#that should’ve been lance LOL

[autisticlancemcclain]

secret santa for @leenfiend

“And you two…”

Shiro turns to look at them both, eyes narrowed, hand on his hip. Even being half-held up by Allura, Keith wants to straighten up on reflex, dust off his armour, stand at attention. He breaks away from the heavy stare, glancing over at Lance, only to find him already looking. He sneers when Keith makes eye contact, and in seconds they’re turning away from each other, scowling.

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs, looking down at his comm. “Yeah, I gotta do something about you two.”

———

The something, it turned out, was busywork.

Keith thinks he might strangle his brother. Keith knows he and Lance have been…difficult, the past few weeks — although for the life of him he could not tell you why — but sending them on some stupid mission that was so clearly just meant to waste time was just insulting.

Keith huffs, looking at the mission file again.

MISSION FILE: 24-62-XC

OBJECTIVE: find bananas. or something i dunno

PERSONEL: idiot a and idiot b. shiro said to erase that and write your names but your bickering has been driving me insane so no. suffer

LOCATION: Kunedg-12-2

DANGER LEVEL: none unless you kill each other lol

He reminds himself to mess around on Pidge’s laptop the next time she leaves it unsupervised. This whole stupid file is embarrassing, but the disrespect of the mission objective has to be the worst part. She couldn’t even bother pretending to come up with one.

“Could you maybe go brood somewhere else?” Lance snarks, startling him out of his thoughts. He lifts a delicate hand off the joystick to pinch his nose like something reeks. “Your emo-ness is throwing off my vibe and your angsty sweaty hormones are stinking up the place. Maybe go sit near the garbage shoot, or something.”

Keith bites back a growl, fists clenching at his side. “I smell fine.”

“Like finely chopped onions, maybe. Yuck.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Discreetly, Keith lifts up his arm and takes a whiff. He scowls harder — he smells like the same space brand deodorant they all use. Lance is just being a dick for no reason, like he always is, like what got them into this stupid mess in the first place.

“Just — land the damn Lion, Lance. Try not to kill us.”

Even though he was trying to be insulting, Keith regrets it as soon as he says it. Lance’s back goes ramrod straight, like he was zapped with Pidge’s bayard, and the temp in the cockpit drops thirty degrees.

“Lance —”

“Do not even attempt to finish that sentence,” he hisses. His hands wrapping around the controls are slow and deliberate. His shoulders are straight as a ruler.

Keith sighs, tipping his head back and letting it thunk on the back of the chair. He should’ve — goddamn it. He’s not sure what he should have done, but they might as well turn around now and go back to everyone else. They could stay on this planet for days, now, and Lance won’t so much as look at him. Keith is sure of it.

“Better hold tight. Might slip on the control and oops! Mercy me. I’m so clumsy and careless, I might just kill us.”

The Blue-turned -Red Paladin accompanies every biting remark with a sharp jerk of the thrusters, shaking the whole lion around. Red must be happy to help, because the smoothness that Keith knows should usually accompany her movements is nowhere to be found — she’s letting Lance yank them around to his heart’s content. Keith doesn’t have much of a connection to her anymore, but he can almost feel the impression of her snapping her tail in indignation.

He grits his teeth, determined not to give Lance the satisfaction of reacting. Even as they do nauseating barrel roll after barrel roll, even after Lance dives and dips like a crazy person, even after he lifts his hands off the controls and lets them drop, totally free falling — Keith says nothing.

At least, not until he hears a soft, “Oh, shoot.”

“‘Oh shoot’ what?” he asks cautiously, knowing this might be a trap. If Lance bites back with oh, so you really don’t trust me to pilot!, Keith is genuinely going to stomp over there and strangle him.

“Um. So. Buckle up,” Lance says, and Keith has to bite back a scream of frustration.

Lance is no longer pulling wildly at the controls, intentionally driving like it’s the first time he’s seen an aircraft. His posture is careful and relaxed, shoulders loose and easily moveable. But his jaw is clenched, like he does when he’s stressed, and Keith begins to notice a flashing light in the corner of the stats display.

“Lance.”

“Everything is under control,” he says quickly.

“…Lance.”

“We’re not going to crash or anything,” he amends. “I didn’t — screw it up.”

He glances backwards, quickly meeting Keith’s eye, and Keith notices that his expression is pleading. Keith swallows the comment he wants to make and nods.

“But. Uh, the comm line to the team is cut off. Not sure why. Maybe the planet has bad signal? It was fine coming in. I’ll land and then we can investigate?”

It takes Keith a minute to realize that Lance is asking him. That Lance is looking at him to lead, as if Keith has ever ordered Lance around. As if it hasn’t been two ye — months. At least.

Keith clears his throat, looking away. “Yeah, dude. You’re piloting, your mission. Whatever you think is best.”

For once, Keith has said the right thing. The confirmation of control runs through Lance like a shiver, and a mix of confusion and relief and precious, precious hope flits through his dark eyes almost faster than Keith can register, then he’s turning back to face the control board.

“Cool. Hold on, there’s not much to land on here so it’ll be bumpy.”

It is bumpy. Honestly, Keith is surprised at how deftly Lance and Red land, for all he has to clench his hands around the armrests — this planet is truly just a thick nest of towering trees and curling vines. Lance has to slink Red between two trees and have her land curled around the base of one, because there just isn’t any space for her to touch down regularly.

“You managed not to kill us,” Keith tries, smiling.

Lance stares at him critically for a moment. Then, wonderfully, beautifully, miraculously, his expression clears, and he decides Keith is being genuine. The tiniest of smiles turn up his own lips, and he shrugs.

“Well, duh. I’m the best pilot out of the two of us, after all. Let’s go.”

He’s out the door before Keith can retort — maybe something along the lines of you literally ruin every single bonding moment we have ever had you actual twerp-brained fucker — and Keith is quick to follow. Any attempt at dialogue dies on his tongue the second he’s exposed to the outside air — and the wall of wet heat that slams into him like a bull stampeding in the wrong direction.

“Jesus H Christ on a one wheeled motorbike,” he wheezes. Every inch of his skin is immediately drenched in sweat. He’s never regretted his gloves more, and wishes with every fibre of his being that he’d actually listened to Shiro for once and worn his (temperature- controlled) paladin armour.

Lance ignores him, beam lighting up his face. “Oh, it’s beautiful here!”

Keith can actually feel his shirt cling to his back like a second skin. It’s disgusting.

“Huh?”

Because yeah, the planet might be pretty. It’s almost greener than Keith can comprehend – trees so tall Keith can’t even see the canopy; trunks covered in moss and vines; wide-leafed, curling bushes and plants; tropical flowers making the air smell sweet and fragrant. Keith watches as a gecko patters down a branch to rest in a patch of dappled sunlight. Pretty, sure.

But Keith is pretty sure he’s actually breathing in water. The air is so goddamn humid he’s not sure there’s actually any air in it, and he is sticky. Beautiful places are not sticky. 

Lance is already frolicking around like a goddamn nature fairy. He tugs off his jacket, tying it around his waist, but other than that he seems to revel in the humidity, breathing in deeply like he’s used to inhaling what is essentially gasified mist instead of air. He grins at the greenery like it’s familiar, despite the fact that they’ve never even glanced at this entire quadrant the entire time they’ve been in space, let alone this planet.

“You live to thrive wherever I do not,” Keith mutters, irrationally angry at Lance’s lack of suffering. He scowls at his back and says, louder, “We have a mission.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance dismisses, still in the trance-like glee. He twirls around to face a huge, fern like plant, reaching up to caress the leaves and pet the back of a beetle. “You and I both know it’s busywork.“

“Yeah, well, it’s an official mission and we’re Paladins of Voltron, so. Personally I take that pretty seriously.”

It’s a low blow, as bad or worse as his piloting comment earlier. He winces as soon as he says it – Jesus, when did he start trying to piss Lance off – but luckily Lance doesn’t hear or doesn’t care, already twenty feet down some random path. Keith groans quietly and stomps after him.

Ten minutes ago, Lance could have suggested they turn around and leave and Keith would’ve been on-board. Now, as stupid as it is, Lance’s delight in this planet annoys him. It’s not fair that he’s amusing himself, and Keith is miserable. They’re supposed to both be miserable.

Somehow, though, he manages to keep his commentary to himself. Part of it is watching as Lance seems to…glow, on this planet, as strange as that is to notice. The giant smile has not left his face, and the yellow sunlight trickling through the leaves looks good on him. He hums as he walks, dancing under bent branches, even refraining from holding them back so Keith can get through and waiting until Keith is just barely past before snapping the branch back so Keith gets smacked in the face. And that’s one of his favourite hobbies.

He must be in a really good mood, if he’s not finding an excuse to smack Keith.

“Can we find some stupid fruit or something and get out of here,” Keith complains, finally having had enough. Have they actually been hiking for hours? Keith feels like he’s been hiking for hours. He feels like he’s seen the same eight plants nine hundred times. Everything has coalesced into a sea of green and he’s hot, goddamnit, and he’s never regretted an all-black ensemble more in his life. Maybe he listens to Shiro next time. Well, unlikely, but –

Something smacks him in the face, and he yelps. 

He bends down to grab the weapon, seething as he hears Lance’s snickering, and comes up with some kind of round, firm…thing.

“Fruit,” Lance supplies. “Feel free to head back to Red. You go back to the others and they’ll send your ass right back, catboy. You know as well as I do.”

Keith knows this. Of course he does. But it pisses him off that Lance is so blase about it, like Keith doesn’t know, that he clenches the fruit-thing in his fists and actually does stomp back to Red, leaving Lance to take a hike. 

“God he is so annoying,” he mutters to no one, aggressively biting the fruit. It’s delicious, which only serves to make him angrier. He puts on a high, mocking voice. “You go back to the others and they’ll send you back, blah blah blah. As if I don’t know that. As if I’m dumb.”

It’s relieving to get back into Red’s interior. It’s not exactly AC, but it certainly isn’t humid central, and any break from that heat is a welcome one. He sits heavily in the pilot’s chair, relishing in the familiarity of it, and sulks.

Or, well, he tries to.

The thing about sulking is that it gets very boring very quickly. That’s why he usually expresses his sulking through incredible violence, and why he misses the castle’s training room so much. That place was great. All Keith had to do was press a button and boom, he was being attacked. The literal dream.

Bored, he swings his legs over the armrest, opening his bayard and examining it. It’s weird to have such a contentious thing. Knowing all the blood it spilled in Zarkon’s name…it’s no wonder that his brother was so quick to get rid of it. But still, it’s a tool. A tool cannot be blamed for its master’s action, that much Keith had learned in the Blades.

He lets the blade glow and shrink in his hold until its back in its dormant position. He can’t very well train in here, as much as he would like to. Both Red and Lance would kill him, probably. 

Red makes a keening noise in his head. It’s the loudest he’s heard from her in…too long, and it startles him.

“What?”

Her presence in his head gets stronger, more insistent.

“What?” he repeats, sitting straight up. “What, girl, what’s going on?”

He yelps as the floor shifts under him – Red stands up, unwinding herself from around the tree. A growl reverberates through the entire ship, making the control board vibrate. A bad feeling begins to take root somewhere in his stomach.

“Red?! Red, what’s –”

Before he can finish, she opens her great maw, and literally spits him out. She doesn’t leave him time to get offended, nudging him forward the second he gets to his feet. She growls again when he looks back at her, tilting her head at the path Lance disappeared down.

All at once, Keith gets it.

He sprints. Bayard elongating in his hand, he runs as fast as he can, hacking away branches and vines with ease – when he chances a look down, he sees that it’s taken the form of a machete. His first bayard change.

He does not have time to celebrate it. 

He can barely hear it over the sound of his own pounding feet, but there’s a rumbling, somewhere in the distance. Keith has been hearing it for a while – he thought it was Red, or maybe just jungle noises.

Now, he hears the human voice responding to it.

Something is wrong.

“Please don’t be doing something stupid,” he prays, pushing himself faster. It’s not easy. Keith is in good shape, but the humidity is knocking the hell out of him – every breath feels like it’s getting half the oxygen it should. He’s tiring fast. But the noises are getting louder, closer, and yep, that’s definitely Lance’s voice. Keith isn’t exactly sure what he’s saying, but he knows the voice, of course he knows the voice, it’s the only one that never left his head once in two years. In a last burst of strength, he sprints toward the sound, slashing a near-solid block of vines. 

He slashes the last layer of vines back, thrusting forward, and very heroically lands on his face.

“Lance!” he shouts, jumping back to his feet. He whirls around, sure this is where he heard the growls interspersed with Lance’s murmuring. But he can’t see him anywhere.

“Here,” sighs a voice.

Keith looks up and barely chokes back a scream. 

Swinging from a vine, wrapped up to his neck in a cocoon of them, is Lance – but it isn’t a vine. It’s thick like one, and smooth, but bright white. And…gloopy, almost, because Lance is not wrapped in a bunch of vines but in strands and strands of silk, and perched on – or maybe clinging to – his swinging body is the biggest spider Keith has ever seen. 

“Get off him!” Keith yells, proud of himself for how little his voice shakes.

“Oh, great plan, Keith. Order the animal around. I’m sure it’ll heed your demands and cut me free.”

Keith flushes. “Shut up,” he hisses. “Victims of Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch Gone Wrong don’t get to snark!”

Lance shrugs. “You’re welcome to climb on up here and get me to shut up.”

As if in understanding, the spider hisses, scuttling down Lance’s body and lunging towards Keith, snapping its fangs. Keith shrieks and jumps back. Luckily, the spider doesn’t go past Lance’s head.

“She’s outta webs,” Lance explains. He doesn’t even flinch as the spider’s massive butt – spinnerets and all – rest on his forehead. Keith gags. “She won’t get too close to you, you’re too threatening –”

“I’m threatening?!”

“– so you’re in no danger. You can put the weapon away.”

“Put the weapon away – Lance, did it already suck out your brains?”

Lance glares hard at him. The effect is significantly lessened as the string of webbing he’s hanging from slowly turns, forcing his eyes away from Keith, and then also, well. The massive fuckin’ bug sitting on his forehead. So.

“No, she didn’t suck out my brains. She’s an animal, Keith, not dumb. Eating me would be stupid and a massive waste. I’m too big. I just freaked her out, is all. I should’ve been more careful in approaching her web.”

Keith places his face in his hands and yells. Just – screams, for a minute. He can’t believe he ever missed this asshole. He lived two blissful, blissful years without having to deal with any of this shit. 

And now, massive spiders. 

Great.

“I hate you,” Keith says. 

Lance nods, shrugging again. “Fair. Can’t leave without me, though.”

“I think I might. I’ll tell Allura you died tragically. Moment of silence, blah blah. Then I go home and have a lovely, quiet flight the whole time.”

“Hm, that won’t work. Hunk will be desolate. Inconsolable, I would even say.”

Keith sighs. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, matching Lance’s grin. He cannot believe his own brain’s betrayal, allowing itself to be amused by Lance’s stupid jokes. 

“What am I gonna do about the spider, Lance.”

At its – hers, whatever – name, it hisses again. Lance remains unphased. He wriggles a little, even, as if the sharp fangs aren’t inches away from his eyeballs.

“I’m working on it, gimme a sec.”

Keith aquieses. He wants to slash through the stupid binds and be done with everything, but he’s worried that the spider might be faster than he is and hurt Lance before he can get the chance. If he can just find a way to smack the spider off…

“Hm. I got an idea. Keith, grab my comm.”

Keith bites back a comment about who should be ordering whom around, edging gingerly around the hissing spider to scoop up Lance’s dropped comm. He clicks it on, tapping in Lance’s password – 3425, spelling D-I-C-K – and holding it loosely in his freehand.

“Got it.”

“Great. Okay, open my spider translator app.”

“Your – what.”

“Spider translator app,” Lance explains patiently. “Been working on it with Coran. Spiders communicate mostly via pheromones, but a lot of ‘em use clicks, especially threateningly. I remember how to say ‘hi’ and ‘no harm’, and I think I remember the sound for ‘food’? But I’m not sure and I don’t want to say ‘no harm food’ but accident, or something dumb like that, ‘cause then she might get the wrong idea. I’m hoping for something closer to ‘no food’ or ‘bad food’. I think she kind of gets it, but she’s still spooked. If I click at her she might think I’m another spider, let me go. If all else fails we’ll use the pheromones Coran and I have stored in Red’s shipping dock, but that stuff really reeks and doesn’t really wash out so I’d rather not.”

Keith’s head starts to hurt. Vaguely, he starts to wonder if he hit his head somewhere and is now dreaming, but unfortunately this brand of weird is pretty regular Lance. It’s just been a while since Keith has been in full force of it. 

Plus, Coran has clearly been enabling. 

“I have Seen Things,” Keith says, stabbing at the stupid comm. The app is front and centre. It is used more than the actual communication app, Keith knows that because he finds the stupid spider app in seconds and literally cannot find the communication app. He is going to kill this boy, the second he makes sure he’s safe. “So many things in space, Lance. So many of them horrible. So many of them strange. You remember the blob people that talked by pissing? I remember the blob people that talked by pissing. That is less weird than this, Lance.”

The translation app is pretty intuitive. Keith will give him that. He finds a translation for ‘bad food’ pretty quickly, but can’t read what it says for the life of him. He glances up, taking in the spider and the sheer fucking size of it, and slowly extends his hand so Lance can see the comm screen. His fingers tremble ever so slightly. 

Lance has to strain his neck slightly to see the screen. Keith resists the urge to yell. But he quickly makes a series of clicks and tongue-sounds, attracting even more of the spider’s attention. It stares at him with all eight of its eyes for several minutes.

Then it turns, scuttling slightly away from Lance’s face. Keith lets out a huge sigh of relief – too soon – as the spider sinks its fangs in Lance’s chest.

Keith screams.

“Will you chill out!” Lance scolds. Keith’s screams only get louder, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “She is eating the silk, Keith, Jesus, stop yelling! I’m fine!”

“I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you –”

In minutes there’s a thunk, and a muffled “Ow.” When Keith looks up, Lance is sprawled on the ground, rubbing his wrist, and the spider is nowhere to be found.

“Are you physically fucking capable,” he says slowly, “of just – not doing stupid shit? Like at all? Maybe once.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Lance retorts. He has a startling amount of dignity for someone with spider silk in his hair, still sat on the hard ground. “Your ass got stuck on the back of some whale for two years. Embarrassing.”

It is embarrassing, so Keith can’t retort. He makes a face and hopes it’s sufficient, but then Lance makes one right back, and he looks so fucking stupid in the fucking jungle and also kind of good for some reason and Keith’s heart is just barely slowing down, now, and his hands still shake and Lance just spoke fucking spider and Keith just.

He loses it, a little. 

He starts laughing and he can’t stop, and its so stupid, and he’s so fucking hot. His knees get weak and he’s landing on his ass, gasping for breath, Lance wheezing as he leans against Keith for support that he can’t even give. Who knows what other horrors lay in this stupid jungle – he and Lance are so loud they’re practically inviting them over – but Keith can’t stop for the life of him. His brain feels disconnected from his body. His stomach hurts so freaking badly. Every time he looks at Lance he loses it again. 

“Please take the fucking silk out of your hair,” he tries to say. Every word is interrupted by a wheezy giggle, so it doesn’t do much, but luckily Lance runs his hands through his hair anyways and it clings to his fingers instead. 

He calms, finally, keeping his attention on the strand of white silk, watching Lance’s thin fingers fiddle with it. He finally manages to calm down, too, taking huge breaths and trying to steady himself. 

“So,” Lance says when they can breathe again, “I’m sorry.”

“You should be, asshole. I thought you were gonna get eaten.”

“Oh, I’m not sorry about the spider. That was an honest misunderstanding.”

Keith sighs. For his own peace of mind, he convinces himself that Lance is joking. “What are you sorry for, then?”

Lance fiddles with the edge of his jacket. Keith notices, for the first time, that the tightly woven silk left red, raised welts around his skin. It must have been tight.

“I’ve been. A little. Standoff-ish. Perhaps.”

Keith snorts. “A little?”

“A lot,” Lance amends, smiling. He punches Keith’s shoulder. It is not gentle. “I missed you, Dropout. I didn’t expect to, and I didn’t like that I did. Misplaced aggression, all that.”

“You’ve matured remarkably in my absence,” Keith observes. He dodges Lance’s kick, but only barely. His smile hurts his face. “You’re almost, like…a real, functioning person now.”

“I take it back. You’re annoying. I didn’t miss you, all the letters I wrote you are a lie, in fact you can actually fuck right back off –”

Keith stills. “Letters.”

“– to the space whale, actually. See if I care.” Lance clears his throat. His face is getting steadily more flushed, and oh God it has nothing to do with the heat does it. “I don’t, in case that’s unclear –”

“Lance,” Keith says, a little more forcefully. Because – because oh God, this means. This means. “What do you mean, letters?”

“A new alphabet I came up with in my spare time,” Lance snaps, shoving Keith back and getting to his feet. “What do you think, you idiot.”

He tries to walk off, but Keith doesn’t let him. He wraps his hand around his wrist and tugs him back – too forcefully, accidentally, and Lance yelps as he stumbles right into Keith’s lap. Keith doesn’t stop him from moving frantically back, a little warm himself.

“Lance.” His tone is urgent. “Lance, I wrote you letters too.”

Finally, he stops squirming. “You did?”

“Yes. I don’t know if I can – I mean, I don’t have any here, but they’re stashed in Black, I couldn’t leave – oh.”

Lance’s lips are pressed to his.

Lance’s lips. 

Are pressed.

To his.

Lance is kissing him.

“Oh – oh.”

“Man, you really are an idiot.” 

His harsh words are significantly softened because they’re, y’know, mumbled into his mouth. Keith can’t quite bring himself to complain about that one, really, since Lance is warm but not suffocatingly slow and his mouth keeps curving into a smile and his lips are soft and. And. For once he’s too preoccupied to pick a real fight. 

Keith can live with him like this, he thinks.

“My letters.” Keith pulls away slightly, clearing his throat. “You can’t. Read them.”

Lance tilts his head. “Why?”

Embarrassed, Keith gestures between the two of them. “This didn’t – occur to me, Lance. So.”

A shit-eating grin curls across the Red Paladin’s face. “What didn’t occur to you, hot stuff?”

“You know,” Keith warns, glaring. His ears feel like they’re burning, and not just because of the stupid nickname. 

“I don’t!”

“You do, asshole, because you’re smirking like you do.” “No need to get presumptuous, Keithy. I simply do not understand. What didn’t occur to you –” he leans in again, breath tickling Keith’s neck and making him shudder – “me? Like…this? Close to you?” He presses a small kiss to the underside of Keith’s jaw. “...Liking you, maybe?” Keith’s breathing is embarrassingly heavy for what’s barely a little kissing. He tries desperately to get himself under control, but with Lance so, so close… “Or was it yourself you didn’t understand, hm? Wax a lot of poetic about me in those letters?”

Keith did. It’s true. He remembers one humiliating instance where he, in frustration of forgetting the details, tried to map out Lance’s face – the freckles that dot his nose, the shine of his brown eyes when he makes a perfect shot, the curve of his wide grin. He’s pretty sure ‘sparkling’ was used in description at least twice, which is…bad. 

In a last ditch effort, Keith gets his hands on Lance’s chest, lays his palms back, and shoves. When he’s flat on his back against the jungle floor, eyes wide and head tilted back to watch Keith’s face, Keith kisses him quiet. 

It works.

It works very well.

“Okay, we gotta – we gotta – not that this isn’t great, it is, but we gotta –”

Finally, Lance is the flustered one, the wordless one. Keith relishes in the feeling.

“Keith, get off, we –”

Finally, Lance succeeds in pushing Keith back. He rests on his heels, pouting (and subsequently ignoring the fact that he’s pouting, because, what kind of witchcraft).

“We have to go,” Lance says sternly. “Okay? We can – do this later. We gotta get back.”

Keith huffs. “They’re the ones who sent us away. They can deal for a few hours.”

“It’s been a few hours,” Lance reminds him. “Let’s just go, okay? Lots of excitement for one day.” He tilts his head back, smirking. “If we leave now I’ll set Red on autopilot and we can make out on the way back.”

Cold air in Red’s cockpit? Backdrop of stars and space? Somewhere to be that isn’t a jungle floor?

“Sold,” Keith says, hastily getting to his feet. The walk back to the Lion is the least complaining Keith has ever done about anything, even in his own head. 

Right before they walk into Red’s waiting and open mouth, Lance plucks a yellow, curved fruit from a tree. He tosses it to Keith, grinning widely.

“Mission accomplished.”

–––

happy holidays colleen :DD

[thefabledpheasant]

Merlin x Lancelot

Asked by @destinychicken68

So, agh, I go back and forth on this one A LOT. Because on one hand, I tend to headcanon Lancelot as straight, but then I see their scenes together and I go 🤔🤔

Honestly, I think Merlin and Lance are so goddamn charming that they are able to have extreme chemistry with basically anyone, so when the two of them are together, it’s like there are fireworks every second.

There are ships I like better than this one, but it IS an amazing ship. Lance matches Merlin’s sweetness to a crazy degree and it’s everything Merlin deserves, but not what I think Merlin falls hard for. I think they’re both so kind that there’d basically never be any angst and I need some angst lol

That being said, Lance should’ve been around him a lot more, in whatever way the writers would’ve given. Merlin needed someone like him around and they clearly made each other happy.

Ranking:

80/100

Feel free to Send me ships to rank :)

[necromanceyourgays]

please please give your opinions on each serial killer in the show.

thank you tumblr user fuzzy2846 i will indeed give you my opinions!!!

(mega spoilers under the cut, read at your risk)

Howard Epps:

Okay I have fixed feelings about him. He was the first serial killer, so obviously that makes him cooler, but he was just so. cliche. also mega Red Dragon vibes from him, especially his backstory. Also he hurt Zack so 0/10, wasn’t hit enough to excuse his actions

Gormogon:

Low-key my second favourite serial killer in the show, I’m a whore for religious serial killers in media. ofc, he hurt Zack, making him an instant -100/10, but I genuinely think he was a really good character on the show. I feel like he could’ve worked better as the last ever serial killer ifykim?? Like, Gormogons whole arc felt more like an ending than a beginning. Also gotta love the cannibals on this show. it’s a great gimmick

The Gravedigger:

Fun fact: this was actually the first ever serial killer arc I ever saw on Bones!! I watched them out of order and don’t actually have the full story still, but honestly I liked the arc. The fact she hurt Lance and killed a kid makes her an instant -1000/10, but she really knew how to properly have a gimmick. I liked her arc as a serial killer better than any on the show, it was one of the only times the plot felt coherent lol.

Broadsky:

Not much to say, he was hella short lived. Light Yagami kinnie. Moving on!

The Ghost Killer:

Okay, I’m biased here, because I read a fanfic about her once and now I hate her. BUT, even without the ao3 fics traumatising me, I hated her character with a burning passion. It led into Sweets death which could be blamed on Pelant but he’s my meow meow so let’s not which of course is unforgivable so she’s my least favourite personality wise, and her gimmick of finger nails was just,,, to bland. Original, but bland. We need CANNIBALISM. we need ANARCHY. not fingernails!!

Last but DEFINITELY not least,

Christopher Pelant:

okay really I swear it won’t just be me simping. I have opinions on his character!!!! That aren’t horny!! I actually didn’t enjoy his arc as much as you’d assume I did, it felt rushed and was kinda boring. I talk more about it here, but I genuinely think his episodes were shit. He was a good character, whether you like him like I do or not, and deserved to be fleshed out more than he was (which basically wasn’t at all). I will forever say he should’ve been the last serial killer, and his arc should’ve gone on for much much longer. At least a whole nother season. I hated the way they made him be in love with Brennan (because if they couldn’t have made him gay like god INTENDED THEY SHOULDNT HAVE MADE HIM FALL IN LOVE AT ALL) and it literally lasted like two episodes before he died. nothing about his arcs ever made sense. he got like two minutes of screen time but was literally the most important villain in the ENTIRE SERIES. I’m forever salty about his ending, and will not shut up about it until Hart Hanson himself apologizes to my FACE.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[nerdasaurus1200]

We haven't talked in a while (cause I've been dead/busy, lol) so I'm sending you MANY questions!

✨- Moonstone or Sundrop?

🔮- Something you wish had happened in the series?

📺- Another show you’d like to see have a cross over with Tangled?

🖤- Tangled NOtp?

 

💎- Favorite AU?

💜- Characters you think should have interacted at all or more?

📚- Favorite Tangled Fanfic?

💢- Which character do you not relate to the most?

💥- A big a opinion you have related to the Tangled movie/series?1

Hey Portal! Don’t worry, I’ve been busy too, I just got back from summer vacation.

Moonstone or Sundrop?

Oh, moonstone. All the way.

Something you wish had happened in the series?

Well there’s always the chronic thing of me wishing Rapunzel actually apologized to Cass like Cass apologized to her. Right now the biggest thing that I wish happened in the series is that we got to see a bit more of Rapunzel’s extended family besides Aunt Willow. She’s part of a royal family after all, there’s no way she doesn’t have a ton of aunts and uncles and cousins.

Another show you’d like to see have a cross over with Tangled?

Definitely either Dragon Prince or Vox Machina. I feel like some the character dynamics would be so hysterical.

Tangled NoTP

This won’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me but…Cassunzel.

Favorite AU

I can’t pick just one so my top five favorite ones are

the New Moon AU in which Eugene and Rapunzel share the moonstone

The forbidden love au in which Rapunzel and Eugene were raised in their respective kingdoms and now have a secret romance going on and Varian, Lance, and Cass play matchmakers/chaperones

Roleswap AU, this one’s a lot more versatile but usually Rapunzel swaps roles with either Cass or Varian and she’s raised as an alchemist peasant girl and Eugene and/or Lance is the tutor to either Varian or Cass, depending on who’s the Lost Royal in the au

I don’t know if it’s an official au but @erazonpo3 had this cool Rapunzeltopia variant where Gothel never kidnapped Rapunzel and stayed to raise Cass and the canon Rapunzel and Eugene found that au’s Cass

And of course, post series au

Characters you think should’ve interacted at all or more?

Definitely Varian and Cass. Also Arianna and Cass because good god let the girl have a healthy mother figure. All of the Brotherhood, definitely. And also Lance And Rapunzel because wholesome sibling in law dynamics. Oh and I know they’re not in the show but I would’ve loved to see more of Rapunzel and Candor and Rapunzel and Dahlia

Favorite Tangled Fanfic

Oh man, I feel like I’m friends with all the good writers in the fandom. I’m still working on finishing reading them all and eagerly awaiting the rest but @th3p0rtalmaker, @majorabbey, @twotangledsisters, @flossy2003, @frozenwolftemplar, and @batata-doce-com-farofa all have such fantastic fics! You’re all such great writers and I love your work so much!

And also there’s this really great fanfic recently I found that was actually reccommended to me by @twotangledsisters called “The Fall” which focuses on Cass’s climb back up her tower at the end of CR.

Which character do you not relate to the most?

I think probably Frederic or Trevor, because never once have. I thought that kidnapping my crush or holding someone hostage was a good idea.

A big a opinion you have related to the Tangled movie/series?

This may be a piping hot take but just because Cassandra is introverted doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing or that she needed Rapunzel to break her out of her shell or even that she had no friends before Rapunzel. She doesn’t need Rapunzel to make her more likeable or socialize with people more or be more open. Being an introvert is perfectly okay. Hell, I myself am an introvert and if someone tried to get me to open up like that or be way too friendly towards me, I would also just dig my heels in or shut it out. And this take doesn’t even make sense anyway to me because Cass still barely interacts with anyone after befriending Rapunzel

[f0point5]

I loved seeing your insight on Charles Lando Lewis and I feel like your description on them is spot on (in my opinion at least) like charles being the nice ferrari guy more likely to follow team orders and yeah with the fuck boy part I get it there’s only so much ppl in monaco but to have girlfriends that we’re all previously friends with each other that’s too much of a coincidence and ouch // on lando yeah I feel like aside his funny moments from his early days w Carlos we don’t see a lot of personality to dissect aside from his speakeasy extrovertedness it’s like saying a lot without revealing anything // Lewis is definitely a tough nut to crack he’s had to handle being discriminated and basically had to keep up the PR face his whole career hard to say anything concrete correctly even though it’s been a long time since his f1 debut // would love to see your opinion on albon, esteban, daniel, or anyone you find interesting enough to write a story about

Idk how close of friends all the girlfriends were, and I know Monaco is a Petri dish so even if they were just casual acquaintances they’d be seeing each other a lot in social settings. However, man can’t be single it seems. He seems to lurch from one girlfriend to the next and that makes me wonder why he can’t be on his own. I know some people are relationship people but he just seems like he is in need of a constant close support system. Which seems to connect with the vibe I get that he is eager to put his trust in people to guide him, which is why he’s the more pliable Ferrari driver. I just get the vibe that he is always looking for someone to depend on in some sense.

I think Lando is just a balanced guy. His family seems stable, his dad seems lovely, grew up in an affluent home, good education etc. and for me that shows in how he’s just a normal 24 year old guy, like I feel like I meet/know guys like Lando. And maybe that’s why he comes across like he has less facets of his personality, like I’m sure he’s got his issues but I think on the whole he’s a pretty sound, normal Brit.

I just…mmm. I don’t want to get hunted by Cult LH lol so I won’t say too much on Lewis. I’ll just say, he reminds me of Cristiano Ronaldo, that they drink their own Kool-aid and it’s the only thing they drink. Also, Lewis’s outfits just BUG me.

I just think Albon is the cutest. He’s one guy I would trust with anything. He has a menagerie of animals and a lovely girlfriend. Honestly his seal of approval is PR63’s redeeming quality lol. I get such good vibes from Alex. Almost too good for F1.

Esteban is one guy I want to like. His face and the way he talks, he just has a likeability to him. But I think he has a chip on his shoulder that is not even so much part of his personality but sometimes it overshadows it. I just feel like he feels there’s always been something in his way and it has never been himself. And I guess that’s kind of a common mentality for drivers because they have to believe they are the best and everything else is wrong before they consider it might be them, but I just feel like Esteban thinks his whole career should have panned out differently and the reason it didn’t is everyone else’s fault. He says things that make me roll my eyes and say “could’ve should’ve would’ve”. I mean, I do believe Esteban has been a victim of politics of the sport (getting dropped for Lance) but at the end of the day his attitude sometimes makes me think he has an axe to grind with all the people he wishes he could be. But on the other hand, I think if you met him out in the world he’d be a peach, because I do think fundamentally he’s a nice guy.

This is contrasting with Pierre, who is on my mind bc of another ask. Pierre does not strike me as a likeable person, at all. Not that he’s not a nice person once you know him, but I just feel like he comes across as a real sourpuss. Probably means well ultimately but he just seems permanently unsettled. Another one I think who has a fragile mentality, probably a bit too hard on himself and expects too much, and when it invariably doesn’t go his way he goes on a warpath. Any guy who thinks Adrian Newey wants to hear his opinions on how to build a car needs to suck an egg. It doesn’t surprise me that he has a very young girlfriend because i think that’s his maturity level.

Disclaimer : I know none of these people this is just what I get from reading/watch them.

[dark-nymph3t]

With all due respect, but Marcs career wasn’t ruined by his surgeon, it was if anything ruined by Honda letting him attempt to race way too fucking early and his own pig headedness in refusing to sit out until he was a bit more stable. He still does this. So did Dani Pedrosa (love of my life, but these boys are idiots).

The same surgeon has (successfully) pieced together so many of those boys, but he’s not able to make nature bend to the will of someone that stubborn. The fact Marc wasn’t happy he didn’t get a miracle or that he went to someone else with different specialties does not mean Daniel is in bad hands.

Thank you do being so respectful Anon, I really appreciate it, also those boys are complete idiots most of the time lol. Daniel is in great hands, I agree with you, Lance’s surgery proves that. I should’ve been more clear that the post was part joke and I didn’t really think before I posted it.

Also Dani cheating on a boating test will never not be iconic to me he’s great lol

Edit: the post in question has now been removed as I did not feel comfortable leaving it up; Anon thank you for making me realize this, I should’ve through more before I posted it

[ryderart]

Oh, loverboyy~

I saw the prompt loverboy for Julance and I couldn’t help thinking about this scene in dirty dancing but KLANCE sooo...

[jackiebrackettt]

okay so this is a little fic snippet that i’m not going to finish (so don’t mind the first scene being clunky lol) of scientist cbeeduo hope u enjoy ^_^

Tubbo remembers what he made dinner for that night. Dream had asked Ranboo to stay back for something - prime knew what. But he was always doing that. Calling Ranboo into work at odd times. And this time Tubbo decided to scrape together a meal with whatever was left in their shared apartment.

He remembers that Ranboo was practically bouncing around the room when he got home.

“I’m guessing everything went well?”

“We had a breakthrough!”

Ranboo had thrown himself into his seat, an excited energy buzzing around him. He wasn’t allowed to talk about the details so Tubbo had steered the conversation elsewhere.

He doesn’t quite remember how it got onto the conversation it did. Only the conversation itself.

“I feel like…” Tubbo trailed off, trying to figure out the best way to put his thoughts into words. “I just want to do stuff before I die, you know?”

“Well, you’re not going to die anytime soon, right?” Ranboo was frowning. “I think you can- you can slow down.”

Tubbo had shrugged. “You never know.”

The truth was, he was still a little surprised he had made it that far. An internship at a fancy laboratory, one of his best friends working with him. But everything had been too unstable for too long before that. It was hard to let go of that mindset. That if he stopped working, he’d lose everything.

And Tubbo remembers that Ranboo had reached across the table suddenly. Grasped one of Tubbo’s hands in his own. They didn’t make eye contact, but Tubbo could still see the intensity in his eyes.

“I won’t let you die, okay? You’re not- you’re not going to die on my watch. I promise.”

He sounded so oddly serious for a hypothetical conversation. Maybe Tubbo should’ve taken that as the warning it was. But much like Ranboo didn’t know what Tubbo was researching, Tubbo didn’t know what Ranboo was. It was easy to dismiss the conversation as Ranboo being a good, worried friend.

—

There’s an unbearable pain lancing through his body. It’s hard to focus on anything else but that. His eyesight is blurry - from tears or blood, he can’t quite tell. So when the face appears in his vision, looming over him, he struggles. But he gets nowhere, and there’s a loud screaming noise (or maybe that’s just the ringing in his ears), and then the person is lifting him into their lap.

That screaming noise happens again. But then the person is shushing him. A familiar clawed hand runs through his hair while another presses something into Tubbo’s hand. It’s cool to the touch, and the hands are cool too, and Tubbo finds himself leaning into it because he feels like he’s on fire. He’s- prime he’s on fire.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” A deep voice that Tubbo swears he recognises cuts through the ringing in his ears and the building panic in his mind. “You’re okay. I’m making sure of it, okay Tubbo? Just trust me, you’re going to be okay.”

The hand tightens around his, in turn forcing his hand to tighten around the object. There is something wet dropping onto his face. It’s not enough to put him out. He’s on fire and this person is just-

They’re just holding him.

“This is- this is going to work.” The voice murmurs. “It has to. It has to.”

He needs to leave. He needs to get help. He tries to move but the person tightens their hold on him.

The last thing Tubbo sees before he passes out is a brilliant golden light.

—

Tubbo is used to being woken up by Ranboo shaking him and whispering his name. Sometimes, he’d stay up too late working on a project and forget to turn his alarm on. Those days, Ranboo would usually come in and wake him up with varying amounts of time to get ready for work. Sometimes, Ranboo wouldn’t remember that Tubbo’s missing until he’s right about to walk out the door. Other times, he’d figure it out straight away.

So it’s a little surprising waking up in the passenger seat of a car. Especially when he realises he can’t see well out of his right eye. He shifts to wipe at it, still a bit too out of it to process the whole car thing, and then the car is swerving to the side and comes to a rapid stop.

Tubbo’s heart rate jumps. He whips his head over to the drivers seat only to see Ranboo getting out and slamming the door behind him. He watches as Ranboo hurries around the front of the car to Tubbo’s side.

“Are you feeling okay?” Is the first thing Ranboo says to him after opening the door. “Are you- are you hurt?”

“What?”

“Tubbo.” Ranboo starts twisting his rings. “There was- there was an… accident. Back at- at the lab. And you got… hurt. Really, uh, really bad. And I saved you! But it’s all- well, it’s all experimental and I just need to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m-“

A wave of nausea hits him and he leans over out the car door. Weakly pushes Ranboo away but Ranboo seems to get it. Backs up in time to avoid getting vomit all over his shoes.

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay.” Ranboo laughs, nervous and high-pitched. “That’s uh… that’s a bad sign.”

“‘M fine.” Tubbo mumbles. “Water?”

There’s a headache brewing behind his eyes. The dull pressure of it travelling up into his skull.

A cold bottle is pressed into his hands. Tubbo uses it to clean the taste out of his mouth.

And then he notices the scars. Thick, burn scars. Wrapping up his arms and disappearing under his clothes. They don’t look old. But they definitely don’t look like something that happened-

Oh, prime. How long has he been out? The healing on these scars would imply at least a month - probably more.

Ranboo’s hand appears in his vision. Gently holding his hands. Tubbo can barely feel it.

“I’m- I’m here.” Tubbo tips his head up to look at Ranboo’s face. “Okay? You can ask me whatever questions you want. You don’t have to figure it out by yourself. Just- just ask me anything, alright?”

“How long was I out?”

“Um…” He watches Ranboo do the math in his head. “A day? It’s all been, um, kinda blurry. It’s all blurred together a bit.”

“You don’t get scars like this in a day.”

Ranboo winces. “You do with um, with our experiment.”

Tubbo feels distant from himself.

“What?”

“It was- it’s an attempt at eternal life.”

“That’s what you’ve been working on?”

“Yes! Yes and we uh, had a breakthrough recently and you were dying and I couldn’t- I couldn’t just let you die so I tried it but-“ Ranboo cuts himself off. Makes a frustrated sound. “I can’t talk about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just-“ He cuts himself off again with another frustrated noise. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I- I had to run though. With you. We can’t let Dream catch us.”

“Why?”

“I stole a lot of what we were working on. I couldn’t just- I was worried one wouldn’t be enough. And I couldn’t- we couldn’t just stay there because Dream- well, he’s a bit, uh, focused. And I didn’t want him to…”

“Experiment on me.”

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

——

okay hope u guys liked that! I wrote it ages ago but I still remember some of the storyline if u want to ask about it ^_^

[kingfungus0-0]

Do you have any headcanons you like to put on Lance Sterling?

I do!! Not many, but I do! And I’ll tell you them :))

Lance Sterling HC’s

Has fuzzy bunny slippers

He’s either really neat or really messy

Follows a super complicated skin care routine

Snores..loud

Can’t use chopsticks right..

Has a weird thing about feet

 despises children

When he becomes flustered his composure doesn’t change but his ears flush red

Bites his lips

Has funky printed underwear

Hand and head kisses for his partner

Doesn’t like holding hands

Has a shit-ton of pillows on his bed

If you’re sleeping next to him, you’re definitely gonna end up with his face right in the small of your back,, right in there.. slobbering all over you…

Classy, yet undoubtedly fun loving

————————————————————

(this should’ve been out earlier lol, I forgot about it for a hot minute :))

[shorkbrian]

Infuriated

Prelude - ok.

Y’all are so horny for Levi Sir and I get it he’s hot lol. I am trying to get to everyone’s asks I promise!!! Also it’s up to you why Levi is mad lol

Prompts - 

Pairing - Levi Ackerman X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, choking, mentions of snuff, emotionally compromised Levi, overstim.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/2f2hbFjim051DVx0o8o4rU?si=5waL376sSRSqjN2j8G0Y8w

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

He comes home in a bad mood.

He shuts the door quietly, and it’s clear he’s beyond pissed. Past the point of yelling, of slamming the door and causing you to flinch with the indicator of his foul mood. It’s not you he’s mad at, but it might as well be. He finds himself wanting to break something, but not dishes or glass, just you. 

Wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze till your breath rattles in your chest.

Levi finds you in the living room, standing by the hallway with wide eyes, shrinking against the wall. You thought you could avoid getting his anger taken out on you if he didn’t catch you while you were lounging on the bed. Hoping the man wouldn’t strip you bare and crush your soul like he had so many times before.

He’s so enraged that he can’t even think of the event that provoked him to such a state in the first place.

“Come here.” He stops in his tracks when he sees you, hands flicking to his tie so he can unknot it, loosen it from his neck. It’s not often he gets this angry, warm and burning, filled with emotions that he doesn’t know how to process, doesn’t even really want to.

“Come here.” Levi repeats himself, eyes burning when you still don’t move, as you begin to shake. You’re afraid of him again, good.

You had gotten past that, at least to the point where you could hide your fear of the man. Tamp it down beneath submission and pleasure, because doing what he says meant getting fair treatment.

But you aren’t doing what he says. You’re cowering against the wall, and Levi’s furious. You’re meant to follow his every order, know what he wants you to do before he even has to say, and yet you’re ignoring him as if you had the luxury of making that decision.

His shoes click across the tile as he strides towards you, already unbuckling his pants with sharp movements. When he reaches you, your frightened eyes pleading, the rise and fall of your chest quickening. Levi bets if he checked, your pulse would be fluttering, fast, like a scared little bird.

Your head snaps to the side when his hand connects with it, the sharp sound echoing throughout his home. 

“Take off your pants.” Clothes are a luxury he’s been allowing, but this blatant disobedience when he’s already fuming will result in punishment. 

Trembling hands fly to your pants, and Levi almost wants to laugh at the expression in your face as you turn it back, cheek reddening immediately. You should’ve came when he called you.

He doesn’t bother to take his slacks off all the way, barely pushing them down to his thighs before taking his cock in hand. He’s not even hard, but he needs to fuck something, focus on a different emotion than the fury settled deep in his bones. The satisfaction of how easily you break under his hands, the pleasure of filling you, stretching you past your limit, the way you draw him in like that’s where he belongs, even though it’s obvious you want to be anywhere but with him.

The hand on his cock is too dry, too rough, but that doesn’t matter. Levi’s able to pump himself to hardness as you fumble with your pants, almost falling as you slip them off.

With a quick movement, he’s slamming you hard against the wall, breath punching out of you, head hitting the wall and dazing you.

Levi spits in his hand, takes it between your legs and rubs his saliva where it’s needed. There’s no way you’re wet, no way you’re ready to take him. But if there’s a little blood, there’ll be a little blood. Levi can clean it off your thighs later.

It hurts when he starts pushing inside, the head of his cock breaching your hole far too fast. The crushing realization that he isn’t going to actually prep you is evident across your face, obvious by the panicked little whine that falls from your lips.

“Shut up.” He can’t stop himself from snapping at you, irritated at the noise. 

He’s focused on filling you, the too-tight squeeze around his length and the overwhelming heat of your body where he’s pressed against you. At least you know better than to try and fight him, hands only clutching his shoulders, not trying to push him away, just trying to hold on.

What he would do if you struggled now, Levi doesn’t know. It’s possible he might break something important, push too hard, forget his own strength as he throttles the life out of you.

That reminds him.

The hand not guiding his cock into you rises to your throat, grasps the smooth column tightly, tight enough to feel the ridges of your esophagus, spongey and delicate. If he squeezes a bit harder, Levi wonders if it would collapse, crumbling beneath his fingers like tissue paper.

But your loss would make him inconsolable, so he reigns in his wrathful curiosity, his impulsive side that only sees the sun when he’s furious.

He's fully seated now, pressing deep into your sensitive walls. You’re shaking, trying to hold in your tears, your pitiful noises, your desire to beg him for mercy. There’s no slick feel, other than the slight ease from his saliva, so Levi knows you haven’t torn. 

That eases his mind a bit as he slowly retreats from your hole, intent on making this quicker than it should be. He needs to fuck, hard and fast and maybe just a bit painful. There’s no explainable reason as to why, and Levi isn’t interested in trying to analyze himself at the moment.

So he draws out, pushes back in immediately, doesn’t mind your choked, hiccuped gasp. You’ll adjust soon enough; even as he pushes back in, you’ve started to get wet, and there’s no stink of iron in the air, so it’s your body trying to make this easier for you.

Levi figures it’s good that at least one of you was actually concerned about that.

As the slide becomes easier and easier, his pace picks up accordingly, until he’s swinging his hips in a punishing rhythm. He can’t stop himself from giving a rough press onto your throat, relishing the way your body jerks, already breathless and panicked, now denied air and already missing it.

He’s getting close, which is surprising. Levi thought it might be difficult to reach release, reasoned that he was too focused on the rage filling his veins and weighing him down to lose himself in your body.

But he should’ve know, you always have an effect on him.

Your cunt starts clenching around him, and Levi’s head shoots up from where he’d been watching the steady hammering of his cock into you, glares at your face now.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare.” His tone is clipped, and he’s mad all over again. He doesn’t even know why.

It’s not fair that you’re enjoying this while he’s still simmering, struggling to calm himself. It’s not like he doesn’t want you to find pleasure, but the least you could fucking do is have some decency for once and not cum before he does.

You clench your teeth, grimacing as you try to listen, do your best to obey. He’s trained you well.

But not well enough.

With a pitiful cry, you squeeze tight enough to make Levi groan as he refuses to stop moving his hips. Velvety walls spasm around his length with a vengeance, your nails digging into his shoulders as you lose yourself to the sensation.

Levi’s infuriated.

“You’re not allowed to cum.” He hisses, and your eyes are filled with sorrow, with regret and remorse, with emotions Levi has never bothered to learn the names of.

He slows down, slams into you hard enough that his tip kisses your cervix, makes you lurch in pain that lances through the afterthroes of your orgasm. 

Your throat is abandoned for now, his hand joining his other in painfully clutching your hips, fingers dimpling up your flesh, sinking into the pillowy skin so he can pull you down onto his cock the same moment he thrusts up.

It’s hurting now, your face contorting on each deep thrust. Levi doesn’t care, you were selfish enough to take your pleasure before him, when he so obviously was trying to soothe himself.

He’s starting to get a cramp from how hard and slow he’s driving up into you, but he’s crawling closer and closer, so he ignores the twinge for now.

And then he’s there, bursting from the inside out, uncaring of trying to avoid filling your womb with his seed.

It feels good, good enough to talk him down from the edge of hurting you, of destroying, of raging and bruising and damaging.

Levi’s left panting as he finishes, as his abs clench and unclench while he shoots his sticky finish into your tight hole. You’re still grabbing at his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut at the foreign sensation; Levi usually dons a condom, or at least pulls out. Rarely does he lose himself to do what he just did.

He’s calmer now, feels less like a pacing tiger that's been provoked and prodded until it attacks.

But he finds himself irritated at you, at your audacity.

The man knows he’s being irrational, and that he’s emotional right now, prone to lashing out and striking at anything that dares to defy him. You hadn’t done anything particularly wrong except exist in the same space as a thoroughly pissed-off Levi, and he recognizes that.

But he still wants to see you punished.

So you find yourself on the bed, stripped of your clothes. The only thing you’re wearing is a leather collar, attached to cuffs on your wrists by a thick metal ring. The contraption keeps your hands up by your face, unable to do anything but clench into little fists. It’s almost cute.

Theres a spreader bar cuffed to your ankles, and a vibrator in Levi’s hand. He had cleaned himself as soon as he pulled free of your warmth, not bothering to stop the cum that escaped from the unconscious clench of your hole.

Levi had taken a moment to change out of his work clothes, calm himself further and evaluate everything with a clearer mind. Now dressed in nothing but loose sweats, he felt more at ease, cooler both physically and mentally.

The vibe was flicked on, pressed to your mound at the same time Levi wiggled a finger inside of you, feeling his cum still warmed by your body. It was a weird sensation, but you were wet, and he was focused on the task at hand.

Making eye contact with you, Levi leveled you with a stern look.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

Four minutes later, when you crested the edge despite an obvious struggle against it, Levi clenched his jaw, removing the vibe and his finger from rubbing at your walls.

When your eyes opened, Levi met them with a glare.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

The vibe was flicked back on, a setting higher this time. Levi shoved two fingers inside of you, and you whimpered in distress. You’d beg if you knew it would sway him, but Levi had forced you enough times for you to know that he followed his own desires.

You were just supposed to lay there and take it.

[miss-1ng]

Dimiclaude kiss prompt no. 55?

this turned out... longer than i intended lmao

also hope you're okay with a soulmate au, because this is the only idea i had for this lol! thanks for requesting <3 <3

(also a warning for spoilers about claude's backstory and maybe dimitri's a little bit but otherwise i'm pretty sure everything is spoiler-free!!)

--

His name is Khalid, is what Dimitri’s mind - wide awake from the searing sting of finally gaining his soulmark - says, barely a whisper while when Ingrid got hers, she screamed with joy the moment she found out her soulmate was Glenn.

That was a year ago, on the fourth of the Guardian Moon, precisely the day of her birth, which was celebrated with her family and friends.

It’s legend that you become of age to receive a soulmark from the day you turn twelve to the day you turn sixteen. Sylvain, two years older, had, unsurprisingly received his two years prior to Ingrid and Felix who both received theirs when they officially became of age.

Dimitri however, while not exactly a rare case, though not a complete normality, had received his a year later than which his childhood friends did, at age 13.

Her mark glistens a glittering gold on the inside of her left wrist, corresponding with Glenn’s which is on the inside of his right one. Dimitri remembers her gushing how when the first time they held hands, their marks shone when they touched.

He also remembers Felix gagging and glaring at the two lovebirds for the rest of the day, completely enraptured with one another and nothing else.

As of that day, their betrothal was made official, now that Ingrid had her mark to confirm the one Glenn owned.

That was a while back now, and today, an exact year later, is Dimitri’s birthday. The mark on his arm stings, but as his eyes really take in the word in beautiful script on his wrist, he begins to ignore the pain.

Exactly three hours later, he’s at the Felix and Glenn’s home, sitting outside on the grass with the two of them, having recently abandoned the wooden training swords. Glenn is a full four years older than all of them, except Sylvain, who is only two years older. Yet despite his age Glenn still treats them the same.

When Dimitri finally shows the two his soulmark after lots of nagging, he notices the way Felix bites his lip and averts his gaze.

But before he can question it, Felix teases “You’re going to have a boyfriend!” before bursting out into laughter.

Dimitri hadn’t even thought of that, fully focused on the fact that he has a soulmark and not on the fact that his soulmate has the name of a boy.

He… isn’t too sure what to feel about that.

“And you are too,” Glenn calls in a sing-song voice to his younger brother, only to get fiercely elbowed in the stomach. A scowl has found its way onto the bright-eyed boy’s face.

Dimitri doesn’t say a word. Felix has been oddly secretive about his soulmark ever since he got it a month after Ingrid’s, while she had been flouncing it around whenever she got the chance and wasn’t with Glenn. Though at the same time, even at thirteen, Felix has been secretive, spending more time by himself than with the group unless he was absolutely forced too.

“Shut up!” he snaps, folding his arms and pouting. “I hate you.”

“So kind, Fe,” Glenn teases with a grin, ruffling his younger brother’s hair.

Silently Dimitri wonders what it would be like if he was in Glenn’s shoes, and he had a little brother of his own.

The silence Dimitri’s indulged in gets broken with a familiar call, and Dimitri turns to see Sylvain, even taller than the last time he saw his friend, standing alongside Ingrid who immediately rushes to greet Dimitri with a hug before running over to Glenn.

“Happy birthday, Dimitri!” Sylvain hollers the second he closes the door, separating the kids from the adults indoors. He joins the group. “How does it feel to no longer be the only soulmate-less one?” He adds a wink as if the very phrase itself wasn’t terrible enough.

A collective group of groans reverberate around the circle they’ve formed.

“You’re an idiot,” Felix grumbles to the older teen, averting all eye contact and instead vouching for a heated glare at the grass. Oh, if looks could kill.

“Aww, I love you too, Fe,” Sylvain teases, still grinning merrily as if he nothing is wrong with the world.

Felix’s face flushes. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Ingrid laughs. “I can say it too, if you’d like.” She clears her throat, as if beginning some long and important speech. “Aww, I love you too, Felix.”

“Now that’s left is Dimitri,” Glenn notes, looking at him.

The younger Fraldarius looks just about ready to bolt as Dimitri says “Aww, I love you too, Felix.”

Instead, he just mutters “It’s your birthday so I’ll take it. Just this once though.”

Sylvain leans close to Dimitri and whispers in a not-so-quiet voice “A little birdy told me you received your soulmark!” Bold black cursive writing stares up at him with non-existent eyes and he feels his heart start to thud.

Thump. Thump-thump. Thump. Thump-thump.

He doesn’t reply, instead peeling his sleeve a little higher above and shows Ingrid and Sylvain his soulmark.

The taller of the two squints at it, as if it’s hard to see. Ingrid’s reaction is more surprised, by the way her eyes widen, and her jaw goes a little slack. She fixes it when she sees his eyes on her with a small smile. “That’s great, Dimitri! It’s so pretty,” she gushes in a very un-Ingrid manner, but the twinkle in her eyes is all the same. “I wonder when you’ll meet your soulmate…”

“Khalid’s not a Fódlan name,” Sylvain offhandedly comments. Dimitri frowns at him, and he hastily continues. “I mean it’s not a Fódlan name I’ve heard. Who knows? You could get some hottie from Duscur or Brigid.”

“Of course, someone from Duscur or Brigid would come all the way over for our Prince,” Glenn drily says, pecking Ingrid on the cheek at her wide-eyed smile. “We’re not getting rid of him that easily.”

--

His soulmark was something Dimitri was very focused on for a while.

Then Duscur happened and everything seemed to fall apart.

His family, his friends… everything changed. The mark on Ingrid’s wrist faded to a black splotch, and the golden writing had completely disappeared.

Felix had shut himself off completely, not leaving his room unless he was training and not talking to anyone unless he was yelling at them.

Sylvain… seemed more closed off – more subdued. Dimitri saw him less and less as the months ebbed on.

And Dimitri… Dimitri couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus, couldn’t even think. His dreams being haunted by the dead, his father begging for revenge, Glenn hissing in his ear, taunting him, his mother, crying at his feet.

“You should’ve saved us,” they hiss. “Kill them for us. Kill them all!”

It’s not the first time he wakes to a cold sweat, a scream hanging on the edge of his lips.

He’s sent to live, along with the Duscur boy he met, Dedue, at Rodrigue’s place, and there Dimitri finds it frequent where he gets the full brunt of Felix’s verbal abuse. He wants to talk back, to say it wasn’t his fault, but he can’t find the words, can’t even find the motivation to speak. Instead, he just nods, silent, and Dedue finds him, concern lingering in his gaze.

It’s like that for a while.

Then the rebellion happens, and Felix seems to hate him even more.

--

It’s almost a relief when he arrives to the Officers Academy.

There he meets Edelgard von Hresvelg (or reunites, perhaps, if his hunch is in fact correct), heir to the Empire, and Claude von Riegan, heir to House Riegan.

Claude is… well… Claude is a lot of things.

In their audience with Rhea, he is stiff and stoic-faced, though the second they’re released from the chamber, he introduces himself properly to Dimitri. “So, you’re the prince,” he says with a wink. “Nice to meet you.”

“It is good to meet you too,” says Dimitri in return, dipping his head. He offers a small smile.

It’s not the only time they talk. As the year ebbs on, Dimitri gets to know Claude, should it be through sparring together, or even tea times Claude has insisted on. Claude is… well, first of all he’s nice and he’s kind, and he’s also very funny. He seems to bring a smile to Dimitri’s face whenever he’s around, and not only that but he’s…

…he’s beautiful.

Maybe it’s his smile, Dimitri supposes, his genuine one, or maybe those piercing green eyes. He’s also been good looking.

Sometimes when they train, Dimitri catches himself staring, and Claude’s caught him too, offering a wink and a teasing comment without any heat.

Not only that but Dimitri’s heart flutters whenever he’s around Claude, and he has to remind himself constantly that this isn’t okay because Claude is not his soulmate. The mark on his wrist proves just that much.

“You’re staring, your Highness.”

Dimitri flinches, almost forgetting that Sylvain is opposite him, lazily twirling his lance. He smirks at his childhood friend. “Got your eyes on someone?”

It would be great if he was immune to Sylvain’s teasing, but he is only human, and heat rises to his cheeks. “No!” His voice sounds a few pitches higher than it usually is. He clears his throat, averting his gaze from Claude who turns away from Hilda who he’s sparring with (how he got her to do so remains a mystery to the school) to offer a questioning brow. “I mean, uh, no. Of course not.”

“Sure, sure.”

Sylvain doesn’t sound at all convinced. He leans closer, whispering in Dimitri’s ear, “I mean Riegan is pretty hot. I don’t think even your soulmate would blame you for checking him out.”

Dimitri splutters, “W-what?”

“I have to go,” Sylvain says. “Pick up some of the ladies- oh, hey, Fe!” He runs off towards the direction of Felix who enters the training ground, and Dimitri doesn’t stop him, staring into the distance as his cheeks turn redder and redder as the seconds pass.

--

Nevertheless, Dimitri still goes out of his way to spend his time with Claude, pointedly ignoring his soulmark whenever he does.

“Your princliness!” Claude calls, waving in greeting as he runs over to him. Dimitri tries not to blush when he yet again winks.

“Claude!” He tries his hardest not to sound too surprised. “What-what are you doing here?”

He looks amazing. Dressed in a sharp suit he’s seen many of the other students wearing, his hair tousled and falling in front of his eyes. “I think the proper question is what are you doing here? Dedue’s worried about you. Says you haven’t even showed up to the ball and-”

Dimitri’s brain seems to shut off, his mind not listening as he surges forwards, closing the distance between them with a kiss.

It lasts two seconds. Maybe three.

Because immediately after their lips touch Dimitri lets go, eyes wide. “I- that was out of line,” he rushes. “I’m sorry, Claude, I shouldn’t have done that-”

But Claude pulls him back in, and Dimitri feels the mark on his wrist burn and-

He stares down at it, watching the white handwriting shimmer to gold. “What…?”

“I have been waiting so long to do that,” Claude breathes, oblivious to Dimitri’s confusion. He raises an eyebrow, clutching his hands. “Hey, what’s wrong…?”

“Khalid,” Dimitri breathes. Claude’s eyes widen. “That’s your name?”

“I-” Claude pauses, before nodding. “Yes. It is.”

Dimitri pulls him close, arms wrapping around him. He kisses Claude – or is it Khalid? – again, and again, and again. “It’s a beautiful name.”

“Mmhm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Their night ends not in the ballroom, but outside under the moonlight, the memory of soft kisses and warm embraces never to leave Dimitri’s mind.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 56

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Shiro's Skunk Hair Steals Lance's Boyfriend by @bleusarcellewrites

Lance nods, eyes scanning Keith’s face slowly, “I gotta ask, though, do you come here often?” Keith snorts, fondness for this dumbass making his heart to beat faster. “Charming as always, I see.” “I can show you ‘charming’.” Lance says, eyebrows wiggling in a suggestive manner and while the others groan behind them at the line, Keith just smiles. “But before that, I’m a man of honor and I gotta know: are you single?” Keith blinks at the question and suddenly he's laughing. [Or the one where Lance can't hold his alchohol and Keith gives up a Cuddle Night of his boyfriend to be flirted by said boyfriend just for his boyfriend to forget he was already his boyfriend. It's a mess but Keith wouldn't want it any other way.]

yall remember bleusarcelle...remember 2018.....crazy times. anyway. this fic is fun and sweet and dorky, nice to read when you want to forget how bad vld dropped the ball and ruined everything :))

2. Your Love Keeps Me Warm by crystalklances

Keith is giving him a look, contemplating, eyebrows drawn together. Noticing his gaze, Lance looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Are you cold?” Keith asks after a moment of a silent staring contest. “No,” Lance replies. “You should’ve said something.” “I just said I’m not—” But Keith doesn’t listen. Already, he’s shrugging out of his red varsity jacket, and he leans over to drape it around Lance’s shoulders. ---- Or, 4 times Keith is determined to prevent Lance from getting sick, and the time Lance catches a cold after all.

I MISS CRYSTALKLANCES EVERY DAY, BRO. no one got ridiculously soft modern au keith like he did. fuck. but at least most of his works are still on ao3. i like this one in particularly one because its soft and im a weenie but also because its a 4+1 which is my favourite genre of fic ever actually

3. what makes you beautiful by seventies

MMA fighter Keith Kogane is admitted to the hospital and gets KO'd by blue eyes that rival the seas and a crooked grin that knocks the air out of his lungs. It hasn't even been a minute in the ring. It's a world fucking record.

rare blue eyed lance appreciation moment from me (old bookmark lmfao). but jokes aside i do love this fic. i will always always always every day of my life love whipped on sight keith idc. its so so funny to me. its funnier when lance is like oh! this is my rival. we are going to be ENEMIES FUCK YEAH and keith is like oh my god if i dont marry him right now im literally going to die. also this fic has matt just fyi

4. Lance and Keith's guide for how to cure insomnia by crystalklances

Keith has always had trouble sleeping, but never told anyone. When they fall asleep together after a mission by chance, Lance finds out and offers to share his bed to help Keith fall asleep. However, sleeping together every night has unforeseen side-effects for both of them.

from the iconic INVENTOR of the smitten keith tag. soft klance, in canon. touch starved keith. sharing a bed to stop the nightmares. i bought my ticket on the first word of the summary like

5. love you so bad by seyama [EXPLICIT]

Keith and Lance sneak off from a party to go and fuck. That's it, that's the whole story.

this was bantery and silly and fun. and the little argument over who gets to be the little spoon....shockingly tender and so so them ive read this one a fewww times lol

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[starryevermore]

ever after: rose petals and cursed castles (5) ✧ lance tucker

ever after ✧ a fairy tale anthology | ao3

pairing: beast!lance tucker x beauty!reader

summary: in which you are the beauty and lance tucker in the beast.

word count: 809

warnings?: implied smut, ok this one isn’t as good but i didn’t want to rehash the beauty and the beast plotline too much cause i have a fic coming out in october that does that lol, not proofread

ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a land far far away where a young woman lived with a horrible beast. She had lived with him for many months now, growing used to his temper tantrums and penchant for the dramatics. And he, too, grew used to her. The beast was once used to the solitude in which he lived, only talking to the enchanted furniture when necessary. He had been cursed to this life, and this life he would learn to live. Until, you came along. 

Your father had been found trespassing on his grounds, trying to take a single rose back to you. The beast had imprisoned him for his crimes. But, you came running for your father. Begged the beast to let him go, that you would take his place. It was an odd act of selflessness that the beast hadn’t seen before. And yet, he was moved by it, just enough to agree to your terms.

Things weren’t easy from there. Things like this never are. But, he eventually moved out of the dungeons and into your own room. Allowed you to eat meals with him, to join him on his walks around the grounds, to watch as he did tricks and jumps that a beast of his size should’ve never been able to do. Eventually, he even told you his name, told you to call him Lance. 

And you opened up to him, too. Told him about how you and your father had been ostracized from the town you lived in. About how you loved to read. You told him all of your favorite books, sometimes telling him the stories as best as you could remember. He liked it when you told him stories. But you eventually ran out. Your town didn’t have many books, you explained, and the ones that they did have weren’t given to you because you were a woman and “a woman wasn’t to read”. 

Lance almost felt like a fool when the idea struck him. How hadn’t he thought of it sooner? But, in his defense, he didn’t use his library often. He hadn’t since he was a boy. The shelves collected dust, until he decided to have it cleaned so that he may give it to you. 

Today was finally the day that it could be yours. 

After breakfast, Lance told you that he wanted to show you something. So you put your small hand into his large one, letting him lead you up to the library. 

“Where are we going?” you asked. 

“Shh, it’s a surprise,” he said. He stopped at the ornate double doors that opened into the library. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” you said. 

He pushed the doors open, his eyes staying on you to watch your reaction. And, oh, he’s never felt joy quite the way he did when he saw your hand fly up to cover your mouth, the quiet gasp escaping, the way your eyes went all wide as they darted between the library and him. 

“Lance, it’s beautiful!”

“And it’s all yours,” he said, taking your hand again and leading you inside. “I would’ve given it to you sooner, but it was rather dusty, and I wanted to make sure that it—”

“It’s perfect,” you cried, wrapping your arms around him. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” you corrected, rising on your tippy toes and pulling his mouth down to yours so that you could kiss him.

The air seemed to change as you kissed him, swirled around you and enveloping the two of you together. And, slowly, it felt like you didn’t have to lean up as far. Almost as if Lance was shrinking. When you away, the beast no longer stood in front of you. No, it was a man with raven hair and pale blue eyes, a perfect smile curled across his face. 

“Lance, you—”

He looked down at his hands, as if he couldn’t believe they were his. “You broke the curse,” he breathed out. 

And then suddenly his arms were wrapped around you and he was lifting you into the air, spinning you round and round, laughing so loudly it echoed off the walls.

He set you back down on the ground, his hand going up to caress your face. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Y-You’re welcome, but I don’t understand what I did?”

“True love’s kiss. You broke the spell.”

“I’m your true love?”

“You are,” he said. “And I only know of one way to repay you for this.”

“And how’s that?”

“Why don’t you shimmy off those pretty panties you’re wearing and go sit on the couch over there?” he smirked. “Wanna give your other set of lips a few kisses, yeah?”

And so, YOU LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  Chapter 10.1

Author’s Note:  Travelers! We are nearing the end of Reader’s journey! (I’m expecting it to end at 10.4 but we’ll see if that ends up being an accurate estimate lol)  Enjoy the newest chapter!

Zhongli was lost in deep thought as you and Xiao faced the Tsaritsa, while Paimon and Aether were arguing on whether they should jump in to help or not.  Despite Paimon's protests, it seemed to Aether that Xiao could very well handle the god on his own.  He wasn't exactly a team player to begin with...

"ZHONGLI!"  Paimon's high-pitched screech finally prodded a hummed response from the former archon.  "We need to jump in!"

"It would be wise for the two of you to leave the palace at once," he advised instead of indulging in the mascot's wishes.  It wouldn't be long now; he could feel the power from the battle reaching its peak.  "Xiao cannot unleash his full power with the three of you here. Your bodies would not be able to withstand it."

"We've already fought with him plenty of times and we're fine!  Don't go underestimating us now!"

"As much as I agree with you, I'm siding with Zhongli.  We'll only get in the way."

"W-Wha-!"  The frustrated emergency food placed her hands on her hips as she gawked at Aether for a few seconds.  Then she turned to Zhongli.  "Then what about her?  Shouldn't we get her out of there too?"

"Do not fret, dear friends,"  the metallic clank of his polearm rang against the floor, "I will retrieve her.  We'll meet again outside.  Go now."  Aether nodded and ran in the direction from which the group had entered--followed by a pouting Paimon.  Zhongli returned his eyes to the throne room as the tiles in the hallway began to freeze over.

"Now."  You and Xiao nodded in confirmation before pushing off the ground in opposing directions.  The air parted for you like the wind had granted a favor, though you had yet to realize you were the one manipulating it.  Metal and gale met ice in a shockwave that sent the Tsaritsa's opponents flying backwards.  

Xiao landed more gracefully than you did and was already at the Tsaritsa's neck by the time you sat up.  He swung his lance down at her, rage filling his eyes.  The karmic debt illuminated his body in black fog, but the Tsaritsa remained unfazed.

She caught the blade in the palm of her hand like it was nothing more than a wooden staff.  The force of the impact sent icy winds ricocheting into the walls.  The support beams and columns groaned unhappily from the jolt, and parts of the ceiling crashed to the floor around the three of you.

"I've killed your kind with ease in the past," she cooed up to him.

"And I've slaughtered hundreds of gods stronger than you."  

"Then you've underestimated my strength."  Her free hand swung towards his chest, with a dagger of ice forming from her palm.

"And you've underestimated mine!"  The chunks of the stone ceiling came tumbling at the god from both sides at a tremendous speed that should've been impossible given their weight.  The hand that was about to pierce Xiao gave up on the idea and went on the defensive to stop the boulders in their wake.  Ice pillared up just in time.  Xiao flipped back with his lance still in hand.  There you stood, on the other side of Tsaritsa with both palms facing her as you controlled the gales.  

How is she manipulating anemo?  Did Barbatos-  Xiao squinted only to find your beltloop devoid of any vision.  And since when was she ever this powerful-

A deranged, fed-up cackle chilled the throne room further, and the Tsaritsa now set her sights on you.  She was before you in an instant.  A breeze was enough to send her back a few inches--a subtle defensive tactic, but it worked enough so that you had a fraction more of a second to react.  Xiao went for her nape, then her knees.  But the god was prepared for the repeated pattern of attack; she ducked enough to expose you to his blade, and Xiao was forced to shift his momentum with exercised precision to avoid decapitating you instead.

A burst of ice emitted from the Tsaritsa and blasted the two of you several feet away from each other.  Xiao, just like last time, landed nonchalantly on his feet while you violently collided with a pillar.  Besides the dull jarring pain ringing through your spine, a sharp one stung your hand as you pushed yourself to all-fours.

"What..." It wasn't the blood that caught you off guard.  Carefully but quickly, you removed the glass from your palm.  Then your tunnel vision dropped to your empty beltloop.  My vision shattered?  When did my-  Realization finally struck you like a brick wall.  How had you been fighting all this time?  How did you have access to manipulate the snow?  Were those stars above you related?  Wide eyes stared at your bleeding hand, your brain pushing out the sounds of the battlefield and of Xiao yelling for you to get out of the way.  When sound finally returned, your gaze trailed upward to find a wall of iced spears barreling at you.

"Rise!"  Another wall of material shot up in front of you, though it was way more solid than the Tsaritsa's attack.  The pillar blocked the spears' paths, then the familiar boots of Zhongli entered your vision.  A hardened gaze met your lost ones, and flashes of a Zhongli in a white hood interrupted the present.  The faint golden glow of his shield shimmered protectively around your crouching figure.  

The archon held his hand out to you with a warm expression.  Mesmerized by his conflicting appearance, your hand met his.  "Rex Lapis..."

Looking down at you, Zhongli couldn't help but see Xiao in your stead just like all those years ago when he had taken the yaksha under his wing.  "Come.  Let us leave now."  It was clear you were having the same sense of deja vu as he was.

You stood obediently, but quickly snapped back to the present moment when you heard Xiao's grunt as he struggled fending off the cryo archon.  "Wait," you stepped away from Zhongli, attempting to get past him.  "We can't leave him.  I have to fight!"

"Xiao is more than capable of handling this matter on his own.  You'd only get in the way."  A grip on your arm was somehow enough to stop you in your tracks despite how light and gentle it was.  Your head whipped back to him.

"I can't abandon him."

"He will join us as soon as he's done. Do you trust me?"

"I-"  Your gaze returned to the violent battle ahead of you.  At some point in your daze, the Tsaritsa had injured him; he was bleeding from his arm from what you could make out.  "Zhongli, I can't leave him.  He's injured.  We can't leave him!"

"Do you not sense the power in the air?"

"Huh?"  The question made you falter, but he was right.  Something about the air was different.  Whether it felt thinner or heavier, you couldn't tell--but there was a clear, crisp feeling to it that wasn't correlated to the icy chill of the Tsaritsa.

"Xiao cannot unleash his full power with you here.  Trust in him; he needs you out of the way."

"...Fine," you muttered with an ache in your chest.  Zhongli pulled you towards the exit as more pieces of the ceiling came crashing down behind you.  You regretted glancing over your shoulder when you heard a cry of distress once you reached the door.  "Z-Zhongli, wait-!"  The entrance collapsed before you had the chance to dive back into the throne room and chase after the sight of a severely injured yaksha.

"We must go!"  He didn't let up his grip on your wrist.

"Xiao!"  The desperate cry fell from your lips this time as you still attempted to fight against the archon's grasp.  "Xiao!"  Please don't die! You come back to me alive, you hear me?!   Please!

..................

Golden hair was the first color other than white that greeted you outside.  "Aether?  Paimon?  What're you three doing here?"

"We must keep moving."  Zhongli finally let go of you and took the lead away from the palace.  His grim expression made your puffy red eyes fill with more tears.  Zhongli said to trust him and Xiao, but what if Zhongli didn't believe that Xiao could win this fight on his own?  

"Come on, it's okay.  We'll get you out of here."  Aether protectively wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled your heavy feet forward.  "Xiao will be just fine."

"Yeah!  He's handled worse than this," Paimon encouraged.  "He'll meet up with us once he's done!"

"Just how far are we going?"  The group must have walked a mile or two from the palace by now--the sight of the shrinking building filled you with trepidation.  That battle would not be easy to win, and it wouldn't be a short one, either.  Still though, you couldn't help but panic at how long it's been already.  "Isn't this far enough?"

"We will rest for a few moments, then we must continue until we get out of Snezhnaya.  Xiao will-"

"I thought we were going to wait for him."

"The country is swarming with Fatui.  We cannot risk-"

"You didn't mention we were going to leave him behind completely!  We can't just leave him, Zhongli! Do you not care at all what happens to him?"

"Keep your voice down-!"  Paimon shushed.  "We can't attract any unwanted attention..."  The ground shuddered, and Paimon's eyes widened as she stared past you.

"What?"

"T-The palace!"

The group turned its attention to the epicenter of the earthquake, and was met with a disturbing sight.  Pillar by pillar, wall to ceiling, the building collapsed on itself.  The palace was reduced to rubble in mere seconds, and the sound echoed faintly until it was replaced by an eerie silence.

"X-Xiao," a faint murmur, then your knees gave out beneath you.  All you could do was stare in shock at the palace, unaware of the tears that streamed down your face.  "Xiao...?  Can you..." hear me?

"Seems the Tsaritsa finished her fight," a foreign voice had everyone but you on edge.  The view of the rubble was blocked by a large hat and blue hair.  "What luck, that I've run into the intruders."

"Scaramouche."  Aether tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

"Hey, get behind us!"  Paimon yelled out from behind you.  "You're in no shape to fight!"

"No...shape...?"  Your gaze finally focused on the harbinger directly in front of you.  He found amusement in your broken expression, his lips even having the audacity to curl into a sadistic, lopsided grin.

"I have orders to kill, but I won't give you the chance for reciting your last words."  He raised his hand to strike you down--

--And was met with a blast of anemo that countered his electricity.  He stumbled back into the snow, his hat even dislodging from his head.  "'No shape to fight?'"  Paimon was met with desolate eyes that lacked their usual copy of an amber tint.  Puffy eyes were dried and replaced with a rendition of anger that was neither boiling rage nor cold revenge.  Zhongli could've described it as similar to the Tsaritsa's change of heart over the centuries.  "I feel perfectly fine, Paimon."

"Are you...?"  Aether took a step forward and lowered his sword when you held your palm out to him as a threat.

"I'm fine.  I'll hold him off.  You guys should leave before things get messy."

"Messy?"

"Traveler," Zhongli caught the attention of Aether and Paimon.  "I think it would be wise to follow her lead."

"But she's not in the right state of mind--"

"I'm afraid that's exactly why we should listen to her.  Come now," he ushered them over and they all began to head in the direction of the border.  Aether was still protesting, but you couldn't hear what he was saying.

"You--"  An angry voice prompted you to turn your head.  "--are DEAD!"

"On the contrary,"  you didn't budge when he came running at you, "it's you who'll die today."

Sparring sessions in the snow with Childe made it much easier to navigate the fresh layers.  It appeared that Scaramouche's time in Mondstat had made him rusty when faced with using the snowy terrain to his advantage, but that didn't stop him from promoting a superconductive reaction whenever he managed to get close to you.  If your vision didn't break, it would be much easier to use that strategy against him.  Instead you relied on an old tree branch as your weapon and the wind to guide your stiffing movements as the temperatures finally bit into your skin.  

Speaking of Childe, where is he today?  He couldn't be waiting at the border to ambush the group...right?  A quick glance over your shoulder gave Scaramouche an opening.  

"Haah!"  Electricity pulsed through the branch that blocked his attack from striking your head.

"Ngh!"  Bear through it.  I've felt worse pain.  I can handle this! "Get back!"  Your hurricane-force winds didn't catch him off guard now that he knew it was your only strategy against him;  you had no idea how to use this unfamiliar power, and while your movements were quick, your inexperience showed.

Scaramouche leapt in time to dodge the gust that tried to sweep him off his feet, and the hat that was in his hand struck your jaw hard enough to bring stars into you vision.  Who knew such a small person could strike like one of those electro skirmishers-

You stumbled and attempted to regain your footing, but not before those all-too familiar jolts rang through your body.  "Ah!"  The snow beneath you didn't help, and neither did the fact that you were now on your knees.  Violent winds whipped blindly in every direction; you couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes.  It seems you were missing your target since you were still being electrocuted.

A sharp kick to your stomach, and you were now staring at the overcast sky.  Then that damned hat obscured your view.  "After this, I'm killing that hero of Mondstat and your retired god."

"Tch."  The taste of iron overwhelmed your tongue.  "You won't kill us that easily."

"What do you care?  You have nothing to live for now that that adeptus is dead.  Die while you still have some smidge of dignity left."

Your confidence faltered if only slightly.  "Take that back.  Take that back!"  You swung the branch at his catalyst and leapt to your feet.  "He's not dead!"  Your aimless, sloppy swings were enough to draw a laugh from the harbinger.  At least, until he kicked you backwards, using his vision to push you further and harder into a tree behind you.

CRISTCH.

W-What...Involuntary tears of pain made it difficult to see where the wound was until the pain pinpointed somewhere around your right kidney.  What just...?

"Good, right where I want you."  Scaramouche began to stalk over with his catalyst floating closely behind him, eyes glinting with satisfaction at the growing spot of blood at your abdomen.

"The tree..ngh..."  What do I do? What do I do? I'm pinned.  I can't--I can't think straight--

"Hey girlie, hold still."  TWISH.  The firing of an arrow rudely interrupted the battlefield and the force of his elemental burst knocked your opponent off his feet.  The voice of a dangerous man shouldn't have been this comforting.

"C-Childe?  What the hell are you--"

"What the HELL are you doing?!"  Scaramouche readied his catalyst and sat up prepared for 'friendly' fire.  Anger practically radiated off of him.

"Making amends.  What does it look like?"  The harbinger emerged from somewhere behind you and moved so that he was between you and your opponent.

"What...?"  Your whisper reached his ears, and Childe glanced at you briefly.

"What a gorgeous sight you make, ojou-chan!  Your blood on the snow is simply breathtaking."  The friendliness in his eyes emptied.  "Unfortunately, I'll have to cut my admiration short.  Can you move?"

"Ngh, I think so.  Give me a minute."

"Perfect," he returned his attention to his fellow harbinger.  "Sorry to interrupt, but you won't be killing her today.  And I have to say, Scaramouche, I've been looking forward to this for a long time."

[juniaships]

I'm still mad about Lance a late night rant

Okay so a big thing about Legendary Defender is that the Lions are based on natural elements. Since they choose their paladins in this canon, you'd think their choices would reflect these elements. Traditionally, water represents adaptation and change which means Lance should've gotten the most development of the paladins. We saw that he had plenty of flaws and that they didn't stop him from doing what's right. He's flirty, irresponsible yet insecure. He's emotional, not afraid of being afraid (fear is a negative water quality) and clever. So you would think his arc would result huge payoff in him learning to be more responsible and self confident right?

WRONG!

Instead his final story felt like the show was writing a totally different character. Suddenly he's dating Allura and his self esteem issues aren't remedied! Him dating her makes him look more of a rebound. S8 we haven't seen of how his journey made him a stronger individual, nor showcasing his newfound confidence.

It makes it even more suspicious when you realize Keith and Pidge gets to have everything they desire (and a lot attention from the show), yet characters like Lance and Hunk don't get that level of focus not actually getting anything that makes sense for their arcs. This is most obvious in Lance. Even in S1 he was built up to the audience surrogate/Most Relatable Character; most of the time these types of characters grow stronger not just in strength but in mind as well.

Which brings me back to his element. Yes we have seen him grow but it wasn't enough and again he didn't get as much attention to showcase that. As the water type (lol) he had the most potential to change and adapt! He's the comic relief made to make all the other characters loom smart and complement yet we HAVE seen Lance's abilities and positive traits. So why not focus on making them flourish? You threw away all that potential in favor of making him a rebound for the girl he flirted with and who didn't reciprocate his feelings!

I recall the scene where they meet the original Paladins everyone else gets acknowledged by how much they grew over the course of the show. What is Lance's greatest accomplishment? Being the perfect man for Allura! How does his story end? By becoming a farmer! He doesn't become the confident jet fighter or protector of the universe! No he's just farming...

Allura shouldn't have been his reward; maybe the catalyst but not the End All Be All, and I'm being honest the romance only benefitted her dealing with heartbreak from Lotor's betrayal and not really much for Lance. That's not change; that's stagnating.

[mittensmorgul]

I might be missing something obvious but why did Lucifer not need Nick's consent to use his body as a vessel?

I assume you mean when Crowley shoved him back into Nick's body in 12.08? Using a modified version of Rowena's "send him directly to the cage" spell and the banishing egg... heck what was that thing called... THE HYPERBOLIC PULSE GENERATOR, right.

>.>

Honestly, for me? The only part of that whole situation was that Nick was apparently STILL IN THERE TOO.

In 12.13, Crowley describes to Lucifer how he crammed him back in Nick's vessel. And you know what, I'm not putting a bunch of Eugenie villain monologue dialogue here, because I am just too tired lol. If you want to read start here:

http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/12.13_Family_Feud_(transcript)

from the first FLASHBACK scene (just search that word on that page, it takes you right there)

Davy TRIES to make it make sense in 12.15, explaining how Nick's body was effectively made into the cage:

CROWLEY: That chain around your neck? Was nothing. A stylish accessory. This vessel… That's your true prison. It's been warded with runes and spellwork from the Cage, carved into every molecule. In there? I own you. [ Sighs ] I'm just getting started. So… I'm gonna put you back in your hole, and then I'm gonna go find your spawn, and I'm gonna rip him apart while you watch. And then? I'm still just getting started. [Crowley punches Lucifer in the face]

I remember being like YES CROWLEY DOES HAVE A PLAN, THIS WILL ALL MAKE SENSE EVENTUALLY. Like... why would he of ALL people not want to shove Lucifer into the cage and lock it back up? It just made NO SENSE.

And all Davy's hard work at laying down a coherent explanation for HOW he was crammed in there falls apart in the next bucklemming episode with all the wtf "polarity reversal" nonsense. And Lucifer taking back control of his vessel and having that same sort of power over Crowley.

WHY. IT WAS ALL SO STUPID.

Things Crowley could've done after 12.17 but for some reason did not:

-recruit the winchesters for help, confessing what he did with lucifer -rebuilt the Lance of Michael (Davy in 12.12 again trying to give us a weapon that could stop Lucifer... and Crowley breaking it to save Cas... he and Cas had a mutual interest in killing Lucifer at this point...) -asked for Rowena's help sending Lucifer back to the actual cage... or HONESTLY if Crowley understood her spell enough to pervert its course to send Luci to Nick's body, he should've been able to do this one himself... >.>

Probably half a dozen other things that would've made more sense... but no...

The show wanted Lucifer/Nick more than it wanted Crowley, which... ugh...

Which brings us to the end of s13, and Lucifer's demise. I assumed that would actually be the last we'd see of him. *ugly laughing*

But no, apparently whatever magic Crowley had used to forge the Nick Vessel for Crowley required Nick's soul actually being in there? Which as you point out with your question is... nonsensical...

The phrase "discarded vessel" Crowley uses in his first convo with re-envesseled Lucifer implies "empty," i.e. that Nick was no longer in there. Knowing what we do of Nick, and the assumption that he was dead after 5.22, the logical conclusion was that he went to Hell and Crowley just shoved him in the "cage vessel" with Lucifer, or otherwise used his soul in the reconstruction of that vessel into something equivalent to the Cage. I think they were hoping there was enough flimflam in there for us to just handwave that one and not think too hard about it.

Which is honestly how I approach all Eugenie plot points. The most unfortunate thing is how it clearly affects the rest of canon, with Lucifer and then Nick overstaying their plot welcome by a decade. Though I do appreciate the other writers doing their best to point out how Lucifer's entire plot out beyond s11 revolved around how he felt he'd been rendered irrelevant to the story, and always fighting to center himself in the narrative as if anyone cared about him at all. Even Chuck just... dismissed him, basically. So... at least we have that shred of satisfaction?

But yeah, it's... it's exhausting, and this is the best explainer I've been able to come up with for any of it. I should probably have some more coffee and read this over to make sure I didn't miss anything big, but I just don't want to devote any more brain power to thinking about Nick rn... maybe later. :'D