.” At his inquiring look, Pietro elaborated: “The Vytal Festival’s next month. He’s been busy overseeing the travel arrangements for his students.”

“Damn it. I forgot that was coming up.” Watts pinched the bridge of his nose, before skimming back over his calendar. “Well, at least I’ll have one appointment today that won’t be akin to pulling teeth.”

“Oh?”

“A new client by the name of Rainart. It seems he needs treatment for acute Dust poisoning.”

“Collier?”

“He didn’t say.”

Pietro tagged a file on his scroll and dismissed it from the queue. “We’ll need to meet with the rest of the team and make sure our schedules are coordinated,” he stated. “I think tomorrow would—”

“Hold on.” He hadn’t realized Watts was reading over his shoulder, and didn’t register the proximity until he felt a puff of air on the side of his neck. The sudden presence startled him. “Go back to the last tab.”

He shot him a puzzled look, but obliged him all the same. “This one?” He tapped the screen and enlarged it.

“Why did you pass on this case?” asked Watts.

Pietro peered at the text. “‘Name: Mia Atelier. Age: 19. Patient is in a hypothermia-induced coma and has been unresponsive to all attempts to resuscitate.’” He frowned. “There’s nothing I can do that the hospital staff haven’t already tried, I’m afraid.”

Watts took a step back, his eyes narrowed. After a moment he returned to his scroll. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Phase-II trial of Auratic synthesis, test number seventy-one. Initiating.”

The monitor gave a powerful thrum as the simulation booted up. Other than the pneumatic hiss of the internal fans, their silence was uninterrupted. A hand reassuringly squeezed his shoulder, though Pietro didn’t bother to find out whose it was. He didn’t dare look away.

As quickly as it began, the program aborted. An all-too familiar error message flashed counterpoint to the readouts on the screen.

The team let out a collective sigh.

Pietro willed himself through the motion of activating the audio function on his scroll.

“Test number seventy-one was unsuccessful. The recalibrations based on the gravid murine analysis didn’t provide the missing variable for the Aura simulation. It’s possible that the in-utero pneumatographic scans failed to identify the unknown factors necessary for generating and implanting an Aura. Recommendations for subsequent tests are…” It dawned on him midway through that he didn’t know where to go next. “…The team will reconvene to discuss further options. End recording,” he finished.

For lack of anything better to do, Pietro buried his face in his hand. Around him the voices of his colleagues stirred, their chatter sounding strangely far away.

“I really thought we had it that time.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. We modeled it after a gestating animal. What the hell could we have possibly missed?”

“Maybe the issue is what we’re modeling. What if we replicated the scans on a more complex organism?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure the guys in obstetrics would love that. ‘Can we borrow one of your patients for nine months? We just want to run some non-invasive tests.’”

“Hey, Will, how do you feel about offering up your firstborn child in the name of science?”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do?”

“I suggest we go down to the pub on Baker Street and put our funding to good use.”

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to do that after you succeed, not before.”

“What about you, Arthur? You’re being unusually quiet.”

Pietro peered up from between his fingers to where Watts stood, inspecting the hologram of the simulated Aura field. Light from the projection struck the side of his face, carving out the angles in shadows.

“I think,” he said, “we should consider alternatives.”

It wasn’t an opinion shared by the majority of the faculty, but Pietro liked the distance between the buildings.

Admittedly, there were drawbacks to the layout. For example, when back-to-back classes were scheduled on opposite sides of the campus, it was fairly common to see students and professors alike sprinting between lecture halls.

Personally, Pietro enjoyed the sweeping courtyards. The altitude of the city meant a steady supply of brisk air, along with an unobstructed view of the stars that no amount of light pollution could diminish. If nothing else, the long walk between buildings gave him a chance to declutter his thoughts after hours spent cooped up in his office. Given the excuse, he gladly jumped at any opportunity to walk the grounds.

Not that he really needed the excuse, he mused, as he approached Watts’ office.

Pietro went to knock, only to be stilled by a snippet of conversation that filtered through the door.

“—understand your concerns. Rest assured, the surgical theater is still reserved for then. I spoke with the administrator at the medical center this morning, and received confirmation for the private transport. Everything else has been taken care of.”

Pietro was careful not to cause too much of a disturbance as he slipped into the chair across from him. Watts greeted him with a nod, before turning his attention back to the call.

“Certainly. We can discuss your daughter’s treatment plan afterward. I’d rather not burden you with undue stress in the meanwhile. If you have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

He set aside the scroll on his desk. “You’re here earlier than usual,” he noted. “Either something went extremely well, or horribly wrong. Which was it?”

“Depends on how you look at it.” The joints in his shoulder popped as Pietro stretched. “Remember those parts I ordered? The shipment was delayed another week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I presume there’s a silver lining?”

“Well,” he said, “the original plan was to spend the next three days working on the rotary cannon for the Colossus prototype. But seeing as that’s no longer possible…” He leaned forward, hands clapped on his knees. “I know you’re not usually a fan of ‘that hideous blood sport,’ but the doubles rounds start tonight and the matches have been pretty good so far. Everyone’s getting together later in the staff breakroom to watch. The betting pool this year is pretty sizable, too.” He offered a sheepish grin. “Not that I would know anything about that.”

Watts smirked. “Of course not.”

“But—if you’re still opposed to watching the Tournament—” Pietro shrugged. “My weekend’s free. We could make plans to do something. If you’re interested.”

Watts inclined his head, green eyes half-lidded in thought. After a pause he averted his gaze to his hands, neatly folding them atop one another. “As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, I have a flight this evening. I’ll be out of the capital for a day or two.”

That caught him off-guard. “You didn’t tell me you were heading down to Mantle.”

“That’s because I’m not. I’m heading to Argus.”

“You’re leaving the country?”

“Hardly. With how much the city relies on trade with Atlas, it might as well be part of the kingdom.” He dismissively waved his hand. “But, yes. I’m overseeing a procedure there.”

It took Pietro a moment to conceal his disappointment behind a consolatory smile. “Well, what can you do.” He scoured his brain for any recent mention of traveling during the last few conversations, and surprisingly drew a blank. “I’m guessing this was last-second on your part. A new patient, I take it?”

“Something to that effect.”

“Well”—Pietro hopped to his feet—“if you’ve got an airship to catch then I won’t hold you up. I’m sure you want to get out of here and pack.” He quirked a brow. “Just so you know, I’ll be very upset if you don’t bring me back a souvenir.”

Watts rolled his eyes. “I’ll stop at the hospital gift shop on my way out,” he drawled, without a hint of sincerity.

Pietro laughed. “I’ll hold you to it.”

He made it as far as the threshold when a voice called him back: “Pietro.”

Watts was shuffling a stack of papers on his desk—a pointless gesture, with how meticulous his workspace already was. He spoke without meeting his gaze: “When I return, I’d like to discuss some ideas I had for your project. I might have found a solution.”

His pulse quickened. “Are you—are you sure?” Pietro asked.

The rearranged stack was pushed off to the side. “I will be after tomorrow.”

When he got the news a week later, Pietro stared out his office window, and didn’t move for a long time.

“That girl’s blood is on your hands.”

“Don’t you dare say I took a choice away from her.”

Pietro hesitated outside the imposing metal doors. Announcing his presence would have been the right thing to do—something he should have done ten minutes ago—but a sense of dread, morbid curiosity, and some other nameless instinct stayed the impulse. Instead he leaned closer, only just able to discern the pair of muffled voices on the other side.

“She was dying. What was I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for the hospital board to convene and debate the ethics? They would have wasted precious seconds wringing their hands and fretting over indemnification, while I had a chance to save her life.”

James’ voice was taut with the tension of a fraying rope. “And you failed.”

“People die from surgical complications every day,” Watts snapped. “We can’t save everyone. But we can try, and I did. She may be dead, but the contributions her death made have advanced our understanding of—”

“‘Contributions’? Do you hear yourself?”

Pietro nearly forgot to breathe in the deafening silence.

“You didn’t do this out of some misguided altruism,” James said. “You did it to satisfy your own curiosity.”

“I did it because she was running out of time and options. A transfer of consciousness by incising her Aura and siphoning it into a receptive vessel was the only way to ensure her survival. What other options were there?”

“Hospice.” The word was ground out through clenched teeth.

“If you’re waiting for me to grovel to you for clemency,” said Watts, “then you’ll be waiting for some time. I did nothing wrong.”

“Oh, really? Is that you why you had your patient shipped to a hospital in another kingdom so you could perform an illegal surgery?”

Pietro flinched.

“As I’ve explained to you numerous times, the procedure is illegal under Atlesian law. Mistral, on the other hand, has no such qualms when it comes to the implementation of pioneering medical research.”

“Hiding behind a loophole doesn’t change the fact that you manipulated her emotionally-compromised parents!” A fist slammed against the desk. “You knew they were desperate, and you knew they would say yes if there was even the slightest chance they could get their daughter back. Their consent was based solely on the premise that your theoretical procedure might work.”

“It’s not theoretical anymore.” The words saturated the air, like the ozone that preceded lightning. “I proved that it can be done. My efforts, while unsuccessful, weren’t a failure. We can take what I learned from her death and repurpose it—”

“That’s enough.”

Pietro recoiled from the shout. Then he realized what he’d done, and quickly repositioned himself next to the door.

“Did you know…” Shoes scuffed over the tiled floor, across the sunken dais. “During the height of the Great War, Mantle oversaw the detainment of captured soldiers. In time, their wardens saw little benefit in expending resources on them if there wasn’t some use for all of those people.” The pacing stopped. “Eventually, Mantle did find a use for them. They were experimented on. When the war came to a close, hundreds of people had perished. The textbooks never fail to recount that.”

Watts took a steadying breath. “What they often conveniently omit is that many of the technologies we have today were born from those experiments. Analgesics, psychotropic drugs, new surgical tools…and neuroprostheses.”

A pause.

“The metal grafted to your body exists because prisoners of war bled for it. You can’t ridicule my work and absolve yourself of hypocrisy.”

When James’ reply came, it was dangerously soft: “For better or worse, we have that technology.”

“For better or worse, we could have had one more,” Watts retorted. “How does condemning my choices justify yours?”

James exhaled through his nose, and his tone evened out into something approximating his regular speech. “Because I don’t condone the loss of lives, or the dehumanization of people. I didn’t participate in the atrocities that brought us those advancements.”

“No. You only benefited from them. Tell me, James. How many more people do you think will suffer needlessly in the future because you stymied my research? Inaction will deprive future generations.”

“Whereas action will slaughter the current one,” James shot back. “The ends don’t justify the means. You know that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gambled on asking for forgiveness over permission, had the girl actually lived.”

Neither man spoke into the yawning chasm that filled the space between them.

“…I didn’t want her to die, James.” An unfamiliar emotion crept into his voice.

James sighed. “I didn’t call you here to debate your motives. What’s done is done.”

When Watts spoke again, the question was accompanied by unease: “Then why did you arrange this meeting?”

“To discuss the consequences with you.”

“Am I being arrested?”

“Not presently, no,” James said. “The Council hasn’t formally issued any charges, and they won’t until they meet to discuss the matter in-depth.”

“If I’m not being arrested,” Watts ventured, “then what consequences are you talking about?”

The general’s reply was delayed. “I spoke with the Medical Board. Your license has been suspended.”

Pietro’s blood ran cold.

“On what grounds?” His voice was nearly inaudible.

“Malpractice.”

“You can’t place me on probation for a law I didn’t break—”

“Arthur.”

The interruption killed whatever momentum he’d gathered. When no more protests were forthcoming, James continued: “It wasn’t my call.”

Another gap in the conversation followed, shorter than the ones before it.

“If the Board’s intention was to simply strip me of my license, they could have easily done so without involving you. If the Council plans to do nothing yet, then this meeting is a waste of our time.” His confusion faded, replaced with wariness. “Why am I really here, James?”

“…I want you to understand,” James began, “that I arranged this meeting as a courtesy. I didn’t want you to be in the dark about events going forward—”

“Why am I here?”

Pietro could picture James steepling his hands, tightening his jaw.

“As you’re aware, the Penny Project is a classified military project. Your surgery appropriated that research, and you performed it on a civilian.”

“My research”—Watts bristled—“was based on an archotheronotic disease. Where I drew my inspiration is irrelevant.”

“The other councilors might not have letters after their names, but they’re not idiots. They saw the parallels. It’s not a coincidence that your procedure and the project both focus on Aura.”

“The difference,” Watts spat, “is in the intent. The project’s goal is to create an Aura from scratch. Mine was to separate and transfer an already-existing one. If we can separate a host’s Aura and place it within a new receptacle, then that proves we can also remove a portion of it and do the same.”

“Even if you’re right, that doesn’t change the fact that the girl’s parents went to the media and took their story public,” James said. “Soul-based research is already controversial. How long do you think it will take for people to start asking questions? That’s a scrutiny we can’t afford right now.”

The chair legs scraped over the ground as James stood.

“The reason why I called you here is because the Council believes that your actions jeopardized that secrecy. The unauthorized disclosure of classified military intelligence is a potential security breach. Which is why, until they conclude their investigation, your passport is being revoked and you will be confined to the Kingdom of Atlas.”

James sounded tired.

“The charge they intend to level against you is treason.”

Nervously, Pietro rapped his knuckles against the wooden frame.

“Arthur? May I come in?”

Watts stood with his back to the room, an outstretched hand removing several books from their shelves. At the sound of his name, he stiffened. “If you must,” he answered flatly.

“Thank you.” He was careful to avoid tripping over the boxes stacked by the entryway as he closed the door behind him.

The other man had never been particularly materialistic, but even so, his decorating was far from sparse. Awards and accreditations had hung from the walls, while shelves with medical tomes lined the perimeter of the office. Occasionally, projects from the lab migrated into the room, and had taken up tablespace by the windowsill where a lone bromeliad sat.

It was jarring to see those possessions packed away.

Watts didn’t immediately turn to face him. Instead, his head sunk between his shoulders. “…Are you here to yell at me as well?”

“Yes. No.” He ran a hand through his hair. A thousand different thoughts colored his mind like a fractured kaleidoscope. There were plenty of things he wanted to say, each worse than the last. Pietro ruthlessly shoved those thoughts aside. “Look, I’m upset, but right now you need a friend, not another detractor.”

“How considerate of you.” His words were devoid of inflection.

“I’m not going to pretend I know how you’re feeling right now, but I still think you should—” Pietro glanced at one of the cardboard boxes on his desk, only to do a double-take. “What are you doing?”

“Vacating the premises.” Watts resumed packing. “Seeing as I’m no longer tenured, the institute felt this room could be put to better use.”

“I already know that. That’s not what I meant.” Pietro gestured to the lacy scrawl on the side of the box—Free to whoever wants it. “Why are you getting rid of your things?”

“I have no reason to keep them. It’s not as if I’ll be able to use them again for another employer.”

“You don’t know that—” Pietro began to protest.

“No one in their right mind would hire me. And that’s assuming I won’t be spending the rest of my life behind bars.” He folded the box flaps with slightly more force than necessary. “Seeing as you’re already here, help yourself to whatever you like. I’ll be taking the rest of these downstairs to the breakroom, once I’m done. I know Will was always partial to my microscope.”

“I’m not taking your things!” Pietro let out a long, deep exhale, forcing himself to calm down. “I want to talk to you.”

“Very well.” Watts finally turned to face him, and Pietro was struck by how ill he looked. A gauntness clung to his features, though whether from a lack of food or a lack of sleep, he couldn’t say. Stubble had begun to creep in below his jaw, and his clothes were far more disheveled than he could ever recall them being. “Talk.”

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts. “You need to get a lawyer.”

“And what good will that do me?” His eyes were dull. “Even if the odds weren’t overwhelmingly stacked against me, what lawyer would touch my case?”

“I’m sure someone would, if you asked around.” Pietro hated the idea, but he willed himself to say it: “What about Jacques Schnee? You’re acquaintances, right? The SDC settles lawsuits all the time, so they’ve got to have legal experts on retainer. Maybe you could arrange something with him—”

“If you think I’ll let myself be indebted to that myopic narcissist—” As quickly as it flared, the fire in his eyes faded. Watts’ posture folded in on itself as the anger drained from him, leaving only fretful cinders behind. “I’m sorry,” he said, with a hard blink. “I was out of line.”

Pietro worried his lower lip. “What can I do to help?” he asked. “Do you want to go out? Get something to drink?”

“I—” Watts cut himself off with a sigh, and shook his head. “No. Thank you. I have plans to meet with one of my former patients later. He wants to discuss alternatives for his Dust poisoning, seeing as his treatments have been…discontinued.”

Pietro cast his gaze helplessly about the room, trying to think of something. With an unpleasant lurch in his chest, he realized that he couldn’t. “I’ll leave you to it, then?” he said.

“That would be for the best.”

Despite the overwhelming urge to protest, Pietro turned to leave. He stopped with his fingers on the door handle, and glanced back. “You’ll come and get me if you need anything, right?”

Watts opened another box, and began writing on the side. “Of course.”

Save for the occasional fleeting glimpse, Pietro saw little of his friend over the next two weeks.

While his presence on the campus was a necessity, Watts seemed to be doing what he could to minimize it. Only the administrators—who refused to speak about it—and his former clients—who spoke too much about it—spent any length of time with him. His public avoidance did little to deter the gossip, which varied in accuracy and failed to account for all the details, given the clandestine nature of his termination. It didn’t help that Pietro staunchly refused to contribute to it, and told off anyone bold enough to press the subject.

When their paths did cross, Watts didn’t linger long enough to chat. He had a faraway look on his face, and his appearance was unkempt.

It worried Pietro that he no longer seemed to care about himself.

It was early into the evening when Watts visited his office.

“Forgive me for the intrusion.” Pietro glanced up from his paperwork to see Watts hovering in the doorway. Strangely, he was carrying the bromeliad. “Might I steal a moment of your time?”

“Certainly!” Pietro pushed aside the document stack and gestured warmly to the chair. To his dismay, Watts remained standing. “What can I do for you?”

Watts adjusted the potted plant in his arms. “I was wondering,” he began, “if I could ask for a small favor.”

“Go ahead.”

Pietro didn’t know what to make of the unexpectedly calm expression on his face, so at odds with his recent emotional state.

“I need someone to look after this for me.” Watts took a step forward, and set the plant on the edge of the desk. “If it’s left unattended for a day or two it’s not an issue. Any longer, though, and it begins to dry out. The care required for it isn’t overly involved; the soil simply needs to be misted with distilled water every so—”

“Wait a second,” Pietro said. “Why does it sound like you’re going somewhere?”

Watts hesitated. “I’m travelling to Evadne for a few days.”

Pietro started to rise. “Arthur—”

He held up a hand. “I’m forbidden from international flights, not domestic. The southern coast of Solitas is under Atlesian jurisdiction, is it not?”

Slowly, Pietro sank back into his chair. “It is,” he agreed. “But why are you travelling now?”

Watts closed his eyes. “I want to see the coast one last time.”

He frowned. “You shouldn’t talk like that. You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

His friend didn’t comment. He merely stared at him.

“Fine,” Pietro relented, “I’ll watch it for you. But just so you know, I’ve killed plants before.”

His lips twitched in a faint smile. “That’s quite all right.”

Pietro reached forward to move the pot, only to be taken aback when his hand was intercepted by Watts’. The contact startled him, so much so that he didn’t react when Watts lightly squeezed.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

Pietro forced his jaws to move. “For what?”

“For more than I care to admit.”

The hand retreated.

“Enjoy your trip, Arthur.” Pietro tried to sound cheerful. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Watts opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. He dipped his head in a polite nod, before turning on his heel.

He wasn’t sure why he was here.

It was the second day after Watts’ departure for Evadne. The office was unrecognizable without any of its usual décor—walls now stripped bare of his possessions, floorspace empty save for the generic chairs and desk pushed off to the corner. The open space was dissonant with Pietro’s memories of the many times he’d spent in this room, either with other members of the team, or by himself. Almost as soon as the thoughts formed, they were accompanied by a pang of nostalgia. His fingernails dug into his palm.

Adjusting to the new normal was a prospect he dreaded, not just for the uncertainties at play, but simply because he didn’t want things to change. In truth, Pietro didn’t know what the Council’s verdict would be.

And he would have been lying if he said the thought didn’t keep him up at night.

It was as he was looking around the room that he noticed something glint in the waste bin. Intrigued, he bent down and pushed aside the crumpled papers partially obscuring it. When he lifted it from the bin, Pietro was surprised to see his reflection staring back at him from the plaque’s glassy surface.

The Atlesian Institute of Technology is honored to present the Rigel Award to Arthur Watts in recognition of his contributions to the fields of archotherology and pneumatophysics.

“I know things are bad right now, Arthur, but you shouldn’t just throw things like this away…” He’d been at the reception where the award had been presented; it had been a milestone in Watts’ career.

Carefully, Pietro wiped away a smudge with the hem of his shirt. A stubborn resolve seized him.

“It’s not breaking and entering if you have the spare key,” Pietro told himself, as the lock clicked.

The first thing he noticed, as the apartment door shut behind him, was the immediate onset of cold. Ice cold. The sort of chill that settled in a person’s lungs, and caused their breath to fog as they gasped for air.

“Gods above.” Pietro wrapped his arms around himself. “I know you like it cold, but this is ridiculous. What’s the temperature in here?”

Not intending to trip his way through the room, Pietro reached for the light switch.

Nothing.

“The bulb must have blown out.” He resorted to the flashlight on his scroll. Mindful of where he stepped, Pietro moved into the hall where the thermostat was. The last thing his friend needed was to return to a drafty apartment.

Understandably, he was confused when he tapped the screen, only for the thermostat to not respond.

“Surely this isn’t broken too…?”

A nagging suspicion prompted him to reach for the next light switch in his path. The hall remained dark, even after Pietro flipped it several times.

Something wasn’t right.

The next three lights he tried remained unresponsive to his attempts. Pietro stopped in the kitchen, his scroll in one hand, the glass plaque grasped loosely in the other. What else wasn’t working?

His gaze fell to the sink. With a slither of incredulity, Pietro turned the handle on the faucet.

It was cold, granted, but not cold enough to freeze the pipes. And he refused to believe that all of the utilities simultaneously stopped working. Even if they did, Watts would never have knowingly allowed them to remain in disrepair.

His mind discarded one possibility after the next, trying to identify a pattern, an explanation.

Pietro lifted the plaque to eye level.

For the life of him, he couldn’t fathom why he’d want to get rid of something so important. It was a question he’d have to ask him when he came back—

His eyes widened.

Glass skated over the tiles as the plaque shattered against the floor. Pietro fumbled with his scroll, cursing, as he bolted back down the hall.

James answered on the second ring. “Pietro? What—”

“Where are you?” he gasped.

“The Academy,” he said. “Is something—”

“Meet me in your office!” The door slammed shut behind him. “We need to stop him!”

“And you’re sure about this?” James gravely looked on as Pietro paced.

“Why else would he have gotten rid of his things?” He gestured wildly. “He already believes his life is over. He had no reason to keep them.”

Those words had taken on an entirely new meaning, one that made Pietro feel sick.

“I understand, given the circumstances, how you would've arrived at that conclusion. But is it possible you’re wrong?” He spoke with the calm, patient authority of his rank, with a pragmatism meant to ease. All it did was agitate Pietro even more. “Arthur is a lot of things, but suicidal? It doesn’t seem—”

“You haven’t seen him the last few weeks!” His voice shot up an octave. “He’s hardly eating, barely sleeping, he isolated himself from nearly everyone. I knew he was depressed, but I didn’t think…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. “James, please. We need to do something.”

James leaned back into his desk, hands braced against the edge. “We should consider every possibility before we act.”

Pietro halted in his tracks. “What other possibilities?”

“Consider what you’ve just told me. He disposed of his personal belongings—things that would have encumbered him. He distanced himself from other people—social contacts that would have tied him to the kingdom. He canceled his utilities—lien he no longer has to waste.”

Pietro turned to face him. “What are you suggesting?”

“Given the pending criminal charges, it’s possible that he’s trying to flee the kingdom.”

Pietro tensed.

“Think carefully about your last conversation.” James watched him closely. “Did he indicate that he planned on coming back?”

Mutely, Pietro shook his head.

“If he wanted to leave without drawing attention to himself, Evadne would be the logical choice,” he said. “It’s a small town on the water frequently used as a stopover between the interior cities and Anima’s northern coast. It has a comparably smaller military presence, and most of its visitors are tourists. He won’t look out of place. And if he’s brought lien with him, it wouldn’t take much persuasion to stow away on an airship or a boat. Dust smugglers regularly make use of those tactics.”

Pietro started to shake.

“Both possibilities are upsetting in their own right, and I’d prefer for neither to be true. But the evidence isn’t something we can just ignore. Right now, the latter seems more likely. I didn’t notice—”

“Of course you didn’t notice!” Pietro shouted. “You were so busy trying to end his career that you didn’t realize you were ending his life!”

His words echoed around the room. In the stunned silence that followed, Pietro continued to yell.

“‘I want to see the coast one last time.’ That’s what he said to me when he left! He didn’t mean before he was arrested; he meant before he died. And why wouldn’t he? What did he have left? Either he was going to waste away in a cell, or he was going to spend the rest of his life unable to rebuild it. No one in the medical community will speak to him, no one on the team will look at him—” He doubled over with a strangled cough. “I know what he did was wrong. I think it’s wrong. But I don’t want him to die because of it! I don’t want to be right, but with everything I’ve seen we can’t wait around to find out if I’m wrong. James, please, we have to—”

A hand fell on his shoulder. Pietro wheezed.

“We’ll find him.” James’ grip tightened. “I can have an airship ready in ten minutes.”

The night was alive with the weaving bands of the auroras.

A distant part of his mind tried to find comfort in the emerald and indigo light, as it rippled through the sky amidst a backdrop of stars.

“We should be there in a few hours.” From the seat across from him, James consulted his scroll. “Our ETA will be about 6:00 AM.”

Pietro turned away from the window. “What are we going to do when we get there?”

“I have a special operative who’s currently stationed in the area. Her name’s Caroline. I radioed her as we were boarding. Her team’s going to meet us when we land and help with the search.”

He nodded.

“Before Arthur left”—James glanced up from the screen—“did he tell you where he was staying?”

“No, I’m sorry,” he replied. “He didn’t.”

“That’s all right.” James returned to his scroll. “If he checked into a hotel, the transaction will be on his bank statement. I should have access to his account history in a minute.”

“James.” Pietro steeled himself. “If I’m right…about…” He drew in a shuddering breath. “How are we going to handle this?”

“It depends on what we find, and what—condition he’s in.” James’ face was pinched. “The plan is to make sure he’s not a danger to himself or anyone else.”

“‘Anyone else’?”

James’ expression darkened. “I’ve seen situations like this before, with soldiers and Huntsmen. Sometimes they lash out.”

Suddenly, Pietro was grateful for his friend’s long military career, and the experience that came with it.

That went doubly so a second later when his scroll chimed, granting him clearance.

James read over the information as it poured in. “Well, this confirms what we already suspected—he canceled his utilities a few days ago.”

“Did you find out where he’s staying?”

“Let me see—got it. I have the name and address. It’s…” He scrolled through something on the screen. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

Pietro leaned forward, trying to get a better look. “What is it?”

“Right before he left, he emptied his account.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Hang on. I might be able to trace where it went—” James trailed off.

“What is it?”

“He—” James peered at the records. “A large percentage of it was made out as a check. To the Ateliers.”

Pietro didn’t speak. If he opened his mouth now, he’d vomit.

“The remainder appears to have been withdrawn, though I’m not sure why.”

The cabin was mercifully silent as James immersed himself in parsing through the records. With nothing to do and only his thoughts to preoccupy him, Pietro returned to the window. It was several minutes before James spoke again:

“It’s going to be a while before we land. Try to get some sleep.”

When he trusted himself to not be sick, Pietro answered. “I’m okay, James.”

It was a lie. And judging by James’ expression, he didn’t believe it either.

“General Ironwood.” A woman of remarkably short stature saluted them. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

“Likewise, Caroline.”

She fell in step beside him while her two subordinates took up positions at the rear. For every one step James took, Caroline had to take three.

“Anything to report?” he asked.

“We’ve been monitoring the building from afar for the last half hour. We haven’t seen Dr. Watts enter or leave.”

James didn’t comment. Rather, he quickened his pace.

“Do you have any orders for us?”

“The manager will be expecting us, although she wasn’t fully informed as to why. I want you and your team to start in his room, then sweep the premises while we interview the staff.” He stopped with his hand on the glass doors, and gave her a hard stare. “Do not, under any circumstances, harm him. If the situation becomes dangerous, you are to either deescalate it or wait for me to join you. Do I make myself clear?”

She grimaced. “Yes, sir.”

A woman with a sheet of long, violet hair stood waiting for them in the lobby. “Welcome, General Ironwood. Dr. Polendina.” She offered a shallow bow. As she rose, she registered the accompanying operatives, and her eyes flickered with unspoken questions. “How may I assist you?”

“We’d like to speak with you, along with any staff that may have interacted with one of your guests.”

The manager glanced at Caroline. “Are we in danger?”

“No. Not likely,” said James.

The manager didn’t look reassured, but she didn’t protest. “Very well. Please follow me.”

She guided the small group to the front desk where the receptionist sat, their eyes wide in bewilderment. “May I have the guest’s name?” she asked.

“Arthur Watts,” James said.

Without prompting, the receptionist keyed in the name. “Uh. He’s in room 3A.”

James turned to the manager. “May I have your permission to send my team upstairs?”

“Go ahead.”

He nodded. At once Coraline and her subordinates dispersed.

The manager waited until they’d filed into the elevator before she spoke: “You said you had questions for me?”

“Along with any staff that interacted with him,” James clarified.

“I’ve interacted with him.”

The receptionist seemed to regret that decision the moment three pairs of eyes turned on them. Nevertheless, they continued: “The guy with the mustache, right?”

Pietro’s pulse stuttered sharply. “When did you last see him?”

“This morning. He left over an hour ago. Said he was going for a walk.”

It took every shred of willpower Pietro had to not run out those doors.

“Did he leave with any belongings on his person? A bag, perhaps?” James asked.

The receptionist shook their head. “No, sir. Just his wallet and his room key, like he usually does.”

Pietro swapped a look with James, before turning back to the receptionist. “What do you mean by ‘usually’?”

“This is the time when he usually goes out. He stops to talk to the receptionist—well, me, I guess—and then heads out for a few hours. Comes back around noon, grabs lunch in the dining hall, heads back upstairs. Goes out again around five o’clock, and comes back some time after seven.” They gave a helpless shrug. “I—I guess he has a routine.”

Some of the tension left James’ shoulders. “It’s possible Arthur did in fact come here just to destress,” he said.

What should have been a reassuring thought made Pietro want to sink into the ground in mortification. He could only imagine what Watts’ face would look like when he returned to the hotel, to find that Pietro had brought along the entire cavalry. All because he assumed his friend had a death wish.

Pietro was dragged out of his pity party by James’ next question: “Do you remember anything specific about his behavior? Anything that might have looked or sounded strange?”

To his surprise, the receptionist looked guilty. “Well…” They glanced at the manager.

“Whatever it is, you’re not in trouble,” she said.

The receptionist hesitated a second longer, before heaving a reluctant sigh. “You get a lot of guests in a place like this, right? So you don’t always remember all of them. Not unless they stand out in some way. He…” They paused. “He’s been nothing but polite and friendly to all the staff.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly noteworthy,” James observed.

The receptionist fidgeted. “No, it’s not that. It’s not just that. He tipped us well.” They swallowed. “Like, really well.”

The lingering dread from earlier resurfaced. “How much did he tip you?” Pietro asked.

They averted their gaze. “Ten thousand lien. Each.”

The dread beat savage wings against his ribs.

Out of his periphery, James stepped off to the side with a finger pressed to his earpiece. A second later his face went unsettlingly blank. “Excuse me,” he said. “I need to speak with my team.”

Pietro dimly registered his departure. He looked between the two hotel staff, his mind frantically scrambling for an explanation other than the one he didn’t want to hear. “Did he say anything?” he asked. Begged. “Anything that you might remember could help."

They considered his words with renewed thoughtfulness. “When he’d come back from his walks, I’d ask him how he was—the regular sort of small talk you’d make with guests. He told me that he went down to the beach. When I asked him, ‘Did you do anything while you were there?’ he said, ‘Not today. Perhaps I will tomorrow.’”

“Pietro.”

James had returned.

Coraline and her team hurried through the lobby; he could just make out “mobilize search-and-rescue” being barked into her earpiece as they rushed past.

He regarded Pietro with pale, haunted eyes, before slowly holding out his hand. “I’m sorry.”

A note hung from his fingertips.

After four days of searching, Arthur Watts was declared dead.

James scrubbed at his face. “I already told you, Camilla,” he sighed, as the doors slid open, “I’ll have it resolved once I—oh, Pietro. I didn’t realize it was you.”

Pietro managed a weak smile. “Disappointed to see me?” he asked, as he strode into the room.

“Relieved, actually.” James set aside some manner of document he’d been working on. “I was half-expecting another lecture.” Pietro accepted the tacit invitation to join him, and eased into the chair. “What can I do for you?”

Pietro tapped his fingers against the armrest. “I need a favor. A big one.”

“Why do I get the impression I won’t like what you’re about to ask me?”

“Because you won’t.”

Predictably, James wasn’t amused, but he didn’t try to bodily throw him out of the room, so that was a good start. “All right,” he said. “I’m listening.”

This conversation had sounded so much easier in his head. Pietro contemplated which option to take, before deciding on the direct approach: “Did you ever look over the report Arthur wrote after the surgery?”

It was brief, but Pietro didn’t miss the flash of regret James very neatly concealed behind unwavering calm. He steepled his hands. “I did,” he answered.

“Did you see the post-op notes?”

“I did.”

“But did you read them?” he pressed.

There was a hint of humor in his reply: “I read them to the extent I could understand them.”

Pietro braced himself. “I took another look at his work on Auratic intercision. He did it, James.”

When the other man said nothing, he hurriedly launched into his speech. “Even though the initial attempt failed, he managed to deduce what went wrong during the procedure. I won’t waste your time with all the technical mumbo jumbo, but I did the math. Split-Aura transfer is possible.”

He held James’ gaze. “We can finally build Penny.”

For a moment that stretched into eternity, James remained silent. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and opened them again. “You want my permission, to use the same research that nearly got him arrested, to complete your project.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Pietro said.

“I can certainly appreciate the irony, if nothing else.” He narrowed his eyes—thoughtfully, not in anger. “This wasn’t an idea you came up with overnight. It’s been nearly two months. Why did you wait this long to bring it up?”

“It’s as you said: it’s been two months. The last of the journalists have retired the story. People are no longer fixated on the proceedings. No more controversy, no more public backlash. The scandal died with him.” It hurt to say, but Pietro pushed onward: “Synthesizing an Aura has proven impossible, but now, we have a viable alternative. We can’t bring Mia Atelier back. But perhaps we can give someone else a chance at life.”

He waited.

At last, James nodded. A breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding left him. “You have my permission.”

“Thank you,” Pietro said.

“There’s just one problem.”

James regarded him intently. “The procedure requires a donor, does it not? You need a volunteer.”

Pietro straightened. “You’re looking at him.”

It had been a while since he last had the chance to sit and diagram.

A combination of blueprints, tablets, and holographic projectors were scattered about the desk. Other than the sleepy hum of the generator, and the scratching of pen against paper, his office was silent. The ambiance gave Pietro a pleasant rhythm to work to as he alternated between mediums.

He was in the middle of diagramming the thrusters when a voice spoke up from behind: “Burning the midnight oil?”

Pietro gladly accepted the mug James offered him, as he occupied the empty seat. “Just getting a little more work done before I call it quits.” He grinned. “I just finished the template for her skeleton. It’s on the tablet to your right if you want to see it.”

“This one?” James picked up the tablet in question.

“Swipe left, it’s the first file.”

The device lit up in his hands. James made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat as his eyes darted across the screen.

“What do you think?” Pietro asked.

“I think”—he continued to skim through the files—“I picked the right proposal.”

He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words until he felt a hot, stinging sensation in the corner of his eyes. He tried to discreetly dab it away.

Not discreetly enough, it seemed. James shot him an inquiring look.

“Oh, don’t mind. I’m just a little sensitive right now.” Pietro ducked his head. “It’s not every day you get to become a father.”

James wore a knowing, if somewhat bemused smile, but he was considerate enough to not say anything. He turned his attention back to the files in his hand.

“A lot of those are aesthetic mock-ups. I haven’t finalized anything, so if you want to throw in your two cents on the design input, you’re more than welcome to.”

“Did he know?”

Pietro’s hand stilled over the parchment. When no elaboration was forthcoming, he lifted his head to deduce one for himself.

His pulse beat painfully beneath his skin.

The file on the screen was one of the earliest drafts for Penny’s design. It was also one of the only files to have received a color palette. Red hair hung in thick curls about her pale face. Her cheeks were flecked with freckles that contrasted just enough to be visible, just below her eyes.

Eyes that were a very familiar shade of green.

He didn’t say anything for several moments. He debated saying anything at all.

But there was no judgment on James’ face, no hint of contempt in his voice. Only sympathy.

“No,” Pietro answered. He let out a tired sigh, and set the pen down. “And he never suspected. I made sure of that.”

“You didn’t want to tell him?”

“I wanted to tell him for a long time." He closed his eyes. "I’ve spent the last four months regretting every day that I didn’t. And on every one of those days, I wondered if telling him would have made a difference.”

“It’s not your fault,” said James.

“I know.” Pietro reached for the photo on the edge of his desk, and gently lifted the frame into his hands. It was the last picture the team had taken together. “It doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone.”

He lifted his eyes to the file in James’ hands, to the image of the young girl staring back at him.

“But maybe, through someone else—someone new—he can still be here.”

“Dr. Watts?”

Watts lifted his head from the chart he'd been reviewing.

At the entrance of his lab stood Hazel, his expression as impassive as ever.

“We have a meeting to attend.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Watts smoothed down the front of his coat. “Tell Salem I’ll be right there.”

Guess I've got some explaining to do. For anyone curious about my RWBY worldbuilding and headcanons:

Pietro not being disabled prior to the start of the series - We have no confirmation of this in canon, but I think that donating a percentage of his Aura to Penny has slowly chipped away at his health. I based this partly on the fact that in the show, the areas on his body where his Aura has been excised most prominently are over his legs and lower torso. If donating too much of his Aura is fatal, then it stands to reason that there are intermediary complications between points A and D - loss of mobility in his legs, chronic respiratory illness, worsening vision, and so on.

Archotherology (Gr. archo-, ruler, + -thero-, beast, + -logy, study of) - The study of Grimm.

Pneumatophysics (Gr. pneûma, soul, + -physics) - The study of the soul and its physical manifestation, Aura.

Apothymetics (Gr. apo-, derived from, + -thym-, soul, + E. -ics, from [?] Gr. -ikós, pertaining to) - The study of Semblances; a subdiscipline of pneumatophysics.

Auratic disease - An adverse condition that typically affects a person’s Aura, and by extension, their Semblance. Auratic diseases are generated by plague-type Grimm, and then transmitted to people through proximity. Watts' research simulated an Auratic disease, which is why Pietro later acquires a manmade version of CAD. You can click here to read more about them.

Evadne - A coastal city in southern Solitas. Named after the Greek figure Evadne, the wife of King Argus.

17 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

Text

I Hope Some Day I'll Make It Out Of Here (Even If It Takes All Night Or A Hundred Years)

Lance & Team Voltron (Voltron), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, 4.7k Words

Part of Langst Week 2022 (@langstron) – Day 1 (Isolation/Secrets)

Summary: The airlock incident may have fucked Lance up more than he’s willing to admit. Unfortunately, he does something about it.

Content warning for severe description of a panic attack.

---

“If you check your messages, you’ll find an Excel file – yes Keith, I know it’s not actually an Excel file, please hold the commentary – of our chore lists. They rotate every week, around our schedules. Look through them, and if there’s a problem, be sure to let me know.”

Lance turns on his holopad, opening his messages, and – yep! There it is. To Shiro’s credit, it really does look like an Excel file. He scrolls down his section, seeing he’s got laundry duty today, kitchen tomorrow, and – he tenses.

Pod duty.

Okay. Okay! This is fine. He can get around this. Scrolling through the file as a whole, brain whirring, he sees that the pods need to be cleaned every week for maintenance, and again after every use. He’s cleaning them first, then Hunk, then Keith, all the way to Allura herself. He thinks back to scattered conversations he’s had with the rest of the paladins. He knows Hunk cannot stand doing laundry. Pidge hates anything to do with vacuuming. Keith loathes doing dishes of any kind, and Lance has heard Adam complain enough to know Shiro cannot cook for the life of him. He’s not sure about Coran and Allura, but with a couple trades and a few strategic illnesses, Lance is certain he can get away with never going near those death traps again.

Not that anyone can know. He’s not… afraid of them, per se. He’s just logically avoidant! The clammy hands and laboured breathing when he thinks of the pods isn’t a terrorized trauma response, it’s just his hippocampus recognising danger and producing the proper chemicals to steer his body away from the potential life-threatening scenario!

Yeah, okay, maybe the haunted castle incident messed him up more than he’s willing to admit. Whatever. It won’t affect his life, he doesn’t need to tell anyone. He can for sure just avoid the damn things until the fear goes away. Right?

Right.

—

Luckily for Lance, he’s not the only person on this ship who grew up with siblings. Everyone here knows the art of chore trading.

He catches Hunk in the morning, holding a laundry hamper far away from his body and scowling at it.

“Hunk! Buddy, pal, light of my life!” he calls, forcing himself to sound cheerful and possibly even mischievous. He cannot sound desperate, that’s Negotiation 101.

Hunk squints at him suspiciously. “You only call me ‘light of your life’ when you want something,” he accuses.

Lance clutches his hand to his chest. “You wound me!” he gasps dramatically. “I am heartbroken! The disdain, the accusations – baseless, if I may add – maim me so! My heart! My feelings! My delicate composition –”

“What do you need, Lance,” Hunk interrupts, but he’s grinning.

Ha! Lance’s dramatics do come in handy, thank you ever so much. He made a grumpy Hunk smile.

“I have actually come to offer you something, from the generosity of my own heart,” Lance says. “You see, my dearest friend, my love, the man after my own heart –” Hunk rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop Lance’s theatrics – “I know you despise laundry with every part of your soul. So I, the gracious do-gooder that I am, am offering a trade. A switcheroo, if you will. I’ll take your horrible laundry duty today, and you get to do the slightly less horrible job of cleaning the pods.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow, but he thankfully looks like he’s considering the offer. “What’s in it for you?”

Not having a panic attack, Lance thinks, but he obviously doesn’t say this. “You not telling Shiro we switched so I can safely and subtly snoop through Keith’s shit and he thinks it’s you,” Lance says instead.

He came up with this lie last night, and he’s pretty proud of it. It’s not even fully a lie, either – he’d love to snoop around Keith’s room a little, and he knows Keith will expect Hunk to do it, so he’ll expect his stuff to be messed up a little, and Lance will gain information to give him the upper hand in future bantering. Also, this way, no one else knows Lance is switching, so no one will get suspicious about his lack of pod-cleaning time.

Hunk ponders this for a moment, but seems to decide that he’s down, because he nods, nudging the laundry hamper over to Lance.

“Deal, but if you get caught with the laundry hamper, I’m not coming up with a lie, and you’re on your own.”

“Sure!” Lance agrees, picking up the laundry hamper and turning away. “You’re welcome, Hunk!”

—

The rest of the negotiations are much of the same. Lance comes up with subtle and believable little white lies to convince everyone to both switch chores with him and keep quiet about it. So far, it’s been seven months of being in space, and he’s only been back into the MedBay a handful of times (each time for minor injuries that he was luckily able to hide from the team. Although the injuries weren’t hugely disabling, or anything, they were big enough to land him in a pod if they’d been noticed – think broken ankles, deeper cuts that would need stitches on Earth, light concussions – which would have been disastrous, because Lance can’t get within one metre of a pod without feeling his vision blur and hands start to shake. The only other times he’s been near a pod have been after a deadly mission when he’d been unconscious or delirious – if someone tried to force him into one of those death traps while he’s fully aware of his surroundings, he knows he would have skipped right into the panic attack of the century and the ruse would be over).

Honestly, Lance is starting to feel a little guilty about it. Since he’s switching chores with people, he’s technically doing the same amount of work as anyone else, but he still feels like he’s been getting special treatment. Sometimes, someone will start a conversation about chores, and inevitably, someone will complain about the pods, leading to a group session of moaning and whining about the dreaded chore. Lance feels his soul weigh heavier every time he joins in with a false laugh and a fake story.

He is a fraud, and he needs to fix this.

The next time his turn to clean the pods rolls around, Lance takes a deep breath, and he doesn’t go to anyone else. He doesn’t fake a migraine, he doesn’t cajole Pidge into switching around their schedules, nada. He waits until everyone’s busy and won’t come find him (no one can know how bad he’s let himself get), grabs some cleaning solution and a couple rags, and marches to the MedBay.

As soon as the door closes behind him, he feels like the room gets smaller. His vision begins to narrow, and his palms start to sweat.

Shit. Usually he can go a lot farther than this. Just yesterday, he very nearly touched a pod before he started hyperventilating. He feels like he’s destroyed all his progress.

Fuck, maybe he should have waited a few more months. He still can’t touch the pods without visions of suffocating to death where no one can hear him scream.

He shakes his head violently, desperately attempting to force himself to get over it.

It’s a fucking pod. A machine. Shiro was tortured by Zarkon and his goons for a year and still manages to wake up and fight him every day, so what audacity does Lance have to be so batshit terrified of a stupid piece of glass and metal?

He grits his teeth, grabs a rag, and forces himself to walk over to the nearest pod. He blinks the tears from his eyes, wrenching his unwilling arms to move. He reaches out, touching the glass of the front and –

He gasps, doubling over. Fuck. He can feel his breaths coming shorter and shorter, can feel the cold sweat plastering his hair to his forehead.

Okay. Okay. This is fine. Twenty more seconds of panic, and then he’s going to get the fuck up and continue cleaning.

He desperately tries to slow his breathing, counting slowly to twenty, then pushes himself to move back over to the pod. He sprays the glass and starts scrubbing, hands trembling. Every couple of minutes, he has to remind himself to breathe, gulping in air with shuddering breaths. He can feel tears dripping down his face, and he gives up trying to hold them back. He’s too busy forcing himself to stay put.

After the entirety of the exterior has been scrubbed as much as he can (and he knows he’s done a shoddy job. There are probably streak marks everywhere, and he’s most likely missed several areas. But he can barely see through his tears anymore, and he’s only done one fucking pod – not even – so he’s going to cut himself some slack), he collapses to the floor, dropping the rag.

He presses his forehead to his knees, gasping for breath.

Okay. This is not great. He’s having a genuine, real-life panic attack, blurry eyes and all. He stays there, choking and wheezing, terror coursing through his veins, for who knows how long. This panic he’s feeling right now is a hundred times worse than any mission. A thousand times, even, and he hates himself for it. He faces horrible things everyday, getting shot at and fighting and everything, but cleaning one measly pod is his downfall? This is what will bring the Blue Paladin to his knees? A chore?

An indeterminate amount of time later, Lance manages to calm himself down enough to breathe a little better, although he can still see black spots dancing in front of his eyes and his limbs are still trembling. He shakily reaches out, grabbing the rag from the ground (which has almost completely dried up, yikes, how long has he been crying) and squares himself in front of the pod.

Okay, now the inside. Crawl inside, scrub it quickly, crawl back out. No more than five minutes. In, out, next few pods, then you can go to your room and cry for a few hours, Lance reassures himself. Everything will be okay.

He takes a shaky breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and quickly crawls in. He grips the rag, feeling his hands touch the inside of the pod when the texture of the floor changes. He forces his eyes open and starts scrubbing the floor of the pod, rapid-fire. He is so past caring if the pod is cleaned well.

Once he’s given the floor a cursory wipe-down, he takes one more deep breath and wrenches himself upright before he loses his nerve. He turns around, now fully in the pod, and begins wiping down the wall. He’s barely looking, washing blindly. He reaches up, meaning to scrub the ceiling, and his heart drops to his feet when he hears a soft ‘beep’.

He whips around, mute with horror, just in time to see the glass of the pod close around him.

Any earlier panic pales in comparison to what he’s feeling now.

He screams, at the top of his lungs, as loud as he can, but he knows it’s futile. He knows how the pod mutes noises, how it creates its own silent environment. He pounds on the glass, kicking and slamming and shoulder-checking it until he’s bruised to hell, but he can’t feel anything but the terror and panic clouding every one of his senses. He scratches at the seams of the door, pulling until his fingernails crack and bleed, to no avail.

He screams, and screams and screams and screams, but there’s no point. He’s alone. He’s going to die.

And no one is coming to save him.

–

It’s been a relatively normal day, so far. She’s organised a few Coalition meetings, drawn up some training simulations with Shiro, and finished her chores. All Allura has left to do now is meet with the rest of the paladins for dinner, and then she’s free for the evening.

As she enters the dining hall, she notices fairly quickly that everyone is present except for Lance. That’s… unusual. He is usually among the first to be here. He tends to be on the early side of punctual, uncomfortable with making others wait for him. His tardiness is a step outside the norm.

She shakes her head, dismissing her worries. He mentioned he was going to try and do some individual training, today, so he has likely simply lost track of time.

She greets the paladins (and Coran!) as she walks in, grabbing a bowl of goo and sitting down next to Pidge.

There’s a lull in the conversation as she joins them, so she starts it back up again. “How was everyone’s day?”

There are several comments, ranging from ‘meh’ (Pidge) to ‘super duper awesome!’ (Hunk), but Allura is pleased to note that no one has had a bad day at least.

“I managed to beat level twelve in the sim,” Keith shares. There’s a chorus of congratulations, and Allura smiles brightly at him.

“That’s wonderful!” she praises. “Oh, also, did you happen to see what Lance was doing while you were in the training room? I haven’t seen him in several vargas, and it’s unlike him to be so late.”

“Lance wasn’t in the training room,” Keith says slowly. “At least, not that I saw, and I’ve been in there for the past few hours.”

Allura frowns. “That’s strange. He told me he was doing individual training during this morning’s briefing, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“That is odd,” Shiro agrees. “Has anyone else seen him?”

Everyone shakes their heads, and an air of worry permeates the room. Usually, Lance makes a point of seeing everyone a few times a day. Out of all of them, except maybe Coran, he is the best at keeping a schedule and usually shoulders the responsibility of keeping everyone else on task. He does, occasionally, get caught up on a project, but he can often see that coming and will make sure people knows where he is beforehand.

“Okay, I’m kind of freaking,” Hunk says, wringing his hands. “Maybe we should go look for –”

Just then, there’s a powerful roar, so loud it shakes the very foundations of the ship. Allura whips her head to the door, eyes wide. “That was the Blue Lion,” she says, standing up. “Something is wrong.”

The six of them swiftly make their way to the bridge, tense. As soon as they arrive, Podge pulls up the castle’s systems, flicking through the cameras.

“When was the last time anyone has seen Lance?” Shiro asks.

“I saw him at the briefing, and that was it,” Hunk says. Keith nods in agreement.

“I’m loading the BLIP program now,” Pidge interjects.

Shiro nods at her, opening his mouth to ask another question, but Coran speaks up before he has the chance.

“I saw Lance briefly in the hallways a few vargas ago. He was carrying some cleaning supplies.”

Before anyone else can comment, Pidge jumps up from her seat. “He’s in the MedBay!” she yells. Everyone runs to the door, wondering what the hell is wrong and unwilling to wait.

Allura, shifting her legs to be longer, is the first through the doors, Coran and Keith right behind her. What she sees makes her gasp, panicked, and she sprints for the pod on the far left, where Lance is trapped and panicking. She veers to the side, seeing Hunk run to the pod out of the corner of her eye, and punches in the pod’s release sequence as fast as she possibly can. The glass door swishes open, and Lance collapses forward, sobbing into Hunk’s arms.

Hunk doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his best friend, holding on to his waist and gently cupping one of his large hands around the back of Lance’s head. Lance is gripping onto Hunk’s shirt so tightly his knuckles have gone completely white, and Allura inhales sharply when she sees the blood smeared around his hands.

“Hunk, can you please take Lance to his room? Stay with him until he’s calmed down, message us as soon as he’s okay. We’ll join you.”

Hunk nods at her, and then scoops the rest of Lance up, holding him with the utmost gentleness. As soon as the MedBay doors close behind them, Allura turns to Pidge, who has tear tracks down her face and is picking her nails the way she does when she’s overwhelmed.

“Pidge,” Allura says softly, “can you access the MedBay cameras? I want to see if we can figure out what happened, so we can help Lance later.”

Pidge nods, sitting on the floor and pulling her laptop out of her bag.

As she types, everyone else sits in tense silence, wondering what the hell happened.

“That seemed… really severe,” Keith says quietly after several moments. “Do you think he’s claustrophobic or something?”

“You can’t be claustrophobic and qualify for the Garrison,” Shiro reminds him, equally as subdued.

“Yeah, but there was that airlock incident. I’d be kind of freaked in tight spaces if that happened to me.”

“The airlock incident?” Allura questions.

Keith tilts his head at you. “Yeah? When Lance got locked in the airlock and it was going to eject him, remember?”

Shiro, Coran, and Allura all give him a horrified look.

“What?!” they exclaim simultaneously.

“When the hell did that happen?” Shiro demands.

“During the haunted castle! Didn’t Lance tell you guys?”

“Lance very rarely tells anyone anything,” Coran says gravely.

“If he has developed claustrophobia – and I’m nearly certain now that he has – I can’t imagine the strength it would take him to clean the pods every few weeks,” Allura comments.

“I – I don’t think he has been,” Pidge says in a small voice. “You guys should probably see this.”

Exchanging wary looks, everyone crowds around Pidge’s laptop, which shows a paused video of Lance entering the MedBay. Hesitantly, she moves her mouse, clicking ‘play’, and everyone watches with bated breath.

Horrified does not begin to cover what Allura feels when she watches that video. Every part of her wishes she had never seen it, and is simultaneously relieved she has, if only so Lance doesn’t have to suffer through explaining it to them. Pidge could not even bear to watch, turning away when Lance really started to hyperventilate.

“How did we miss this? How did I miss this? I rescued him from the goddamn airlock! I should’ve known! I should’ve –” Shiro places a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder, silencing him.

“We all should have been paying closer attention, but we know now. We’ll figure out how to help him, so he never goes through… that, again.”

Allura closes her eyes, breathing deeply, but nothing stops the images of Lance desperately scratching at the door, fingernails chipping off, screaming desperately for help. She knows the fear in his eyes as he slammed his body into the door over and over again will haunt her nightmares.

“It’s been half a varga,” Coran says gently, after a moment. “I think now would be the time to check on Lance and Hunk, make sure they’re alright, considering. We can make plans after.”

There are nods of agreement, and then everyone makes their way to Lance’s room, solemn and silent. They gather at his door, pausing, and then Shiro quietly pushes open the door, peeking in.

“Can we come in?” he whispers.

Allura doesn’t hear a response, but presumably Hunk says yes, because Shiro steps back, allowing everyone to make their way in.

“One at a time, so we don’t let in too much light. He’s asleep.”

They file in, gathering at the foot of Lance’s bed. He’s in a restless sleep, cradled carefully and protectively in Hunk’s arms. Hunk is rocking, slowly, petting Lance’s hair. Every few seconds, Lance lets out the shuddering breath, leftover from a long period of tears and panic.

“He only conked out a few minutes ago,” Hunk says quietly. “He could barely even get any words out. Just kept begging me to stay with him, kept sobbing. I –” Hunk chokes on his own sob – “I’ve never seen him like this. Never. He’s never been so afraid. I must’ve reassured him hundreds of times, but it hardly did anything. He wasn’t really aware. I don’t even think he fell asleep, I think he couldn’t handle it anymore and passed out.”

There’s another period of silence, broken only by Pidge and Hunk’s tears, as everyone absorbs this information. Eventually, Keith takes it upon himself to explain the situation to Hunk.

“He tried to force himself to clean the pods, even though he’s traumatised by the airlock incident – he got locked and almost killed in the airlock when the castle got haunted, sorry for not telling you, I thought Lance already did – and had a pretty major panic attack. He accidentally pressed the close button from the inside and locked himself in, which obviously made it a million times worse. We think he’s been trading off and avoiding the chore, but I don’t know why he decided to force himself to do it today.”

Hunk closes his eyes, exhaling deeply. He looks forlornly at his best friend. “Why do you do this to yourself?” he whispers. He turns back to everyone else, eyes sad and hurting. “I think that’s a conversation for tomorrow. He needs rest.”

“Of course,” Shiro agrees. “We’ll wormhole somewhere remote, make sure we’re not going to get attacked, and we’ll make a plan to talk to him about this. Are you going to stay with him?”

Hunk nods. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if he wasn’t sleeping on me, I don’t want to let him out of my sight.”

“Good. I don’t really want him to be alone, either.”

“If I may interrupt,” Coran says. Shiro nods at him, gesturing for him to continue. “I noticed Number Four’s hands were pretty torn up. I think it may be prudent to go get some supplies to dress the wounds.”

“Good idea, Coran. We should get them clean before they get infected. Keith, you want to go with him?”

Keith nods, and the two of them quietly make their way out.

“I think the rest of us should make our leave as well,” Allura suggests. “I need Pidge to help me recoordinate for the wormhole, and perhaps you have some ideas to discuss with Lance tomorrow, Shiro. After that, I think we should all get some rest. Tomorrow will most certainly take a toll on us all, and today has also been difficult.”

The rest of the team says a quick good-bye to Hunk, going off to complete their tasks before bed.

As she sets up the wormhole, Allura sends a wave of gratitude to the Blue Lion. As horrible as today has been, she’s beyond relieved they were at least able to help Lance before it was too late.

—

As the castle’s morning light filters through Lance’s room, Hunk wakes from his doze. Although he knows it would have likely been best to rest up appropriately for the heavy conversation that’s bound to happen today, Hunk couldn’t bring himself to leave Lance fully, wishing to remain available whenever he needed the reassurance that he was safe. And he did need the reassurance, frequently at that – Lance must have woken in a panic over a dozen times over the night cycle. Thankfully, Hunk was able to calm him back to sleep every time, but it wasn’t a truly restful night for either of them.

After about a varga, Lance jerks awake, wide-eyed and panicked. Hunk presses a kiss to his forehead, rubbing his hand along Lance’s back, silently proving to him he’s out of the pod, he’s safe, and Hunk’s protecting him. Lance calms down considerably, but is still pretty tense.

“Morning,” he rasps.

Hunk winces. Lance’s voice is wrecked, and no wonder. “Morning,” he whispers back. “You wanna get up and get dressed? Getting these dirty clothes off might make you feel better.”

Lance nods, and Hunk helps him dress, because he’s too shaky to do it on his own. After, Hunk offers to go grab him a bowl of food goo, but Lance looks terrified at the prospect of being alone, so Hunk wraps a careful arm around his waist and helps him make his way to the dining hall.

When they arrive, the rest of the team is already gathered. They all face the door at the same time, expressions a mix of relief and sorrow.

“Hey, Lance,” Keith greets quietly.

Lance shoots him a small smile, carefully sitting down next to him.

“Hi.”

Once he’s seated, Hunk makes his way to the kitchen, quickly grabbing two bowls of goo and hurrying back to Lance. Lance takes the bowl gratefully, and starts to eat, although slowly to work with his trembling hands.

The room is silent, tense. Some people are eating, but mostly everyone is just waiting for the right time to bring up the elephant in the room.

Shockingly, it’s Lance that speaks up first.

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” he says, and Hunk watches as everyone visibly tries not to lose their shit, himself included.

“None of us are angry with you,” Allura reassures. “We’re just… very worried.”

“And a little confused,” Shiro adds. “If you’re up for it, we’d like to know why you forced yourself to try and do something you knew was going to hurt you. Again, not mad, just worried.”

Lance sets his spork on the table, pushing his bowl away. He’s silent for a while.

“I got tired of being a deadweight fraud,” he admits.

Everyone blinks, shocked and obviously not expecting that, but Hunk recognises it for the insecurity spiral that it is.

“Why do you think you’re a deadweight fraud?” he asks before Keith can say something. Hunk knows the Red Paladin is only indignant on Lance’s behalf, but if Lance feels like he’s in trouble, he’ll clam right up and the situation will only get worse.

“My whole… thing, with the pods, is dumb. Everyone has worse things to be afraid of, like real traumas and fears, and I’m terrified of a fucking piece of glass and metal. It’s stupid. Also, it’s not fair that I keep tricking everyone into doing the pod cleaning for me.”

“...Okay,” Hunk accepts, because he knows dismissing Lance will only make him upset. “I see where you’re coming from. Objectively, I know a year in captivity, or losing your whole family, may seem like worse trauma. But you very nearly were suffocated in an airlock, Lance; alone, where no one could help you. That’s also terrifying. That’s a near death experience. Remember what that psychologist said? About the drowning?”

Hunk is beyond relieved to see a hint of understanding dawn on Lance’s face. “‘Whether it’s in a puddle or an ocean, you’re just as dead if you’re drowning,’” he recites dutifully. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Keith says. “You had a real reason to be upset. Even if you didn’t have a reason, it would still be okay for you to have trouble with something. You don’t have try and force yourself to not feel pain. It’ll only make it worse.”

Lance is silent for a moment, before bursting into tears. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I didn’t want to be useless. I don’t want to get left behind.”

Before Hunk has the chance, Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s shoulder, pulling him into a tight side hug.

“No one is leaving you behind, you doofus. Come to us if you need help. Especially me – I knew you had that issue with tight spaces. I would’ve switched chores with you any day, okay? Promise you’ll come to me if you have an issue again.”

“You can come to any of us,” Shiro adds.

Pidge nods frantically. “Yeah! We all want to help!”

Lance nods, sniffling. He wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I promise. I’ll ask for help if I need it.”

Hunk lets out a sigh of relief, because he can see Lance is being honest. He believes them, believes they’ll help him.

He knows he’s not alone anymore.

107 notes · View notes

damnlance · 3 years

Note

Klance angsty prompt 6 please 👀

Klangst Prompt #6

6. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever”

Summary: Lately, Lance has been stressed beyond the point of breaking… The end of the war was 3 years ago and yet, it’s not enough time to pass for Lance to feel better. Not even close. Everyone has always called him a hero. And since the day they landed back on earth, everyone has gone so far to ask for photos and autographs and all that. These days Lance is sick of it.

Or; the pressures of being the ‘savior of earth’ has been building up inside of Lance, causing him to erupt on any and everyone.

Good thing he has his amazing boyfriend.

-there’s a slow start, but I PROMISE it’s klance so just keep reading!

-also galra (kitten) Keith ?? I love him

It all started with a fangirl just a few weeks ago.

Lance decided to walk to his favorite coffee shop one chilly afternoon. He woke up really late and was immediately craving something sweet yet bitter. And since he lives with most of his family, running out of coffee five days after buying a brand new pack of it is very common, especially when no one wants to buy more for whatever reason.

So there Lance was, walking down the street. Hands tucked into his blue lion hoodie (thanks to all the merch the fans of voltron have made over the years), making his way to the closest coffee shop near his home. And then he hears the high pitched squeal of a girl at least 10 feet away from him. Then 9 feet.. then 6.. then 4 because she’s literally running at him with the speed of a hundred cheetahs chasing a gazelle until she’s right there, face to face with Lance.

“Oh my god!!” She yelled, jumping up and down like some 5 year old girl getting a puppy. She was about 5’7, short brown hair and huge blue eyes that almost resembled Lance’s. She wore this giant faux fur coat and beanie to match, and her phone was IN LANCE’S FACE.

She was all over him and it was attracting others to stare their way. Lance tried to calm her down by smiling and using a little of his charm but it was just making the girl fangirl even more. So he took a picture with her to be on his way before the coffee shop got too busy. But she wouldn’t back off. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied with the picture, something about how her eyes were closed? Or how blurry it came out? Lance couldn't remember, he just wanted his coffee.

The girl kept hounding him and following him, demanding that he retake the picture with her. Lance let her down easy, saying how he needed to be someplace important and that he was running late. The girl kept pushing him. Following his every move, right on his heels. Begging, pleading with him to take more pictures because she ‘needed them,’ whatever that meant. Lance tried his hardest to be nice and polite because as a former paladin of voltron and as one of seven someone’s who have saved the entire universe, his image is everything. Without him or his former paladins, there would probably be no earth. So he stopped in his tracks and took a better picture with the girl.

He felt good to see her happy because of something that he had done. Plus he looked really good in that picture, who knew the earth’s natural lighting at 1pm could make his skin look so smooth? Once he gave his approval of the better pic, he was on his way again, hoping that the line to the coffee shop wasn’t even longer now. As he started to fast walk down the busy sidewalk, something yanked him back by the neck and he came crashing down. Literally. He fell right back on his ass and when he looked up, this same crazy girl was looming over him like a mad woman. With his blue hand-knit wool scarf dangling from her grabby hands. The anger that had been simmering in Lance’s gut was at a full blown boil and he was just about ready to explode. So.. he kinda did..

Long and embarrassing story short, Lance yelled at her. He snatched his blue scarf out of her hands so fast, it scared her, and as he rubbed his most likely bruised tailbone, he got in her face and began blaming her for the world's most horrible fan interaction. He was so angry, that he balled his fists, stomped his foot and had veins protruding out of his neck and forehead. He called her names and most likely spit in her face, but he didn’t care. And when he was done, he took a step back and examined the girl in front of him. She was folded in on herself, holding her arms close to her body as her bottom lip quivered and fat, giant tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked so.. mortified. And actually.. scared of him. Like if Lance were to say anything or move a muscle, she’d flinch.

Seconds later, Lance’s face softened into something regretful and he went out to reach for her, to apologize. But, like he knew she would, she flinched. And then hurried away like he was a mad man. All the while crying and clutching her phone to her chest. Lance felt absolutely demolished inside. He tried to go after her but his feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk. He didn’t even want his coffee anymore.

Thankfully, there were no viral videos or photos or posts about the incident. Lance ended up tracking the girl down a few days later and showered her with all the love he could muster, even taking as many pics as she wanted and liking them on Instagram when she tagged him. But.. something inside him still felt so horrible about the incident. For a moment, Lance had realized that he genuinely hurt that girl for no real reason. He just wanted some coffee but is coffee more important than the people who are thankful and want to show their gratitude for him for everything he did with voltron? If the roles were reversed and he stayed on earth, he would be bending over backwards to let all the paladins know just how thankful he was to live another day on their planet. That girl probably had family, friends, maybe a spouse and kids, and in the midst of that horrible battle 3 years ago, she most likely thought that one of those days would be her last with them.

It broke Lance’s heart thinking about it. He really hurt her. Sure, he made it right and she forgave him, but in that single moment, he actually hurt someone enough to make them cry, to make them run away from him. It was a terrible feeling. It wasn’t Lance. He never wanted that to happen again.

And at the same time.. he.. kinda never wanted to be the savior of earth. Not really.. he just wanted to feel like he had a place in the universe, and to know that he played an important role. That he mattered.

Guess he really matters now..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered..

The second he walked through the door, his phone rang. It was a three-way call with Hunk and Pidge. Lance pressed the green button to answer and placed the phone to his ear. Immediately, Hunk starts going on and on about how much he misses Lance and when the next time they’ll see each other will be. Lance smiled at his best friend’s inability to ever take a breath between sentences and replied with a warm ‘I miss you too, buddy.’ They got to catching up as Lance ordered his garlic knots and sat down at a private booth near the back of the place. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, especially when he got the call from his best friends.

Hunk tells him all the great things that’s been happening at the Garrison and even on the Atlas. He tells him how his restaurant is doing and how his family is doing and how Shay is doing. Pidge catches him up on things with her family, some new inventions she’s been working on, and how being the youngest teacher at the Garrison is going. Lance listens and gives his two cents on everything his friends tell him and honestly, he couldn’t be more happy for them. The way they were able to just get their lives together 3 years after the war is.. incredible. It made him think about everything he’s done since the war ended. Which wasn’t much.. he took over his family’s farm and brought it back to life, he helps out Colleen, Pidge’s mom, with medicine and finding cures to strange space illnesses with plants she has him grow on his farm, and his family’s market wouldn’t be as popular or swarming with business if he didn’t work there. Sad but true. And that’s really it. He hasn’t done much else. Nothing life changing or breathtaking like his friends.

But Hunk and Pidge don’t need to know that. So he simply replies with: “Oh, ya know.. same old, same old,” and hopes it works enough to keep the conversation flowing and follow up questions at bay. It does.

30 minutes into their conversation and Lance is starting to feel a little.. agitated. With the garlic knots consumed and digesting in his stomach, he sits in the booth, alone, listening to his friends go on and on and on about their perfect jobs and their perfect little lives. He gets lost a few times and at one point has literally no idea what they’re talking about. When he tries to ask what or who or even get the slightest details, Pidge lets out a sigh that Lance can’t help but feel like is out of annoyance. Lance sighs back and continues to stay silent because obviously he’s not getting anywhere. Why even bother putting him on a call that Hunk and Pidge could have just had on their own??

Balling his fist, Lance let out a loud, overdramatic sigh. He didn’t care if his friends heard it or how they took it. He was upset. The conversation between his two friends comes to a halt and then awkward silence. Pidge is the first to speak up with a:

“Something you wanna add, Lance?” The annoyance in her voice is very much there and Lance doesn’t miss it. He scoffs loudly and grits his teeth.

“No.” He says, voice deepening in anger.

“Oh really?” Pidge asks, poking the sleeping bear that lies dormant in lance. “Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Why don’t you stop being such a fucking child and tell us what’s bothering you this time??”

Lance damn near growls.

The line has gone quiet now. Hunk’s unsteady breathing is audible but other than that, silence. Lance digs his nails into the skin of his palms and tries to keep the angry tears in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. With a deep shaky breath, he smiles through the pain.

“You know what, Katie,” Lance spits and it makes Hunk gasp. “Fuck YOU and this stupid, shitty attitude you have all the time!”

“Oh, god..” Hunk winces.

“I don’t know what the actual fuck crawled up your ass,” Lance continues, “but I’m sick of it! I've been sick of it for years! I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut and quite frankly, I’m sick of YOU!”

Lance is standing up out of his seat now. His chest heaves up and down as the angry tears have fallen past his face and down his neck. His voice is two octaves deep from anger and the skin of his palm is bloody from how hard he’s digging his nails into it. The place has gone quiet now and Lance can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. So much for not drawing any attention to himself.

The line is quiet. Then, the sound of a huff of breath. A small laugh.. And then:

“Wow. Nice one, McClain..” Pidge’s voice is small, but so full of something. “Go screw yourself, you asshole.”

The call ends. Whether Pidge or Hunk ended it, is unclear.

Minutes pass, and Lance is still standing in the same place with the phone to his ear. Tears are running down his face, and his Altean marks are buzzing so loud in his ears. His heart is pounding in his ribcage and ice cold sorrow runs through his veins..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered...

Now, exactly 3 months since that little incident, Lance sits alone in his home. In his childhood bedroom he can’t seem to rearrange because he’s still holding out hope that one day he’ll turn back time and be his child self and get a redo on his life. But hey, it’s better this way. After the whole dilemma with Pidge, Hunk tried to call Lance to help but ended up getting his feelings hurt. Yep. By Lance. Because Lance is a big jerk and can’t stop hurting everyone around him.

So he hasn’t talked to Pidge or Hunk since then. Mostly out of guilt and shame because those two are supposed to be his bestest friends and he hurt them. Nothing he could say or do could make up for his selfish mind and stupid mouth. Lance had this whole plan to go to Shiro about it, to get his advice so Lance could make it all better.

But Pidge being Pidge.. texted the whole thing in their group chat and.. well.. everyone saw it. Shiro, Hunk, Matt, even Keith possibly! It got so bad that Lance’s phone kept going off with alerts from everyone asking what happened and what he said. Curtis tried calling him and left a few messages. Shiro left him a long voicemail. And of course the word traveled so fast that it reached New Altea and Coran got involved. Which caused Romelle to be involved, too. She gossiped to Acxa, who told her girlfriend, who happens to be Lance’s sister, Veronica. Veronica blabbed to Rachel, who blabbed to Marco, who blabbed to Luis.. who blabbed to Lance’s dad.. WHO BLABBED TO LANCE’S MOM. And boy did she have some interesting words for him in the SEVEN, LONG voicemails asking exactly ‘what happened’and ‘why The Holt siblings were so angry with him.’

Everything escalated so fast. Lance can’t even remember what he said. Or why he said it. Since the war ended, it’s been so hard on him. Sure, it’s been hard on everyone, but for Lance it’s been different. Everyone looks up to him for some reason and expects him to do so good and be the hero they all think he is, when in reality? He was just a leg…

Exactly what did he gain from being a paladin of voltron anyway?? Get banged up and bruised almost everyday he was out there? Have people on his case, constantly reminding him how unimportant he was to the team? Pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes and focusing on those when there’s a million other good things he’s done that towers over all the bad shit?? Sure, he returned home to his family who he literally missed and cried for every single day, but he lost the love of his life in the process.

To put it all out there, Lance didn’t really gain anything. He got to travel through space, which was his dream since he was a little kid, and then space chewed him up and spit him out as some fake hero with PTSD and other trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life.

So.. these past 3 months.

Lance has been sitting up in his childhood room.

Wishing he could use the power of Altea or something to turn back time.

And be his younger self.

His innocent self.

His happier self.

Back when he wasn’t so fucked up and had dreams and goals.

Back when everyone was proud of him.

Back to when he didn’t know who Allura was or that she even existed. Back to when Voltron didn’t exist either and everything was fucking fine.

Staring up at his ceiling, Lance counts the glow in the dark stars that he’s had up there since he was six years old. Somehow they’re still glowing and Lance is thankful for that because at 3 in the morning when the world is fast asleep and everything is pitch black, he could use the light.

It comforts him. Reminds him of a simpler, more happier time in his life.

Something sharp digs through Lance’s chest as he stares at those fake neon stars, and it hurts really bad. His breathing begins to quicken, matching the beat of his heart, and a lump finds its way up his throat. Tears pool in the rim of his eyes and spill down the corners, streaming down the sides of his face.

And they don’t stop. The stars get blurrier as Lance’s breathing gets heavier. His body begins to tremble with every hiccup of a sob that pours out of him and he’s crying so hard that his brain throbs in his head.

He curls in on himself in his bed and wraps his arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his space themed pillow. His Altean marks begin to buzz and glow and he can’t bring himself to care because all he wants to do is disappear.

Disappear from this game called life.

He types a text to Keith with teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Message.. deleted…

As 3 in the morning turns to 4, a pod lands in the grass just a couple yards away from Lance’s farm. Boot covered feet step out of said pod and touch the wet grass waiting for them. It’s still dark out and the only light visible are the fireflies that buzz around a pair of cowboy booted feet. Those booted feet begin to walk, carrying a tall, broad, raven haired stranger up a hill to Lance’s home. The frogs and crickets seem to grow louder as the stranger in black cowboy boots makes their way to the front porch and pulls back the creaky screen door to a cold, locked doorknob. A set of keys are pulled out and a specific blue key is pushed inside the lock, turning and unlocking the door. The stranger walks in and is instantly met.. with..

Crying??

“H-Hello??” The stranger calls out. “Lance?”

The crying stops.

It’s dead quiet..

The door shuts on its own and the echo around the house is eery.

Light footsteps descend the stairs and before they know it, the stranger is being tackled to the ground in a bear hug.

“Ah-! Lance!?” They yell as the duffel bag from their hand falls to the ground.

“Keith!!” Lance yells out, voice rasped from endless crying.

Keith can immediately hear it and wraps his arms around Lance so tight, holding him close. His eyes glow yellow, something that usually happens out of fear, anger, or protectiveness, and his lips protrude to make way for his double set of fangs that are ready to bite any and everyone.

“Lance!” Keith tries to sit up but is pinned to the ground with all of Lance’s dead body weight. “Lance, honey, are you hurt? What’s wrong??”

A hand through curly brown locks and Lance’s crying dies down. He snuggles his face into Keith’s neck and hiccups through a response. Something too incoherent for Keith to make out, but he feels it has something to do with why he was told to go home ASAP.

A few weeks ago, Keith was contacted by Acxa via video chat. They talked and caught up for a few minutes before Acxa told Keith the real reason for her call. She explained that Veronica was having a tough time reaching out to Lance and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Not knowing the full extent of the story, Acxa only told Keith what she heard from Veronica and others. Fearing the worst, Keith packed up his shit and set a course for Earth as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, there were some setbacks on his way over where he had to make a few stops to tend to aliens in need because after all, that’s still his job as a blade member, but when that got finished, Keith hightailed it over. His Galra instincts wouldn't allow him to stay away for much longer anyway and having accepted his galra side a long time ago, it would have been best for everyone to let him go home.

Keith now lays in Lance’s bed, every inch of Lance’s body wrapped up around him like a snake. Keith strokes Lance’s hair soothingly and holds him close to his chest, right over his beating heart. A deep, soothing purr emits itself from Keith’s body and calms Lance’s nerves right down to the bone. Keith knows how much Lance adoreshis Galran features and at this point, Keith would do absolutely anything for Lance to feel better.

They talked about everything that happened and are now in the cuddle stage. Lance has his eyes shut, listening to Keith purr just for him. Long limbs wrapped around every inch of his boyfriend while Keith’s long nails scratch at his scalp, life is so good.

Life is so good with Keith around.

“So,” Keith says, voice as calm as ever. “What exactly did Pidge say?”

“Oh,” Lance answers, his voice quiet as a mouse. “You didn’t see the messages in the group chat?”

“No.” Keith shrugs, laying his cheek against Lance’s forehead. “Been kinda busy.. And I actually don’t understand how a group chat works.”

That rises a chuckle out of Lance as he sits up a bit to reach for his phone on the bedside dresser.

“Idiot,” he whispers with a small smile on his face and it makes Keith light up, his purring becoming a bit louder.

Lance lays back on Keith’s chest as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. When he finds the message from Pidge, Lance clears his scratchy throat and sniffs.

“From Pidgeotto,” he starts, looking at Pidge’s name in their ✨Paladudes✨ group chat. “Just an FYI lance is a.. a total fucking jackass and I am no longer friends with him..”

Keith immediately frowns at that.

Lance continues. “He can suck my big toe for all I care. I’m done with him. Have fun being a lonely loser @LanceyPants.”

“What the fuck?” Keith says, eyes glowing yellow in the dark room. “Why would she say that!?”

Lance shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “Because she was right. I am a jackass..”

“Lance, no!” Keith sits up, bringing Lance with him. They sit side by side as Lance holds himself and looks down at his space blanket. He shrugs once and sniffs.

“Keith, stop,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look, I said some very hurtful things to her and she lashed out in a perfectly normal way..”

“Normal!?” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s phone and rereading the message again. “Jackass? Loser?? Come on, Lance, she’s completely bullying you and you know it!”

Lance whips around with an angry expression on his face “Because I deserve it!”

The room grows quiet. Keith takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab Lance’s shoulders.

“Calm.” He says, taking a deep breath for Lance to mimic. Lance takes a deep breath with him and lets it out. Keith begins to purr again and it calms Lance even more.

“I.. Sorry..”

Keith nods. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Lance’s tear stained eye.

“You know I would never hurt anyone on purpose..” Lance sniffs. “That’s not who I am. I’m just.. I’m tired of being this symbol of everything strong and good and brave.”

“Mhm,” Keith rubs Lance’s back, leaning in closer to him to nuzzle his forehead. Lance nuzzles back and Keith’s purrs.

“I keep.. I keep hurting everyone I care about..” Lance whispers in a voice so low and fragile, it nearly shatters Keith’s heart.

“That’s not true.” Keith pulls back a little to look into Lance’s teary blue eyes. “Lance, you are the most incredible, selfless, honest person I’ve ever known. You are strong and good and brave even if you don’t mean to be. Or want to be.”

Lance pulls away and stares at his hands. Keith keeps his eyes focused on Lance.

“I know you think you hurt that fangirl from a few months ago.” Keith continues. “Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or your parents or friend or family or whoever, but you could never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Lance shakes his head. “I already did. I hurt everyone.”

“And even if that’s true,” Keith grabs Lance’s hands in his own, “which it’s not, you’re not doing it on purpose. You have a right to your own feelings! And you have a right to speak your mind.”

“And what if that hurts people??” Lance looks up and meets teary eyes to indigo ones. “What if I accidentally hurt my mama or my sisters or brothers, or nieces and nephews because I can’t be who they want me to be, who they think I am!?”

“Lance,” Keith shakes his head.

“What if I hurt you???” Lance’s eyes go wide. He looks Keith up and down and exhales a panicked breath. “God, Keith.. wh-what if I hurt you??”

“Oh, Lancey,” Keith sighs that lovey-dovey sigh where his eyes go all big and black like a cat’s, and the purr in his chest gets louder. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever.”

Lance stares into Keith’s eyes like they’re his lifeline.

“B-but.. but what if-?”

“No more what if’s!” Keith cuts Lance off by covering his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, Lance. Are you listening??”

Lance nods repeatedly.

“Good,” Keith smiles, all crooked and cute and beautiful. “The only person you ever need to worry about hurting is yourself.”

And there it is. The one thing Lance has been dying to hear without knowing he’d been dying to hear it. It’s like a breath of fresh air, or cool rain on a hot and sweaty day. The permission he needed but didn’t really need. He has a right to care about himself and put himself first but whenever he tries, the guilt eats him alive. Why should he care about himself when he has to care more about others???

No. That’s not the case. It’s never been the case.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Keith finishes, stroking the endless sea of tears that are falling from Lance’s eyes. He strokes Lance’s glowing Altean marks and leans forward to kiss one softly. Lance trembles slightly, closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

“I’m sure Pidge has gotten over it by now,” Keith reassures. “She just has too much pride to make the first more and apologize. You know how she is.”

“Y-Yeah,” Lance hiccups, nodding.

“And Hunk?” Keith scoffs. “I bet your mailbox is full of letters from him, explaining how sorry he is and hoping you’re doing alright. You know if he can’t reach you from your phone, he has other ways.”

That makes Lance smile.

“There’s probably cookies on the way right now.” He looks into Keith’s eyes, exhaling a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Keith agrees, laughing that angelic laugh and showing off his perfect pearly fangs. Lance’s heart skips a fucking beat.

“And your fangirl?” Keith’s purring stops. “Well, she never should have gotten all up in your space that’s for sure. You had every right to punch her.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, face contorting into shock and confusion. “I-I didn’t punch her!”

“Really?” Confusion etches itself all over Keith’s features and he puts a finger to his chin. “I could have sworn I read that in your text.”

“No way, man!” Lance defends, waving his arms around. “Why would I ever in my life-!” He stops mid sentence to see the shit-eating grin plastered on Keith’s face.

“Just kiddin, lil lady,” Keith says in his best southern accent, smiling big and wide.

Lance bursts out into a fit of laughter, hitting Keith’s chest and arms and back. Keith shields himself and laughs, grabbing Lance’s arms and bringing him down onto the mattress. They fall back with Keith looming over Lance, his long raven hair surrounding their faces.

Lance stares up into those beautiful, indigo eyes and sniffs, unable to look away. He reaches up and cups Keith’s face, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s Galran stripe.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Keith asks in his softest voice, eyes roaming from Lance’s teary blue eyes to his luscious lips.

“Yes,” Lance nods, not even bothering to blink because if he does, he’ll miss Keith’s everything.

“Don’t let anyone get you down, my sweetheart.” Keith whispers, leaning in closer. “Ever.”

Lance nods.

“And if they do,” Keith’s face turns serious, indigo eyes going dark. “I’ll bite their throats out and hand them to you on a silver platter.”

“Keith,” Lance exhales, going red in the face and ears. “Holy shit, you can’t just say things l-like that.”

Keith’s hard demeanor falls as he giggles and leans in close. Before they close the gap between their lips, Lance whispers, “And hey. I thought pet names were my thing?”

And Keith kisses him to shut him up.

They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in years and it’s the greatest Lance has ever felt. Keith kisses like he’s starving for it, craving it so much more than air and it’s hot and powerful and so, so damn good.

Lance wraps his arms and legs around Keith’s body and kisses him back with fervor. He allows Keith to make him feel better, and kisses his pain away. Keith pulls away slowly, licking into Lance’s mouth before he does so. Lance lets out a small groan and smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking some hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I love you, more,” Keith whispers back, settling himself between Lance’s legs. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Lance looks away, sniffling a little. His eyes focus back to Keith’s and a small smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “But I know a great way you can make me feel all the way better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith smirks, burying his face into Lance neck to start kissing slowly. “And what’s that?”

Lance giggles like a little kid, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. When Keith pulls back, he trails his kisses up the side of Lance’s face and stops at his Altean mark.

“Make love to me,” Lance whispers, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. “Touch me all over and hold me until the sun comes up and just.. love me. Please..”

Keith’s face softens into something full of love and adoration. He moves forward to peck Lance’s lips, then his chin, and then his other Altean mark.

“Anything you want, my sweet..” he kisses Lance’s cheek. “Beautiful..” he kisses Lance’s jaw. “Amazing.. wonderful..”

“Alright, enough!” Lance laughs, slapping Keith in the back. His cheeks are on fire as he closes his eyes when Keith starts nibbling on his neck with his fangs. A chill runs down Lance’s spine and tingles to his toes, making them curl.

Keith sits up one last time and stares at Lance like he’s the world.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He says with the utmost truth in his sultry voice. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, letting his tears fall down his face and glowing Altean marks. “Together.”

And as Keith kisses Lance so lovingly, Lance can’t help but be glad that he can’t turn back time to be his younger self. Because with Keith around, he feels all the happiness in the whole world just like he did when he was young.

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

74 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years

Text

A heavenly reunion pt. 1; Queen x reader

*Author's note*

This is it guys. After almost 3 years of writing this series it's FINALLY come to the end. Like all good things, they must end eventually so here it is. The LAST chapter of my Rock Angel series.

I first want to point out the YEARS (except Freddie's death date) DON'T MEAN ANYTHING. I'M NOT TRYING TO PREDICT THE FUTURE OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. I just picked these random years to represent when the remaining members of Queen will pass, AGAIN THESE AREN'T REAL DATES AND I HOPE THEY AREN'T.

Pt. 2 will be up in just a few minutes so until then, enjoy this first part.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@queen-paladin

@sparkleslightlyy

@starswin

@labessieisallama

@isabella-bby

@naturalswifty89

@onebigfangirlworld

@ssa-sadboi

@5sos-wdw

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

@bohemiansweede

_______________________________________________________________

*3rd Person POV. June 23rd, 2051*

Rock star, animal rights activist, founder of organizations like ANGELS CURING AIDS, WORDS CAN HURT TOO; Victims and survivors of emotional and verbal abuse, and the ANGELS AGAINST STALKING that helps protect people from violent stalkers. Also apart of charities like the Mercury Phoenix Trust foundation. The Rock Angel (Y/n) Kline had lived a full life.

She continued to tour with Queen as they got many other partnerships throughout the years. But she most enjoyed collaborating with Adam Lambert as he reminded her of him, bright and ambitious just wanting to share his music with the world and he knew he could never fill in Freddie's shoes but he sure as hell made a name for himself in his own way.

She was also a part of the "Bohemian Rhapsody" film that had been made and got to know the actors playing the men that she had grown up with and came to see them as her true family. Ten years after the film released, her own story got to be told thanks to the rights of Paramount and the brilliant mind of Dexter Fletcher, who had directed the story of her boys and Elton John, another one of her dearest friends and mentors.

But now at the crippled age of 90, the Rock Angel now lived in the privacy of her home in London. She was forced to stop touring because just 3 years ago she was diagnosed with a form of dementia.

It was hard on her family and her 4 children and dozens of grandchildren even great-grandchildren to see the once strong woman they had once admired for so long and looked up to as a role model not only in music, but life.

In their current home of London, her husband of over 70 years Jack who had made a name for himself. After the whole stalking incident, Jack joined the ranks of the LAPD. He worked himself all the way to the top and became Chief for over 30 years before he retired by the time he was in his 60's.

He sat there by his wife's bedside stroking her long white hair as she lay there forced into bedrest. She looked up at him and whispered.

"Jack?"

"I'm here baby."

"Where are they? Where are my boys?" she asked.

"Our sons? They're just downstairs."

"No, no. I meant my boys." At those two words, Jack's heart broke as he looked at his wife sympathetically.

"Baby they've—they died. It's been so many years since they all left this world." At hearing her boys were dead, tears fell down her face but Jack held onto his wife and kissed the top of her head. "But I can show you their videos, if you'd like."

"Please. I need to see them. To tell them goodbye." Jack then reached for the I-pad and opened up the Youtube app and began typing in the very song that he knew he would need.

He knew his wife didn't have long and he wanted her to have one last happy memory of hearing the perfect song written by her boys.

Together they held the I-pad and soon the music video "These are the days of our lives" came on.

"Why does Fred look so sick?" she asked worriedly. Jack swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to explain.

"He was suffering from AIDS, and it—really affected him love."

"I wish I could've taken care of him." She said as she stroked the screen every time Freddie came on screen. At the instrumental break as she watched Brian skillfully play the guitar, she smiled and said. "Bri....he was such a good guitar player."

"He was, but nothing compared to you." Jack praised obviously playing favorites. He then took notice of his wife growing tired as the song ended.

It was time.

"It's okay baby, you can rest now." And she did just that. Her breathing slowed right as Freddie spoke the last 'I still love you' line and the video ended. "Goodnight my Rock Angel. Be with your boys once again." He then let out a sob as he leaned against his deceased wife.

At 10:45am on June 23rd, 2051 (Y/n) Kline was pronounced dead at the old age of 90.

Everyone who had collaborated with the Rock Angel or had looked up to her all gathered at her funeral. Close friends and family all came to mourn at the loss of the last of the greatest Rock and Roll singers. She was buried in her birth town of Leicestershire, right next to her real parents.

*My POV*

I felt peaceful. My mind was no longer hazy. I could remember everything once again, but what confused me was where I was. I found myself walking through a long corridor but as I passed a mirror, I stopped and backed up to find a shocking surprise.

I was young again.

I looked to be about the age of 19, when I first met the guys. My hair was in the same long wavy fashion I once had before I cut it. I stroked along my cheek just to see if this was real or a dream, but as I stroked it I found that it was. Suddenly a door opened before me and I don't know why but I found myself walking toward it.

Now I was in what looked like an office with everything you would see. Filing cabinets, a large desk filled with paperwork but what caught my attention was the abacus that stood at the front center of the desk.

"Ahh (Y/n) Kline, please come forward." I turned to see a man around his 60's with short black hair, a grim like face with sharp cheekbones and icy blue eyes. He wore a black business suit and he was intimidating but for some reason I came forward toward the desk.

He sat down and pulled out a file and began reading through it humming to himself then he said.

"Place your hand over the abacus." I looked at it to see that the color code was white and black. White at top and black at the bottom.

"What is this?"

"This shall determine your next step. Just place your hand over it and let fate do the rest." I didn't know what this was gonna mean but again I saw myself place my hand over it and the second I did, it started going frantic.

Moving up and down frantically with no one even touching it. It was mostly balanced most of the way until it finally majority of the counters went white. The man smiled and said.

"Give my regards to those Rockstar friends' of yours. I'll be looking forward to your next concert." He then snapped his fingers and everything went bright.

Next thing I knew, I heard the sound of birds chirping and felt the sun beaming down on me. I was then greeted with wide open fields and a giant house along with several barn-like homes. It was like Garden Lodge and Rockfield farm mixed into one.

As I stood a few feet away from the main mansion-like house I swore from the second window of the white satin curtains I saw movement. I walked towards the house and placed my hand on the doorknob, I paused for a few seconds before I finally opened the door. I walked in and it was exactly like Freddie's home of Garden Lodge.

I walked through the threshold to see the grand staircase to my right, the long corridor ahead of me and the entrance to the living room to my left.

"Hello?" I said as I stood there. It was then I felt something nuzzle between my legs and I heard a meow. I heard it again and I looked down to see a very familiar face. "Hey, Delilah." I picked her up and held her as she purred and nuzzled my face. I scratched under her chin and she lowered her head to lick my hand.

"No it should be more like this." I heard a low, smooth baritone voice say.

"No, no and no Mr. tuxedo! Bernie has it like this and it shall remain this way. He and I are the genius piano and songwriting duo and it'll stick to this rhythm and timing." Another voice boasted out.

Oh my god.....It can't be. I set Delilah down and she took off running up the stairs as I crossed the living room into the parlor where Fred kept his piano to see two men that I had not seen in forever.

"David? Elton?" I spoke up. The two men turned toward me. David looked so much healthier than last I saw him and he looked younger just like me, in fact he looked about the same age he was when he did Live aid as well as working on the Jim Henson project 'the Labyrinth'.

Elton on the other hand looked about the age from when he was first starting off, back before he began experimenting with all the drugs and all that. The vibrant ginger hair but he still had on those flamboyant sunglasses he always loved to wear.

"Is that—really you?" I asked bewildered.

"Oh shit it can't be. The high angel herself, the Rock Angel?" Elton dramatic tone.

"Yes, it's me."

"Ohh darling. Welcome home." David greeted me with a wide smile and open arms as he walked up to me. He embraced me as he chuckled warmly and said, "Did you have a good life darling?"

"Uh-huh. I had the best life." I said, my voice muffled within his blue suit.

"It looked like you did love." We separated and I couldn't help but admire just how healthy he was.

"How have you been David?"

"Much better darling. No more chemo, I can finally breathe again."

"That's good."

"Alright you overgrown smooth talker, let me at her now." Elton proclaimed as he shoved David aside and immediately came up and kissed both of my cheeks before embracing me. "Oh darling we sure have missed you."

"And I you Elton. Life just hasn't been the same without your music."

"Been practicing those scales I taught you?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes, whenever I could."

"That's my girl." He hugged me again and I buried my face into his shoulder.

"(Y/n)?" a choir of voices soon rang up. I felt my heart stop as I lifted my head, not believing what I was hearing. Elton let go of me and both he and David with soft smiles on their faces told me to go and see who it was. The four voices called out my name again.

I crossed through the parlor, ran across the living room until I came to the door and just halfway up the staircase, I felt my smile widen and tears fill my eyes.

"My boys."

"You're finally here!" Freddie proclaimed. My legs raced directly up the stairs and Freddie, Brian, Roger and John all gathered me at the center in a long awaited Queen group hug.

All I felt were arms wrapped around me tightly, kisses all over my head and face and gentle hair and back strokes. I don't even know how long we were in that hug for but I didn't care, all I cared about was the fact my boys were here all together. When we finally separated I finally got a good look at all four of them.

They were all so young and vibrant just like how I first saw them back in concert long before I became an intern, I would like to think they were now the same ages they were when they first played at the Rainbow back in 1974. Long hair and all.

"I can't believe you four are here." I praised.

"And we can't believe you're here. And with your long hair again, was this when you were most happy?" asked Brian.

"If by that you mean when I first became Miami's intern? Yeah, best day of my life. Do you guys hate it?"

"No darling we've loved you no matter what your hair length is." Freddie said as he stroked the ends of my hair.

"I only just hope you didn't bring along any extreme surprises. Belly button rings, more tattoos." Deacy teased me. I chuckled but felt tears fall down my face.

"Aww lovie what is it?" Roger cooed as I felt him rub my shoulder. All four of them looking at me with those concerned puppy dog eyes they all knew how to do.

"I'm sorry. It's just—I missed you four so much." They all awed as Freddie first took me in his arms and said with his head leaning against mine.

"I know darling. It seems like it's been forever since the five of us were together."

"Coming from you Fred you have no idea." I wept as I gripped onto him as tight as I could, burying my face into his long black hair which softly tickled my face.

God if there's anything I missed about Freddie, it was his warm hugs. They were always so warm and inviting, anyone who was lucky enough to be given any sign of affection from this loveable man was considered lucky, and I was fortunate to be one of those people, and now finally after almost 60 years, I was able to feel that affection once more.

We were now upstairs in the master bedroom to do some private catching up.

"Alright sister dear, come here you." Deacy said. I smiled and immediately went into his arms and he embraced me. As all of you know, after Freddie's death, Deacy was the one to take it the hardest. So much so that he hardly played at any Queen gigs except for maybe three occasions then by 1997 he officially retired and no one had heard from him since.

The guys and I respected his decision so in order to make sure he was alright, I kept in contact with Veronica and would occasionally ask how Deacy was doing as well as the kids. I had learned that the two of them had two more kids, Luke and Cameron and the two of them had been successful in their own ways, all of the Deacy kiddies had, especially Luke who followed in his dad's footsteps and played in a band of his own.

In fact with the permission of the parents, I had allowed my nephew Luke to play at a few of my tours, and god just seeing him play reminded me so much of his dad, not to mentioned he looked so much like him.

And it was an honor to play with a second generation of Deacon.

The sad news of Deacy's passing came to Jack and I from Laura on a cold November day in 2035. Out of the two of us, Jack was the most heartbroken because he not only lost a brother but his idol and mentor.

We were invited to the burial by decree of the Deacy clan but I made sure that through some makeup and wigs that Jack and I weren't recognized by press because we wanted this to be private. As Deacy would've wanted that.

"Ohh I've missed you so much (y/n)."

"Not as much as I missed you brother mine."

It was then my attention turned towards the last 2 members of Queen, the remaining members I kept working with till the end. Brian May and Roger Taylor.

Together in our lives after Freddie's death and Deacy's retirement, I had been there for everything Queen got to accomplish, and they did the same for me. In fact it was Brian who bestowed upon me my plaque to be initiated into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame before I was given my star right above Queen's.

I was also involved with some of the work they did for a little movie called "Bohemian Rhapsody", and they helped become a part of my movie "Set it all free Angel". I first turned my attention to Brian.

It had been almost 10 years since my movie came out and 20 for Queen's film Bohemian Rhapsody. I was in my home studio working on my next upcoming album when I had received a call from Anita telling me that Brian had passed away at the age of 93. It was a peaceful passing so he wasn't suffering or in pain which I was thankful for in a way, he's suffered through so much that if I wanted him to go out, it would have to be peacefully in his sleep.

The world was devastated at losing such an inspiring man. Not only in the music industry, but for his work in astrophysics, as well as the animal programs that he's helped funded and laws he helped raise awareness for.

When he died, I took over the business in his name and within 3 years; I finally helped get laws of abusing, harming or killing animals to be illegal and anyone caught doing that wouldn't get misdemeanors. They would face legal full sentencing of 20-50years in Federal prison. On the night the laws passed and I along with Brian's partnering animal rehab centers signed off on the law, I went to Brian's grave and told him everything.

I immediately glomped him into a hug and held onto his waist tightly. He embraced me back just as tight as I was holding him, me humming lovingly as I buried my face into his chest feeling him stroke down my hair. After what felt like forever, he separated from me and stared down at me with those loving hazel blue eyes of his as he placed both his hands at the top of my head before stroking them downward against each side of my head and ending by cupping my face in his hands.

"I am so proud of everything you've done (Y/n). I saw it all, thank you for continuing my legacy for animal rights."

"You taught me everything I needed to know about being kind and caring towards all creatures, so much so you helped inspire me to do my own animal rehabilitations and rescues. I just—wish I could've been there for you when you......"

"It was beyond your control love. But I didn't suffer. I knew you loved me, and would've done anything to come see me had you known. I never blamed you, so stop blaming yourself." I nodded as tears slipped down my face but with his thumbs he wiped them away before hugging me once more. I felt him kiss my temple before cupping the side of my face once more to kiss my nose.

Even as I got older and we were both in our senior years, he never once stopped with the nose pecks. I smiled and Eskimo kissed him before he pressed his forehead against mine. It was then I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned to my right to see Roger standing before me.

Besides Freddie's death, I think the most devastating thing for me was when Roger died. It was about a year after Brian's death when I had gotten a frantic call from my godson Rufus that Roger had been taken to the hospital because of a stroke. Without hesitating, I got into the car and raced to West London Medical Hospital, where I met up with the Taylor pride.

I was frantic with anxiety and fear that I would lose yet a 3rd member of Queen. Over 48hrs passed when Rog finally regained consciousness and I was sitting right there by his bedside holding his hand. He spoke so softly it was like whispers on the wind and the only thing he wanted to do was go outside.

Reluctantly the doctors allowed it so my godchildren, and his wife Sarina took him out to the hospital garden and allowed me some one on one time with him. But I didn't know that that would be the last time they would ever get to talk to him. The last words he ever spoke to me were and I still remember it to this day, even up here in heaven.

"Brian and Freddie have come to collect me, they send out their love to you and Deacy. Look after the old bastard for us." And I literally felt his life slip away from my hand as he died right there in front of me.

For months I was depressed. I was allowed to go to the funeral and speak my eulogy and I sang at his funeral, this time my own rendition of Phil Collins' song 'You'll be in my heart.' It was also because of his funeral that Deacy and I got even closer than we had in years.

He had secretly gone to both Brian and Roger's funeral but it didn't take till Rog passed for him to physically approach me and we both just wept and cried from losing a father, a brother, a great friend together.

Finally when I finally gained the strength, me and the Taylor children all took a picnic up where Roger was born and just looked out beyond the fields of where his childhood home was and reminisced on all the wonderful memories we had of our father.

And it was from his death I produced my album 'Papa Lion' and dedicated it to him; 'To my Papa Lion, and all the other father lions out there. Keep protecting your children no matter what'.

"You gonna get into these arms or what love?" he asked me. I spoke not a word but felt tears in my eyes as I raced up and buried myself into his neck and dirty blonde almost brunette hair. He held me and spun me around, kissing all over my face humming and moaning lovingly.

When he finally set me down, he cupped my face just like Brian did but he gently leaned forward and very gingerly headbutted my forehead and the two of us nuzzled each other, rubbing our noses together.

Like a father lion and his cub reuniting with each other at last.

I held onto his wrists which still cupped the sides of my face and just allowed my tears to fall out but I couldn't stop smiling.

"I hope those are happy tears." He said to me. I sniffled and nodded.

"Yeah the—these are....ha-happy tears." I choked out.

"You know you don't have to be so strong around me, right lovie?" It was then I just broke down and wept as I embraced him. "Shhh, shh. I'm here my lion cub, I'm here. Papa lion is here." He whispered in my ear.

"God I have waited so long for you to say that." I whimpered out to hear him softly laugh and just hug me tighter.

"Oh my darlings.....my heart.....it's too full!" We heard Fred exclaim out dramatically. We both laughed as I nuzzled deeper into my papa lion's chest, happy to finally be reunited with them.

After finally calming down, we were all just sitting around the master bedroom. I was up against the couch leaning against Deacy's legs as he was currently brushing and braiding my hair.

"So you guys continuing to rock it out here in Heaven?" I asked.

"Don't you know it darling. Every good singer who has helped made a difference comes up here and we continue to live a peaceful eternity doing what we were born to do. Be performers." Freddie stated.

"In fact we just had our concert the other night. We got to perform alongside the Beatles." Said Roger.

"Shut up! The Beatles?!"

"You know it love, Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr." Said Brian.

"Wow, I wish I could've seen it." I said.

"You will darling, we perform our concerts every single night. And it's always a mix mash of artists and bands collaborating together to perform the Greatest Heavenly Rock 'n Roll concert." Said Fred.

"Now that you're here poppet, you'll get the chance to perform with the best of the best." Said Deacy. I was flabbergasted.

"Holy......" I couldn't even finish it because I was just so shocked to think that I would be performing with the greatest artists long before my time and bands I wish I had the chance to record or perform alongside with. The guys all chuckled at me and I said.

"So that's why David and Elton were here."

"Mm-hmm. We're all performing together in tonight's show. Three artists of the 70's decade for the first time ever sharing the stage together." Said Brian.

"Ohh man what people would've killed to see that in person. I mean yeah you guys performed at the same venue like we did with Live Aid or did some recordings together but never all three of you guys on stage at once." I said.

"That's how it works around here." Spoke Deacy as he finished the last strand of my braid. I thanked him and observed the braid he had done and I commented.

"You've gotten better Deacy."

"Laura was good practice. My baby girl always wanted her hair braided."

"She may have gotten that from me, sorry." He playfully scowled at me but I cheekily stuck my tongue out at him. "Say Fred, where's Jim at? I figured if you were here, he would be too."

"Oh that man of mine, he's out tending the garden, come have a look." He escorted me to the back window and there I saw a field of flowers as far as the eye could see.

"Whoa. He's done all of that?"

"Been doing it since 2010 darling. Always a hard worker my husband. When he first came, I was worried he wouldn't like this appearance of mine, after all I didn't have my tache and my hair was much shorter than when I first met him."

"Jim loves you Freddie. He loves you no matter what you'd look like."

"And I did know. Turns out he's got a long hair kink." He whispered to me which made me choke out a laugh.

"Seriously?" He nodded ecstatically and that's when Deacy spoke up.

"We're still here Fred, no need to hear any of that."

"Oh god Deacy don't act so innocent. After all you were the one who wrote a song about pre-ejaculation." Deacy's mouth just gaped before turning stoic, and of course Rog and Bri were laughing their asses off. He turned to me and I shrugged saying.

"He's got a point."

"Okay yeah ha-ha fuck all of you."

"Oh come off it John. We mean no harm by it." Roger teased

"At least it's better than a car fucking song." Deacy fired back.

"That's not funny!" Roger proclaimed.

"It is kinda funny." Deacy sassed back.

"Okay, okay enough both of you. I had enough of your arguments to last an entire lifetime. I don't need to relive it now when I just got here." I stated.

"Sorry love." They both choired out.

"Oh (y/n), I do have a surprise for you though." Brian spoke up. I looked at him and said,

"What kind of surprise?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?" He said as he walked right up to me.

"If you tell me, I'll still act surprise." He chuckled and wrapped an arm around me.

"C'mon love, let's head outside." We soon went down the stairs and headed out of the house.

Brian lead me to an open field about a half mile away from the house. There was nothing but green for miles ahead.

"Brian what's this about?"

"You'll see." He then took his index finger and thumb and curled them inward like pinchers before placing them against his lips letting out a loud whistle. We stood there for a moment that was until I heard a bark. A very familiar bark. No it—it couldn't be.

Soon jogging up the hill about a mile away was a German Shepherd. His familiar traditional fur coat shined under the sun as he looked right at me. He let out a couple of barks and soon several more dogs came running up beside him.

They consisted of a golden retriever, 2 pit-bulls, 3 huskies (1 traditional black and white, another grey and white and the last one an auburn coloring), a collie, and 4 Labradors (2 blacks, a tan and one brown).

With each dog that this pack had, I knew every single one of them. I turned to Brian baffled and he just grinned at me before nodding telling me that they were who I thought they were. I turned back around and the German Shepherd let out a bark. I then let instinct take over and ran as I cried out.

"Bucky!" He soon came running after me, as did all the other dogs barking and panting as they all ran down the hill towards me. "C'mon kids! Come on!" I proclaimed. Each dog was running as fast as they could but Bucky and the black and white husky Shasta were leading the pack. "C'mon kids!" Bucky let out some barks as he raced ahead of Shasta and we met half-way.

Bucky leapt with both paws to my shoulders knocking me down onto the ground.

"Ohh Buck. I can't believe it's you! Ohh look at you boy! Good boy Buck!" A second later Shasta came up to me whimpering happily as his tail wagged. "Oh Shasta baby boy look at you! Hi~ Hi baby boy~." Soon enough my entire dog pack was all up on me grunting and whimpering happily as they all began to tackle me, wanting my attention and love.

Now while you all know I've had Bucky and Sammy as the family pets for Jack and the kids. The other dogs have a different story. The two pitbull brothers that I had named Titan and Bear were rescue dogs when I was a part of an actual rescue mission with one of my animal charities in saving dogs from a Mexican dogfight.

Whenever I was free from touring and recording, I made sure they were well taken care of and even let them stay at my home for awhile before they were finally adopted by a good family.

My triple threat huskies Shasta, Maya (the grey and white) and Eevee (auburn) were actually Kelly's dogs. Shortly after she left for college, she wanted to fill her house with dogs so she adopted these three and very often when she would visit or we would visit her, these troublemakers were always there. Sweet and loveable but stubborn little buggers but I wouldn't take them either way.

The Labradors were also rescue dogs that I helped out. The black one Raider and white one Rowdy were just left abandoned tied up in the backyard of their owners homes. The owners had abandoned them and left them for dead in the hottest summer of the year. But thanks to my team we got them out, sheltered and good homes but I occasionally checked in on them since I couldn't let them go.

The brown lab Cleopatra and the other black lab Midnight were once stray dogs till my son Freddie found them and gave them some food and water. Since he didn't have the heart to turn them to the shelter he adopted them. They even started their own little family since Midnight and Cleopatra were mates together and had many puppies together.

And finally the beautiful Collie was Jezebel. Jezebel was something special because she was actually my nana's dog. I hadn't seen her since I was probably five years old, she was already an old girl growing up but from what I remember, she was so maternal with me.

Whenever my nana was busy with something, she knew she could trust Jezebel with me.

After giving every single dog my attention I finally managed to stand up and see all the dogs in my life standing in a row.

"Jezzy, Bucky, Sammy, Titan, Bear, Shasta, Maya, Eevee, Cleo, Midnight, Rowdy and Raider. I don't believe it. Good doggies. My lucky dog pack. I can't believe you're all here. How did you find them all?"

"I was out strolling wanting to observe the stars when I found Bucky and Sammy. They immediately recognized me and just came running right for me. Soon enough they brought me to meet the rest of the dogs you've known and rescued. I was surprised about the collie but I knew she wouldn't be among them if she wasn't a part of your family."

"Yeah, Jezebel was my nana's dog. I called her Jezzy cause I couldn't quite pronounce her name. She was like my guardian dog angel. Always maternal until she passed away of cancer when I was just 5 years old." I walked up to her and pet her head and she leaned up against me. "She even saved me from almost being attacked by a stray dog one summer."

"Well I'm very glad she did." Brian said as he walked up and stroked her head and she gave his hand a friendly sniff and lick.

"And you took care of all of them?"

"Well I'm an animal activist through and through. If Freddie takes care of every cat that comes to Heaven, I thought I should take care of the animals I've grown fond of, but also the animals my little protegee has taken on herself. As well as the family dogs." I smiled and Brian and thanked him with a hug and he gratefully hugged me back.

As the day drew to a close and nightfall came, the boys had escorted me over to the Heavenly Concert hall. If we want to look at it scale wise, imagine it as Wembley Stadium during the time of Live Aid back in 1985. We drove in a royal golden carriage fit only for her royal majesties themselves.

"Wow, it's just like Wembley stadium."

"It is in a way, but it can fit an infinite amount of people. Any and all are welcome to watch us perform." Said Deacy.

"And we won't need to do soundchecks or anything?"

"Nope. This is heaven darling. Up here everything works to the full capacity and capability. No have to worry ever again about sound checks or power outages." Freddie stated. Our carriage soon stopped at the back entrance and the doors magically opened.

I stepped out first followed by Deacy, Roger, Brian and Freddie. Deacy wrapped his arm around me and guided me into the building and the five of us followed the sign down to the basement level where the dressing rooms were.

And it was like they said, I saw dozens of stars with the names of so many artists and bands before and during my time. Elvis Presley, Janis Joplin, the Beatles, David, Elton, Led Zeppelin, REO Speedwagon, George Michael, Phil Collins, Bob Dylan, and everyone and anyone you could think of.

"And here we are darling, your dressing room awaits." Roger said as he stood before a red door with a golden star with wings on each side that read in bold black letters my stage name ROCK ANGEL. He opened it up and I was in awe.

Inside was a very large room filled with furniture, a huge makeup station with large mirror decored with lamplights around the perimeter of it.

On the left side of the dressing room were hundreds of different outfit's I've worn throughout the years. Everything was there on hangers along with some of the hats I wore, fedora's, cowgirl, and my famed flat caps of various different colors and styles.

While on the right; I could see just music instruments like the Red Special Brian had made for me up against a special holder up along the wall right by my makeup stand.

"Is this my....."

"Go on and have a look darling." I heard Freddie say in my ear.

"Okay. I finally have my own mall." I walked in and was just in awe at everything. It looked like heaven had taken my master bedroom from my first home I had after becoming the Rock Angel and just put it all here.

I walked inside and said.

"Ooo, very nice shoes." I pointed out on the shoe wrack seeing some of the styles of shoes I've worn. From combat boots, to Adidas', flats, and even the high-heeled boots that Deacy always wore during the 1970's.

"We're glad you like them darling. Why don't you go around that corner and press the black button along the dresser." Deacy said. I walked further in and reached a dresser and found the black button. When I pressed it, a couple of shelves slowly opened up revealing almost every pair of sunglasses I've always worn.

"Oh my god! I've missed wearing these." I picked up a pair of my ray ban black and gold framed sunglasses. "Didn't I make these look good?" I quickly turned to see the guys were gone. "Guys?"

"Over here love." I heard Brian's voice say. I walked towards the right to see my boys standing or sitting along some of the foot stools.

"Oh there you all are. Ohh nice amps." I couldn't help but see the amps up along the wall. "I—I'm just...." Before I could continue a remote was tossed over at me by Roger as he said.

"Before you even say anything else. Type in combination 2-1-2." I muttered the combination to myself as I pressed the numbers and soon the closet before us opened and soon revolving around were various guitars and bass guitars, shelves soon opened revealing several pairs of drumsticks each imprinted with my name on them.

I had no words.

"Umm....this is.....I can't—" I jumped back a bit as the top shelves suddenly opened revealing two different microphones. One was a basic black but it was bedazzled with red gems while the other one was pure gold with golden gems.

"Elton and I had a little hand of having your microphones designed." Said Freddie with a modest shrug.

"I mean....guys this is......unbelievable. And this is all mine?"

"Oh darling you should see ours. It's practically the entire mansion back home."

"Each star that comes here is given the full custom of what they've enjoy back on Earth. And since you've favored how you once had your rotating dressers back in 2011, it's all here for you but advanced into your instruments as well." Said Roger.

"And if anyone has any suggestion like if they're close to another artist, they can submit some suggestions of what should be in said artists dressing room." Brian spoke up.

"Aww you guys, I love you." I said as I came up to them and we got into a group hugged.

"We love you too (Y/n) darling. Now hurry up and get ready, the concert is about to begin." The boys left me to my own business. I walked up to my clothes rack and went through every style and decided that if I was to do my first concert in Heaven, I might as well wear exactly what I wore for my first concert as the Rock Angel.

After getting ready and doing my makeup the same way Freddie had done for me that day in Madison Square Garden, I picked up my Red Special and put it around my neck and left my dressing room.

"The Rock Angel is back." I looked up to see the boys standing across me in front of their dressing room, dressed to the T like they had at the they did at the Odeon theater Christmas Eve 1975. I smiled and said.

"Well look at you guys, it seems like only yesterday I was sneaking my friends into the house while Joanna and Graham were at their Christmas party just to watch you guys live at the Hammersmith Oden theater." I sassed.

"Thank you love, now c'mon time to head to the stage." Roger said. The lads cheered and I followed behind as we all walked back up the stairs and went through the corridors of backstage. Hundreds upon hundreds of artists were getting themselves ready to go up and perform.

I watched as the boys did their typical body warmups to get themselves pumped up when I felt a nudge at my arm.

"You seem quiet poppet, everything okay?" I looked up to see Deacy standing beside me.

"You said anybody whose anybody comes to see these shows right?" He nodded and I said solemnly, "Do....do you think my family, like my mum and dad know that I'm here now? That I'm here performing?" I felt him wrap his arm around my shoulder and he said.

"It's possible. Anytime a new artist or band comes here, it's fully announced far and wide throughout Heaven. So there's a good chance they might be out there in the audience."

"I hope so. I just want to show them what I've achieved, I want them to be proud of me."

"They are poppet. Just like we are." He embraced me in a one armed hug leaning his head against mine.

"I really have missed these moments between us Deacy."

"So have I. And I've got a hell of a lot of comforting to catch up on."

"Well now's a good start."

"Oi you two! Are we going to perform or not?" The two of us smiled as we heard Roger's voice cry out to us. My brother looked down at me and he said.

"C'mon, let's go do our thing." I nodded and we headed towards the guys.

*3rd Person POV*

Once again it was concert time. Every soul that had passed into heaven that was a fan of Rock and Roll or music in general came from far and wide to come to the concert of concerts, even bigger than the Earthly event that Live Aid gave the world.

Generations of artists and musicians that had come from around the world from many different backgrounds came to this very stadium to give the performance of their afterlives. Thousands, almost a million people poured into the stadium as the lights were flashing and doing their test run for each artist that would perform that night.

Soon Bob Geldof came onto the stage and everyone applauded for him.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Welcome once again to the Heaven's Rock and Roll concert." Everyone applauded and cheered holding up signs of their favorite artists or bands that would be performing tonight. "It gives me great honor to announce that we recently were given a new arrival, but I won't give it away on who it is." The audience crowd because they wanted to hear who it was as Bob continued, "I'll leave that to the band who know her best. So without further ado I would like to bring up on stage the first band performance of this evening's festivities. These lads I knew personally and they helped make one of the biggest rock concerts even greater than I could ever imagine. These four individually talented young men rose to the stardom in the early 1970's before exploding into the worldwide phenomenon by the 1980's. Ladies and Gentlemen please bow before her royal majesties that is Queen!"

The crowd roared with applause as Bob left the stage and the stage grew dark. Soon the opening notes for "Now I'm here" began playing and everyone cheered louder as they began clapping in rhythm. Those who have seen and grew up seeing Queen live, knew exactly how to react and behave during a Queen concert and those who got to know Queen up here in heaven got a taste of what it would've been like had they seen them in person with all four of them up on stage.

Soon Freddie's silhouette and voice echoed through the speakers as he began to sing the song. When the song began to pick up, the lights on stage exploded as did fire from the sides of the stage as all four members of Queen were finally revealed to the crowd.

Freddie lead with the vocals and his mates and brothers backed him up on not only the vocals but their instruments, and ever the frontman he was, strutted the stage like it was his as his voice overpowered and reached out into the audience with a force unlike anything.

By the end of the song, Freddie proclaimed into the microphone.

"Thank you! Thank you, good evening everybody!" The crowd cheered as Freddie continued, "Oh it looks magnificent out there tonight. Okay my darlings, right now. Right now, we're going to take you for the first time ever we're taking you all to the battlefield. This is called Ogre Battle!"

The boys continued to play a few more songs like 'White Queen', 'Killer Queen', 'Bohemian Rhapsody', 'Don't stop me now' and 'Son and Daughter' included with Brian's famous guitar solo giving Deacy and Freddie enough time to change clothes for the next half of the performance. Freddie now wearing the famed black satin outfit with his chest exposed and diamond fingernailed glove as well as the chain glove on the other.

"Yes thank you, thank you very much. Featuring Brian May on guitar!" Brian took a bow as the spotlight shined on him and the crowd cheered. "Now then my darlings, as I'm sure everyone's heard we have a new arrival. A very special girl to all four of us. How would you all like to meet her?"

The crowd roared with applause and soon Roger began doing one single rhythmic beat. Hearing the beat made the entire audience clap in that single beat rhythm.

"She first rose to the spotlight in the summer of 1981. A bright, charismatic young woman whose music has touched the lives of millions. To us she wasn't a shadow of our fame, she was an equal partnership. The like of which we had never knew we could ever ask for. Ladies and gentlemen and everyone up in the balcony give it up for Heaven's very own Rock Angel, Mrs. (Y/n) Kline!"

From up on the catwalk above the stage, the silhouette of the Rock Angel herself came up and it appeared that she actually had angel wings sprouting from her back as she began the first verse of her famed song "Set it all Free".

By the chorus, the screen lifted up and she hopped off the catwalk and gratefully fell from the 10ft catwalk onto center stage playing her Red Special as her boys backed her up as they always did whenever they performed this song together.

And seeing the two artists perform together, Queen and the Rock Angel, the crowd was in pure excitement bouncing up and down and crying out the lyrics to the well known song that the Rock Angel's 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.

But none were more happy to perform once again than the artists that were on stage. It had been forever since it was the five of them together up on stage and they couldn't help but look at each other. As the guitar solo came up, it turned into a guitar battle between the Rock Angel herself and Brian May which got the crowd really pumped up.

By the end of the song, everyone was chanting out 'Angel! Angel! Angel!'

"Hello Rock and roll heaven how's everyone doing tonight!?" The crowd welcomed her with a roar of applause. "God I can't believe I'm here performing with my boys once again. And right now we'd like to bring out a special guest for this next number." She turned to Deacy who nodded and began playing his bassline for "Under Pressure" which got the crowd applauding louder.

"This man is a well-known legend and the birth of a true 'flamboyant' hard rocker. And a very close friend of mine." Freddie started.

"Six time Grammy award winner, 4 time Brit award winner, actor, musician. Everyone put your hands together for Mr. David Bowie!" (Y/n) proclaimed into the mic.

It was then Freddie and (Y/n) began singing the first part of the song as at the center stage a circular hole began to open and soon rising up onto the stage was David Bowie himself. He wore a royal blue suit with a black undercoat suit shirt as well as the business white shirt. A light blue tie and black shoes.

He soon began his line of the first bridge as Freddie and the Rock Angel backed him up. When the second part of the song came up after Freddie's little vocalization, David gave the gesture for (Y/n) to take the second part of the song. And as she always performed it, she would lowly sing in her alto range before suddenly belting out to the perfect volume as she would hold the note out for as long as she could letting the two legends back her up.

Just like the record Freddie and Roger softly sung the first part of the break, then David came in before (Y/n) belted out the why vocals before the song picked right back up. It was something that could only be seen in Heaven. Three legendary singers performing one song.

David Bowie, Freddie Mercury and (Y/n) Kline the Rock Angel.

The three lead singers stood side by side with each other with David on the left, Freddie in the middle and (y/n) to the right. The three in almost rehearsed synchronicity began to sidestepped across the stage as all three voices blended the bridge that it could give one an eargasm.

Agreeing with each other and knowing what she could do to close the song, both David and Freddie stepped back with (y/n) completely unaware as she just allowed the song to consume her.

At the final note, she let out a proud controlled belt that was first heard at Freddie's tribute concert and it almost seemed like the sun was rising as the stage was lit up in a heavenly glow as she held the note. The entire audience was in an uproar as they gave a standing ovation to the Rock Angel herself.

She turned around and saw the five older men smiling at her and applauding her for a phenomenal performance that they have missed so dearly.

The concert continued as Elton John soon came up on stage and together he, Freddie and (y/n) sang 'I'm still standing' a song that was personal to all three of them in some shape or form but they knew this was the perfect song for them all to sing.

After a few more Queen songs, with the allowance of their beloved Rock Angel since her set was about to come up after theirs, she allowed them to stay and be her band as she would perform her hit songs before the souls of Heaven.

Songs like 'Who I am', 'So good,' 'Bridge of light', 'Rock angel', her rendition of 'Somebody to love', 'We'll be together', and with her boys already up there with her they did a few more duets of Queen songs like 'Friends will be friends', 'Spread your wings', 'Fat Bottomed girls', and 'Jailhouse Rock'.

Finally their time was up and as 'God save the Queen' played through the speakers, all five of them stood side by side each other and bid the crowd a goodbye and thank you.

After watching several performances from backstage, and when the concert finally came to a close it was time for the after party. So just outside in the back a beautiful garden was set up with refreshments and plenty of drinks to fit everyone's needs and all the performers of the night came out to talk amongst one another and to celebrate another well-performed concert.

As well as to welcome their newest achievement.

*My POV*

Oh my god. That was a thrill rush, and now being here at the after party I saw literally everyone. Elvis, Janis, the Beatles, Little Richard, Elton, David, Hendrix, everyone in rock and roll big names were gathered around this beautiful garden.

As I went to go grab some water I felt a hand tap my shoulder and there stood John Lennon himself.

"So you are the famous Rock Angel?" I swallowed my water and was completely star-struck.

"Y-yeah I.....Mr. Lennon I....."

"Please call me John."

"Okay, John. Can I just say.....just between us that you were always my favorite Beatle out of the group."

"Coming from you that's a huge honor. And now I can finally rub it into Paul's face the bugger." I laughed and that's when I heard a female voice say.

"Alright let me at her, where is she?" And there donned with her famous fur coat, tall Russian-like hat and red circular shades was Janis Joplin herself. "And there she is. The one female rocker better than me." She spoke as she came up to me.

"Oh no Mrs. Jop—"

"Ah-ah. Mrs. Joplin is not my name. Call me Janis baby girl." I blushed and she wrapped an arm around me and said, "You know, you and I aren't so different kid."

"How so?"

"Well we both struggled in our families and personal lives, got together with some male rockstars to form a partnership before splitting off to have our freedom. The only difference is, is that I wish I had your strength. I decided to call it quits with heroin being my way to kick the bucket."

"You were someone I did look up to. I mean yeah you had your struggles, but hell you didn't take shit from no one. When conservative minds at the time wanted you to do it their way, you said....."

"'Fuck you. I'm doing it my own way!'" She finished off which made the two of us laugh. "Yah know something baby girl, I like you. Promise me for Lady's night you'll do a song with me?"

"It would be an honor Janis." She smiled and hugged me tightly.

"Alright my darlings, may we have everyone's attention?" Freddie's voice soon spoke up as he was now standing on top of a table. Everyone looked up and as the boys of Queen stood up front Freddie continued, "First of all magnificent show all of you. So cheers my lovely darlings." Everyone of us raised our glasses in the air saying 'cheers'.

"We'd also love to specifically say a wonderful show for our newest arrival," Brian spoke up. He turned to me and extended his hand out for mine. I took it and he gently pulled me up front so that everyone could see me.

"Our beloved Rock Angel herself, (Y/n) Kline." Roger spoke up as he smiled warmly down at me.

"To the Rock Angel!" Deacy stated as he raised his cocktail glass in the air.

"To the Rock Angel!" Everyone choired at me. I bashfully smiled and said.

"Thank you, it was an honor to see most of you perform tonight, and it was great to perform with someone of you once again after so many years. I hope I have the privilege to perform with every single soul here." I said.

We then raised our glasses once more and the mingling and partying continued long into the night.

119 notes · View notes

persephone-plasmids · 3 years

Text

Nuka-World

A Deacon X Sole Fanfic

[AO3]

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Nuka-World

“I guess I’m just confused about why they dedicated an entire section of the park to their space theme. Why not just a ride?” MacCready asked, eyeing the Star Port tower in the Galactic Zone at Nuka-World.

“To get the youth excited about space exploration,” Danse answered in his usual serious tone. “They wanted to recruit potential cadets young.”

MacCready pulled a face at this explanation. “Do kids really like space, though?”

“Seriously, MacCready?” Sole asked. “You have a kid. You should know this.”

Deacon listened to the group theorizing over the chosen aesthetic of Nuka-World while he slid a Cappy shirt over his head with a grin.

“I know Dez sent us here to recover the kidnapped synth, but all this free merch is going to be incredibly distracting,” Deacon said.

At his words, Sole’s eyes grew large. “Where did you get that? I want one!”

Deacon nodded to the merchandise rack behind him and smiled as Sole scampered over with pure joy in her eyes. Danse watched with slight disapproval while MacCready continued examining the Star Port in confusion.

Bringing the tin can and the grumpy sniper along hadn’t been Deacon’s idea. Dez had said they’d need more than just Deacon and Sole on this mission since they had so much ground to cover. When Deacon had suggested Tinker Tom, Dez had just laughed and told Sole to ask some of “her people”. Whatever that meant.

Apparently, Sole’s “people” were a self-hating synth boy scout and MacCready, whose skill Deacon respected, but he still didn’t like the idea of someone honing in on his mission.

“This entire park seems wildly unsafe for children,” Danse said, his thick brows knitted together in a line.

“Nuka Cola has always been a bit shady,” MacCready agreed. “Makes sense that their park wouldn’t be quite as kid-friendly as it should be.”

“All right, I’m ready to get this show on the road,” Sole said, walking out from the back room of the merchandise area with a Cappy shirt and cowboy hat.

“No fair! I didn’t see the hat!” Deacon whined. “I would have taken it for myself.”

“We can share custody,” Sole promised with a grin in Deacon’s direction.

Deacon screwed up his face as he thought this over. “Fine, but I get weekends and holidays.”

“Deal.” Sole gave him one of her smiles that reminded him why he needed to keep his distance from her emotionally. One of the smiles that made him want all the things he couldn’t have.

He ignored it.

“You’re both wrong,” MacCready said, snatching the hat quickly from Sole’s head and placing it on his own. “This baby’s coming with me.”

Sole laughed at this, making Deacon feel that familiar pang of jealousy again. He prided himself on making Sole laugh. He didn’t love that someone else was currently taking over his favorite job.

“You two are going to Dry Rock Gulch, I guess it’s only fair that you get the cowboy hat, RJ,” Sole said, straightening the hat on MacCready’s head with a familiarity that made Deacon feel much less in control of himself than he normally was.

“We should get going before it gets too dark,” Deacon said with a forced smile. “We don’t want Danse rusting from the evening dew.”

“Negative, soldier, “ Danse said. “My power armour doesn’t rust.”

“At ease,” Deacon responded with a little salute at the former Brotherhood of Steel Paladin. “Try to enjoy yourself a little Danse. Despite what they told you in the Brotherhood, it won’t actually kill you.”

Danse gave him a look like he wasn’t amused by his joke before turning away and heading towards Dry Rock Gulch with MacCready.

“Geez,” Deacon said. “Never send that guy on a stealth mission. I swear we’ll be able to hear his power armor clomping around through the whole park.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing we already cleared out those raiders, huh?”

“No thanks to the tin can and grumpy pants over there,” Deacon said, now smiling at Sole.

“That one was a Deacon and Sole special,” Sole answered. “We didn’t need any outside assistance.”

Deacon nodded at this, watching Sole for a moment too long before realizing he was being weird. He realized that a lot around Sole. He had to constantly remind himself how he acted around people who didn’t make him feel the way Sole did. It was exhausting.

“I say we head over to that old junkyard. If I was a Synth in hiding, that’s where I’d go,” Sole said.

“You got it, boss,” Deacon answered, following her as she began walking.

The two walked in silence for a long time. Deacon guessed that Sole was thinking about the mission. Deacon, of course, was having another mini existential crisis regarding Sole. But he was also attempting to lie to himself about his feelings, which turned it into a whole thing. He could be a very convincing liar.

When the two rounded an old abandoned building, Deacon was shocked to see a crowd right in front of them.

“Whoa, hold up,” Deacon said, placing his arm straight out to stop Sole from walking.

It was too little too late though. The group of people in space suits standing had clearly seen them. How had Deacon missed them? They were literally a handful of weirdos in space suits.

Sole had distracted him with her very existence again. This was why he had to stop letting himself explore any potential feelings for her. They just got in the way of their missions. They made him sloppy. And sloppy could very well mean “dead” in this situation.

“Greetings,” one of the space-suit-clad people said, taking a step forward.

Deacon placed one hand behind his back where he kept a gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. The other hand was wrapped tightly around Sole’s arm, keeping her in a safe position slightly behind him.

“Listen, we’re looking for information on--” Sole began, but the woman who appeared to be the leader of the odd group before them interrupted her.

“Are you here to help us get the spaceship up and running?” the woman asked. Her slightly crazed eyes were wide and bloodshot.

Sole furrowed her brow and looked at Deacon who was still trying to understand what he’d just heard.

“The great power above told us they would send someone soon. You, my weary traveler, must be the one to help us rebuild our spacecraft.”

“No,” Sole said slowly. “We’re just here too--” but again she was interrupted, this time by Deacon’s hand placed clumsily over her lips.

“Wait just… shush for a second,” he whispered with the widest grin she’d ever seen. “This is amazing.” He looked like a kid on Christmas. “Yes, my fair… uh… lady. We were sent from the head honcho in the stars to come offer our support for your interstellar travels.”

Deacon’s voice had adopted a grand tone and he released his concealed gun to instead gesture widely at the group in front of him.

“Excellent news, kind sir,” the woman said. “I am Dara. Come. We don’t have much time. Follow us.”

“Lead the way my most excellent and esteemed priestess,” Deacon said.

Sole looked over at the spy incredulously, mouthing a quick, “What are you doing?” to him.

She wasn’t sure if Deacon hadn’t understood her question or if he was just willfully ignoring her, because he simply clapped his hands together and mouthed back, “I know, right?”

The space-suit-clad group led them through the old junkyard to a red metal object that looked an awful lot like an old carnival ride. It was supposed to look like a UFO, but anyone could see it wasn’t any kind of actual aircraft.

“Ah yes, a fine specimen indeed,” Deacon said when they approached the ride. His voice was still serious as he spoke, though Sole knew him well enough to hear the pure glee behind it. “And what, pray tell, can we do to get this up and running for you again?”

“We have the fusion cells we need right here,” Dara said. “But we don’t know how to install them. If you can get our craft up and running, I know we’ll be on our way to our higher forms soon enough.”

“You’ll be on your way somewhere,” Sole scoffed under her breath, obviously not enjoying this nearly as much as Deacon.

“Well then step inside and get comfortable,” Deacon said with a grin. “I’ll get these fusion cores installed… uh… posthaste.”

Sole snorted at this, to which Deacon elbowed her. He didn’t want her giving him away just because she found him amusing.

Dara led the group of space cadets into the UFO ride and shut the door behind her, leaving Sole and Deacon alone.

“Okay, what in the actual world is going on?” Sole asked incredulously.

“I know! This is seriously amazing,” Deacon said, barely able to contain his joy. “These people actually think this is a spaceship!”

“I’m pretty sure this is a Gravitron,” Sole said. “They had them at the local carnival every year before the war. I used to love this ride.”

Sole’s eyes adopted that distant look they got whenever she talked about her time before the Vault-Tec incident. It made him feel sad for her, before he selfishly realized that if Vault-Tec hadn’t frozen her, he never would have met her.

“Will it be safe for me to fix it for them?” Deacon asked, Sole. He wanted to mess with the space cult, not kill them.

“They might get a bit motion sick,” Sole began. “But they should be fine.”

At her words, Deacon’s face adopted a mischievous grin that made Sole’s cheeks flush. “Excellent.”

Deacon installed the fusion cores Dara had given him without much effort before holding his hand out to Sole.

“Shall we?”

Sole let a grin spread across her full lips, taking Deacon’s hand in her own. “I can handle this ride, but I’m not sure you really understand what you’re in for.”

“You don’t think I could handle your ride?” Deacon asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively at her.

Sole took a step closer to Deacon, leaning close to him so that her lips were against his ear. “I know you couldn’t handle my ride, stealth boy.”

Deacon shivered involuntarily at her words and the feeling of her breath against his ear, but as quickly as the moment had happened, it passed. Sole pulled Deacon into the UFO ride with her, leaving him with a lingering mental image that he’d have to examine more thoroughly when he was alone later.

“This impeccably dressed harbinger of your more superior forms has successfully repaired your vessel,” Sole announced loudly, holding up Deacon’s hand. She looked over at him with a grin that set his heart on overdrive. “Not only was he able to repair your vessel, but he’s also promised to personally make sure his work is beyond reproach by coming along with you.”

“The star angel speaks the truth,” Deacon said, making Sole snort laugh again, though she was a bit better about covering this one up. “Sole, if you’ll do the honors.”

“Everybody up against the wall,” Sole said, watching as the space cult obeyed. “Deacon? Up against the wall?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that to me,” He said with a grin.

Sole just rolled her eyes and pointed at the wall, waiting for him to oblige. When everyone was in position, she took her place in the middle of the metal room and flipped the switch.

In an instant, the ride began to hum as the floor started to vibrate. At first, nothing moved and Deacon worried he hadn’t actually managed to fix the ride. But as the humming grew louder, the room began to spin.

Sole stayed in place in the center of the room and Deacon tried to keep his eyes on her, but as the rotations became quicker and quicker, he had to close his eyes. The force of the rotating ride crushed him against the padded wall of the room and he had to press his lips together to keep from getting sick. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the ride began to slow down until it eventually stopped.

When Deacon opened his eyes, the world was still spinning. Sole was watching him as if waiting for him to speak to the cult, but he couldn’t form a single thought.

“The mission has been a success,” Sole finally said, seeing that Deacon was completely useless at the moment. “Your craft has been repaired and will be ready for your final voyage once your preparations are complete.”

“Bless you,” Dara said, looking at Sole. “Bless both of you.”

Without another word, Dara and the other cultists left the UFO, leaving Deacon clutching the wall and breathing heavily. In an instant, Sole was beside him. She supported him as Deacon tilted his head down.

“Told you you couldn’t handle this ride,” Sole said, her voice lined with amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deacon said. “I feel fantastic. Think I might go run a marathon with Hancock later.”

Sole placed her hand on Deacon’s cheek gently, lifting his eyes to hers. He still felt sick, but the more she touched him, the less he seemed to notice the motion sickness.

“Hey lightweight, what do you think Danse and MacCready will say when they find out an old carnival ride floored you?”

“That question is irrelevant because if you tell them I’ll just deny everything,” he responded. “And of the two of us, who’s the better liar?”

Deacon was grinning at Sole again, but she didn’t smile back. Instead she was watching him curiously, her eyes roaming his face. He was confused by her expression before he realized just how clear she looked to him. Clearer than normal.

Panicked, Deacon brought his hand up to his face to find his sunglasses missing. He’d always been good at putting up walls between himself and everyone else, but he had a hard time doing that with Sole. The sunglasses were the only way he could keep some semblance of distance from her. Without them, he worried she’d see right through him. See who he really was. See how he really felt about her.

Deacon looked around himself for the sunglasses before Sole held them up wordlessly.

“You win, Charmer,” Deacon said with a nervous laugh. “Time to give them back now.”

Deacon reached out for the glasses but Sole held them behind her back with a wicked grin.

“I don’t know that I want you to put them back on. I’m enjoying finally seeing you,” she said, her eyes seeming to bore into his soul.

“No one wants to see this hot mess, trust me,” Deacon said, reaching for the sunglasses but failing to get them. All he managed to do was somehow get even closer to Sole.

“How did I not realize your eyes are blue?” Sole asked, her voice soft. “They’re… stunning.” She instantly blushed at her own words but didn’t back down. And she still didn’t give Deacon his sunglasses back. “They’re not just blue… they’re like… ice blue.”

“Must be all the surgery,” Deacon joked, even though his voice sounded flat.

The truth was, Deacon changed his appearance all the time. But his eyes? His eyes were his own. Always had been. They were the one thing he didn’t change about himself. So to have Sole admiring them in such a personal way felt… amazing.

And dangerous.

Sole bit her lip as she watched him and Deacon swallowed hard. “Why don’t you want anyone to see you?” she asked.

He wanted to tell her that he was scared they wouldn't like what was left after all the lies were stripped away. But he didn’t say that. Instead he said, “Because I don’t want them to fall in love with my beautiful face. It just wouldn’t be fair to destroy some unsuspecting wastelander like that.”

At his words, Sole laughed softly, just like he hoped she would. If she was laughing then she wasn’t asking him questions that hit too close to home for him.

“I mean, now that you’ve seen the full effect of my icy blue gaze, you surely must understand that I wield an ungodly amount of power.”

“I really don’t know how you manage to fit yourself and your ego into your tiny sleeping quarters in the Railroad,” Sole said with a roll of her eyes.

“There’s enough room,” Deacon said, his voice now teasing. “More than enough room if you ever want to join the two of us.”

And that was it. The truth of the matter. Deacon could flirt with Sole all day long if it was all a big joke. But if he ever told her that he’d dreamed about what it would be like to wake up next to her, he’d lose the small amount of control he still pretended to have in this partnership. He couldn’t tell her that he longed for the casual and familiar touches of two people who trusted each other so completely that their physical contact was expected and normal.

“Do you really want me to take you up on that offer?” Sole asked, a challenge in her eyes.

Deacon still hadn’t learned that he couldn’t tease her about their flirtation for too long. She’d always make it real. And as Deacon knew, real was dangerous.

“Or should I just hold onto these sunglasses for you?”

Deacon leaned forward, sliding his arms around Sole’s waist. He hated himself for the fact that she actually closed her eyes as he got closer to her, obviously expecting him to make a move. But instead, he grabbed the sunglasses that she hid behind her back before pulling away from her with a forced grin.

“Got em,” he said.

Sole opened her eyes, and when Deacon saw just how much disappointment they held, his heart broke. When he heard Sole try to cover up her disappointment with a joke the way he always did, his heart broke even more.

“Well then I guess it’s just you and your ego in your bed tonight,” she said. “Let’s go find Danse and MacCready to see if they’ve had any luck locating the Synth.”

“Oh right, we’ve got an actual reason to be here,” Deacon said, quickly putting his sunglasses back on and feeling immensely more comfortable behind his wall of protection.

“We actually have two reasons to be here,” Sole said as she walked towards the door of the UFO ride. “We need to find the Synth, but we also need to go to the fun house in Kiddie Kingdom.”

“Did I miss that part of the briefing, Charmer?” Deacon asked, following Sole to the bright junkyard outside.

“Dez probably just forgot to tell us how important it is that we go to the funhouse,” Sole said “But you and I are professionals. We have to check everything thoroughly.”

Sole raised her eyebrows at Deacon as she walked away and Deacon was left wondering how Dez ever could have thought it was a good idea to send Sole and himself to an amusement park together.

They’d never get anything done.

[Part 4]

Based on the time my OC and Deacon ran into that crazy cult in Nuka-World :P

#fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #deacon #fallout deacon #sole survivor #deacon x sole #deacon x sole survivor #fo4 fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #fanfic #deacon fanfic

47 notes · View notes

potatoesandsunshine · 2 years

Note

Hi as a known fan of paladins being captured in upsetting ways my friend has sent me your post and now I’m here. I’d be delighted if you would elaborate on the situation 🥺

hi yes hello i would LOVE to elaborate on the situation. my paladin is named beatrice pyre and i tag things for her / general dnd posts if you're ever curious about it :) but this situation specifically!!! i am Losing My Mind!!! it's extremely good. literally feels like we just had some kind of midseason finale

so BASICALLY her uncle is the viceroy and now regent of her country, they're at war with the very pro-necromancy country next door, the party has been going around looking for evidence to get him out of power bc we think the whole war is a Suspicious Plot. so for the last three sessions we've been breaking into his suuuuper haunted estate (coincidentally the place my paladin grew up! haha! was it always like this? she doesn't know!)

it's been extremely rough!! we're level 8 so things really hit back now in very strong ways!! and my paladin is very... not to steal skyrim's thunder but when they call people doom-driven they are actually talking about bee pyre. she's just like... she doesn't think about stopping. she will throw herself against this problem until something breaks.

this session we managed to get down to the basement of the estate and Oh Yeah It Sucks Down Here. we're talking ghosts we're talking undead we're talking pit traps. the whole nine yards. a series of tunnels full of magical darkness that doesn't like it if you cast in it. i rolled a nat1 and it still ate my spell slot :( rude :( ANYWAY we used a lot of resources fighting our way down there and trying to put our oathbreaker paladin friend back together after an incident with a hallway full of like... i don't know what to call it, chompers?? when the ceiling and floor smash together like THUD THUD THUD. so we were kinda low on spells and healing and stuff.

so we decide, hey, we didn't want to do a long rest down here because it sucks but we gotta do one. this is what historians will call a Bad Idea. also we did it in kinda the hub room that the dark tunnels branched off of which wasn't the BEST strategic thinking we've ever done. so basically, we all got hit with a strong cone of cold and nobody made saves. oof.

and bee pyre :) definitely not feeling self-destructive after losing her friend the party rogue a few days ago, definitely not feeling useless as her lover is off fighting the war, definitely not feeling like a burner that the gods forgot to turn off, says Okay :) I can sense undead in the magically dark tunnel :) I Will Go Down There And Tank :) yeah the cone of cold came from there, what could that mean? who in the world would have TWO cones of cold? (we have previously fought someone who did cast it twice. this was foolishness.) anyway there was a strong necromancer down there who immediately downed her and said "your uncle will be so disappointed that you didn't listen to his advice" and bee said "he gives shit advice" and KO. death saves start.

and then, something bee would NEVER have considered, the party heard her hit the ground (thank you plate armor :/) and started GOING AFTER HER!! in the dark tunnel!!! with the necromancer!!! who did do another cone of cold that, again, nobody saved against. bla bla bla, my friends did cool shit fighting zombies but it was a losing battle, i was feeling p bad as a player like How Could I Do This To Us, there was some epic shit from our fighter before he went down, bee stabilized while everyone else was dying which made me INSANE because she takes protection fighting so seriously, it was like a carousel ride of death saves before our DM gently cut away.

but then we woke up in a dungeon without all our stuff which INCLUDES the in-character letters i've been writing for the last few months and aaaaah

cut to my best friend our DM like, :3c Did You Like It ? and of course i did i was obsessed w everything

#anna plays dnd #sword with a broken crown #i wish i made moodboards i wanna make a bee moodboard so bad #answering asks #thanks for the ask!!! sorry i rambled so long my hands are still SHAKING what a thrill. truly Everything Possible Happened tonight

10 notes · View notes

ofcowardiceandkings · 3 years

Note

I think you mentioned listening to podcasts? Do you have any favorites to reccommend? I've run out of content :(

that i do !

im not entirely sure what kind of podcast you'd be interested in but i'll throw out a few of the goodies in my huge library of stuff , i'll miss out a few of the HUGE podcasts that have been all over tumblr though

a LOT of it is true crime or human interest stuff , or history because im nerd ,, and a few of these dont have nearly enough attention so [shrug] i'll try to keep this short i guess lol this isnt EVERYTHING ive got in my library or listened series' by any measure

i AM gonna pop a shout to both Stuff You Missed in History Class and Stuff You Should Know from iHeartRadio because their HUGE archives have kept me from losing my mind many times over , and they cover a wide range of both important and wacky topics

BomBARDed (ongoing) this is the only fiction podcast i have happening right now really but its DAMN GOOD ONE .... it's an actual-play D&D 5E podcast in the DMs own musically-inspired world, focussed on a group of multiclass bards going to music school !! and all players (+DM) are members of the Texas band Lindby !! and they actually use and play music in the show with one original song an episode !! Kyle's worldbuilding and storycraft are truly incredible, and (Nick) Goodrich, (also Nick) Spurrier, and Ali's characters are in depth and interesting as well as an absolute powerhouse :') i actually made a piece for its first fanzine, Bardic Dreaming, which published earlier this year and is free to view now, all the players and the community are super wholesome its just very good overall 💙

History & Humans;

Fall of Civilisations (ongoing) legit one of my favourite podcast finds, im so glad my youtube autoplayed one of these ... it took me like 2 hours to realise it was 1) not the same as what was playing before and 2) had been on for 2 hours and wasnt near finished lmao. anyway, this is a series by historical fiction writer Paul Cooper, and is honest to all thats good one of the best documentary series ive encountered in years - and ive consumed a LOT of documentaries. it covered the downfall of various civilisations through history, and the episodes run from an hour to FOUR hours depending on the topic. its so chill to listen to and just get done, but over the pandemic all of the episodes have been given full movie-quality video versions too on youtube if youre more of a visual person.

Casting Lots: A Survival Cannibalism Podcast (on series break) yeah that says that lol ... its a SUPER niche topic but its very interesting and treated very well despite being kind of comical at times, the hosts are just naturally funny lol ... it delves around from the history of cannibalism in whole regions to specific incidents as recently as the 1970s, and of course the first episode is about the Donner Party, and it covers things ive never heard of despite being kind of important ?? anyway Alix and Carmella are good eggs

Sawbones (ongoing) i probably dont need to mention much here other than say that Justin and Sydnee saved me from being SO BORED sooo often, the history of medicine is wacky as hell and its what most of my history GCSE was on so [shrugs]

Cautionary Tales (on series break) this was a wild-card find lol ... it's by Tim Harford "the undercover economist" who writes for the Financial Times, and its topics kind of weave modern topics and science with how to learn from historical errors ... its a bit weird but well worth a go, also each series has a few celebrity guest voice actors which is pretty awesome

Ephemeral (ongoing) this is a very strange but thought provoking series about sounds and other things just barely saved. topics include the last castrato, the hello girls, hand-stamped records, the spread of kīkā kila music, and acoustic fossils of wild places.

Neat! The Boozecast (ongoing) history and bartending whats not to like lol ... hosted by Teylor Smirl and now their dad Tommy, they're just digging around in how important booze is to human culture

True Crime (white collar and weirdness);

Swindled (ongoing) this is an amazing show full stop. A Concerned Citizen details some of the most impactful and unruly things to happen in white collar and corporate crime. very factually accurate but given the sheer bullshit of the topics the deadpan snarking is [chefs kiss] absolutely warranted ..

American Scandal (on series break) this one is a series within a series type, and spends a few episodes at a time poking holes in some of America's biggest scandals, from a dramatised but fact-based point of view. such as what the hell was going on with Enron, how big tobacco was forced to own up to covering its own ass, how Iran-Contra happened, etc. it also now has a sister show called British Scandal, which does the same thing for British cases but with a slightly different format.

Missing in Alaska (finished) this was a fascinating series, a deep dive into what happened to two US government officials who disappeared on a small chartered flight in Alaska in 1972. it goes some really strange places, but it actually turned up a lot of previously unknown information through the audience. John Walczak's new series in a new feed is Missing on 9/11 which looks into what happened to Dr Sneha Philip.

Pretend (ongoing) Host Javier Leiva holds interviews with anyone living a lie, or who have been touched by them. con artists, snake oil salesmen, former cult members, catfishing victims, anyone and everyone.

Power: The Maxwells (finished) hosted by journalist Tara Palmeri, the story of media tycoon Robert Maxwell from nothing to empire to mysterious death and the scandals uncovered after he was gone.

Lets Talk About Sects (ongoing) Sarah Steele covering cults from around the world, in particular those in Australia - where she is from. She often has former members on the show to share their stories, and share knowledge of how they left. each story has the relevant content warnings at the start of each episode.

Brainwashed (finished) investigation of the CIA's covert mind control experiments, centred on the experiments performed at a hospital in Montreal, and its cultural impact.

Dr Death (2 series finished) two series investigating huge cases of fraud and medical malpractice, and how they were brought to a stop. series 1 covers Dr Duntsch and his horribly butchered neurosurgery, series 2 covers Dr Fata and his fraudulent cancer clinic

The Immaculate Deception (finished) untangling the weird and disturbing fertility fraud of Dr Jan Karbaat, who fathered children himself through his fertility clinic, and the impact of his deception. later episodes also touch on other similar cases.

True Crime (Violent/General);

The Casual Criminalist (ongoing) Simon Whistler of-the-many-youtube-channels cold reads a script about the case of the day, with some of his daft commentary thrown in.

Southern Fried True Crime (ongoing) Crimes from the American South hosted by Erica Kelley, she puts all the facts out there but refreshingly for true crime she doesnt hesitate to tell you if she thinks someone is human garbage lol

They Walk Among Us (ongoing) probably one of the most popular UK crime podcasts, very measured and well put together, not weird or annoying about it either.

All Crime No Cattle (ongoing, feed slowed down for now) specifically about crimes from Texas, hosted by Erin and Shay, they're very sensitive hosts and a lot of the cases they cover shed light on why the Texas criminal system is how it is or show an impact at a national level

Canadian True Crime (ongoing) Canadian crime from an Aussie who's lived there for a decade, Kristi is again a sensitive and measured host covering some important topics

True Crime (Violent/Deep Dive);

Hitman (finished) journalist Jasmyn Morris digs around in the sticky tangle around a book published by fringe publisher Paladin Press, and its apparent use as a blueprint in the killing of a mother, her friend and her 8 year old boy for financial gain.

Camp Hell: Anneewakee (ongoing) this series is exploring how a wilderness camp "correctional facility" was endorsed by the Georgia care and juvenile reform system, despite widespread abuses and shady practices the whole time. warning for csa and child cruelty throughout.

True Crime Bullshit (on series break) this one is a huge huge rabbithole but a very interesting one where the host Josh Hallmark has spent years digging into the life and potential crimes of Israel Keyes. Keyes is often mentioned as a serial killer with no pattern, but in picking it apart thats not quite true, and has sparked some re-evaluations of missing persons cases and stumbling upon information the FBI has redacted organically. there's also a series in the middle looking into the crimes of Kelly Cochran

Forgotten: Women of Juárez (finished) this series looks into the huge numbers of missing women of Ciudad Juárez, the strange circumstances surrounding them, and the potential cover-ups and corruptions on both sides of the border, trying to give a voice to all of the forgotten women and girls and their families without answers. the series itself is finished, but a spanish language edition is being released every week now.

aaaaaand i'll call it there before i list everything lol, i hope you find something to plug your boredom hole with !!

#audio #rory's ramblings #podcasts #asks #anon #long post

34 notes · View notes

buggheadie · 3 years

Text

Riverdalepromptathon: week one

Red+Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe

“Hey Betts, did you pick up Jules from day care?”

“No, I’m in the office and what are you doing there in the middle of the day?”

“The dinner was empty so pops gave me my lunch break earlier, I thought in would visit her” his voice a little frantic now. “She’s not here Betts” he finished in a whisper

“What...what do you mean she’s not there? Did you check properly, maybe she’s in the washroom. Did you check in with mrs.Pierce?”

“No she isn’t here”

“Okay so before we start panicking...”

“Hey mister Jones, Juliet is just over at the ball pool.” She heard the old woman’s voice over the phone.

At the same time she got a notification on the computer screen in front of her with Juliet’s taped up face plaster over it. Her face paled at the sight.

She didn’t notice her partner detective mason who was now beside her and took the phone from her.

“Jughead, you need to come here now”

Jughead rushed over to the FBI headquarters as fast as his legs would take him. He knew something was wrong, Juliet was not at the ball pool.

“Moose where’s betty? Is it Juliet? Is she okay?”

“Jughead, before I let you go in there, I need you to remember this is our job and we will find her.”

“What are you talking about?!” Not waiting for a reply, he rushed into to Betty’s office who was just as pale as when she first got the news.

He ran to her side and pulled her into his arms. She clutched onto his t-shirt and sobbed into his chest.

Pulling her more firmly against him he turned back to Moose “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Juliet was kidnapped”

Before Jughead could react, Betty’s phone rang with an ‘unknown’ number. Moose picked it up and put it on speaker.

“Agent Cooper...sorry Jones, I hope my gift reached you?” Came a cocky altered voice

Moose quickly assembled a team to trace the phone call and gestured a now quietened Betty to keep the caller talking.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice desperate

“Ahh not so easily, I want you to come at 83rd street 8pm, come alone and unarmed if you want her back”

“How do I know if she’s even alive?” Her heart pained thinking of the alternative but she knew she had to do this. “I want to talk to her”

“No” the caller replied and cut the call.

“I’m sorry Betty, we couldn’t get the location” Moose said desperate to help his friends

A second later another message came through with the subject line “Proof of life”

The video showed a rundown room with no indication to where it could be and Juliet sat there with the tape still on her face, puffy eyes and a cut on her temple. Betty looked away from the screen, what kind of a person would do this to a 6 year old?

After examining and re-examining the video and multiple failed attempts at trying to get the two Jones to go home, Jughead spoke up “Betts look at her hand”

“Is that Morse code, you taught a 6 year old morse code?” Spoke up one of the agents.

Ignoring her, Betty wrote down the letters that her daughter had spelt out

R-E-D-H-A-I-R

RED HAIR

“It’s Archie.” Archie ‘the red paladin’ Andrews was the most wanted bank robber who’s partner Reggie Mantle she had caught just over a month ago, but unfortunately they didn’t have enough evidence to keep Archie.

“He’s doing this for Reggie” Moose finished for her. Looking at the rest of the group he shouted “I want every file on Archie Andrews and Reggie Mantle and his last location”

Betty shook her head “no, I’ve got a tracker on him.”

“I found him at an art gallery and planted one on him” she explained at everyone’s questioning look “I never stopped working his case” she said relived, they were going to find her baby.

After an exhausting rescue mission which led them to a warehouse behind pop’s, they managed to got Juliet safely back to her parents and got Archie on kidnapping and attempted murder of a federal agent.

Two days later, the family of three sat in Betty’s hospital room with Pop’s takeout. The father and daughter duo were careful of Betty’s injured should which now had a bandage over her bullet wound.

Juliet was not hurt physically other than a few surface scratches, but she had endured severe physiological trauma. After the incident gone was her bubbly personality, she would stick to her parents and woke up with multiple nightmares in the weeks to follow.

Betty and Jughead hated seeing her like this and would rarely leave her side but were happy to have her back with them.

Archie on the other hand was sentenced to life in prison with the help of new found evidence on his involvement in the bank robberies in addition to his other charges.

#riverdalepromptathon #bughead #bughead fanfiction #tw: kidnapping #result of watching White Collar

42 notes · View notes

galaxwrites · 3 years

Text

That time Kaito (accidentally) seduced a dragon

Yugioh writing, this time.

crossposted on my AO3

A mix of Zexal and Arc-V

Ship: ...what's the ship name for Kaito x Shun? that's the one

Dungeons and Dragons AU!

Please, enjoy~

-------

The very way Yuto Sakaki was sitting on the throne radiated power, but... His face looked sorrowful. Kaito had seen plenty of sorrowful kings, but never one this...gloomy. Almost as if in mourning.

He did find it weird how there was no advisor or queen that sat besides him. The last time the pirate was in front of the king, he had the Kurosaki siblings at his side. But now...He was alone.

Yuma's voice snapped the pirate out of his thoughts, as the paladin spoke to the dark-robed king. "Your majesty, I am Yuma Tsukumo, Paladin of Ellipas. And me and my gang have a proposition for you."

The king raised an eyebrow. "What kind of proposition, and what is in it for my people?"

"Well, you may already know about your brothers and their kingdoms. And...The threat that Yuri's kingdom poses." Yuma stated. "We believe it'd be best to reunite the kingdoms into one. We've got King Yuya of the Kingdom of Flames on board. We want to continue with you."

Yuto rose from his throne, and walked up to the party of four. Kaito noted that his cape was...well, pretty long. "Reuniting the kingdoms would be vital to our survival, but if I am to get on board with this plan...I need something in return." He stopped right in front of Kaito. The pirate gulped. "My advisor and my queen, Kurosaki Shun and Ruri.. They've gone missing and I am assuming it has to do with the two dragons that have shown up at the edge of my territory. I wish for you to find them, and get rid of my little dragon problem."

Ryouga nodded. "Piece of cake."

The king only narrowed his eyes, at Kaito in particular. "You've been in my kingdom before, and caused quite a stir.. I don't trust you, Tenjou."

"I assure you, your highness, I won't cause that sort of trouble again." Kaito replied, having to physically stop himself from shaking by gripping his arm.

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

Yuto had lead the group to a dark forest he called "Raptor's Hollow". It was thick and twisty and Kaito wondered how any creature could live here.

A distant roar, that steadily grew closer as the group pressed forward, was heard. One of the dragons, maybe.

It took about an hour of walking before the group had reached it-a large, dragon-made clearing. Stumps of wood and full trees were scattered around it. Two dragons sat in the middle, one roaring in pain and the other whimpering while trying to help the other.

The roaring one was much bigger than the other. Its scales a dark green, with a lighter teal underbelly and wings. Its gold eyes shimmered with a sort of familiarity.

The other was a deep purple, with hot pink eyes and pastel purple wings. A small ribbon was tied around its tail.

The bigger one lifted its snout, sniffed the air, and roared, heading straight towards the gang. Yuto and Kaito simply jumped out of the way, with Ryouga and Astral simply running.

But like always, Yuma was an idiot and froze up, getting rammed into a tree. He cried out in pain. "OW-"

"YUMA!!" Astral yelled, obviously concerned. The paladin flashed a thumbs up.

"I'm okay! I think I broke a few ribs but I'm okay!"

Kaito sighed. That's gonna be a Cure Wounds later. For now, he had a plan. A risky one, but when were his plans ever risk free?

He took his lute, and strummed a small tune, letting the spell he had prepared be cast on the dragon. The dragon tilted its head and looked at the bard, listening to the tune. Kaito continued to just...play. Not just for his spell, to to calm himself down as well. Playing music always seemed to help.

As his tune ended, the bard put his lute back, and held a hand out to the dragon. "Hello, there." He said. "Are you hurt?"

The dragon nodded, holding up its tail. A rather large bear trap was secured on it, and dark blood still steeped out of it. Kaito winced. The thing looked painful to even look at. But he nodded and walked over to the dragon's tail. He wasn't a formal healer, but he knew a thing or two about traps and how to get unstuck from them.

He barely even touched the trap when the dragon roared. He held out his hand again. "Easy, there." He said, softly. The dragon layed his head down next to Kaito, softly whimpering. Kaito placed his hand on his head. "Try and stay still."

The smaller dragon tilted its head in confusion as Kaito got to work. With all the strength he could muster, he opened up the bear trap. The dragon roared again and raised its tail, only for Kaito to push it back down. "Let me patch you up, first." He reached into his pack and took out two large rolls of gauze, and started wrapping it around the dragon's tail.

Meanwhile, Yuto turned to Ryouga. "Are your party members always like this?"

Ryouga nodded. "Sadly, yes."

"...I am deeply sorry for you."

The siren shrugged. "Eh, I'm used to it. Though Yuma's idiocy can be a bit much."

"I figured." Yuto said.

As that went on, Kaito finished wrapping the dragon's tail. "There. You should be good for now."

The dragon bowed his head in thanks, and made a sort of friendly growl.

"...I can't understand you, you know." Kaito stated, but he got an idea. "Hang on." With a snap of his fingers, he casted a spell; Speak With Animals. "Try now."

Thank you, kind stranger. The dragon said, in its growly voice. Who are you?

"My name is Kaito Tenjo, I'm the captain of the Starry-Eyed serpent." Kaito replied. "Part time bard. And your name?"

Kurosaki Shun. I was cursed to stay in this form until someone breaks the spell placed on me and my Sister.

Kaito raised an eyebrow. "And how do I do that?"

Shun shrugged. I've no idea myself..

The bard thought for a moment. What breaks curses?

....A kiss? That might work!

"...I have an idea, but I have to ask if it's alright for me to kiss you."

In the background, Ryouga mumbled "Of course he's suggesting that." Yuto facepalmed, and Yuma just weakly cheered Kaito on.

Shun tilted his head. ...Why?

"In some of the old fairy tales I've read, the curse is broken with a kiss." Kaito explained. "It might be the case here."

...Just do it then. I can't take this form any longer,

Kaito nodded, and pressed a kiss to Shun's snout. In a flash of dark magic, the dragon-just the one, the other who Kaito guessed was Ruri was just hugging Yuto at this point-seemed to shift into a young man who was just Kaito's type. Dark hair of green and turquoise, yellow eyes, and dressed almost like a classy vampire.

Needless to say, it was pretty much love at first sight.

"Thank you, Kaito." Shun said, with a smile. His voice was smooth and deep.

Kaito took a bow. "You're welcome, Sir Shun."

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

After the incident, Yuto joined the alliance, and Shun joined the group. Turns out having a shapeshifting sorcerer as a teammate is a good idea. As night fell, the Starry-Eyed Serpent set sail once more, towards the Kingdom Of Winds. Kaito stood out on the main deck, the wind blowing in his coat. Most of the crew-minus Droite and Gauche- had gone to sleep. But, Kaito never slept. Not like he needed it, anyways.

As the moon and stars rose, Kaito held a hand up to one of the constellations. Gemini.

"Hang on, Gem." He whispered. "I'll find you.."

"What's all this about?" Shun asked, walking up behind Kaito.

The bard turned around, and smiled. "Shun. You need anything?"

The shapeshifter shrugged. "No, just...Couldn't sleep. Why you up?"

"I don't exactly need to sleep." Kaito stated, pointing at his pointy ears. "Just meditation every once in a while. Comes with being a half elf."

"Ah." Shun said. "...May I ask who Gem is?"

"...Gemini is one of my siblings." The bard stated. "Hart isn't my only one. We have ten others, and Gemini's one of them." Kaito explained. "...They'd be 15, today."

"...Did they die?" Shun asked.

Kaito shook his head. "No. Just...Father mistreated them and Virgo. So all of us ran away from him and...we somehow got separated. I'm still searching for them."

"What were they like?"

"Well, Gem's really bright and fun. They loved it when I sang. And Virgo was just really shy, but she got along well with basically everyone." Kaito said. "I miss them..."

"I know the feeling, dude." Shun said. "One time I lost Ruri, and I almost went insane trying to find her."

Kaito chuckled. "I can see it, I suppose."

"Yeah..." Shun gave a small laugh of his own. "One more question?"

"Yeah?"

"...Your siblings seemed to be named after the zodiacs, but you and Haruto aren't?"

"Oh, that. We chose these names to distance ourselves from our father." Kaito explained. "My real name is Sagittarius."

Shun smiled. "..Kaito fits you a bit better."

"I know, it does. Now I've got two questions of my own." Kaito stated. "One, mind calling me Kite? We're friends, now. You don't need to be so formal."

Shun nodded. "Sure, Kite. ..What's the second?"

Kaito-Kite-smiled. "....Is there anyone out there whom you like?"

The shapeshifter blushed. "..T-there's someone. Not s-sure if he reciprocates."

The pirate raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"...W-well, it's you.." Shun confessed.

Though Kite kept his cool, he was screaming on the inside. This hottie liked him? WHAT THE HELL?

He took a deep breath, and calmed himself. "What if I said I liked you back?"

Shun's face gained a dusting of red. "...Wait, seriously?"

Kite nodded. "Why wouldn't I? You seem like a nice fellow, and it helps that you look positively handsome."

"I.. I m-mean... Oh fuck it." Shun grabbed Kite by the coat, and pulled him in for a kiss.

Kite blushed heavily, but...well, he kissed back. His arms wrapped around Shun's waist and pulled him close.

It wasn't anything big, it was just a kiss, but Kite, in that moment, felt utterly elated.

When the two had to pull away for air, he smiled. "Look at that. I seduced the dragon."

Shun huffed. "Yeah, yeah. Guess you did.."

#yu gi oh #yu gi oh arc v #yu gi oh zexal #kaito tenjo #yuma tsukumo #astral #ygo zexal #ygo arc v #shun kurosaki #yuto (arc v)#ryoga kamishiro #dungeons and dragons #dnd #dnd au #shun x kaito #please tell me the ship name someone #this is so cute i caaaaaaaaant

10 notes · View notes

delaneytveit · 4 years

Text

Hold me Close, and Let It be

Annnnnndddddd she’s back. Uni is up and running again and I had to take care of some personal stuff, but here is a new little ficlet for ya’ll to enjoy. Hope you like angst with a little bit of comfort.

****************************************************************************************

Today was definitely not a good day. Lance woke up to the blaring alarm of his phone, a piercing screech that on any other day would have earned no more than a disgruntled groan before a quick press of a button. Today however, it received a string of curses as the Blue paladin rolled over and away from the device, stuffing his head under the pillow to muffle to sound to no avail.

With another few choice words, he reluctantly withdrew himself. Sitting up with little grace and all the annoyance he could probably use to fuel the ship for decapheobes. Lance was pissed.

After spending all day the day before training and failing and training more, chores upon chores in the infirmary, his own solo missions, and meetings with the team he was once again forced to find each and every paladin and put them to bed at a reasonable hour. God forbid they be able to pull themselves away from whatever they were doing to do so themselves. Okay, forced wasn’t the right word. No one was holding him at gun point, threatening his family. But his team was hurting. They weren’t taking care of themselves. And he would be damned if he let his second family spiral when he could so easily stop it.

So he spent each night hunting down each paladin, getting them to eat, drink, rest. Usually taking hours before he was finally able to do the same for himself. Of course that meant that while the rest of his team got to bed at a reasonable hour, he was far from it.

He stumbled lazily to his ensuite bathroom, quick to wash his face and brush his teeth before returning to his room to dress in his paladin armor.

Allura had announced the night before that they would be attending a diplomatic celebration on a planet Lance had no hope of ever being able to pronounce. On any other day, Lance would have jumped at the idea of such a mission. Celebrations meant parties, and if anyone liked to party, it was Lance. But over this past pheobe or so, he’s lost any and all emotional capacity to do more than train.

Coran had told him to come to him when this feeling started. Knowing what the missions were asking of Lance, and how heavy they would weigh on the Paladin’s mind. As grateful as Lance was for the Altean’s words, he couldn’t shake the thought that it would just be better if he didn’t. The less people traumatized was better, and these missions were confidential for a reason.

So, there he was, drained, exhausted, and irritable. Dreading the day before it had begun as he entered the bridge.

To his surprise, he wasn’t the last one. In fact, he was the first of the paladins to reach the bridge. Though he probably shouldn’t have been as surprised, he had been getting pretty good with his time management if he did say so himself. The room was only occupied by Coran and Allura. They quickly shared good mornings, Allura in her excitement already briefing Lance on the celebration. A day-long party followed by a dinner with all of the planet’s officials. Easy enough. Lance just had to act like he wanted to be there, and not like he wanted to crawl inside a hole and hibernate for the next decade.

The room was quickly filled with the noise of the other paladins, bright and lively as they entered. They didn’t seem to notice Lance as they bickered, Shiro stepping in a few times to keep it out of hand.

“Where is Lance, is he late again?” Pidge joked, earning a scoff from Keith before both of their eyes landed on the Blue Paladin already standing at the console with the Alteans, their conversation seemingly interrupted by the outburst. After the briefing, it was little over a varga before the castle landed on the planet and the Paladins were greeted by its inhabitants. Music and excited shouts filled the air as the group marched from the castle to the large civic center that was to house the celebration.

To Lance’s joy, Hunk stood with him the whole time. His friend finding exciting food for both of them to try as they mingled with some of the natives. As exhausted as Lance felt, his smile never faltered, and in all honesty it could have been much worse. He just wished that whatever alien was practically hanging off of his arm could let off a bit.

It was smooth going throughout the party, all the way up until the dinner. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this dinner.

Well, could anyone really prepare to be seated across from the most beautiful alien he had ever seen. Her skin a dusty pink that seemed to aglow in the candle light, her long flowing hair dark as night and hung in long curls where it wasn’t plaited in the most intricate braids. But her eyes, her diamond like eyes could have put the most precious stone to shame. The way he could see almost every colour in them shook him to his core.

She was beautiful, strikingly so.

He almost hadn’t realized he had been staring until he felt the elbow of his best friend hit his ribcage. But he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The girl sitting in front of him looked up with such sad eyes, it made him want to cry just looking at her.

“You carry much pain with you, Blue Paladin.” her voice was soft, but the sentiment in it struck an arrow in his chest. It seemed her words had silenced the entire table as eyes turned towards the two.

“Though you crave to return home the most, you know that you will not. Not in your lifetime...and yet you remain.” she took a shuddering breath, reminding Lance that he hadn’t breathed since she sat in front of him. “I will not ask you why. For your silence is all the answer I need, but I must ask. You are scared are you not?”

“That’s enough Nalena.”

But all she did was hold a singular slim finger to her father, an action that silenced him yet again.

“Yet you brave the fight, the war that you are convinced you will not survive.” She moved her hand to cover his, offering him the slightest squeeze of comfort.

“You fight because though you may not return, you will do all you can to make sure that they,” she dropped his gaze finally to pass her eyes upon his team before those kind diamond eyes returned to his once more, “they may. You lay awake at night, haunted by the prophecies of your demise, yet you continue. You rise every day, answer every call, knowing that it could be your last.”

He could feel the pain in her voice be mirrored in his heart, and knew the tear that fell from his eye matched that on her cheek.

“Alejandro, you have committed many sins in your effort to protect your team. Though they will never truly know what you have done, what plagues your mind every waking moment, know that they could not have a more devoted nor more loving paladin. Your heart will never be hardened, your efforts never in vain. You carry the curse of the Blue Paladin, and take it in stride. Your loyalty knows no bounds. Know this Alejandro Serrano-McClain, if they do not let you into your heaven it is not your fault. The road to hell may be paved with good intentions, but it is their loss for not honoring the hero you have become.”

Blue eyes stared, unlooking into the vast expanse of the stars hidden behind the glass. His mind still reeling relentlessly vargas after his encounter with the princess Nalena. Her words played in a continuous loop in his mind. Keeping him awake.

So here he stood, arms crossed, dressed in only a pair or dark sweatpants and his lion slippers shielding his feet from the ice of the cold castle floor. He was so wrapped up in his own mind, he hadn’t heard the doors whoosh open, nor the light footsteps that followed to where he stood.

“Lance?”

Startled he turned around, eyes wide when they settled on the violet ones belonging to the red paladin.

“Keith...what are- are you okay?”

They both stood in silence, Keith dressed in his pajamas seemed colder than Lance did, shuddering a little in the dark of the observation deck.

“Shouldn't I be asking you that?”

Lance shifted on his feet, not really sure where this was going, but dreading it nonetheless. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“Are you? I mean, after what happened today, I wouldn’t be. And I-” Lance watched as Keith fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt, his eyes refusing to meet the blue paladin’s in front of him. “I don’t know. What she said. It seems like you haven’t been okay for a while.”

Lance wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, after all the whole team had been there to witness the incident. They weren’t blind. Of course they’d be concerned. He’d be worried out of his mind if the same thing happened to Pidge, or Shiro, even Allura. But he had to admit it was a little weird having Keith, his self proclaimed rival- not rival, genuinely worry about him.

His first instinct was to deflect. Hell, this wasn’t something that a few kind words could fix, and the last person he’d want comfort from would be the boy that only bickered with him. But that wasn’t right. Keith was standing in front of him because he wanted to help, because at the end of the day they were a team, friends. And he genuinely did care.

Lance sighed before holding out his hand, gesturing for the other boy to come and join him in front of the glass, only turning back to the stars when Keith finally stood next to him.

“You’re right.” he said, breaking the long drawn out silence, his eyes never leaving the stars he had grown so accustomed to. The stars that he knew he would live and die fighting in. “I don’t think I’ve been okay for a long time.”

He could feel the smaller boy’s eyes on him, studying him and if the conversation hadn’t weighted so heavily on him, he probably would have blushed.

“I used to look up at the stars, and dream about flying through them. I wanted to be the best pilot out there, traveling farther than anyone ever had. Even when we were brought into this war, I couldn’t help but dream of doing great things. It's all I've ever wanted to do... fly.”

“All I ever wanted to do was fly.” He repeated softly, as he looked down at his feet, shaking his head at his own ignorance. No, not ignorance, naivety. All those years ago he was a naive 17 year old who would have given an arm and a leg to travel the stars.

“Now I’m here, fighting a war my family has no idea even exists. And all I want to do is go home. I want to hug my mom, argue with my siblings, play with my niece and nephew.”

“You will, Lance. We’ll go back to Earth, and you can do all that, and more-”

“Will I?” he interrupted. There was no harshness, no anger. Just a reserved sadness that Keith would have done anything to never hear from his friend’s lips again. This wasn’t Lance, Lance was supposed to be loud and happy and...not hurting like this. Lance deserved to be happy.

“It doesn’t scare me any more, the thought of not going home. At first I used to be terrified, of getting hurt, dying, leaving my family to wonder what happened to me. As bad as it sounds... I don’t feel that way anymore.”

“Lance…”

“I used to spend hours imagining how I would die, getting gunned down by a Galra soldier, or saving one of you, or… I spent so much time imagining it, that I couldn’t even imagine going home if I wanted to.”

Keith had turned completely now, facing the taller boy, tears in his eyes as his friend struggled to talk. How could he have not known about this? How could any of them not have known? They were supposed to be a team, and when one of your team is hurting, you help. They didn’t seem like a team at that moment, neglecting their Blue Paladin. The one person who was holding this team together was completely falling apart and none of them could see it.

It made him want to wrap Lance up in the biggest hug he had ever known, and Keith was far from a hugger. But seeing the boy stand before him, speak about how accepting he was of fucking dying? That was not okay. None of this was okay. They had grown up fighting a war, and if there was any indication that it had taken its toll on the teens, Lance was it.

“She was right.” Lance said finally. Breaking Keith out of his stupor.

“Right about what?”

“I’ve done horrible things for this goddamn war. I’ve killed people Keith, not droids, or senteries. Living, breathing Galra. Not just Galra, but anyone who would cross the coalition. I-” his voice cracked as he placed his head in his hands, stifling a sob that threatened to escape him. “I don’t want to be remembered for that. I never wanted to be a hero, but here I am pretending to be one, knowing all the things I’ve done.”

Any self control that Keith had once had evaded him in that moment, as he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Lance. Pulling him close, as if he was afraid to lose him if he didn’t.

The action only made Lance cry harder, no longer hiding it as he clung to the Red Paladin. Keith guided them to the floor, and there they remained until Lance had cried himself out, Keith releasing a few tears himself.

It was some time before either of them spoke again. Neither one really wanting to break from the safety of the silence, but knowing that more had to be said. In the end, Keith waited until Lance pulled away before speaking.

“Lance, war brings out the worst in all of us. We’ve all done things that we’re not proud of, but we can’t let it define us. What we do is to help the universe. Voltron exists to help the universe.”

Lance scoffed at that, the disbelief held in his voice only pushing Keith more.

“I’m so sorry that you’ve been forced to do those things. But I’ve also seen you do some amazing things as well. I’ve seen you carry children out of a collapsing building, I’ve seen you push Pidge out of the way of a shot, I’ve seen you talk Shiro down from his nightmare induced panic attacks. Hell, you literally drag me out of the training deck every night to make sure I actually sleep. Lance, you care for this family.”

Before Lance could get a word in, Keith cupped his cheeks in both hands, angling him so that their eyes met.

“I know me listing all of the good things will never outweigh the heaviness of the guilt you carry. All I ask is that you acknowledge that you are more than that, because you are. You are Lance McClain, the Blue Paladin of Voltron. A hero, a fighter, a friend. The scar on your back is a testament to how true that is.”

He let the words sink in, let Lance just have time to feel them. Because he meant every word.

And he’d be damned if he let Lance go on believing that he wasn’t worthy of being here. He defined what it meant to be a paladin, and though he may not be their leader, he still managed to instill it in each and every one of them.

“Lance, I-”

“Thank you. I think I’m gonna go to bed.” Lance pulled back before moving to stand up, popping the cricks out of his shoulders.

“...Just think about what I said, please.”

Lance turned then, a small smirk replacing the broken expression that plagued him just the minute before.

“Yeah, I will. Thank you, Keith, really.”

#langst #but with comfort this time #we love to see it #I love two blue bois and lance is one of them #I mean the number has gone up to three blue bois but I refuse to change the tag #its fine #everything is fine #lance mcclain #lance serrano #vld lance #klance if you squint #honestly its klance for comfort #Keith just wants his boy to be okay

82 notes · View notes