#IT'S HARD WORK THAT KEEPS ME GOING. after the bom.

[lilliancdoodles]

.

[erdenson]

the     pungent     smell     of     strawberry     blossom          &          wet     dirt     haunts     them     both.               the     children     of     the     earth,     born     to     the     giving     mother,     the     deity     of     harvest.               ----               his     hair     golden     like     drying     wheat,     face     freckled     by     the     kiss     of     the     sun     gods     after     hours     of     labor.                    there’s     a     humming     in     the     air,     the     whole     world     exploding     in     symphony               ----               birds     and     boys     and     girls     and     even     the     breeze     joins     into     their     chant,     drawn     by     hand,     the     caring     of     the     dirt     and     the     soil     and     the     blooming     plant     at     last.

@fenixburned :     from     the     𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞     starter     call.        𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗦   ----   accepting     !

"          we     have     much     work     to     do     today,          shae.          "          he     offers     them     a     grin,          looking     at     her     with     starlight     behind     cerulean     eyes.          he’s     always     been     told     he     has     the     looks     of     the     children     of     apollo,     but     that     his     mother’s     heritage     shines     through     his     actions.          his     laugh     has     always     been     an     easy     summoned     one,          even     after     the     war.          his     leg     hurts     but     it’s     nothing     out     of     the     norm     ;          living     with     the     limp     is     something     he’s     grown     accustomed     to.          it’s     a     soft     pain,     that     seeps     up     his     leg.          he     blinks     twice               ----               then     looks     back     at     his     sibling.          "          how’s     your     week     been     ?          we     haven’t     talked     much.          "

[multifandomfanfic]

you should totally do a messi x daughter fanfic. One where she is in a relationship with Kylian Mbappe’s brother, Ethan Mbappe.

I love you writing btw. it’s awesome. Keep the good work!

A/N: So about this request--seeing as Ethan Mbappe is underage, I'm uncomfortable writing something for him. I'll do the fic with Kylian Mbappe instead, but I'm sorry, I won't do Ethan seeing as he's 16 and barely even legal in France.

I also combined it with this request: "will u make a fan fiction about Messi x daughter in which the daughter is an actress and they all go to a, premiere or an award show where she is nominated (and she wins), with her. Also an after party part will be good!"

Face claim for most photos: Haley Lu Richardson

Messi x daughter!actress!reader (also Mbappe x reader)

yourusername

liked by leomessi, sydney_sweeney, dannyramirez, and 3,328,498 others

yourusername: tiempo familiar, pt. 1

monicabarbaro: this movie better be good if you dyed your hair for it 😭

yourusername: i promise its worth the wait!! chrishemsworth: I can attest to that!

leomessi: Te ves hermosa, cariño! (translated from Spanish: "You look beautiful, sweetie!")

comment liked by antonelaroccuzzo and yourusername yourusername: gracias papa🥺 antonelaroccuzzo: 💕💕💕

neymarjr: obrigado por vir ao jogo, y/n, foi bom ver você de novo! (translated from Portuguese: "thanks for coming to the match, y/n, it was good to see you again!")

yourusername: you too! ❤️ user307: 👀

fanaccount1: how is she so pretty as a blonde and brunette???? she's so lucky

user203: she's literally anto roccuzzo's daughter be fr

user892: my favorite nepo baby

yourusername added to their story

celebritygossip

liked by pierregasly, ethanmbappe, and 837,238 others

celebritygossip: The first photo was posted on @yourusername;s story yesterday morning. The second one was posted by @k.mbappe just hours afterwards. Coincidence? We think not.

user487: i'm not sold at all but i'm glad it's not (possibly) neymar. i was not for the whole age-gap, dad's best friend thing.

fanaccount2: Totally agree. user008: me three, but we really shouldn't have any opinions on who y/n dates. we don't know her. fanaccount3: no one asked you to act all high and mighty.

user918: Y/N could have any man in the world and she choses someone who looks like a teenage mutant ninja turtle.

fanaccount4: She said we'll find out eventually, maybe this is it??

user773: i don't think she meant some random gossip account 'connecting the dots.' we still have to wait

yourusername

liked by leomessi, k.mbappe, glenpowell, and 2,385,019 others

yourusername: "Figures and Strangers" has officially ended production. I would like to thank everyone who I've worked with on this project; you have made every moment of this past year special, and I will remember our time together for the rest of my life.

"Figures and Strangers" is about family, love, and perseverance in the midst of hard times. While I may not have had hard times, the other themes of this movie pertained to my life when I auditioned:

Without my family's unwavering support and direction, I would not be where I am today; seriously, without my father, I wouldn't have been tipped off about Spielberg shooting his first film in Paris, and I would not be typing this today.

A year ago, I had gone on one date with the man I now call my love. Since that day, he has been with me through thick and thin: from nights spent crying over hard-to-memorize lines, to entire weeks when I was hardly home. He saw me through my highs in lows, through enjoying life then doubting every choice I've ever made. Honestly, I believe he's more love and understanding than man. I would have never known the man my father introduced me to would be such a blessing, but I am so glad to call him mine.

And, finally, perseverance: when I heard about this movie, I was still struggling with the notion that all I would ever be was my dad's child. I love my dad with all my heart and all my soul, but seeing myself called "Lionel Messi's daughter" instead of "Y/N Messi" in headlines about my own accomplishments damaged my self-esteem (not to mention all the "nepo baby" comments--yes, I read all of those). Yet, all of this motivated me to work even harder and persevere, as my character in "Figures and Strangers" does. I am glad to say that I am happy with where I stand right now, and I have made myself proud.

Anyways, to wrap this up, I'll quote the ever so wise Winnie the Pooh by saying how lucky I am having something that makes saying goodbye so hard. I am eternally grateful for everything that has happened in the past year because of "Figures and Strangers," and how it has transformed me as a person.

Thank you all again, and I'll see you in the movies.

~ Y/N Messi

leomessi: También nos has hecho sentir orgullosas, Y/N. (translated from Spanish: "You have also made us proud, Y/N.")

yourusername: muchas gracias, papá. te amo más de lo que sabes. ("thank you very much, dad. i love you more than you know.") comment liked by leomessi and antonellaroccuzzo

zoeisabellakravitz: Best Actress nom when

evanpetes: can't wait to see it!

psg: All of us are so happy for you!

comment liked by yourusername, k.mbappe, neymarjr, and leomessi

masonmount: seriously, y/n, congrats on everything. you deserve all the awards.

yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️ fanaccount5: guys???

k.mbappe

liked by celebritygossip, yourusername, chloegmoretz, and 3,389,291 others

k.mbappe: 🖤🤍

tagged: yourusername

chrishemsworth: Had a fun premiere with you both! Here's to more success yet to come!

comment liked by anyataylorjoy, jayrellis, and k.mbappe yourusername: you too!!

antonelaroccuzzo: You look stunning, sweetie 💕

yourusername: thank you mom 🥺🥺

fanaccount6: WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH

user940: how did we NOT see this coming it makes so much sense yourusername: i told you you'd find out eventually 😉

fanaccount7: they're so perfect omg????

user038: my wife and husband

leomessi

liked by yourusername, cmpulisic, leonardodicaprio, and 7,289,064 others

leomessi: (translated from Spanish) I couldn't be more proud of my daughter tonight. I remember the little plays you used to put on with your cousins and brothers, and today I watched you walk across the Oscars' stage to accept the Best Actress award. All of your hard work and dedication has paid off, and you've truly made a name for yourself. Congratulations on everything you've done and will accomplish in the future. I love you very much.

tagged: yourusername

yourusername: i'm going to cry dad! i love you too!

antonelaroccuzzo: We're both thrilled for you, Y/N. You've exceeded our expectations and turned into an incredible young woman.

yourusername: thanks mom!

k.mbappe: proud to call you mine💕

comment liked by yourusername leomessi: Take care of her!

yourusername

liked by k.mbappe, keleighteller, antonelaroccuzzo, and 3,510,389 others

yourusername: can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you

tagged: k.mbappe

k.mbappe: mon amour ❤️

leomessi: The best daughter and son-in-law a man could ask for.

comments on this post have been limited

[galraluver]

Hi everyone, it's certainly been a while since I've updated you all on how things are going. Lately I've been dealing with some really bad writer's block and it's making it hard for me to write anything aside from incorrect quotes. I'm thinking of going on a small hiatus from writing any fics until I get my inspiration back. I do have the next chapter for my BoM Parent Scenarios written, all I have to do is proof read and edit it before I post it on ao3; I'll be going on a fic writing hiatus right after I post it. As for requests, I feel really bad for not being able to write any of them; I promise that I will someday, but it might not be until next year. My current main fic might be in the works for the next year or so (I still have 56 chapters to write, yikes!) but I'll try to get one or two requests written hopefully by either January or February, although you'll still get incorrect quotes every now and then. Again, I'm truly sorry for keeping you all waiting for so long 😔. I thank you all for being patient with me and my random writer's block. You all are awesome and I hope that you're having a good day/night.

[k-odyssey]

Thoughts on tvn's Happiness (ep 9 & 10)

There's something very biblical about pouring your (pure) blood so that the sinners infected will show themselves? Or did the christian symbols get to me? It's a shame the sacrificial lamb got scratched and everything is a mess.

10 episodes and I still get surprised and scared when people turn. It's hard to consistently keep creating tension but they do it. It's also hard to make a show that requires tension that I won't find unwatchable, but they're also doing it.

Often the soundtrack really helps building up that tension, but here while he was walking around the room with his bloody hand extended, the silence was very effective. You could taste anticipation in the air.

I've said it already, but I love the foreshadowing in Happiness. There's some solid writing in there, and not just spur-of-the-moment plot twists. Like, did I find it very strange that the pastor was repelling zombies at the time? Yup. Did I consider the fact that he might be infected? Yes, briefly. Did I put that aside and kinda forget it because the writer redirected my attention elsewhere? 100%.

The fact that this one moment made the cop friend find god but had a scientific explanation??? I love that so much. I'd love more of that on tv pls.

There were also hints about the supermarket girl and I had not at all made the connection.

I looked up the writer and for once, it's a man. He did write WATCHER which I started and did not finish, because it had a definite lack of women and no romance. I don't know what he's been doing since 2019—well I kinda do, he's been living through a pandemic like the rest of us—but I like the direction in which he's taking his work.

The science feels a little shaky, but it's vague and in the background enough that I don't care too much. They don't do the thing where they keep shoving their "high tech" equipment in your face while speaking nonsense about DNA or whatever.

To get back to the important stuff: I wish Yi Hyun would tell the truth!!! He was bound to get infected, what with always jumping in to save the day. But even if it makes sense, I hate it. I also hate it because, and I hadn't noticed it at first but only after I finished episode 10 and thought about it, he's been more distant from Sae Bom since he got scratched. And I thrive on their intimacy so this hurts.

They're a team, and he promised he would say if it happened!! I know that it's his well-documented protective instincts acting out and he's doing this out of love but ARGH! You can't just sacrifice yourself without discussing it. Well, if you discuss it, it's true that you won't be able to sacrifice yourself cause she won't let you.

It's killing me that she noticed all the signs, but he knows her well enough to fool her.

I said last week that Han Tae Seok and Yi Hyun are similar and it's confirmed this week. HTS knew immediately that Hyun was infected, cause he probably would've done the exact same thing if it were him. I still think Hyun wouldn't go as far as manipulating others the way HTS does though.

I haven't said anything about Sae Bom yet, but it's not because I don't love her. She keeps being an awesome character, and I do particularly enjoy watching her when she's angry. If they didn't show her tender side, I'd feel differently I think. But she's both warm AND scary. She's magnetic, I see why Hyun made her his god.

Not sure what to say about the residents. I'm not feeling as indulgent as Hyun, thinking about them. It's amazing how quickly the apartment complex has become a lawless place. Also the ratio of murderers is way too high, even though the ratio of police officers in presence is also very high. We have a serial killer in the building??? What are the chances???

The actor playing creepy/evil upstairs neighbour is doing such a good job, my god I hate his guts. Shout out to the guy playing the lawyer as well, would you believe I keep yelling at his wife through the screen to strangle leave him?

Actually, they're all doing a good job. I also have unmentionable thoughts about the representative lady, although she looked genuinely devastated by her husband's death and for a moment there, I believed she was human. Maybe they're all too human.

The ending this week though?? You're gonna stand outside while someone is being killed so you can take their assets?? While a child is in there with a murderer?? This is reminiscent of the worst kinds of wartime stories.

PS: I think it's genius to have a countdown followed by a counter (?). Really drives the point home that there's nothing to look forward to now, we're just marking the passing of time and hoping there's an end to this.

[natache]

Ita Rina

First and Forgotten Yugoslav Film Star who provocated Gestapo

Ita Rina was born on 7 July 1907 in the small town of Divača (then Austro-Hungarian Empire, later Yugoslavia, now Slovenia) as Italina Lida Kravanja. She was called Ida Kravanja for short. She was named after a journalist Finzi Haydée, Jewish family friend from Trieste. The first daughter of Jožef a railroad worker and Marija Kravanja, Rina had a younger sister Danica. Shortly after the outbreak of the World War I, the family moved to Ljubljana, where Rina matriculated in 1923. She was not a good student; she repeated the third grade of elementary school. However, her dream was to be an actress.

In October 1926, Slovenski narod (Slovenian People) magazine organized a beauty pageant, and Rina entered the competition. She was crowned Miss Slovenia and was to travel to the final event for Miss Yugoslavia, which was supposed to be held on 20 December 1926 in Zagreb. However, her mother did not want to let her go to Zagreb. After a group visit from the Slovenian delegation, Marija Kravanja relented. Unfortunately, when Rina arrived in Zagreb, the jury was already choosing the most beautiful of three finalists. She was, however, noticed by Adolf Müller, the owner of Balkan Palace cinema in Zagreb. He immediately sent her photographs to German film producer Peter Ostermayer. As her mother did not want to let her go to Berlin, Rina ran away from home.

Her escape was enabled by a family friend, a painter Alojz Malota and his wife Hedvig Šarc. They invited her to come with them on a trip to Austria, and instead she went to Berlin. She has said that she felt very lonely and scared during the train ride and thought about returning home.

“That was my longest and hardest journey. I huddled myself in a corner of a coupe and looked around myself in fear. I only knew few words in German...”

Rina arrived in Berlin in 1927. Shortly after she had her first audition, following which she had classes in acting, diction, dancing.

"They would shine a spotlight on me" she later said "cameras would buzz. There were cables everywhere. Some complete strangers would stare at me, whispering amongst themselves. They told me to scream, to laugh, wave and cry. I think I looked most natural in scenes where I was crying. All I had to do was remember how far away from home I've gone and how I've deceived my mother."

"You don't know how to walk!" a director was yelling. I've dedicated all my strength on walking as gracefully as possible, and I thought to myself "how's it possible that I, who have climbed Triglav thrice, all of sudden am incapable of walking." I must admit, first few steps on film were harder than any danger definitely mountaineering.

After several small film roles in 1927 and 1928, the critics finally noticed her in the 1928 film The Last Supper. The same year, Rina met at a Yugoslav embassy party, her future husband Miodrag Đorđević, a shy engineering student from Belgrade, son of a general director of the Royal Post Office.

He asked her out to dinner in a little more upscale restaurant. What he would find out later is that his students account was not enough to pay for the meal. He went to the phone in an attempted to call a friend who could lend him money. Ita figured out what was going on, and since she was already rich, secretly passed him a few bank notes, to spare him the embarrassment. She always liked him, and they understood each other well.

 

Around that time newspapers in Yugoslavia started to sensationalize her love life, as a counter she published an open letter.

Cenjeni g. urednik!

Vsikdar sem bila ljubeznjiva napram g. dopisniku Vašega lista. Želela sem na ta način izražati simpatije, ki sem jih gojila do “Vremena”. Toda nežentlementski dopis Vašega dopisnika od 15. t. m. je zlorabil to mojo ljubeznivost in me prisilil, da Vas naprošam zaradi istine za uvrstitev naslednjih vrstic: Prišla sem domov na oddih, da se pripravim za bodoče delo, ne pa da se zaljubljam kakor goska. Zaradi tega ne potrebujem nikakih senzacij, zlasti pa ne senzacij, ki gredo preko meja dopustnega. Čudim se prostosti, ki si jo jemlje g. Ambrož, da izmišlja kar imena mojih idealov. Prava senzacija bi bila šele, ko bi g. Ambrož nekoliko srečneje uganil moje ideale. Kar pa piše g. Ambrož, je bilo doslej meni in vsem mojim znancem docela neznano. Odpotovala bom tedaj, ko me pokliče novo delo. Senzacijonalni odhod avtomobilov itd. je prosta glupost. 

Da končam. Žal mi je, da se je edini g. O. Ambrož smatral za najpametnejšega od vseh tukajšnjih novinarjev in da je segel po tako nehvaležnem poslu. Naši javnosti je treba servirati resnico o mojem delu in moji osebi, ne pa glupih izmišljotin. Prejmite g. urednik izraze itd.

Ita Rina.

Her breakthrough into European stardom came after taking a role in a controversial film Erotikon by a Czechoslovakian director Gustav Mahaty. As soon as she read the script about a seduced and then abandoned daughter of a guard of a railroad station, she understood it as her big chance, and she was right.

Erotikon premiered in Prague. Czechoslovakian censors cut out the scene of her giving birth to a child, but the movie garnered great success with film critics and audiences across Europe. At the premiere in Paris in Moulin Rouge and the film goers carried her out of the theatre on their hands.

The films success angered the puritans. Especially the french catholic theologian, abbot Betteleme who wrote: "... First, they lie next to each other, and then one to another ... It is true that the cover hides their figures, but it certainly does not hide their movements... The protagonists are shown in particularly long shots, especially Ita... A viewer can recognize her excitement, then her expression of anxiety mixed with longing, then the pain and at the end... I blush while describing the scenes". He went though streets of Paris tearing down the posters that were plastered all over. That only raised the popularity of the film.

In 1930, Rina acted in three films, most notable being the first talking Czechoslovakian film Tonka of the Gallows, which is often named her best role. Meanwhile, she married Miodrag Đorđević in 1931. Although she had announced her retirement from her film career, but she actually continued her acting until the outbreak of World War II. Her last prewar film was crime drama Zentrale Rio.

The situation in Germany was getting tense, especially for anybody who was considered undesirable which included actors who were foreign. She left Germany on the insistence of the then ambassador of Yugoslavia Ivo Andrić. In 1939, very close to the start of WW2 every time she went to work or went home, there was a man who sat in the car. In the beginning he was very quiet and she thought he was an assistant of the producer and that he might represent some new custume, a way of saying thanks to the actors. And then he spoke. At first there were talks of the superiority of the German race, but later his changes because more apparent. "I argued with him in that car" she told to the operator in the studio and retold him the whole conversation. "How could you have dared, that man is from Gestapo." said the operator. The story was retold to Ivo Andrić, and he ordered her and her husband to urgently leave Germany. The taping of the film was mostly done. That night they packed all of their belongs. In the morning she taped a few leftover scenes and absconded for Belgrade that same day.

"Only on the road I understood what's going on. Tanks everywhere, soldiers."

They went to live in Belgrade. She didn't act as the war was starting to rage and had her first child Milan in 1940 and thee years later a daughter Tijana. Her in-laws disagreed with the marriage to a controversial actress at first. And they had a permanent table for themselves and their friends at the local tavern.

After the bombing of Belgrade they moved to Vrnjačka Banja. Life during wartime was hard and she laboured and sold all of her possessions to keep family fed. She even rescued her husband from jail where he landed after he, in a tavern proclaimed that Hitler will have the same fate Napoleon did in Russia.

They moved back to Belgrade after the end of World War II in 1945. Although she was promised several roles in Yugoslav films, all projects were cancelled and she was treated unfavorably. After receipt of a letter she had written to President Tito, Rina began working as a co–production advisor in Avala Film. But she soon left Avala Film and moved to Lovćen Film.

She returned to the silver screen once, in the 1960 film War, about nuclear war fallout, directed by Veljko Bulajić. This was her last role. She got her role not though a studio, but through her husband asking nicely.

“Before the shooting of the film War began, I was approached by a very likable gentleman, that was the husband of Mrs. Ita Rine Miodrag, and in a very discreet, shy way, asked if we can talk and during that conversation, suggested to cast Ita. Honestly speaking, I have already completely forgotten about her. There was war, and they she didn't work for a very long time. She wasn't listed anywhere in cinematography as an active actress. I remembered her from her films. I suggested we meet. So we met, I don't know where in Zagreb or Belgrade, I cannot remember, but she impressed me. She made a strong impression, of a smart woman, an actress who didn't want to be in a film for no other reason, but to be filmed. She wanted to know about her role. I really liked that, so we made a deal.” 

As she suffered from asthma, Rina and her husband moved to Budva (then Yugoslavia, now Montenegro) in 1967. There, she took care of her husband, who was ill with sclerosis. Rina died on 10 May 1979 from an asthmatic attack during the great earthquake that leveled the capital of Montenegro. She was buried a few days later in Belgrade, in the presence of numerous film artists, admirers, friends and family. Her husband died next year.

Best source is in Slovene here:

[the-righteous-heathen]

hey! abt the q + a thingy. so, im 16 currently, turning 17 over the summer. i lost my faith a few years ago, and my situation is. a bit different? my parents have found out about my faith crisis twice, each time a year apart, and each time after a few months they convinced themselves that i believed again. we're back to the thinking i believe part rn and id like to keep it that way for safety sake until i can move out at 18. i dont want to lie forever though, how do i tell them when its time? that i want to leave it behind? + im trans + gay and have a secret bf that i have long term plans with and idk how to tell them about any of that either, what with transitioning and all

For me, it took lots of little meetings. Whether its through FaceTime or in person, you may have to set up something formal and in a nice environment. Public places help because then they can’t corner you and it won’t be an endless conversation. Say “we’re going to talk about this until it’s time to go, but I do not want to continue the conversation in the car, at home, etc” because that allows you to rebuild connections after and make things feel better after being vulnerable. This works for FaceTime if you just schedule a time to catch up and a time for serious convos.

Do not dump everything at once. They may bait you, asking questions like “well if you think this, then you must be/think—.” But there’s no rule that says you have to explain everything. You could start with a meeting just about the BOM and your problems with it. Or just about your personal belief in god or lack thereof—not necessarily in relation to the church. Your views of other forms of Christianity vs mormonism. Whatever feels right to talk about first, go ahead and talk about it. Be firm about what you’re going to talk about, and don’t let them distract you.

Common manipulative phrases to watch out for that may derail the conversation:

“But I’ve seen how you felt/acted in the past…”

This one’s hard. It’s difficult to explain how psychology and the placebo effect can create false feelings, or how the church attributes some feelings to the spirit that are actually natural emotions. You can skip all that for now. Simply say “I was wrong” or “I do not feel that way anymore“ until they’re in a better place of understanding.

”This isn’t the son/daughter/child I raised...”

Do not under any circumstances give into this one. It’s emotional manipulation. You do not owe them the child they raised. They owe you their unconditional love no matter your life choices. Let them know that you still love them as parents and that’s what matters.

lastly, they often go on tangents about their experience in the church. Listen to them. Make them feel heard for a moment. But make it clear that your opinions and experiences are simply different from theirs. As far as discussing actual issues issues in the church goes, do your homework. Understand what their pov may be and work from there. Look at Mormon apologist websites as well as exmo sources to figure out their arguments so you can GENTLY dismantle them.

Please remember you’re allowed to try to walk away or stop the conversation at any time! Also, as far as coming out as LGBTQ goes, that may have to be a pt. 2 but it follows similar ideas.

[phoenixyfriend]

I’ve been trying to figure out the best obi wan ship. They all have one slightly problematic thing this way or that. I’ve landed on the idea of obi wan and an equal is pretty top tier. But then I saw a picture of Coran from voltron. Coran and Obiwan might be a disaster but also both are dad shaped, both are bad ass, both are ginger, both have an accent. I think it could work. But another part of me is like Coran is just obi and jarjar mashed together. At the very least they hooked up.

Hey I just had restaurant ramen and Starbucks and actually feel like a human being so let's do something unnecessary but funny. I'm taking this as a challenge, anon.

Also IMO Coran has more in common with C3P0 than with JarJar

So obviously, both of these happen in Big Space, but the difference appears to be density. We see about the same complexity of culture and species interactions, but Voltron covers more galaxies. It's vaguely implied that Earth, at least, is the only planet with sapient life in the Milky Way.

I think the way I want to play this out, culturally, is that the Voltron area of the universe covers a much wider, but much more sparsely populated area, while the SW-verse is just the one very densely populated (in part because apparently humans just went Literally Everywhere) galaxy, where they didn't necessarily bother with developing the tech to go to other galaxies (except Rishi, which only sort of counts) because they haven't really even charted out their own yet. It was never contacted by the Voltron side of things because [checks notecards full of excuses] it's really far away from Altea and all that, and the Force shielded the galaxy from Galra interests because Reasons.

All this to say that the two franchises didn't interact until after the Voltron plotline was already over. We'll say it went mostly canon, except Allura survived because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck that.

We'll say that this is mid-TCW, you know, before Obi-Wan is a bundle of repressed traumas and bad coping mechanisms that's lost almost everyone he's ever loved to the dark side through death or corruption. He's still (mostly) okay! Anakin's not dark (or at least, not as dark as he could be; Obi-Wan doesn't know about the Tuskens), and Ahsoka's still in good standing and most people are alive and--and okay the army is a massive ethical violation he hates with his very soul and he misses Qui-Gon and Anakin's keeping secrets and pulling away from him every day but He's Fine, Guys.

He's Fine.

In comes a ship from not Wild Space, but beyond that. Intergalactic visitors, from the direction of the deeply concerning Force bullshit they felt a few years ago. Translation tech is decent enough on both sides that they get to talking pretty quickly. The explorer is actually a member of the Blade of Marmora, who gets the absolute most basic info (approximately this many inhabited planets, approximately this many trillions of sapients in the recorded galaxy, basic structure of the government for the past however many years, most recent conflict, etc.)

BoM person is like "cool, okay so you guys are really well set-up so I'm just gonna head back and kick this up a few rungs of the coalition ladder because this is way above my paygrade, I'll make sure you get some diplomats who can maybe help out with the whole galactic civil war situation as neutral parties."

The Voltron Coalition does send a diplomat! They, uh, also send Coran, who isn't technically a diplomat, but he's high-level.

The thing is, okay, that Coran is mostly just... passably competent at things. He's a jack of all trades, master of none type. He knows a lot of things, actually, but his practical knowledge in high pressure situations tends to be up in the air. He knows how to fix the Castle Ship and various technologies, but all of that info is ten thousand years out of date. He was a competent fighter at one point but these days his back gives out. He's very knowledgeable regarding intergalactic politics but, again, that information is ten thousand years out of date. He's also a little prone to social gaffs in dicey situations (e.g. the inciting incident in the Voltron Show episode where he misses the single day with clear skies), but puts in so much goddamn effort to make things happen.

In this manner, he's like a warped mirror of what Obi-Wan is and could be.

THAT SAID

Coran is actually really good with teenagers, and specifically with training them.

And Obi-Wan... isn't.

Obi-Wan's snarky and snippy and sassy, and he's decent enough at teaching and he's great at being a jokey friend and all, but he's not necessarily very good at emotions. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, the teenagers he spends the most time with are Really Full Of Emotions. He tries, bless him, but he's just... he doesn't respond well to emotional conversations at the best of times.

His son-figure saying "You're like a father to me" leads to a response of... radio silence. Guys. That's not the mark of a man who knows how to talk about his feelings with the people he cares about.

In swans Coran with the various other diplomatic envoys of the visiting extragalactic community. The entire situation is really leading to a lull in the war because nobody wants to risk pissing off this clearly well-funded, well-powered third party. As a result, many of the High Generals can interact with the envoys, even if they spend quite a bit of time eyeing the Separatist representatives on the other side of the room, because clearly Everyone Needs A Seat At This Table.

It's a very tense situation.

Obviously, Coran is exactly the weird uncle that goes around telling plausibly-exaggerated stories about Weblums and Yalmors and Balmeras. I'm going to say at least one former Paladin is there, maybe Hunk. Hunk's fun, and also very willing to help Coran make friends and seem Amicable instead of Distant by correcting some of the exaggerations. There's a nice, calm atmosphere in a bubble around Coran and his nonsense, and it's a weird situation but arguably just... you know. It's good. He's good at making people feel safe around him.

Cue the hissed argument between Skywalker and Kenobi. The actual cause of said argument isn't important, just the fact that, in a dark corner where they're less likely to cause a PR issue, Anakin and Obi-Wan are having it out. Anakin's maybe twenty, still a lanky ragebaby, all that fun stuff. Obi-Wan is a the endpoint of every too-young brotherdad. He's thirty-six but feels like he's sixty-three. He's tired, but trying so damn hard to still connect with Anakin and just--just--

Obi-Wan gives himself a few minutes to calm down before following Anakin. He doesn't even remember what they were arguing about, really, but he has to mend the bridge before it frays even more than it already has. If Anakin goes to Palpatine for advice again, he's going to... do something. Obi-Wan isn't sure what, but he just has to fix this.

What he finds is... well, Anakin did end up going to vent to a man of an earlier generation who acts like a slightly eccentric older relative, but it's not Palpatine for once.

The goofy, slightly abrasive but mostly charming, brightly-colored representative of the Voltron Coalition is standing in the little balcony that Anakin's made it to, listening as Obi-Wan's recently-knighted padawan vents. The man nods and makes noises at the appropriate times, and then asks questions that are... maybe a little too accurate.

"You said that you view him as a father, that he raised you after you left your mother."

"Well, yeah, but he doesn't think I'm ready, or--"

"No parent ever does."

"...my mom thought I was ready to become a Jedi."

"I can't speak for your mother," the representative says, "but the princess of my people, Allura... I half-raised that girl from the beginning, and after the destruction of Altea, we were all the other had left. I watched her lead battles and bring life to planets, trying to rebuild a universe out of the ashes of what we'd left behind... I saw the evidence with my own eyes, and I still, every time, I worried for her."

"Why?"

"I worried that she'd be hurt, that she wasn't ready, that she'd make a decision she regretted. Often, she did, and I had to help her back up, and while she's always come back, stronger than before... she is the closest thing I have ever had to a daughter, and I will always worry for her. Every parent does. Do you think, perhaps, that your own Jedi Master, that you consider a father, may worry because he looks at you like a son? That it's not that he doesn't trust you, but that he doesn't trust the world around you?"

Obi-Wan feels his heart in his throat.

The conversation continues in that vein. While Obi-Wan can't say he likes the fact that this stranger is putting words in his mouth, if only as hypotheticals, he can't deny that there's a part of him that relaxes as Anakin does, as every frustrated fresh-knight question gets a measured elderly-steward response that's angled to consider the interpretation that favors Anakin and Obi-Wan in equal measure. Every word encourages Anakin to talk things out and lay boundaries and express his frustrations to Obi-Wan in the plainest words possible.

There's a story in there, more than one. The representative tends to go off on tangents, ones that Anakin sometimes finds interesting and sometimes just resigns himself to. Mostly, though, it goes well, and Obi-Wan... well, he's always been 'a nosy little bastard,' according to quite a few people.

(In his defense, the terms they'd used about Quinlan's 'investigative personality' had been quite a bit stronger.)

He eavesdrops to the end, and Anakin doesn't notice at all. Obi-Wan's not sure if he should try to address Anakin's lack of awareness of the world around him. He's not technically Anakin's master anymore. The comment may be taken as a criticism of his worth and capability, rather than a sincere desire to see his padawan not die.

He approaches the representative instead. He intends to introduce himself. Instead, the first words that tumble out of his mouth are:

"How do you do it?"

The man--older than he looks from a distance, more wrinkles than the bright hair would suggest, but not quite elderly yet--turns and lifts a brow. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry, I'm--" Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man you were just talking to is my former padawan, er, my former apprentice. I've been finding it harder and harder to speak with him over the past few years, and it seems that every interaction we have leads to an argument. How do you... manage that? I can't get him to listen to me at all."

"Ah, teenagers," the man sighs.

"He's twenty."

The representative pauses, and turns to him. "Are you the one he says raised him? The father?"

"Well... yes, I suppose that's one way to phrase it," Obi-Wan says, eyes darting to the side. He doesn't know how to explain the whole attachment situation to someone who barely knows what a Jedi is. He has even less of an idea of how to explain his own broken ability to speak of emotion, the parts of his mind that Bant clucks over and attributes to his own complicated relationship with Qui-Gon. "I had custody as his primary guardian from ages nine to nineteen and was the primary individual for handling his schooling, health, and general upbringing."

"That sounds to me like a very convoluted way of saying you were his father in all but name."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm not exactly old enough to be his father, and I wasn't exactly the person he was supposed to learn from; I was the... back-up option."

"It seems he cares for you very much."

"He didn't have much of a choice," Obi-Wan says, with the kind of helpless smile and awkward shrug he's long gotten used to sharing with people when they ask. "And I assure you he'd have been happier with the man that was meant to teach him."

"I'd say that the 'would have' in this situation is much less important than what is," the representative says. Obi-Wan probably should have paid more attention to his name. "I wasn't in a position to define my relation to Allura or her father in the way that truly suited our situation, by... oh, tradition, social norms, public relations, take your pick. I was a very well-regarded official, of course, but I wasn't royalty, not even nobility, and I certainly wasn't wasn't legally or publicly part of the family. But for all the limitations there, I was still able to find ways to tell her and her family what they meant to me, and they in return. Your apprentice cares for you very much, and I'm sure you care back, but I'd hazard quite the guess that you've no idea how to tell him that."

"I... I shouldn't," Obi-Wan says. "I'm fond of him, of course, but I've no wish to smother him, and to simply say it would be undignified. I imagine he'd laugh in my face."

The representative raises one eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

"Master Kenobi," he says carefully. "Might I suggest you go find your young man, tell him you love him, and perhaps give him a hug?"

Obi-Wan's face flares red. It's been years since anyone short of Yoda has spoken to him like that.

"I'm not a child," he sniffs, trying to angle enough away that the blush isn't as noticeable. He's damnably prone to such things. "You're not that much older than me."

The man laughs, and Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his lips in a futile attempt to hid the embarrassment a little more. "Oh, not counting the stasis, I've well reached the age of six hundred and twenty-four, my boy!"

Obi-Wan chokes on his drink.

The man laughs a little more, but thumps him on the back until he's breathing normally again.

"Yes, most of the humans I've told have had quite the reaction!" the representative assures him. "But yes, even with the times adjusted to what any given local year is, I am significantly longer-lived than most species."

"No kidding," Obi-Wan manages. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over at the representative. He takes in the wrinkles and bright eyes, and says, "Well, I must say you look very well for a near-human of such an age. I can only name one person in that category that has managed better, and I haven't seen her since I was a child."

"I shall take that as the compliment it's intended to be," the representative says, twisting the edge of his mustache and beaming.

The man is... well, goofy, really, and quite a bit older than Obi-Wan had thought, but he's quite the charmer. Obi-Wan faintly compares him to a few different people in the back of his mind, but nothing quite fits. For all that the man is quite the jokester and--going by some things he'd seen from the corner of his eye in the main party--a master of physical comedy, the representative is actually more competent than he looks, and for all his visible age, not bad to look at. He is also, seemingly, an expert in dealing with teenagers and young adults, something Obi-Wan himself is... decidedly not.

He really should go speak with Anakin.

And there's a war to fight.

He doesn't really have much time, even with the recent lull.

He's in no place to be looking at the clean-shaven jaw and wondering what it would feel like under his lips, or to let himself consider whether this man would be the kind to have an hours-long discussion as to the narrative forms common in other galaxies, and whether they have anything paralleled to those in Obi-Wan's own, or if this man would show the same enthusiasm over teas that he'd shown over the hors d'oeuvres inside.

He should... really go find Anakin.

"I suppose it's time to find my padawan," he says, more to fill the air than anything. "Er... thank you, both for speaking with him, and for speaking with me."

"Not a problem at all, Master Kenobi!" the representative says, and Obi-Wan realizes that there's one last thing he may have... forgotten.

"This is terribly embarrassing, but I don't believe I caught your name?" Obi-Wan says.

"Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!" the man says, with a sweeping bow. "As you can imagine, most simply call me Coran."

"Then I insist you call me Obi-Wan," he says, and before he can stop himself, "Might I bother you with an invitation to a shared tea time? You seem a knowledgeable fellow, and I'd appreciate the chance to... eh, pick your brain, shall we say."

It's not the smoothest come on he's ever put out there, or the most easily interpreted, but... well. Perhaps it's for the best. He's rather often found his tastes going in irresponsible directions, and it'll be much easier to brush this off without diplomatic incident if there's room for Coran to politely ignore the less platonic options.

Obi-Wan hopes he doesn't.

It's very selfish of him, but a dalliance with an older gentleman... well. He does, perhaps, make such irresponsible decisions, even now.

"I do believe I'd enjoy such a thing!" Coran enthuses, grabbing Obi-Wan's hand and shaking it in large, effusive movements.

Oh, this is a terrible idea, Obi-Wan thinks, even as he exchanges comm numbers and says goodbye.

Still.

He likes the idea of having at least a little fun, sedate or less so, while they have some time to themselves.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Look at my Son (Pre-Eragon)

Brom hunched his shoulders against the gust of snow flurries that tugged at his clothes as his horse clopped tiredly along. He knew he was getting close, could still feel the tiny threads of Selena’s energy leading to the small farm on the edge of Carvahall.

His stomach churned. Not only because he was hungry, but because he didn’t know what he was going to find when he reached his destination. Had the healers observations and Brom’s own hypothesis correct? He didn’t know if he wanted to be right or if he wanted to be wrong.

The Rider pulled his horse to a stop at the small house his spells were leading him to.

It wasn’t anything fancy. A simple homestead with a single story, a paddock next to the side porch. Brom could see a small patch of empty farmland behind the paddock, stubbled with the remains cut, dead stalks of grains poking up through the light layer of snow.

It looked like a home for a family.

Sighing, Brom leaned his forearms on the saddle’s pommel and examined the home, looking for some excuse to enter. He found a reason in one of the two work horses, a muscled bay, that had a pronounced limp.

Moments later found him knocking on the front door. His heart thumped in his chest. He had to play this along for a little while, then he could have the truth.

At the third knock a thin man opened the door. He looked at Brom with intense, dark eyes, then cocked an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Brom cleared his throat. “Ah, well, not to intrude, sir. I was passing by and saw that one of your horses has a quite a limp. Didn’t know if you were aware, and I just…”

The man sighed tiredly. “Yeah, I’m aware. Thank you.” He leaned out to look over at the bay as it lapped water from a trough. “Poor girl. I don’t have the money to replace her, but I don’t have the money to get her looked at either. I’ve been resting her since winter started, but nothing seems to work.”

“I might be able to help, if you don’t mind me working with her a bit.” Brom gestured to his own steed. “I’m a bit of a traveling storyteller, but I’ve picked up quite a few tricks for healing, especially where horses are involved. Can’t get anywhere with a lame animal.” He offered his hand. “My name is Brom.”

Out of instinct the other man shook his hand. “Garrow.” Then he paused. “I appreciate your offer, but as I said, we don’t have much money, and I’m not the sort of person to accept–”

Brom cut him off. “If you insist on paying me, I’d appreciate a hot meal and a porch to sleep on for the night.” He chuckled roughly. “I’m having a bit of money trouble myself. Don’t think I have enough for a room in town.”

Garrow rubbed his chin, obviously thinking it over. For a moment Brom was worried he would refuse again, but then a woman’s voice called from within the house, coming closer with each word. “Honey? Who is it?”

A woman appeared behind Garrow. Brom’s heart leapt to his throat when he saw a child balanced on her hip, but then he came to his senses. The boy was much too big to have been born in the last few months.

“This gentleman–Brom, was it?–Brom was offering to take a look at old Betty for us.”

“And you were going on about not accepting charity, weren’t you? Garrow, you are not going to let this opportunity slide after all the complaining you’ve done about Betty being lame. Let the poor man in!” She swatted her husband on the shoulder good naturedly. “I already heard his offer to trade. Brom, you are welcome to stay for dinner and sleep in our guest room if you can help our horse.”

Garrow chewed his lip for a moment as the woman went back into the house, the toddler on her hip staring back at the stranger at his door with wide gray eyes. “Fine, fine. You can let your horse into the paddock to feed. I’ll get my coat.”

~~~

With magic on his side, the horse’s leg was easy to fix.

To keep impressions up, Brom took to murmuring to the pained animal in the Ancient Language, weaving in his spells subtly as he checked each leg and gently manipulated muscle and bone. Garrow would occasionally ask how he was doing certain exercises, but mostly kept to himself, leanly corded arms wrapped in a well worn jacket and crossed on his thin chest.

After two hours of working with the horse, Brom managed to get Betty to put her full weight on her previously injured limb.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Garrow grunted. “You must be some kind of miracle worker.”

Brom brushed his hands off and gave the bay a pat on her thick shoulder. “No, no. Just had many years of experience. She’ll still need rest until it’s fully healed. I wouldn’t have her pulling anything until spring. These types of injuries can get worse and have a nasty habit of popping up again if pushed too early.” The farmer nodded, assuring the stranger that he would take his advice, and then, finally, invited Brom into his home.

~~~ “Marian!” Garrow called, hanging his coat on the rack beside the door. Instead of his wife, the child from before came tottering out of what Brom assumed was the kitchen. “Hey, big guy! Where’s your mommy, huh?” In one fell swoop, Garrow crouched down and lifted the little boy up into his arms.

The child giggled, reaching out for his father’s head with grasping fingers. Garrow humored him, letting him tug at his ears, as Brom followed the man’s example of hanging his coat. As if suddenly noticing the newcomer, the boy let go of Garrow’s ears and leaned over his shoulder, pointing with an exclamation of childish surprise. “Ah, right. Roran, this man here is Brom. He helped the horse get better.” Garrow looked back. “This is Roran, our son.”

Brom awkwardly waved. “Hello, Roran.”

Roran waved back vigorously. “‘Aye Bom!”

“I’m in the kitchen!” Marian appeared in the doorway that Roran had come through, wiping her hands on her checkered waist apron. Her dark hair was tied up in a loose bun. “Supper will be ready in another hour or two. How did it go?”

“Brom here has magic hands, honey.” Garrow set Roran down, letting him toddle off, and clapped Brom on the shoulder. “Betty will actually walk on her leg now.”

Marian flashed Brom a warm smile. “That’s wonderful! Thank you so much, Brom. Please, have a seat! I’ll get some tea for you both to warm up.”

Garrow led the other man to the living room and offered him a seat in a worn armchair. “I know it’s not exactly the cleanest place in the world, but it’s home.” Garrow apologized, hastily moving blocks, a baby’s play mat, and various toys away with his feet. “We had an unexpected new addition to the family a little while ago. Hard keeping up with two little ones.”

Brom’s heart skipped a beat as he accepted the offered chair. “Congratulations. Two children are quite a blessing.”

Garrow chuckled slightly as he sat across from him on the couch. “Ah, well. He’s not ours, really. He’s my sister’s boy, but she had to leave him with us. We love him as our own, though.”

A boy!

He had a son!

“That’s incredibly kind of you.”

Suddenly, a soft cry came from a room further in the house.

The farmer stood. “There he is. Excuse me.”

Brom nearly choked as Garrow disappeared down the hall. He had a son! A little boy! His heart bashed against his ribs as he realized that Garrow was likely going to return with the baby. He was about to see his son for the first time and he was the only person in the world who knew it. He braced his elbows on his knees, trying to calm himself.

Dear Gods, he had never been good with children. They were small, generally talked or cried a lot, stank, and were prone to all kinds of trouble. He never knew what way he was supposed to hold them, especially babies, and when they weren’t able to talk he was secretly terrified of not being able to help them or give them what they wanted.

Would he be able to handle even seeing the boy? What if he had to hold him? Stars above, he wanted to hold him, but at the same time what if he broke him? What if–

“Here’s the little man.” Brom started when Garrow spoke, gaze shooting up to see the farmer settling back onto the couch with a squirming bundle in his arms. “Sorry about the crying. It’s all they seem to do at this age.”

Brom cleared his throat, trying to fight past the lump he felt forming. He couldn’t see past the blankets. “No, it’s fine.”

Garrow gently bounced the child in his lanky arms, trying to soothe him. “Have any of your own?”

The question struck hard. “Ah, no. I’ve helped care for a few while traveling with troupes though.” Tentatively, as if he might be breaking some unspoken rule, Brom stood and approached the couch. “May I see him?”

“Yeah, yeah, sit. Shh shh shh, it’s okay, Unkie Garrow’s here.” Brom took the spot next to Garrow as gently as he could, his mind blocking out even the crying. He still couldn’t see him.

“Roran, what have you go– GARROW!” Marian’s flustered voice suddenly cut through the din. “Garrow, Roran got into your tools again and is about to smash a window with that silly hammer! My hands are full!”

“Shoot! Not again!” Garrow looked between the kitchen and the babe in his arms, clearly torn. His gaze settled on Brom as his wife again yelled for him. “Ah, here, can you maybe just–”

Before he even had time to answer Garrow transferred the warm bundle of blanket and baby to Brom’s arms and was out of the room.

Brom looked down, eyes wide and disbelieving. His arms began gently rocking the child of their own accord as a calm suddenly settled over his panicked mind.

The crying stopped.

And so did the rest of the world.

A pudgy face looked up at him from the bunched up blanket, slightly red from the screaming earlier, appearing a curious at the new face that gazed down.

Brom couldn’t breathe. Something welled up in his chest that wasn’t anything he had felt before. It felt like…pride. But that wasn’t it. It was something distinctly different but nameless, sending warm tingles across his entire body and forming a lump in his throat.

Then the baby gurgled and smiled up at him.

And Brom fell apart.

“Hi.” The Rider whispered, nearly choking on the word. He carefully used a finger to move more of the blanket away from the child’s face, almost scared to touch him. The babe gave him no choice, though, by reaching out with a chubby little hand and grasped the finger near his face with a vice like grip. Brom choked out a soft laugh, wiggling the trapped appendage. “Oh, look at you. Hi, little one.” The baby laughed back, and pulled the finger up to explore with his mouth. “Hey.”

“His name is Eragon.” Brom tore his eyes from his son as Marian entered with a tray of tea. She set it down on the table beside the couch and settled down next to her guest.

“Eragon?” The Rider felt the name bolt through his conscious. Such a weighty name for such a small thing. Selena had picked a name of power, of history and peace. The name that had started the Golden Era. “That’s a…a powerful name.” He looked back to the child in his arms. “He’s beautiful.”

Marian took a sip of her tea. “You’ve heard of it? Garrow’s sister seemed to know some history behind the name.”

“It’s a very special name.” Brom murmured, gently rocking the smiling Eragon. “He’ll grow up to be an exceptional young man with a name like that.” Unbidden, another smile split Brom’s face as he gazed on his son. “Won’t you, Eragon?”

“Do you want me to take him off your hands?”

Brom didn’t look away. “No…. No, we’re fine. I’ll see if I can get him to sleep.” Marian smiled at him, thanking him for a welcome break from stresses of taking care of a fussy baby while trying to get dinner ready, and returned to the kitchen.

“You’ll grow up to be strong, Eragon.” Brom whispered to the babe. In response, Eragon let go of his finger and reached out, touching the man’s bearded cheek. “You’ll blow the world away someday. I know it.” Bright blue eyes, not yet pigmented, gazed into the same tone of blue in the eyes of the man above him.

If only Selena could see them now.

~~~

That night, Brom slept in the guest room.

It was also Eragon’s room.

Whenever the babe became fussy, Brom would quietly and carefully lift him from from his crib, consumed with wonder at his little body, and would sit with Eragon on his chest. As the beat of his heart lulled the child back to sleep, Brom softly crooned to him in the Ancient Language, weaving the words to the age old cradle song from Kusta. He familiarized himself with the face of his son, gently touched his downy brown hair, and whispered the story of the first Dragon Rider, the story of his namesake, to him as he slept.

In the morning, as dawn edged into the window, Brom forced himself to come to terms with having to leave. His heart ached as he kissed Eragon on the brow once, placed him back in his crib, and gathered his belongings.

After a small breakfast, again cooked by Marian, Brom gave his sincere thanks to the family.

“If you ever come by again, be sure to look us up.” Garrow shook his hand. “I want to properly repay you.”

“You already have.” The Rider assured him. The warmth of meeting his son was slowly seeping away to be replaced this a deep ache with each step he took to the edge of the porch. “Thank you. And thank you, Marian, for the excellent meals. I have eaten at many courts in my travels, and your food has rivaled them all.”

The woman blushed and laughed. “Well, thank you!” She glanced back into the house. “If you come back, I’m sure Eragon and Roran would love to hear a story or two. Maybe you could tell Eragon about his name.”

“I promise I will. Your hospitality has been most kind.” Adopting the old Kustan bow, Brom bid his final goodbyes and mounted his horse. “Take care. Both your children are very special. Know that. I hope you folks have fortune smile on you.”

As he clicked the steed into a walk, a sleepy eyed Roran grabbed his mother’s leg and waved. “Bye-bye Bom!”

Brom didn’t look back. He didn’t want them to see him crying.

From then on, everything Brom did wasn’t just for the Varden, elves, dwarves, Alagaësia or vengeance. It was all for his son.

[blossom-hwa]

Danger: Onyx |2| - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 4.4k

Lesson 6: when all seems lost, do not falter. Just because it seems hopeless does not mean it is.

Previous: Ruby >> Onyx: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Crown

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

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Juyeon cannot breathe.

Physically, there’s a blade right at his throat. Though killing isn’t allowed in duels, the metal is close enough to his skin that it makes taking a breath a bit difficult.

But that’s not the biggest problem. The issue right now is the recognition that has just sparked in Jaehyun’s expression, surprise and realization creeping over his face the longer he stares Juyeon straight in the eyes.

Castling queens.

Jaehyun’s arm drops, the blade falling to rest at his side. Almost as quickly as the realization came, it disappears under a blank mask as he extends a hand.

Juyeon stares at it for a moment. Tries to think. Jaehyun knows who I am he knows who I am he definitely saw it this is the worst thing possible I thought he wouldn’t recognize me –

Shakily, he takes Jaehyun’s hand and shakes it once, twice. His skin feels clammy and cold even under the afternoon sun. He almost wants to look at Jaehyun and see if that blank look is still on his face, but fear keeps his eyes averted as he retracts his arm.

He needs to get out of here, needs to run, needs to find Kevin and Jacob and get away from this place immediately. That much is clear. Juyeon darts his gaze around, still studiously avoiding Jaehyun even as raucous screams and cheers begin to rise from the crowd.

Then a sweep of ivory skirts flashes in the corner of his vision.

Somin.

Queens, he needs to leave, now.

Jaehyun bows low, seemingly unaware of Juyeon panicking not two feet away from him. “Your Majesty,” he says smoothly.

Belatedly, Juyeon remembers he should be echoing Jaehyun’s manners. Dipping down, he murmurs a quiet greeting, hoping against hope that she won’t be able to recognize him, won’t make the same connections Jaehyun did just moments ago.

Oh, queens.

Jaehyun.

What if he says something?

“Esteemed general.” The sweetly familiar voice makes Juyeon’s skin crawl. “Congratulations on your victory.”

Juyeon misses the next exchange. He’s too busy darting his gaze around the arena, looking for a single exit where he can slip into the crowd or just book it because there’s no way Somin won’t recognize him the second she looks into his eyes, assuming she hasn’t already figured him out already –

Guards line the perimeter of the arena. People crowd every space between the ivory suits.

Somin turns to him just as Juyeon comes to the worst realization possible.

There’s nowhere to run.

“Kim Jiyoon.”

Raised eyebrow. Wide smirk. Evil eyes.

She knows.

Juyeon takes a tiny step back, bowing low once more. “Your Majesty,” he mumbles, praying for a miracle, praying for something, anything, anyone to save him from this, maybe Jaehyun will turn out not to be an Ivory bastard and will say or do something –

Blank eyes meet his frantic expression. Something twists in Juyeon’s heart as Jaehyun purposely averts his gaze.

So much for old friendships.

A hand grasps his chin. Juyeon gasps as Somin jerks his head up, fingers curling around the ivory fabric that covers his nose and mouth.

For one moment, they lock eyes. Somin’s glitter with manic satisfaction.

Then she rips the mask away, leaving his face bare to the world.

It takes Juyeon several seconds to realize the entire arena has fallen quiet. Eyes widen, hands fly to mouths, fingers begin to point as Somin’s smirk grows wider and wider.

Jaehyun didn’t need to say anything, after all.

“Prince Juyeon.” She spits his name like dirt on her lips. “What a surprise. Long time no see, yes?”

“What a blessing,” he replies, hiding his racing heart behind a bland smile. “I always liked the former queen more than you, after all.”

The smirk turns to a sneer as she waves a hand, almost dismissively. Footsteps sound on the hard-packed dirt of the arena and Juyeon barely has a second to ready himself before two pairs of hands grab his arms and pull them tight behind his back.

He thrashes. Snarls. Tries to bite, even, the way Changmin used to when they were kids –

Changmin.

The breath leaves Juyeon’s chest in a gasp. Pawns and kings, this is just how Changmin felt when he was trapped in the shrine, unable to use magic, unable to fight.

Helpless.

“Isn’t that perfect, then?” Somin mocks, oblivious to the bile rising in Juyeon’s throat. “You’ll be seeing my lovely sibling tomorrow when you’re executed at dawn.” Her sneer grows as she leans in to whisper something against his ear. “And if you’re lucky, you might reunite with that gray mage of yours as well.”

Vomit splatters over the front of Somin’s dress. Through the rotten taste in his mouth, Juyeon takes a tiny satisfaction in her screech of disgust, even as the guards tighten their hold uncomfortably on his wrists. “If you’re lucky, that’ll wash out of your dress,” he snipes, spitting leftover bile onto the dusty ground. Some of it spatters onto her shoes.

Somin breathes in once, twice, her face red. Juyeon allows a smirk to grow on his face, even as certainty of his execution looms nearer with every second that passes.

So close to death, he might as well have some fun.

“Take him away,” Somin snarls. “And begin a search for his two little friends. Don’t let them leave the city!”

Kevin. Jacob.

Smirk gone, Juyeon frantically scans the crowds for the faces of his two friends as guards begin to march him away. They can’t come after him, can’t do anything, queens, what if Kevin decides to do something like break him out of prison, that can’t happen –

Terrified eyes meet his, nose and mouth covered in a familiar cloth. A red cloak peeks from behind the man standing next to Kevin.

Juyeon shakes his head subtly. Don’t follow, don’t do anything stupid, don’t come after me, hide, leave –

Strong hands drag him forward once more. Juyeon loses sight of his friends.

And for the first time since the start of the journey, he is alone.

Completely alone.

. . . . .

Kevin nearly falls forward the second he stumbles out of Jacob’s door. He manages to catch himself against the wall right in front of him, where he leans, trying to breathe.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

He never should’ve agreed to this idea, never should have brought it up in the first place. It was always too risky, too dangerous, and no matter what slim, small chance there was at success, Kevin never should have hoped they would be lucky enough to fall into that sliver of luck. Nothing’s been on their side since the coronation, so why start now?

How many people has Kevin let down by now? How many people has Kevin killed by now? First Sunwoo, who wasn’t supposed to be here, who wasn’t supposed to be part of this fight, who Kevin called on because he really had the nerve to believe that they would succeed without pain, without death. A single stroke of idiocy in following the amethyst’s pull resulted in a knife pulled across two necks, one by accident, one in revenge.

Kevin squeezes his eyes shut, breaths sharp and ragged. Two deaths, then. Not just Sunwoo. Mage Han, too.

And now he has a third name to add to that list.

Lee Juyeon. Royalty. Best friend since birth. Almost a brother – if not in blood, then in friendship.

He’s the reason Juyeon is about to be killed.

“Kevin.” Jacob’s voice snaps him out of his spiraling thoughts, forces him to open his eyes. His ashen face looks about as bad as Kevin feels. “We need to get out of here. I shifted us to the first place that came to mind, but –”

“Yeah.” Kevin takes a shuddering breath. His words sound shakier than he would’ve liked. “Yeah, I know. Let’s go.”

Never mind that neither of them knows where to go in the first place.

Jacob moves his hands in the air, creates another door against the wall. They step through to the space just outside the tiny, abandoned house – more like a shed, really – that they’ve been using as a hideout since they entered the capital. This time, the second Kevin exits the door, he collapses to his knees.

This is his fault, all his fault. If he’d never suggested it, they wouldn’t have any leads, but at least Juyeon would still be here, not sitting in some dungeon awaiting his execution tomorrow morning.

Execution. Kevin almost throws up at the thought.

Jacob stumbles next to him, falling onto dirty grass as well. They sit in silence for a moment, only ragged breaths escaping into the air.

“We need to get him out,” Kevin finally whispers. “He needs to escape, we can’t leave him there…”

It isn’t even just the fact that Juyeon is Kevin’s best friend. The heir to the king’s crown can’t die. It would leave a gaping power vacuum in the Onyx Kingdom – there’s no trained next in line, no one as capable as Juyeon is.

Which is exactly what Somin wants.

“I know.” Jacob swallows. “I know. But…” He gestures vaguely, helplessly. “How?”

How, indeed. Kevin may have been to the capital many times, but he’s never seen any of the several prisons. He couldn’t direct Jacob anywhere without a map, without something to guide himself, and since Jacob has never seen them himself, he can’t shift there either.

Queens, he’s a failure. Juyeon and Sunwoo rescued him from Bom – Sunwoo even died in the process – but Kevin can’t even think of a plan to help Juyeon escape. Not even the most improbable idea springs into his mind, an idea that definitely won’t work but that he would be desperate enough to try anyway.

Silence falls as Kevin tries to rack his brains for something, anything that doesn’t involve another possible brush with death. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing –

Then a twig snaps.

Kevin whirls around, knife already whizzing through the air. There’s a sharp yelp and a thud of metal sinking into something decidedly not flesh.

A young man – more of a boy, really – steps forward. Though his hands are raised in surrender, the calm, sure look in his eyes tells Kevin that the gesture is more for show than anything else.

Unconsciously, his hand grabs Jacob’s wrist. He takes a step back, dragging the mage with him as he slips a second knife from his sleeve. “Who are you?”

“My name is Eric.” He nods at the knife between Kevin’s fingers. “You can put down the knife, I don’t mean any harm. Jaehyun sent me to find you.”

Jacob sucks in a sharp gasp just as Kevin’s blood runs cold. “Jaehyun?”

“He’s breaking Juyeon out tonight.” Eric puts his hands down to point at them. “You two need to come with me –”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Jacob snaps. “How did you find this place? I shifted, there’s no way you could have followed us from the arena.”

“Jaehyun recognized Kevin the first day at the contest registration,” Eric replies. His calmness is starting to get on Kevin’s nerves. “Well, he wasn’t sure, so he asked me to follow you back. Lo and behold, you were traveling with the prince, which meant Jaehyun wasn’t wrong. When Juyeon was arrested, he sent me to find you.”

“You could be lying.” Kevin grits his teeth, fingers clenching around the knife even though something tells him Eric would be able to dodge easily. “You and Jaehyun could be working with the queen to root us out and catch us. We have no reason to trust you.”

Eric’s lip curls. “You don’t,” he snaps, “but you could at least trust Jaehyun. Haven’t you known him much longer than I?”

“People change,” Kevin retorts. “None of us ever thought Somin would kill her family for the throne, did we?”

No one argues, not even Eric. For several moments, they only stand in silence. Then –

“Jaehyun’s breaking the prince out tonight,” Eric says lowly. “That’s why he told me to find you. And I know you don’t know me at all, but I can tell you that not all of us in the army support the queen’s agenda. Jaehyun and I are only two of many more.”

There’s nothing to support his claims, no evidence, no testimony, absolutely nothing to back up his words. With every second that passes, Kevin feels the growing urge to tell Jacob to create a door, to shift them away from this so that they can figure out a plan that doesn’t rely on a certain general who may or may not be on their side.

But something tells him that Eric speaks the truth. Maybe it’s his eyes, which are clear, or it’s the weird feeling Kevin got when he spoke to Jaehyun that one time. Maybe it’s just blind hope. Either way, he feels his grip loosening on Jacob’s wrist, his shoulders relaxing, ready to take Eric’s invitation and leave.

He glances at Jacob. Do we trust him?

Jacob’s lips press into a thin line, but he nods tersely, almost imperceptibly. Yes.

They have to.

Kevin steps forward. Narrows his eyes. “One sign of betrayal and I will not hesitate to put a knife through your back.”

“And Jaehyun said you were the nicer one,” Eric mutters.

“There isn’t a lot of room for nice at the moment, in case you didn’t notice.”

Eric smirks. It reminds Kevin a little too much of Sunwoo. “You’re not wrong,” he says blithely before his smile turns into a frown. “Now hurry. We need to get to the forest by nightfall.”

. . . . .

Blood has begun to stain Juyeon’s hands by the time he finally gives up on somehow trying to wrench apart the bars of the dark cell. Even if he can’t see the redness dripping down his skin, he can certainly feel the stinging pain of cuts reopened and wounds made afresh.

What was he even thinking? Juyeon slides down the back wall to the ground, burying his head in his arms. Not even a mage can cut or bend metal with their bare hands – how could he?

He sighs. It figures, just as soon as they managed to find four of the jewels, they would get screwed over on the fifth. And not even the normal kind of screw up – he got caught by the queen herself and has a nearly one hundred percent chance of dying within the next twenty-four hours.

Nearly. Not completely, because there’s always the tiniest chance that Kevin will come up with something in that crazy brain of his to break him out, which will undoubtedly be messy and dangerous and possibly result in even more death, but there’s the smallest sliver of a hope that it’ll work.

Hope means nothing, though. He had hope that he’d be crowned king. He had hope that they’d find the jewels. He had hope that they’d return home (relatively) unscathed.

And for what? All it got him was this tiny cell with not even a candle for light.

Juyeon brings a hand to his face. Too late, he remembers it’s covered in blood, which is now spattered across his forehead. It’s even around his eyelids, assuming the wet feeling there isn’t from tears.

Maybe it’s both.

He sighs again, closing his eyes again as he wipes a sleeve against his skin. It doesn’t make much of a difference. The cell is so dark that his eyes may as well be shut even when they’re open.

Pawns and kings, Juyeon didn’t even know there was a prison in this part of the capital. Apparently it’s for the most dangerous prisoners, those who need to be kept completely out of sight to rot away in darkness.

Juyeon has exactly one night to rot. Probably won’t be enough to make himself skeletal enough that Somin jumps when he emerges into the light tomorrow.

A tiny smile stretches across his lips as he remembers vomit splattering onto ivory skirts. Gross, but effective.

It disappears as soon as he remembers what awaits him in the morning.

Morning. Juyeon almost snorts. Down here in the darkness, it’s all but impossible to monitor the passage of time. Has it been minutes? Hours? Has the night passed? It could be morning already for all he knows, considering his drooping eyelids, but that’s a common occurrence at this point, with how little sleep he gets on a daily basis. And he definitely isn’t about to sleep now – who knows what nightmares will come, dreams of shades and roses and corpses of dead friends?

So when he hears a slight noise down the prison, a tap-tap-tap of footsteps on hard stone, Juyeon concludes that dawn has broken, that he’ll be marched out to the town square and presented with a sword or a noose from which to choose his preferred method of death. A sword would probably be quicker, but if the executioner isn’t skilled, then hanging might be better –

Wait, tapping?

Juyeon listens more closely. The footsteps sound light, almost weightless – definitely not those of a guard’s heavy boots. Shouldn’t guards be the ones bringing him to his death? He strains his vision, peering into the darkness, but he can’t see anything.

The footsteps grow closer. Someone finally stops in front of Juyeon’s cell. He frowns. Why is there only one person? Not that he particularly cares, but Somin wouldn’t just send one guard to get him. He’s not unskilled, and she’s not dumb – she knows he can overpower one guard easily –

A soft whuff sounds as the figure slips a bundle through the iron bars. “Hurry up and get changed,” a familiar voice hisses. “Your ivory is too noticeable in the dark.”

Juyeon almost stops breathing.

“Jaehyun?”

“More time for that later,” Jaehyun snaps. “We have five minutes, get yourself together.”

Shaky, bloodstained fingers pull off the white shirt and trousers, messily replacing them with the black clothes Jaehyun dropped onto the floor. As he fumbles, a click and the rasp of metal on metal sounds at the front of the cell, and the iron door groans open.

“Don’t talk,” Jaehyun whispers the second Juyeon steps into the dark hallway. “And follow me exactly.”

Juyeon wants to snap, wants to say something about how it can be possible to do that when he can barely see one foot in front of himself, but Jaehyun sets off without another word and Juyeon is forced to use his ears to figure out where the general is going.

They wind around dark staircases and pass empty cells, ducking into tiny passages that Juyeon is sure he never could have found even if he was looking. He itches to speak, itches to ask Jaehyun just what in the name of the Board he’s doing, why is he breaking Juyeon out, what are his loyalties, and where is he taking him, if not to his execution? But every time he opens his mouth, Jaehyun either shoves him into a room or someone passes by a little too close and he has to hold his tongue.

Finally, finally, Jaehyun opens a last door, dragging him into what smells like a stable. They tramp over dirty hay and other things Juyeon doesn’t want to guess from the stench, and then they’re in open air under a cloudy sky, only the palest hint of moonlight shining through.

Juyeon blinks. The white marble of the palace glints faintly in the distance.

“Follow this path,” Jaehyun says, pointing at a trail of dirt through the grass. “It’ll take you to the woods just around the capital. Kevin and Jacob will be waiting for you there –”

“Wait.” Juyeon takes a breath. Breathes in, breathes out, trying to make sense of everything. “How did you know where to find them? How did you know they were here?” Because if Jaehyun managed to find them, others also could have, which means Kevin and Jacob might be in even more danger –

“Juyeon.” Jaehyun’s voice jerks him out of his mind. “The only reason I knew Kevin was here was because I talked to him the day of registration. I wasn’t sure of it at first – he’s gotten better at acting – but I sent Eric to follow and when he told me you were also there, I knew it was him. No one else knows besides us.”

“Who’s Eric?”

“Subordinate.” Jaehyun’s eyes turn steely. “I trust him with my life.”

Pawns and kings, this is too much for Juyeon to take in. Closing his eyes again, he tries to breathe. “Queens,” he mutters. “Okay. Fine. Wow.” He rubs his forehead. “I really thought you were following Somin.”

Jaehyun snorts. “I never liked her, not even when we were kids,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You think I’d like her now?”

“You’re a knight,” Juyeon retorts. “You’re supposed to be loyal to the crown. I couldn’t even fault you for that, it’s what you’re supposed to do –”

“But when said crown is abusing their power, do they deserve my support?” Jaehyun interrupts.

Juyeon falls silent.

“That’s what I thought.” A ghost of a smirk flutters across Jaehyun’s face as he pulls something out of his pocket. “This is the stone I was given when I won. I hope it helps.”

It doesn’t call to him. There’s no pull of magic from the onyx, not even as Juyeon takes it between his fingers. It looks like the real thing – it’s been perfectly copied, down to the slim white bands marring the black stone – but if he can’t feel anything…

It’s fake.

Disappointment drops like a rock in Juyeon’s stomach, but he wraps his fingers around the jewel anyway. Jaehyun’s broken him out of prison. He’s still alive. If the onyx really is a fake, Jacob can at least get the magic traces out of it.

All isn’t lost. Not yet.

“Thank you,” Juyeon replies, slipping the stone into his pocket. “Are you going to run, too? Somin won’t exactly be excited if she figures out you were the one who broke me out.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Jaehyun’s smirk becomes more pronounced, though it’s tinged with bitterness. “I’m still playing the part of the perfect general back at home. Haven’t been given the assignments at the front, since I’m still young, which is honestly a good thing. Leaves me room to mess things up.” He snorts. “And none of the guards I knocked out today will remember a thing when they wake.”

“How can you be sure?”

“A different weapon goes a long way. So does a mask.” Jaehyun smiles. “Kevin’s a good sewer. I really almost didn’t recognize him, what with his acting and all.”

Juyeon almost laughs. “I’ll let him know.”

Jaehyun smirks. “You need to go,” he says then, smile gone. “Follow this path, find Kevin and Jacob, then get out of here as fast as you can. It’ll be a bit before they figure out you’re gone, but Somin still has people looking for your friends. They’ll be looking for you, too, soon.” He half-grins. “Good luck.”

It feels like hours have passed by the time Juyeon finally reaches the edge of the woods, though it’s probably only been some minutes with how fast he’s run. He nearly barrels right into Kevin, whose black clothes nearly blend in with the night, but Jacob catches him just before he does and they all fall in together, collapsing on the forest floor with choked cries and hysterical laughs.

“Queens,” Jacob gasps. “Queens, we thought –”

“We thought you might be dead,” Kevin finishes.

Juyeon wipes his eyes. “I’m not,” he replies, smiling shakily at his two friends. “I’m alive.”

No sarcastic remark comes from either of them. Kevin just swallows, looking pale as Jacob brushes a hand across his face. “We’re not doing anything risky like that ever again,” Kevin says. “Never. If you had died…”

“I didn’t, though,” Juyeon protests, but even he understands where Kevin’s coming from. If any of them had died, Juyeon would’ve broken down. He can’t imagine how Kevin or Jacob must’ve felt when he was taken away. Instead of arguing, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the onyx stone. “Jaehyun gave this to me. Pretty sure it’s fake.”

Jacob barely even needs to look at the jewel before he nods. “It’s definitely a fake,” he says, taking it from Juyeon’s hand. “But there’s magic on it. Strong magic.”

Kevin glances over. “Do you know where it leads?”

Wordlessly, Jacob stands. Closes his eyes. For a moment, he stays silent. Then he points out of the forest, back into the capital.

Queens.

“By all the higher orders, we just can’t catch a break,” Kevin mutters, pinching his nose. “Seriously? In the capital?”

Jacob nods, eyes heavy. “It’s there.”

“Well.” Juyeon stands. “Looks like we need to break that rule of not doing anything risky.”

Not funny. Juyeon understands that even before Kevin shoots him a look of absolute judgement, before Jacob bites his lip so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t bleed. He steps back, apologetic, but he knows he’s right. “We need to follow it,” Juyeon says, trying to harden his gaze. “We’re this close. We need any lead we can get, and we need to go now, when no one knows I’ve escaped.”

“Then we stay together,” Kevin says, eyes solemn. “No one goes anywhere alone. No splitting up.”

Juyeon casts his friend a strange glance. He can understand being cautious and worried, but the desperation in Kevin’s tone doesn’t feel normal. Why does he look so high strung, so anxious?

Whatever. Juyeon shakes his head slightly, ridding himself of the thoughts. No time for that now. “Yes,” he replies, setting his jaw. “We’ll stay together. Jacob, can you shift us somewhere discreet?”

“Yeah, there’s the alley Kevin and I hid in at first. I’ll see if I can track the trace from there.” And within seconds, they have a door, a door of polished white stone that shimmers under the moonlight that manages to pass through the trees.

Juyeon puts his hand on the handle, swallowing hard. This is going to be dangerous. They might be walking into a death trap, what with all the soldiers who must be looking for Kevin and Jacob. It’ll only get worse when they realize he’s escaped.

But they need to do this. For themselves, for their kingdom, for Sunwoo, for everyone who’s died so far for Somin’s delusions of power.

Jaehyun told him to get out of here as fast as he could.

Juyeon twists the handle.

He’ll have to pass that advice for now.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for juyeon to not make a bad decision jfc)

[bestfrownsforever]

Heartache Arcade

Sorry for not having a proper cover again...hopefully these will do.

Also 1. my friend CLG is my co-editor now! Per's a master at finding grammar mistakes even I miss (ex. if you want the re-edited Dawn of a New Era then it's on Amino) so per'll be helping me from now on!

And 2. I'm hoping to keep a consistent schedule so expect a new Best Frowns Forever story every Tueaday! Starting with this story...

After having some brief fun as a Frown Lord, Puppycorn already hit a massive roadblock.

"Anyone else think this job doesn't make a whole lot of sense?" he asked while meeting with his co-workers around his bedroom table, "I mean yeah, it's fun to hurt people and stuff, but if we're so good at our jobs, then won't everyone be too scared to go outside anymore? Or maybe they'll leave the kingdom!? And if they do, should we want them to because it'd be bad if they did!? What should we DO!?!?"

Unikitty wrapped an arm around him from across the table. "Calm down, little bro," she assured him, "They're not going anywhere when the rest of the world sucks too."

"The solution's easy," Grandmaster Frown added, "Try luring them in with something fun and cutesy and make them almost want to suffer!"

"Oh come on," Hawkodile objected, "Something big pops up in the kingdom out of nowhere with us openly running it? They'll know it's a trap."

"Unless they're so desperate for a break that they'll take anything that looks happy and shiny," Dr. Fox suggested, "And Master Pain was the king of cringe before Frown's birthday."

"Hey!"

"I'm saying that as a compliment! You probably still like all that kiddie junk the citizens miss anyway, so why are you complaining about no ideas?"

Unikitty flew over to her brother. "I think she's trying to say that instead of using the things you like to try being cool, you can use them to actually prove your coolness as a Frown Lord!"

"Okay," Puppycorn considered, "But I already did accident-prone skateboards and roller skates...and that spiky ballpit."

"You mean I did them and you STOLE MY CREDIT!?" Dr. Fox reminded him before Brock pushed her away.

"Okay, someone needs a timeout...and if it helps, I've had the idea for a haunted arcade for a while now. But you're not wrong about the whole obvious trap thing, so from one gamer to another; how would you make it work?"

Puppycorn thought long and hard about the possibility until it hit him like his past self running into a brick wall.

"WAIT, I've been thinking into this job too hard! Grandmaster Frown did all this to be himself again, right? So maybe instead of haunted, the games can just be really hard to beat!?"

Everyone seemed interested except for the pouting Dr. Fox.

"But if they manage to win those games, wouldn't that be the best feeling ever?"

Puppycorn hummed until he lit up again like the lightbulb popping out of his head.

"They'll only get a few tickets and we'll make the prizes super expensive!!"

"Good enough."

Grandmaster Frown rose. "Then let's get to work, people! These games will need some Frown Lord-flare, and they sure aren't gonna make themselves!"

Puppycorn and Brock were the first to follow him to Dr. Fox's lab, dedicate many long days to porting the most difficult games they could find, and even more to making their own until after countless attempts at giving up, Puppycorn finally saw all his hard work pay off and open for business.

No one saw exactly when the new building appeared in the middle of town. It was just another rainy afternoon with nothing going on until people looked at their windows to see a massive, pale gray block of an exterior with a burgandy arching roof and neon colors everywhere from behind the windows. A tall sign next to it read "Heartache Arcade" with "& Casino" under it in smaller letters, both in some of the same bright neon colors.

Most closeby citizens came to the conclusion that their tyrants set it up, but some of them approached the arcade anyway, as if to say "How are they gonna break us this time?"

When they stepped in, they were greeted by giant rooms with arcade machines, gambling tables, and brighter lights everywhere, with a large prize counter and shelves for toys and other kinds of trinkets in one corner. They couldn't believe how everything seemed so...innocent.

They split up, each walking over to a different game or observing more of the retrospective dream around them, while Frown and Puppycorn spied on them from behind an "Employees Only" door.

"C'mon..." Puppycorn whispered, "Just play the games already!"

"Give 'em a bit more time," Grandmaster Frown replied, "They'll rip themselves in half before you know it."

Puppycorn turned to the nearest citizen, Theodore, stepping up to a slot machine, which hated having them there, but the others convinced him that gambling would make things all the more entertaining to watch.

"Supreme Slots, huh?" Theodore wondered before shrugging, "Well, guess it's worth a shot."

Puppycorn wasn't too surprised when Theodore bet the little money he had and won on his first try, only to get too cocky and lose it all too fast. Grandmaster Frown had a good laugh while Puppycorn looked the other way to spot Bim-Bom wrapping a hand around the joystick for the game he was most proud of; Furious Fetch.

Bim-Bom seemed happy at first, but just when Puppycorn worried even more, she got a a little confused as to what she was playing. Did she get to the lava pits yet?, he thought, Or the bugs? She's gotta know how hard running and jumping is by now though, right?

Then he heard the Game Over music.

"What!? There's no more lives!?"

Finally, a good reaction. Puppycorn was already holding back laughs and wagging his tail watching Bim-Bom pull out another token to play again. And then another. And another until she almost reached the end of the first level.

"WAIT, jumping on them doesn't kill them either!? What gives!?"

"That's the point!" Puppycorn snickered. She clearly wanted to give up but pulled out another out coin anyway. Maybe even keep going until she didn't have any left. But as if his silent prayers were answered, Bim-Bom slipped the token into the slot and lost almost as soon as the level started that time. Screaming, she stormed off to try something else as Puppycorn lost it.

"Cut it out!" Grandmaster Frown ordered, covering a hand over Puppycorn's mouth, "The evil laughing can wait, just don't blow this for us."

Puppycorn nodded, prompting his boss let go. They continued to look around, realizing more and more citizens were getting frustrated over what they were playing. And switching to other games or slots didn't help, it only strengthened the chorus of the most mixed reactions they'd ever heard in their lives.

"These games SUCK!"

"This was all the money I haaaaaaad!!"

"I can do this, I just need ONE more coin...anyone got some?"

"At least this isn't the other stuff we've had to put up with, calm down guys!"

"Are you nuts!? This is WAY WORSE!"

Puppycorn was too proud of himself to keep the door open. He shut it to chant and dance without a care until Grandmaster Frown laid a hand where his shoulder would be.

"Huh?"

"Not bad, Pain. Consider this your first

independent accomplishment."

"Really!? Aweso-"

They jumped at the sound of a sudden crash from the back room.

"Yeah," Frown ordered, "now take care of this place before the ragequitters can."

Puppycorn proudly nodded and saluted. "I'll do my best, boss sir!"

[delightsan]

FLAME (I) | CS

⁕ genre: fuck boy!san, bad boy!au, college!au, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers

⁕ pairings: choi san x fem!reader

⁕ words: 2.3k

⁕ description: keeping the title of being the best student on campus isn’t easy for you, especially when your mind was occupied only by him and his annoying smirk, the popular bad boy who once decided to sets on fire your heart without anybody’s permission

⁕ warnings: explicit language, suggestive remarks, smoking & alcohol

read the prologue here!

"I like you."

“I might also like you.”

The overhelming idea of being loved by the most popular boy is like a scene taken from a cliché romcom, where the leads are blinded by the arrow of Amor, making it hard to believe his smooth words. His declaration of being the one, who would be beside you in your worst time, holding you tight in his arms is alluring like the sweetest candy. San's confession opens the heavily lock to your heart, which you hide in order to prevent yourself for falling into a twisted flame of love. You give in all of the tempations like a prey for the devil, the taste of hell creeps at your tongue leaving a taste for more. Angels can also fall from heaven.

His charming smile can only bring concerns to your already clouded mind.

Beginning of the spring starts the night after your defeat of vain attempts to return to the godly paradise, the events from yesterday filling your senses with a nerve-wracking anticipation but also a uneasy fear of being stuck in imaginations of your dreamland. The dead world which was once sworn by a snow blooms into a mesmerizing flower only to catch your attention, taking away the ability to breathe with him as a main culprit.

It's your favorite season after all, does wonders really exist to open a new path for you? You hope so.

The strong scent of cigarettes wakes you up to relief your anxious sleep as the rays of golden hours dances through the small space of your room, motivating you to sit up in order to get ready for a new dares. Mornings are always hard as you never liked the idea of being out of your comfort zone - the bed. You shiver at the coldness of your wooden floor, groaning in annoyance as you fail to locate your favourite pair of fluffy slippers. The clock at nightstand struck now at 5:34AM, signaling to start your day with a cup of warm coffee made by your roommate Seonghwa who is also one of his friends.

Making your way to the dresser in order to pull out a pair of jeans and a simple white tshirt, you scroll down trough your daily reminder of activites as you got a message from Seonghwa saying to hurry up before the breakfast could get cold. The small yawn escape your mouth as you curse in your head for his overdramatic ass, he is always nagging about you to his boyfriend Hongjoong, who is a leader of the gang ATEEZ, he and other boys belongs to. You had actually a couple of chances to met him, he is a devoted kid with the sweetest smile you have ever seen. Deep down your heart you know both of them cares for you, like a brothers who want nothing but the best for their little sister. Grabbing a brush at your desk, you comb your long hair to smooth it out before doing a gentle makeup on your face to look freshly new. The last glance at the reflection in the mirror satisfites you, smiling brightly as you leave the room with a delighted mood.

The magnificent breakfast at the large kitchen's counter is what greets you first with it's abundance, thanking to god for Seonghwa's kindly gesture and his angelic manners. You need to attack him with kisses later for being a perfect roommate you were craving for years. Taking a seat, you glance at the flawlessly baked pancakes with doze of fresh fruits, most of them strawberries as he exactly know from one of many shared conversations that they are your favourite fruits. To improve your mood even more in adcition there is also a coffee that you would yearn for all of morning. He was indeed a perfect roommate, a soft-hearted bad boy with a caring side contrasting with his opposite lifestyle.

  You consume the meal in peace as the muffled voice could be heard at the end of balcony where Seonghwa and you would enjoy his morning routine which include of a cigarette and hot cocoa for him, praising you about being non-addicted to smoking and you with a plain black coffee, talking to a Bom who is your newly planted Dianthus. Curiosity won a battle against your guts as you ate the food and decide to go towards the balcony in order to greet your friend but the harsh smell of smoke hit your lungs, coughing in desperation for fresh air as you blink a couple of times.

The mesmerizing sight of San with cigarette between his long fingers looks like pulled straight out of the outstanding painting in which his acute jaw is carved with delicate caution and his honey glazed skin glows in the sun, being a living example of a descendant of god. San's cat like eyes meets yours in a rapid moment, the sound of thumping inside your heart increase as you gulp and you swear you could see the whole universe in them. Too many stars to count them all.

He puts out the source of smoke, brushing a hand through his hair with red streaks to sleak them back in order to see you better in the sunrise. No sign of Seonghwa, the only savior is now gone, making you question what was his excuse to leave you alone with San. "Did you sleep well, princess?" he asks, the hoarse of his voice send a shiver down your spine. "I heard you like to talk to Bom. Your friend seems to enjoy my company."

"Why are you here? Where is Seonghwa?"

"Ouch." San pouts in fake pain at your blunt question. "I wanted to see your pretty face." he smirks as he leans against the balcony grilles covered in flowers. "Seonghwa is at his room talking with his lover boy." You want to take a picture of this moment, to remember it everyday before going to sleep, at how his sparkling eyes are looking at you with adoration and his intoxicating scent is overhelming you.

Choi San is a epitome of a bad boy who dresses in all black, the leather jacket on his left shoulder, the other arm is being exposed by his tank top which perfectly shows his majestic tattoos. You don't know if all of them have deeper meanings, hiding the scars of past misakes or made just under the influence of youth. One catch your liking, the weathered cat on his forearm.

"Is that a cat?" you asks curiously, causing him to grin widely at your little interest in his persona as his face lit up like a sun to run away with your breath. His deep dimples makes apperance as you shyly smile back at him, containg the urge to put kisses all over them and tell him how truly beautiful they are. If someone could be more charming than him, you wouldn't be in hell right now. 

Chuckling, he says. "Yeah, that's my cat. Her name is Byeol." he smiles at the mention of his lovable pet, he surely adores her with genious love. Being envious of cat is amusing, but you can't help the uncertainty to his feelings, wishing he just would love you the way he loves her. "It's old though."

You step forward in order to examine the tattoo by yourself at the close range, his well-built body radiates with power over your wits, the hot temperature filling you up with dizziness as you burst with desire when his skin make contact with yours. The feeling of his piercing eyes on your every movements is affecting you in the way you would never imagined, blushing like a kid who would be caught at the stealing his favourite cookie. Inhaling his sensual scent, you don't break the contact between the both of you as you bite your lips at the thoughts, clouding your mind because his flaming skin feels rights on your cold one. "No, I think it's cute despite it's condition." 

San's face softens at your words. "If you say so." he says, grabbing your delicate hand in his, letting it wander all over his tattooed arm to left the trace of heaven he's long lost addicted to. Yours touch is like a drug to him, dangerous but worth it's price, taking away his common sense in order to make him a fool of your nonexsisting sins. Oh, how much he wants to to demolish you with his world. 

The drowing out sound of both yours rapid heartbeatings is like the sweetest music to your ears which you listen to ease your uneasy feelings, shaking you to the core of lust in order to realise the pressure of his warm hands on your waist, pressing himself as close to you as possible. Clutching subtly at his black top you push him into your embrace, lips molds together in a quick moment as he pulls away completely and you feel cold and empty as he flashes you a sly grin. 

"Oh my god, I'm sorry" you says paincked. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

"It's okay, don't be sorry. I actually really like it." he says as he doesn’t give you the time to respond, choosing to press his lips hard against yours instead. You would lie if you say the butterflies inside your stomach doesn't burst the second his soft lips met yours, opening a whole new world to you.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

San chuckles and grabs you by the chin but his touch is not rough, more likely gentle like a feather, taking care of the pressure he puts into showing affection to you. "No, are you?" he mocks you. "I like you, remember?" 

You shake your head as your heart starts to pound at his meaningful confession, craving for more of his sweet talking. The relationship with San started at the beginning of colleague when Seonghwa introduced him to you as on of his best friends. You both were attracted to ourselves but sometimes not everything work the way we want it to be. "What do you mean by like, we are enemies" you whisper as his hand sneaks to the small of your back in order to pull you even closer if that's possible, rubbing at the cold flesh of your skin, leaving the suave aftertaste of his hell.

"I really like you, (Y/N)." he says softly as his embrace on you grow stronger, proving how secure his arms could feel around your fragile figure. The sparks in his brown eyes are magnificent like a colorful fireworks on a New Year, drawing you into the neverending trance of exchanging shy looks. "My reputation is fucked up but who cares, they already know not to mess with me. These braindead folks can go to hell, I swear to god they are only a burden."

Venom lingers in his voice like a bitter poison, covering your blushy skin in goosebumps as you look away from his pleading stare to hide the tears, threating to fall at the corner of your eyes. It pains you that you have to see him in state, where the hateful words are form of a escape from a incumbent reality. "I care, San. How can I not, if you bring the troubles once I'm not looking" you sigh. "It’s not your fault, though." you lean into him, dropping your head in the crook of his neck. The faint sound of his heartbeat soothe your nerves like a precious lullaby, dreaming about this moment.

For a bad boy who can only curse about his miserable life, Choi San is a lost puppy who never experienced the meaning of love. Always in the wrong hands of his owners, deceiving his feelings to fall into the depths of emotion abyss.

You bite your lips in anexiety, exhaling his intoxicating scent of expensive cologne mixed with the smell of cigarettes from earlier. "Can you prove to me that your confession was true? Show me how much do you like me and how do you crave the feeling of my skin in yours, to hold me like this every night not like other girls you slept with." you ask with trembling hands. "Promise me to be honest with me and make me fall in love with the real you."

He chuckles as he softly presses his lips to the crown of your head. "I promise." he states, your insides swell and your heart pounds in your chest once again because San is far for being a perfect boyfriend but maybe you have a power to change him to be one. "Tutoring can wait" he says as you look at him curiously, a teasing smile on his face. 

"San, your grades are awful." you sigh as you cannot help but smile at the sight of the pout on his face, looking like a kid who couldn't get his favourite lollipop. You pull away from him and thread your fingers through his hair in an attempt to comfort him. 

He grins as you allow him to press chaste kisses down your neck to your lips, softly pressing into you as you whimper at his close approximaty, his burning touch leaving you with a bite for more of the forbidden fruit. Kissing him feels like paradise, you have never done it before, contemplating about the sin but it feels right. "I don't care."

Far for being angelic, the son of devil sets on fire your heart, not caring for the burns on his skin, inviting you to his little game.

"Kids, I left you for a moment and you are already making out." The sound of Seonghwa voice make you giggle in embarrassment.

"Fuck off, Seonghwa!" San warns, eyeing the older boy.

Maybe connecting your soul with Choi San’s won't be that bad idea.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 92

92

   Lance lived up to his warnings over having nightmares. His boyfriend waking up screaming four times during the night, the last time the worst as he’d barely fallen back to sleep in Keith’s arms before he was shaking and moaning for help. Keith wanted to go back in time and kill Nyma and Rolo himself.. not for the first time and probably not for the last time. With how much of the night Keith spent awake, Shiro let him “sleep in”, creeping into his bedroom a little after 8 as Keith dozed. Cuddled into him, Lance was drenched in sweat, despite his body being as cool as ever. Blearily, Keith blinked at his brother over Lance’s head

“Ugh?”

“How’s he doing?”

Stroking Lance’s hair, Keith hated how useless he’d been at calming Lance back down. His boyfriend would wake up, start crying, cling to him, then cry himself back to sleep

“Sleeping...”

  Shiro nodded in sympathy. All-nighters with nightmares fucking sucked. Lance hadn’t been violent towards him, but he’d tossed and turned plenty

“Coran’s called. He asked if you both could come in... I told him about Lance, he said it was best to let him rest”

“Mhmm... do I...?”

He hadn’t slept enough to be rested, but he wasn’t awake enough to string a sentence together

“Yeah. He said he wanted to talk to you about something he’d discovered. He was very apologetic about it all”

“When?”

“He thought it best you head in now to get it out the way. I can keep an eye on Lance”

Why couldn’t Coran come to them? Moving seemed like effort... and Lance really needed him right now. But it wasn’t as if he could say no

“I’ll... up”

“Okay. I’ve got your coffee waiting”

   Lance didn’t wake up as Keith extracted himself from his boyfriend. The fever had him concerned, as did whatever Lance was currently dreaming about. Showering and dressing in the first things he found out his closest, Keith carried his coffee mug to work with him, making it clear he’d been disturbed. Meeting him at the elevator, Coran seemed to have had a sleepless night too. Neither of them particularly talkative as they headed to Coran’s office.

  Finishing the last of his coffee, Keith stared into the cup hoping it’d magically refill. Coran letting out a long breath as he sat himself down in his chair

“I know you’re eager to get back to Lance, so I’ll keep this as brief as possible”

“He didn’t sleep well... he kept waking up thanks to Nyma and Rolo”

“He seemed very shaken last night”

“We talked for a bit... Sendak scared the fuck out of him”

“He scares me, if I’m honest. Now. I thought I’d let you know that your night wasn’t spent in vain. The Blades managed to extract some audio from your recordings that they’re following up”

“You called me down for that?”

Caffeine deprived Keith was a snappy Keith

“That and I thought you’d like to know the initial results on those samples”

  That got his attention, Coran noticing

“Now, that first sample. The blue one, we couldn’t make heads or tails of, though it did give us some clues on the bag itself. The handler had trace amounts of grease and diesel on their hands. The Blades are running their own analysis on it, and believe the bag it was in may provide some leads. The second sample has me concerned”

“How so?”

“I was hoping Lance would be here for this... we did have a conversation the other night...”

“He told me freaked out over his smell”

“Ah. That makes things easier. I wasn’t sure if he’d confided in you as to wanting to stop his heat or at least find a contraceptive that’d help. In the sample you obtained, we found an unusual mix. For the most part it was dried blood, however, upon running more tests, I’ve determined that it’s... I suppose you’d call it a werewolf viagra. Designed for werewolves predominantly, the formula has been slightly tweaked and traces were lifted off your clothes. I wanted to see if Lance was displaying symptoms”

The last thing they needed was werewolf Viagra. Matt and Rieva were horny enough as it was

“He had a fever when I left...”

  Coran frowned as his fingers went to smooth the edge of his moustache. Keith knew that fever wasn’t a good sign. He should have made Coran come to them

“That’s not a good sign. It may be emotionally related, though it may also be related to what you all breathed in last night. Is it possible for you to bring him in?”

If Lance was up for it, he would have been right here beside Keith. Coran should really know that

“He’s not up for it. Those nightmares were really bad... he barely slept at all”

“Then I want you to monitor him. I told him the other night we were still trying to figure out how to help him, and how to keep his hormone levels stable. It’s all been a muddle with Lotor. I may be overreacting...”

Overreacting was better than under reacting

“I’d rather know so I know if something does happen...”

“I thought you would. As I said, I did wish to talk to both of you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t leave here. I’m in a smidge of trouble for withholding evidence”

  The Blades could go jump. Lotor had sent them there for a reason, not the Blade members. Lotor wanted them to have whatever information was to be found... or maybe he just wanted to show them Sendak and remind them of their mortality.

  “That’s not your fault”

Coran hummed, tilting his head slightly

“That’s very kind of you to say. I’ll let you head back to Lance. If his symptoms don’t worsen by evening, he’ll be fine to return home. I do have some medication I would like him to try, just to counteract what’s in his system at the moment. It’s a bit like ingesting bad blood, and his body needs a bit of a boost to remove the last of it. Normally he burns through things quite quickly when he’s stable, making finding a way to keep a sustained dose in his system hard”

“He was really upset. He wants to do more things together. I didn’t know how freaked out shopping had made him”

“He has a soft heart, and he’s most smitten with you. I’m ashamed I’m still working on it. Though I did tell him I wanted to leave his hormones to settle for three months...”

  Keith vaguely remembered that... and Lance’s six month probationary period. Surely now Kolivan and Krolia knew Lance, Lance’s life was secured. He wouldn’t be above emotional manipulation should Krolia decide otherwise. That and he really would never forgive his mother if he lost Lance

“You know what he’s like. He’s convinced himself we can’t do anything together because I’m in danger”

Coran sighed deeply. The kind of soul deep sigh that Keith felt

“You both are, I’m afraid. His scent is quite noticeable. I have had a few vampires, and werewolves, comment on it. I’m afraid that I might not be able to give him what he wants as fast as he wants it. I may be onto something contraceptive wise. The scent... I truly believed would settle in time”

Maybe if Lance hadn’t been pulled into his world, it would have? His boyfriend had had such a quite life before he’d come along

“Basically we’re being too impatient, aren’t we?”

Coran smiled as he nodded

“You are. Young love can be that way. I remember that feeling all too well. Now, I’m going to give you an injection for him. You may call it the hopes of an old man, as well as a slight experiment, as it’s far better for him to go into heat naturally. I’ll need you to draw some of your own blood before injecting him”

  That reminded him. Lance would be proud if he could see him operating on one cup of coffee. Not only was he talking, he was remembering like a functional human

“Coran, you said before that fresh blood would help him...”

“It would, but he can’t have things both ways”

“What makes fresh blood so different?”

“Think of it like your cup of coffee. When it’s warm, it leaves you feeling much more satisfied... though, perhaps that’s not the right way to word it. Say you were starving, your choice between a fresh crisp apple and an apple with the onset of rot. Both will cure your hunger, though the crisp apple tasted better, it’s better for you, and you feel better for eating it. I’m not explaining this right... There’s more life in fresh blood. Magic if you will”

Keith nodded... Vampire welfare was on the BOM official study guide. Keith had to continually remember that they were full of shit

“Like remote control batteries. Fresh blood is like fresh batteries and last longer. Blood bags are like half used batteries that keep you going until you replace them with other half used batteries”

Coran’s eyes widened, his smile broadening to being too big for the hour of the morning

“Number two, that’s the best description I’ve heard to date. I might have to use it myself. Now, you really best be home. Allura will be meeting with Lotor later, she’s assured me he’s fine with meeting with her alone”

“I think Lance dented his ego”

“More like he smacked across the face repeatedly with a newspaper”

  They both smiled at the thought. Keith didn’t see whatever Allura saw in Lotor. All he saw was an unnecessary complication. Standing up, he stretched, muscles protesting thanks to how he’d spent the night holding Lance. If Allura wanted to meet with Lotor it really wasn’t his business, all he wanted was to get home to his boyfriend.

   *

Lance slept on, Keith feeling guilty about injecting his boyfriend while he was sleeping but didn’t want to wake him now he was finally resting peacefully. Thanks to that it turned into a lazy day, Keith pulling on his pyjamas and conking out next to his boyfriend. Leaving his phone unguarded, it wasn’t until nearly 4pm that he woke, roused by Lance waking up. Peppering kisses to Keith’s cheek, Keith smiled as he hugged his boyfriend close, determined that Lance wouldn’t feel judged over his nightmares

“Good morning, sleepy head”

  Nuzzling into Keith’s cheek, Lance was relaxed against him

“Hey, hot stuff”

“What brings you to a bed like this?”

“My boyfriend... My amazing boyfriend”

Keith’s smile widened, playing along

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He has no idea how much he helped last night”

“He sounds like a keeper”

“He is...”

  Falling into a comfortable silence, it was broken by Kosmo who’d heard them. His paws scratching on Keith’s door, whining pathetically to be let in. Shiro collecting him up before letting himself into Keith’s room. Carrying the excited puppy over, he dropped Kosmo lightly on the pair of them

“You’re lucky I don’t charge babysitting fees”

“Don’t be like that... what’s the time?”

“Nearly 4. Pidge says you’re disgusting”

Keith groaned in confusion. One minute he was having cuddles, the next Kosmo was climbing over him and Pidge’s name was being brought up

“What did you do?”

“I may have sent a photo or ten of you two sleeping to your chat”

“Shiro!”

He was going to kill his brother

“It’s your fault for not locking your phone and I wanted to let them know you guys were both alright”

  That word “alright” seemed to linger in the air. Lance going tense as if he expected Shiro to yell

“I’m sorry for last night”

“Nah. It’s alright. As long as you’re feeling better”

That desire to murder faded when Keith realised his brother was trying to reassure Lance that he was still welcome here and that having nightmares wasn’t about to wind up up with him evicted

“A lot... I’m sorry they were so severe”

“It’s okay. Nothing compared to some of the nightmares we’ve been through, and it’s not something you can help or control. Curtis is out in the living room if you two feel up to being human”

“I guess I’m staying here...”

  Keith took a moment to process before groaning, Lance kissing his cheek. His boyfriend wasn’t funny

“You’re a shit”

“I’m dead... and I probably look like shit, but I’m not sure you’re using the right descriptive words”

“You’re an idiot crumpet”

“And you’re a cranky caffeine needing anger loaf”

Keith couldn’t disagree. Shiro laughing at the pair of them

“I’ll let Curtis know you’re coming out”

“He already knows”

That smooth fucker. All Keith could do was groan again at Lance.

  Skipping showering, Keith lent Lance some of his clothes to wear. His boyfriend pulling off the cliche “stolen boyfriend hoodie” happily. Heading out to the living room, Curtis smiled at the pair of them

“Good to see you awake. Sorry I couldn’t come back last night. Coran got in trouble for bringing us along”

Lance stalled mid-step, head jerking up, looking like a deer in headlights

“Fuck. Lotor...”

“I’d rather not”

Now he had Curtis doing it too. Why were all their friends so weird?

“Noooo. Shit. We should have met with him by now”

Placing his hands on Lance’s shoulders, Keith pushed him towards the sofa

“Allura’s got it handled”

“She does? How do you know she does?”

“Because I saw Coran this morning. Now sit down already, I’m feeling exhausted already trying to guess what’s going on in your head”

  Lance obediently sat, Keith flopping down next to him

“What do you mean you saw Coran?”

“I mean I saw him. He called earlier”

“What did he say? Is Allura okay?”

“Allura’s fine. He wanted to talk but you were sleeping so I went in to find out what was going on”

Lance frowned hard. Hard enough for it be adorable

“You should have woken me”

“It’s fine. We had a chat. Blades got some leads to work on and we all got slightly drugged. No biggie”

  Shiro fumbled the mug he was holding as the smoke alarm started beeping. Lance hissing and covering his ears. In the kitchen the toaster had gone up in flames, Curtis moving to open the windows, Shiro moving to deal with the toaster. Unplugging it, he dropped the device in the sink, turning the water on to douse it in a way that couldn’t be safe. Flying up the sofa, Kosmo shook as he panted, trying to climb up Keith’s chest

“Turn the alarm off!”

“On it!”

  The whole sequence of events took place in the space of a few minutes. Lance and Keith both wide awake now. It’d been a while since anything had gone up in flames in the kitchen... as if they’d been lulled into a false sense of security. Turning alarm off, they all breathed a sigh of relief as the noise died

“Sorry ‘bout that”

Keith was confused by Curtis apologising

“What are you saying sorry for? Shiro’s the one in the kitchen”

“I should have hit the alarm before doing the windows”

“Don’t blame this on me. There’s nothing in the toaster”

Rubbing at his ears, Lance sighed

“Why does it have to be toasters? Why can’t it be something less flammable?”

Keith didn’t have an answer. Shiro was in the kitchen meaning it was his fault

“It’s the first time Shiro’s killed one here”

Shiro quick to deny

“Again, not my fault!”

“None of you should be allowed in a kitchen. I’ll clean up, and as I do, I want the three of you to sit on the sofa and have a good hard think about your actions”

  When Lance was determined, it was impossible to talk him out of something. Curtis and Shiro both looked sheepish sitting on the sofa next to Keith with their hands in their laps, Keith’s resting on a traumatised Kosmo. The three of them too scared to talk properly

“He’s your boyfriend...”

“I’m not getting invoked”

“We weren’t anywhere near the toaster”

“Doesn’t matter. Shut up. You’ll get us in trouble”

From the kitchen Lance called out

“I’d like to say I know you know I can hear you. You’ve all lost your rights to touch a toaster”

Keith kicked Shiro in the side of the leg with a glare. He’d worked hard to have toaster privileges again

“Now look what you’ve done”

Shiro gaped at him. His brother had brought this on himself

“Me? I didn’t touch it”

“Doesn’t matter. You got me in trouble”

“But I didn’t do anything. Curtis, back me up”

  Curtis decided now was the time to check under his nails for imaginary dirt

“Did you say something?”

“Traitor. You’re supposed to be on my side”

“As an experienced toaster killer, it’s best you accept your punishment”

“I’ll punish you”

Ugh. Gross. He didn’t need to think about that

“Bring it. What are you doing to do? Grind my horn down?”

“No, but I might paint your tail while you sleep”

“Oh good. I was thinking it needed a fresh coat of fuck off”

Delivered deliberately, Keith felt Shiro’s soul take damage. His brother had no smart reply for that. Instead Shiro crossed his arms, leaned back into the sofa, and looked away from the both.

   Seeing they’d been banned from the kitchen, Lance made sandwiches for the four of them. Keith wanted to help, but all it took was a look for the words to die unasked. Lance wanted to feel normal, so was doing something as mundane as making sandwiches. Presenting them nicely, with coffee for three of them, his boyfriend then sat on the arm of the sofa

“Okay. You can eat now. I’m probably going to head back to Garrison tonight”

Lance wasn’t going to ask about being drugged?

“Coran said you should stay... to make sure you’re okay. I had to give you an injection of blood and stuff to help get everything out your system”

“I did wonder why my arm hurt. Did he say what it was?”

Keith blushed, mumbling

“Werewolf viagra”

“What?!”

 Screeching, Lance nearly fell off the sofa arm backwards. Hands flaying before grabbing the arm of the sofa and saving himself

“Werewolf what?”

“Viagra. Traces were on our clothes. It’d been like adjusted or something. Coran wanted to make sure you didn’t go into heat or anything”

Angrily, Lance huffed

“Oh, so now he can do something about it...”

Whelp. Fuck

“He said it would be burned through in your system and you needed a bit of jump start with that”

“I feel shitty enough without this viagra. Why the fuck would they be using it in a vampire club?”

Keith shrugged

“I don’t know... You’ll have to ask Coran”

“Because that won’t be an awkward conversation. Can you imagine Matt if he sniffs it in me? He’s horny enough as it is”

  Shiro choked on his sandwich, hitting his chest with his fist

“I don’t need to think about that”

“Neither did I. Did he tell you what I’m supposed to feel?”

“You had a fever and he was worried it’d turn into a heat”

“Great. So a guy can’t have a fever these days without being secretly horny... Thanks, life”

Curtis braved the cranky Lance

“He does have a point. A fever is a prime indicator that you’ve gone into heat”

“Not that kind of fever...”

“You also had an incredulous stressful night. Personally I believed you would turned into a bat”

“Your confidence in me is startling”

“You are swayed easily by your emotions”

  Keith winced in sympathy for Curtis. It was nice knowing him

“And your feet smell like parmesan cheese. Sometimes facts fucking suck”

It seemed Curtis would live to see another day. Keith, no longer as blind as he’d been, could see right through all of this. This was Lance doing that mood thing when things got too much and he tried too hard to make them all feel better. Yeah. He was onto his boyfriend. That irritating fake perk... that he found not as irritating when it wasn’t directed in his direction... Lance loved everyone in their friend circle so much that Keith couldn’t blame him for wanting things to feel normal between them

“That’s not my fault”

“And my emotions are what keeps me sane, though hanging out with you lot makes me question why I bother”

“Because we’re interesting?”

Lance sighed, Curtis calming him down with those three words

“I can’t deny that. And who the hell sprinkles werewolf viagra over a crowd of vampires? It’s like asking for us to be chased by horny mutts. I feel exhausted thinking about the way we all acted and now I find out that some wanker thought it was okay to drug my boyfriend. Being a vampire sucks. I want to punch someone in the dick for this”

  Keith snorted. The infamous dick punch threat was bound to come out

“You’re not alone there. I think Coran would punch them too”

“How did he even find out what it was so fast?”

“By the look of it he worked all night”

“He’s an idiot. He’s going to burn himself out if he doesn’t rest. You said we got leads?”

“Yeah. Someone slipped some stuff into Allura’s pocket. They’re still working on it, but the second lot was definitely viagra and blood”

“I’ll bet you a hundred bucks Sendak was experimenting last night and came to check the results”

  Keith shook his head. Now Lance suggested it, it seemed very likely that was the case

“I’m not taking that bet. You’re probably right. You’ve got a good instinct for these things”

“It comes with being old and tired of people... and vampires. I’m tired of vampires. I’m a tired old vampire tired of vampires”

Keith forced down his laughter. Lance wasn’t that old for a vampire. Plus, they were both old and tired of people

“You poor thing. Come sit in my lap and tell me all about it”

His boyfriend hissed at him

“I feel personally attacked now. You could have denied it”

“In the words of Pidge, “Merp””

“You can’t quote the gremlin against me. She’s magical. She’ll hear”

Pidge was magical in her own way. She was unbeaten with a laptop in her lap. The world should really fear her and her tenacious spirit

“She should write a book”

“How to “Merp” according to Pidge?”

“Pretty much”

“Maybe if she did, they’d give up this stupid fucking hunt. Did Coran say how long I have to stay I town?”

“He said you can go home if you’re still okay this evening”

  Keith would have preferred Lance stayed so they could be sure the vampire was truly okay

“I don’t want to drive back, but I have to make sure they’re still all okay. Especially after last night”

“I know”

Not that it made it easier to say goodbye. Lance reminded him of when he had to see Shiro at every chance he got to make sure Shiro hadn’t been killed like Adam

“I think I deserve cuddles for this...”

“I did offer my lap”

“I know. I’m coming in...”

Curtis’s sharp wit struck again, commenting as Lance climbed off the sofa arm

“Really? I do believe Shiro said you were coming out”

  Closing his eyes, Keith sighed to himself in the moment it took Lance to club into his lap. Why did their friends have to be so weird?

[feeling-uncomfy]

Here you go @aestheticallytiredandpathetic :)

Fic #5 should be out soon, but I'm not sure how long it will be, hope that's okay :D

Please be warned there is a blood/injury warning!!

Hope you enjoy!

Hawks and Tokoyami walked out of the agency, ready and raring to go. "You wanna fly or walk?" Hawks asked his intern, grinning down at him. Tokoyami looked up at the bright sky. "I'd like to fly, if you dont mind."

Hawks ruffled his feathers. "Nice. We're going the normal route, you'll be happy to know." The last patrol they had Hawks tried a new route, which ended with them running into Endeavor, who always seemed to be in some sort of danger. Both Tokoyami and Shouto went home in stretchers that day.

Tokoyami nodded, following his mentor onto a near roof, and kicked off. The pair flew around the outskirts of the city, searching for any signs of danger. At first, there was nothing, and Hawks got bored. He chatted with Tokoyami about little things, how classes were going, training.

Tokoyami answered simply, trying to stay in the air. He wasnt as good as Hawks when it came to flying, but he tried. Hawks landed on a roof, calling a time-out. They ordered a takeout and sat on the roof, bored out of their minds.

"Normally there's at least one criminal running around..." Tokoyami stated, chewing on his food. Hawks nodded, swallowing. "It's a little too quiet, if you ask me." Hawks hopped off, stretching his wings. "Let's go, maybe we'll stop by Endeavor's place. Give us something to do." Hawks laughed at Tokoyami's wince.

They continued to patrol, and finally, something of interest happened. "Sir!" Tokoyami pointed at a tall building, where people were screaming. "I see it. Hold on." Hawks banked right.

They landed, and Hawks sent feathers out. Tokoyami made a border with the help of Dark Shadow, stopping people from getting closer. People were cheering. Hawks brought the feathers back, cussing. "What's the situation?" Tokoyami asked, swallowing his nerves. When he asked for something interesting, this isnt what he had in mind.

Hawks turned to his intern. "There's twelve hostages. Seven on the third floor, five on the bottom floor." He thought for a moment. "There aren't even that many villains. There are... eight? Nine villains at most." Tokoyami nodded at the information given to him.

"You run for the stairs through reception, and distract the villains on the higher level, and I'll grab the hostages. Got that?" Hawks looked at his intern. He specifically said distract, and prayed the message got across. Tokoyami nodded. Hawks grinned. "Great, I'll get you your opening."

Hawks sent feathers out, and took the guards closest to the hostages out first. Tokoyami ran forward as civilians were pulled out screaming. Tokoyami went for the stairs, taking a breath as he ran. Hawks soared upwards, watching his inter climb the stairs with Dark Shadow's help.

Tokoyami got to the third floor, and scanned the area. There were two people with guns trained on the hostages, and two more close by. A fifth person stood tall next to a machine. Tokoyami was weary. Hawks needed his kid to get working soon. Tokoyami knew if he jumped right out he'd get the people killed.

Instead, he sent Dark Shadow to the side, making a commotion. As the villains looked, on guard, Hawks sent feathers in. It was over in less than a minute. Tokoyami noticed a little girl who Hawks had missed, and jumped forward as one of the men had their gun pointed at them.

Using his body as a shield, Tokoyami took a bullet to his shoulder. He bit back a cry of pain as the child screamed. Dark Shadow took the girl into Hawks's line of sight, and she disappeared. Tokoyami realised his mistake as someone grabbed his cloak, dragging him over to the machine he saw earlier. He cursed himself for not thinking.

Hawks was there in a second, shoving the man back and pulling Tokoyami away. A gunshot sounded out and the hero froze. They were surrounded. "I'm sorry, Hawks—" Tokoyami bit out, shoulder going numb. "Dont be. You saved that little girl." Hawks reassured.

Hawks turned ro the villain who shot, and saw the machine himself. The man grinned ferally. "Hawks, the number two hero! What a surprise." He chuckled, and pointed the gun at Tokoyami. "And isnt that the kid who got third place during the sports festival? Whoa, we got ourselves a hustle." His grin was wider now.

He pushed a button in the machine. "Hey, get us outta here, Kay." The person in question, a person with an animal-type quirk, snapped their finger and the villains disappeared. Hawks groaned. "Why do all the villains have teleportation quirks?!"

Tokoyami looked up at him. "Hawks." Hawks looked down at his intern. "What's up, kid?" He moved so Tokoyami was sitting down, and walked over to the machine. "What do we have here...?" Hawks looked at the screen closely. Hawks's eyes widened.

"I—"

"It's a bom—!" Hawks turned to shield Tokoyami, just as the bomb went off. Hawks was shoved forward, his wings burning slightly and falling face-first into Tokoyami. The whole building shook and fell, crushing them both.

"What's happening?!" Endeavor ran up as the tremors in the ground stopped. Miruko shrugged, and Shouto looked around at the damage. Bakugo and Midoryia looked around, too. "....I think we got everyone out in time, so there's nothing to worry about." Shouto sighed. Good, no one was hurt.

There was a little girl, and she was trying to run towards the rubble? Did she lose something? Shouto walked towards her as Gang Orca showed up, Shouji hot on his heels. The little girl was crying. "What's wrong? Did you lose something?" He bent down to the girls level. She looked at him, fear in her eyes. "You have to help them! They're still in there!" She clung to him and sobbed.

Shouto was confused. "Who?" The girl wiped her tears away. "The man with wings! And the bird! The heros!" She yelled. Endeavor came over as Shouto's eyes widened. "What's wrong?" Shouto turned towards the rubble. "Hawks and Tokoyami–?!" Endeavor raised a brow. "What about them?" Shouto turned to hair father. "This girl says she saw them in the building. They might still be in there."

Tokoyami lifted his head with a groan. His head was pounding, and it was pitch black all around. He sat up, trying to balance himself with his arms. One of his arms gave out, and he fell down again. Right, he couldn't feel it after he had been shot. It wasn't bleeding that badly, so what was wrong?

There was a groan from his left. "Hawks! Are you alright?" He turned on his phone flashlight, and gasped. Hawks was covered in blood, many feathers gone. His eyes were lidded and unfocused. There was blood trailing down from his head and nose. "M'fine... I justs–" Hawks closed his eyes.

Tokoyami shook him. "Sir?! Hawks, wake up!" Tokoyami didnt know how to deal with this. Sure, he'd been taught first aid, but he'd never had to apply it in an actual situation before. He didnt know where to start, his mind went blank. Hawks groaned and moved onto his back, and Tokoyami nearly doubled over. There was definitely a broken rib, and his leg was twisted at an odd angle.

Hawks was mumbling nonsense. He must have hit his head hard, how was Tokoyami supposed to help?? He ripped his cloak without thinking, wrapping it firmly around his head to stem the flow. Hawks hissed in pain, and Tokoyami apologised. He did this again with other places that bled, until there wasnt any place left.

"Okay, can I pick you up? Am I strong enough for that...?" He said to himself, and tried anyway. He couldn't with his arm out of commission. His left arm hung loosely, and he tried desperately not to panic. He managed to get half of Hawks's torso over his right shoulder, and clung on for dear life. "This may hurt, sorry." He started walking, dragging Hawks with him.

They moved slowly through the rubble, using Tokoyami's phone light as a guide. Tokoyami's right arm tired after a while, but he refused to stop. He couldn't stop, Hawks was hurt. Tokoyami looked up as rubble moved.

Large rocks same crashing down hard, and Tokoyami barely had time to shove Hawks back. Something hit his head with a crack and he fell, shouting out in pain. Dark Shadow was going haywire inside him, wanting to keep their host safe. Tokoyami fell to his knees, and waited for the rocks to stop falling.

Tokoyami gingerly touched his head with one hand, and inhaled sharply when he brought his hand back. There was dark, thick blood coating his hand. Tokoyami shivered as it dripped down his beak. His vision swam. He was going to pass out.

No, he couldn't. He had to stay awake. He slapped his face, trying to keep conscious. He had to get them out of here, but Hawks was limp, and there wasnt any sign of sunlight. "Okay, okay. What would your classmates do?" Tokoyami asked himself, shaking his already drooping head.

Midoryia would analyse the area as best he could, and Yayorozu would probably try gauge the their whereabouts and the stability of the rubble. His eyes drooped closed. No, he couldn't think straight. Who else...?

Shouji. He would worry about everyone else, make sure they're okay. It was getting harder to think anything. Bakugo would blast his way out, probably—

Wait. Tokoyami looked up at the rubble over his head. Even if he could, Bakugo was accurate with his blasts, and he probably wasnt two seconds away from passing out, either. Still, if Dark Shadow could make at least a dent in the rubble...

The whole thing might collapse on them, and then what? Tokoyami looked nervously down at Hawks. His eyes were closed and his wings twitched once before falling still. No, Tokoyami was sure Hawks wouldnt wake up anytime soon.

Were people even aware they were down here? The question made Tokoyami freeze. What if they didnt know? What if everyone had left them already...? They wouldn't do that, surely someone had noticed Hawks's absence. Tokoyami's breathing was uneven, and he shook.

If they died down here, how long would it take people to notice? In Hawks's case, not very long.

But in Tokoyami's case...

He took in a shaky breath, he couldn't waste the little oxygen they had. He wiped the tears that had falled away and sat up. "Dark Shadow, please stay calm..." Tokoyami let Dark Shadow out, his phone staying on full brightness to hopefully keep him at bay.

It sort of worked. Dark Shadow roared and hit a large boulder, and then had to stop it from crushing them. "Dark Shadow, could you please try find any safe way to the surface?"

Dark Shadow nodded once and slinked off. Tokoyami sat back, going over ways to stay calm. Hawks moved slightly, and made a noise of pain. "Sir...?" Tokoyami looked down at him.

Hawks coughed up an excessive amount of blood, and his breathing went shallow. Tokoyami panicked and reached forward, supporting him. Hawks couldn't get anything out, and fell quite in Tokoyami's grip again. The silence that followed was deafening.

"Sir?" Tokoyami shook him. There was nothing. "Hawks? Please get up." Tokoyami didnt want to beg, but he really didnt want to be alone. Not like this. Hawks didnt respond, his blood falling out of his mouth into Tokoyami's knees.

Tokoyami was shaking, panic rising in his throat. "Sir, please dont leave me..." It came out as a broken whisper. He was trying not to freak out, in fear Dark Shadow may destroy more rubble.

"Fumi! I found something!" Dark Shadow zipped back to Tokoyami's chest, trying to comfort him. "What? What is it?" Tokoyami moved to stand, holding Hawks up. Dark Shadow pointed the way they came. "There's an easy way out. We'll have to climb, but we can get out."

Tokoyami let out a relieved breath, trying not to sob in relief. "Lead the way." They walked, a little slowly, but within a few minutes, they made it to the point Dark Shadow told him about.

It was a steep uphill climb. "How are we supposed to get up there with Hawks? I cant climb up that far holding him." Tokoyami stared up at the small streaks of sunlight. Dark Shadow bobbed around excitedly. "But I can help! I'll carry Hawks, and you climb up."

Tokoyami thought for a few minutes, but nodded. They started climbing, and Tokoyami's vision swam every once in a while. He slipped and fell the first few attempts, and he smacked his head again after the fourth attempt.

"Fumi!?" Dark Shadow floated uncertainly around him. Tokoyami groaned and felt the back of his head, and felt something sticky. There was more blood at the back of his head. Tokoyami felt a sudden wave of exhaustion sweep over him, and he fell back.

He struggled, his left arm was completely numb and now swollen in a few places. What was in that bullet? Tokoyami climbed, and got halfway when he heard it.

"I'm still not getting anything. I dont think they're here."

Shouji. They were looking, but he couldn't— they thought they were—

"Shouji!" Tokoyami yelled, trying to get higher. He slipped but help fast. "Shouji!" He yelled louder. He couldn't hear him. "Dark Shadow, get Hawks higher. Get him through the rubble." Tokoyami wheezed out, chest feeling tight.

Dark Shadow did what they were asked, and brought Hawks up. Tokoyami tried again to get Shouji's attention. "Shouji, we're down here! Please!" He was getting desperate. Hawks wasnt going to die down here, not if Tokoyami had any say in it.

Tokoyami screamed. "Shouji!!"

The rubble moved and Dark Shadow and Hawks made it to the surface. The rocks around him crumpled and Tokoyami slipped back. The sunlight was getting further away. Did he really climb this high? Tokoyami decided, this was fine. Hawks was alright, that's all that matters.

He'd already come to terms with the fact he might not graduate from U.A.

The fact that he might never make it to eighteen, he accepted. It was fine, he was okay with that. He'd long since come to terms with the fact that he might die, and found he didnt mind as much.

He did what he was supposed to do.

Tokoyami closed his eyes and hit the bottom. Something cracked and it all faded away. The last thing he saw was something reaching towards him. He wondered vaguely if he'd see his mother again...

Hawks groaned and opened his eyes. He'd finally kept them open for longer than a second, and looked around. He wasnt under the building anymore, which was good. But where was—?

"Tokoyami?" He looked around, and Endeavor stopped him. "Calm down. You were crushed by that building over there. You were hurt." Hawks shook him off, standing wobbly. "Where's Tsukuyomi?" Endeavor didnt answer. "Where is he?!" Hawks yelled, getting worried.

Endeavor didnt look at him. Hawks walked as fast as he could towards the crowd. He heard yelling. Bakugo was yelling, clearly panicked. Shouto had his hand on someone's shoulder. The shoulder was trembling. Oh, it was Gang Orca's kid. Shouji? He had his dupliarms shoved down a large gap in the debris.

He shoved past Miruko and asked what was happening. Shouji let out an intelligible noise, shaking his head. Hawks caught sight of the bottom. There were lights shining down so they could see. Hawks gasped loudly.

"Tsukuyomi!" He yelled, and Miruko held him as he tried to jump down to his intern. "Miruko, let go! Let me fucking go!" He was so, so angry. Shouji ducked his head, and let out a sob. Hawks shoved Miruko off, and ran forward.

Gang Orca put a hand around him, stopping him. "That's my kid! My fucking kid! He's down there! Let go!" Hawks screamed, fighting with every ounce of strength he had left. His wings spread out, catching the hero off guard. Hawks ran forward, still yelling. His jumped down.

He reached the bottom. "Tokoyami! Kid, please be okay." Tokoyami wasnt breathing. Dark Shadow was no where to be seen. "Kid? Hey, come on kid, you cant leave yet..." Aziawa arrived, looking down.

"Kid...?" Nothing. Tokoyami was gone.

Hawks sobbed as he held his kid close. He screamed. It was a loud, broken sound that echoed through the cave. Bakugo knew the second he heard it that Tokoyami was gone, and stopped yelling. Aziawa's eyes widened. Shouji broke down, curling into himself. He'd been so close, he heard him, and he still—

"Kacchan?!" Midoryia half caught Bakugo as he fell to his knees. Shouji didnt look up. Gang Orca kneeled next to him and pat his shoulder, silent. Shouto was two seconds away from going down himself. Endeavor walked over, uncertain. Shouto just collapsed into his farhers chest, high on emotions.

Aziawa tensed as Miruko stood next to him. There were unshed tears in her eyes, and Aziawa knew he wasnt much better. Hawks was still screaming. His voice cracked, and he held Tokoyami tighter. This was all his fault. If Hawks had been faster, maybe his kid would still be alive.

The new crew, still filming, broadcasted Hawks's breakdown to the whole of Japan. All Might watched as his students broke down. Yamomo, Jirou and Kaminari watched as their guitarist, their friend died alone. The whole of class 1A was in the common area, watching the news. They heard Hawks screaming their classmates name in agony.

The league watched from the bar. Not even Dabi could form a solid joke as they watched. Instead, they gave a silent moment. Well, Shigaraki, Kurogiri, Compress and Dabi did. Spinner wasnt there and Toga and Twice didnt care. Dabi was still a little shocked by Hawks's outburst.

Mr. Compress tutted about 'wasted potential' and Magne swatted his shoulder. "The kid just died, Sako. Be nice." She was also quiet. As much as she hated to admit it, she had a soft spot for kids. This physically hurt to watch.

Shinsou watched his childhood friend die. He couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes, and he cried.

It seemed the whole of Japan had gone silent for Hawks and his intern.

Hawks had to be dragged away from the body, kicking and screaming. He was two minutes away from being sedated. Aziawa gave the kids a ride back to the dorms. Shouji was still shaking, and Bakugo was quiet. Midoryia held onto Todoroki, who was silently crying.

Once they got back to the dorms, the band held Bakugo and Shouji close. The class stayed together. And for once, not even Mineta made a peep. Mina was clinging to Shouji and Shouto, tears streaming down her face, reminiscing on old memories.

Tokoyami's funeral took place after three days. It wasnt a huge funeral, but many people played their respects after the ceremony. Hawks had to be held up by Miruko and Best Jenist. Tokoyami's father didnt show up, but they didnt need to.

Tokoyami's family had always been 1A.

So, as a ghost, he enjoyed watching them go through the rest of their years of training. He was glad it was Shinsou that replaced him. Hawks had never stopped visiting him, and Tokoyami enjoyed the stories he shared from the day. He enjoyed the new music the band played, and was touched when Jirou made a song for him.

He saw other ghosts wandering, and he decided fuck it, death was lonely. He met Oboro, Sir Nighteye and Nana Shimera. They all had their lives cut short, and they bonded over that. Oboro and Tokoyami got along better, as their ages were so close.

All in all, Tokoyami found death wasnt as bad as people made it out to be. Sure, he'd never make it to eighteen, but he found it was much easier to watch. Watch with his mother and Dark Shadow, and the other ghosts.

Sure, he'd left it all behind, but for a split second, he was okay with that.

This physically hurt to write—

This was supposed to have a happy ending, too but idk what went wrong xD

Hope you enjoyed!

[weirdponytail]

Modern Inheritance Cycle: Look at My Son (Pre-Eragon)

MODERN INHERITANCE

LOOK AT MY SON

Brom hunched his shoulders against the gust of snow flurries that tugged at his clothes as his horse clopped tiredly along. He knew he was getting close, could still feel the tiny threads of Selena’s energy leading to the small farm on the edge of Carvahall.

His stomach churned. Not only because he was hungry, but because he didn’t know what he was going to find when he reached his destination. Had the healers observations and Brom’s own hypothesis correct? He didn’t know if he wanted to be right or if he wanted to be wrong.

The Rider pulled his horse to a stop at the small house his spells were leading him to.

It wasn’t anything fancy. A simple homestead with a single story, a paddock next to the side porch. Brom could see a small patch of empty farmland behind the paddock, stubbled with the remains cut, dead stalks of grains poking up through the light layer of snow.

It looked like a home for a family.

Sighing, Brom leaned his forearms on the saddle’s pommel and examined the home, looking for some excuse to enter. He found a reason in one of the two work horses, a muscled bay, that had a pronounced limp.

Moments later found him knocking on the front door. His heart thumped in his chest. He had to play this along for a little while, then he could have the truth.

At the third knock a thin man opened the door. He looked at Brom with intense, dark eyes, then cocked an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Brom cleared his throat. “Ah, well, not to intrude, sir. I was passing by and saw that one of your horses has a quite a limp. Didn’t know if you were aware, and I just…”

The man sighed tiredly. “Yeah, I’m aware. Thank you.” He leaned out to look over at the bay as it lapped water from a trough. “Poor girl. I don’t have the money to replace her, but I don’t have the money to get her looked at either. I’ve been resting her since winter started, but nothing seems to work.”

“I might be able to help, if you don’t mind me working with her a bit.” Brom gestured to his own steed. “I’m a bit of a traveling storyteller, but I’ve picked up quite a few tricks for healing, especially where horses are involved. Can’t get anywhere with a lame animal.” He offered his hand. “My name is Brom.”

Out of instinct the other man shook his hand. “Garrow.” Then he paused. “I appreciate your offer, but as I said, we don’t have much money, and I’m not the sort of person to accept–”

Brom cut him off. “If you insist on paying me, I’d appreciate a hot meal and a porch to sleep on for the night.” He chuckled roughly. “I’m having a bit of money trouble myself. Don’t think I have enough for a room in town.”

Garrow rubbed his chin, obviously thinking it over. For a moment Brom was worried he would refuse again, but then a woman’s voice called from within the house, coming closer with each word. “Honey? Who is it?”

A woman appeared behind Garrow. Brom’s heart leapt to his throat when he saw a child balanced on her hip, but then he came to his senses. The boy was much too big to have been born in the last few months.

“This gentleman–Brom, was it?–Brom was offering to take a look at old Betty for us.”

“And you were going on about not accepting charity, weren’t you? Garrow, you are not going to let this opportunity slide after all the complaining you’ve done about Betty being lame. Let the poor man in!” She swatted her husband on the shoulder good naturedly. “I already heard his offer to trade. Brom, you are welcome to stay for dinner and sleep in our guest room if you can help our horse.”

Garrow chewed his lip for a moment as the woman went back into the house, the toddler on her hip staring back at the stranger at his door with wide gray eyes. “Fine, fine. You can let your horse into the paddock to feed. I’ll get my coat.”

~~~

With magic on his side, the horse’s leg was easy to fix.

To keep impressions up, Brom took to murmuring to the pained animal in the Ancient Language, weaving in his spells subtly as he checked each leg and gently manipulated muscle and bone. Garrow would occasionally ask how he was doing certain exercises, but mostly kept to himself, leanly corded arms wrapped in a well worn jacket and crossed on his thin chest.

After two hours of working with the horse, Brom managed to get Betty to put her full weight on her previously injured limb.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Garrow grunted. “You must be some kind of miracle worker.”

Brom brushed his hands off and gave the bay a pat on her thick shoulder. “No, no. Just had many years of experience. She’ll still need rest until it’s fully healed. I wouldn’t have her pulling anything until spring. These types of injuries can get worse and have a nasty habit of popping up again if pushed too early.” The farmer nodded, assuring the stranger that he would take his advice, and then, finally, invited Brom into his home.

~~~ “Marian!” Garrow called, hanging his coat on the rack beside the door. Instead of his wife, the child from before came tottering out of what Brom assumed was the kitchen. “Hey, big guy! Where’s your mommy, huh?” In one fell swoop, Garrow crouched down and lifted the little boy up into his arms.

The child giggled, reaching out for his father’s head with grasping fingers. Garrow humored him, letting him tug at his ears, as Brom followed the man’s example of hanging his coat. As if suddenly noticing the newcomer, the boy let go of Garrow’s ears and leaned over his shoulder, pointing with an exclamation of childish surprise. “Ah, right. Roran, this man here is Brom. He helped the horse get better.” Garrow looked back. “This is Roran, our son.”

Brom awkwardly waved. “Hello, Roran.”

Roran waved back vigorously. “‘Aye Bom!”

“I’m in the kitchen!” Marian appeared in the doorway that Roran had come through, wiping her hands on her checkered waist apron. Her dark hair was tied up in a loose bun. “Supper will be ready in another hour or two. How did it go?”

“Brom here has magic hands, honey.” Garrow set Roran down, letting him toddle off, and clapped Brom on the shoulder. “Betty will actually walk on her leg now.”

Marian flashed Brom a warm smile. “That’s wonderful! Thank you so much, Brom. Please, have a seat! I’ll get some tea for you both to warm up.”

Garrow led the other man to the living room and offered him a seat in a worn armchair. “I know it’s not exactly the cleanest place in the world, but it’s home.” Garrow apologized, hastily moving blocks, a baby’s play mat, and various toys away with his feet. “We had an unexpected new addition to the family a little while ago. Hard keeping up with two little ones.”

Brom’s heart skipped a beat as he accepted the offered chair. “Congratulations. Two children are quite a blessing.”

Garrow chuckled slightly as he sat across from him on the couch. “Ah, well. He’s not ours, really. He’s my sister’s boy, but she had to leave him with us. We love him as our own, though.”

A boy!

He had a son!

“That’s incredibly kind of you.”

Suddenly, a soft cry came from a room further in the house.

The farmer stood. “There he is. Excuse me.”

Brom nearly choked as Garrow disappeared down the hall. He had a son! A little boy! His heart bashed against his ribs as he realized that Garrow was likely going to return with the baby. He was about to see his son for the first time and he was the only person in the world who knew it. He braced his elbows on his knees, trying to calm himself.

Dear Gods, he had never been good with children. They were small, generally talked or cried a lot, stank, and were prone to all kinds of trouble. He never knew what way he was supposed to hold them, especially babies, and when they weren't able to talk he was secretly terrified of not being able to help them or give them what they wanted.

Would he be able to handle even seeing the boy? What if he had to hold him? Stars above, he wanted to hold him, but at the same time what if he broke him? What if–

“Here’s the little man.” Brom started when Garrow spoke, gaze shooting up to see the farmer settling back onto the couch with a squirming bundle in his arms. “Sorry about the crying. It’s all they seem to do at this age.”

Brom cleared his throat, trying to fight past the lump he felt forming. He couldn’t see past the blankets. “No, it’s fine.”

Garrow gently bounced the child in his lanky arms, trying to soothe him. “Have any of your own?”

The question struck hard. “Ah, no. I’ve helped care for a few while traveling with troupes though.” Tentatively, as if he might be breaking some unspoken rule, Brom stood and approached the couch. “May I see him?”

“Yeah, yeah, sit. Shh shh shh, it’s okay, Unkie Garrow’s here.” Brom took the spot next to Garrow as gently as he could, his mind blocking out even the crying. He still couldn’t see him.

“Roran, what have you go– GARROW!” Marian’s flustered voice suddenly cut through the din. “Garrow, Roran got into your tools again and is about to smash a window with that silly hammer! My hands are full!”

“Shoot! Not again!” Garrow looked between the kitchen and the babe in his arms, clearly torn. His gaze settled on Brom as his wife again yelled for him. “Ah, here, can you maybe just–”

Before he even had time to answer Garrow transferred the warm bundle of blanket and baby to Brom’s arms and was out of the room.

Brom looked down, eyes wide and disbelieving. His arms began gently rocking the child of their own accord as a calm suddenly settled over his panicked mind.

The crying stopped.

And so did the rest of the world.

A pudgy face looked up at him from the bunched up blanket, slightly red from the screaming earlier, appearing a curious at the new face that gazed down.

Brom couldn’t breathe. Something welled up in his chest that wasn’t anything he had felt before. It felt like...pride. But that wasn’t it. It was something distinctly different but nameless, sending warm tingles across his entire body and forming a lump in his throat.

Then the baby gurgled and smiled up at him.

And Brom fell apart.

“Hi.” The Rider whispered, nearly choking on the word. He carefully used a finger to move more of the blanket away from the child’s face, almost scared to touch him. The babe gave him no choice, though, by reaching out with a chubby little hand and grasped the finger near his face with a vice like grip. Brom choked out a soft laugh, wiggling the trapped appendage. “Oh, look at you. Hi, little one.” The baby laughed back, and pulled the finger up to explore with his mouth. “Hey.”

“His name is Eragon.” Brom tore his eyes from his son as Marian entered with a tray of tea. She set it down on the table beside the couch and settled down next to her guest.

“Eragon?” The Rider felt the name bolt through his conscious. Such a weighty name for such a small thing. Selena had picked a name of power, of history and peace. The name that had started the Golden Era. “That’s a...a powerful name.” He looked back to the child in his arms. “He’s beautiful.”

Marian took a sip of her tea. “You’ve heard of it? Garrow’s sister seemed to know some history behind the name.”

“It’s a very special name.” Brom murmured, gently rocking the smiling Eragon. “He’ll grow up to be an exceptional young man with a name like that.” Unbidden, another smile split Brom’s face as he gazed on his son. “Won’t you, Eragon?”

“Do you want me to take him off your hands?”

Brom didn’t look away. “No…. No, we’re fine. I’ll see if I can get him to sleep.” Marian smiled at him, thanking him for a welcome break from stresses of taking care of a fussy baby while trying to get dinner ready, and returned to the kitchen.

“You’ll grow up to be strong, Eragon.” Brom whispered to the babe. In response, Eragon let go of his finger and reached out, touching the man’s bearded cheek. “You’ll blow the world away someday. I know it.” Bright blue eyes, not yet pigmented, gazed into the same tone of blue in the eyes of the man above him.

If only Selena could see them now.

~~~

That night, Brom slept in the guest room.

It was also Eragon’s room.

Whenever the babe became fussy, Brom would quietly and carefully lift him from from his crib, consumed with wonder at his little body, and would sit with Eragon on his chest. As the beat of his heart lulled the child back to sleep, Brom softly crooned to him in the Ancient Language, weaving the words to the age old cradle song from Kusta. He familiarized himself with the face of his son, gently touched his downy brown hair, and whispered the story of the first Dragon Rider, the story of his namesake, to him as he slept.

In the morning, as dawn edged into the window, Brom forced himself to come to terms with having to leave. His heart ached as he kissed Eragon on the brow once, placed him back in his crib, and gathered his belongings.

After a small breakfast, again cooked by Marian, Brom gave his sincere thanks to the family.

“If you ever come by again, be sure to look us up.” Garrow shook his hand. “I want to properly repay you.”

“You already have.” The Rider assured him. The warmth of meeting his son was slowly seeping away to be replaced this a deep ache with each step he took to the edge of the porch. “Thank you. And thank you, Marian, for the excellent meals. I have eaten at many courts in my travels, and your food has rivaled them all.”

The woman blushed and laughed. “Well, thank you!” She glanced back into the house. “If you come back, I’m sure Eragon and Roran would love to hear a story or two. Maybe you could tell Eragon about his name.”

“I promise I will. Your hospitality has been most kind.” Adopting the old Kustan bow, Brom bid his final goodbyes and mounted his horse. “Take care. Both your children are very special. Know that. I hope you folks have fortune smile on you.”

As he clicked the steed into a walk, a sleepy eyed Roran grabbed his mother’s leg and waved. “Bye-bye Bom!”

Brom didn’t look back. He didn’t want them to see him crying.

From then on, everything Brom did wasn’t just for the Varden, elves, dwarves, Alagaësia or vengeance. It was all for his son.

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

Hey Lightning, I was wondering if I could get your thoughts on something. One take that seems to keep returning every once in a while is the "Allura fell for Lotor only after he revealed his Altean heritage," but I know u and others have disproven this many times, which does reassure me. While I love Allura, I definitely think one of her weaknesses was her devotion to Altea and singing Alfor's praises, which sometimes became too much. At the same time, it bothers me when I see some ppl (1/?)

Continuing anon message: “ say that she thought Alteans were superior to all other races, and that when the colony plot twist happened, she became repulsed by Lotor's Galra side, which is why she rejected him. For them, that's why she forced violent memories onto an uncorrupted Zarkon, but somehow "saw the good/redeemed" Honerva, the Altean. I can kind of understand where they're coming from, but for me, it just didn't make sense that Allura suddenly had a change of heart considering for most of s8, she was angry and dead set on going after Honerva. Even with that, I think to a lot of her fans, s8 made Allura so ooc that she became unrecognizable, which hurt to watch. I guess for me it's hard seeing antis and people who don't like her claim that that's just how she is and has always been. Haha sorry for rambling, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on this, since your arguments ease my mind on a lot of things when it comes to Allura :)”

Hi, anon. Wow, thanks for your extended note! I don’t know anywhere in canon that Allura champions Alteans as a superior race. The definition of racial supremacy is a belief that inherent genetic differences between races determine cultural or individual achievement, with social/governmental policies championing intolerance of other races. To get Allura to fit into such a label:

1.      A viewer has to ignore or undermine all the evidence available about who the main-universe Alteans really were before main-universe Zarkon’s massacre of them.

2.      A viewer has to ignore or undermine how Allura actually responds to a variety of different races in the show, including her own.  

So let’s start with issue one. To support an “Allura was a racial supremacist” opinion, a lot of antis (and even non-militant, average viewers) are favorable to the opinion that Alteans as a group, including Alfor, were actually evil and violent colonizer elitists before Galrans killed them off. In other words, they question Altean victimhood, and this allows the militant antis to poison and undermine scenes of a woman mourning her home and her beloved family. And it just gets to be a really unsettling conversation, to listen to someone actually try to justify genocide. They’ll also have suspicions that all of our foundational backstory in the s3 finale was just “cleansed” propaganda from Coran. So if antis can undermine Allura’s entire race and family as corrupt, then they can intentionally undermine any of her canonical statements about or efforts toward peace. Which is hilarious, because this racist tactic applied to Allura is actually what a lot of antis accuse Allura of doing with Lotor.

For the record, I don’t think the show production team actually intended the subliminal messaging/cognitive dissonance that I’m about to discuss. The people who designed and developed this show are fans of robot kitties and aren’t PhDs in social issues. But I think there is a very serious issue about the portrayal of genocide victims that feeds into some very real problems in our world, especially regarding the concept of racial supremacy and conspiracy theories about genocide victims.

VLD tried to play with both genocide politics for edge™ points while ALSO playing with shatterglass theory (shatterglass meaning an AU where the heroes are villains and villains are heroes). Combining these two concepts into the same universe creates some incredibly disturbing subliminal messaging about Alteans that very closely mimics ongoing neo-Nazi propaganda against Jews. Nazis and other anti-Semitists justify their hatred of Jews by equating them as terrible villains out for world domination via some underhanded shadow control of the mass populace. It’s an incredibly malicious form of propaganda, because it works so terribly well. And what do you know, VLD plays right into this kind of propaganda. In the season 3 episode, Hole in the Sky, we’re faced with team Voltron confronting an Altean Empire that was actually evil and out for multiverse domination. And oh by the way, they’re using malicious shadow tech to control a mass populace.

It’s like someone on the production team read the Protocols of the Elders of Zion and then just copied/pasted that incredibly damaging and widely accepted conspiracy theory right onto Alteans for s3 funsies because edge content.

This is incredibly punishing, for the narrative to wave the carrot stick in front of genocide survivors that maybe some others survived—and then to suggest that Alteans were the evil ones all along. A shatterglass twist worked very well in Captain Marvel (2019) for a lot of reasons, for example, but it just doesn’t work well in the VLD universe given that the show explicitly portrays the genocide victims as evil and validates this concept. And this episode unfortunately feeds ongoing cognitive dissonance in antis that if AU Alteans could be so evil…how certain are you that they aren’t in the main universe too? On the reverse side, the main-universe goes out of its way to portray that not all Galrans are evil, and even that Galrans were the primary resistance (BOM). But in this singular episode, we see a united Altean empire. And the only Altean who moves to stand against it once the shine wears off…is Allura. There is no AU Altean actually shown in the Guns of Gamara. So Allura stands alone as an Altean against her own people.

For this reason, this episode doesn’t function very well as a shatterglass AU either, because the moral “flip” isn’t a mirror balance to main universe. The Alteans of the AU world appear as fully united in their evil plans. And then, no doubt, anti-alluras point out other quirky things about main-universe Alteans throughout the show—the violent language-learning system that scares Pidge, and the ancient Altean terraforming technology that Haggar activates, and the fact that Oriande is a hidden place that keeps out the less magical with a violent guardian. These details, when removed from main-universe world building, create a cognitive dissonance about whether main-universe Allura and Alteans were actually genuine in how they depicted respectful “peace and diplomacy.” So anti alluras who believe Allura was a racial supremacist really rely on this s3 episode and these details to uphold their conspiracy theory.

So let’s focus on Allura in this episode, because it says a lot about who she ultimately is as a person, and people have forgotten how she actually responded in this episode. Allura is unquestionably hopeful at the thought that her and Coran might not be the last Alteans alive. Pretty understandable. If I were the last human, I’d be darn excited to find out there’s more of me left, lol. So her experience as a genocide victim initially blinds her to the evilness of these Alteans. You can even see the ache on her face, of how badly she wants to believe their narrative of peace.

So Allura is initially star-struck that she and Coran are not the last Alteans, yes, and that somehow they’ve achieved a “peace.” She is also not afraid to admit that they would be valuable allies in the war:

And she’s not wrong there, considering that they have what appears to be extensive military resources and a robot force of their own. But she makes a critical mistake in assuming that “these are my people” means that they share main-universe cultural sentiments. The instant Allura hears Slav (so not someone of her own race) call these Alteans out as actually evil colonizers turning people into slaves, she begins to question the narrative she’s received.

In this instance, she actually affords the Alteans the same courtesy she afforded Lotor—the opportunity to deny the accusations.

But in the AU Altean’s case, they try to turn blame back on other parties. Allura listens to Keith when he grows increasingly fearful of what the Alteans might do to the others, and she tries to plead for actual peace:

And actually, this is a pretty interesting moment for Allura. She tries to salvage an alliance…until she realizes that their differences are irreconcilable, and that their definition of peace is inherently different from her own. This probably sets the stage for why Allura was so triggered by Lotor talking about peace while also killing people—because she’s seen people misappropriate that term before. And also probably informs why she trusts the information of both Keith and Krolia (both of whom have Galran blood, btw).

Ultimately, Allura turns against her own people. Violently:

When they get angry about her wanting actual peace, Allura draws a weapon against them and rejects them from her people. This mimics how she spends several seasons fighting an Altean Haggar/Honerva for her crimes, and how she turns against Lotor too.

So case in point here, Allura loves her people, obviously—but she also is holding them to moral standards regarding their behavior, which is something that a genuine racist doesn’t do. As a matter of fact, Lotor is the only person of Altean blood that Allura genuinely bonds with ever again in the series. She’s distant with Romelle, she’s distant with the s8 Alteans… In s8, Allura even says this about Luca, which refers back to her own mistakes she made with initially being star-struck by the s3 AU Alteans who came in “peace”:

Allura herself had been manipulated in s3, wanting so desperately to not be the last Altean alive that it initially blinded her to how Commander Hira was manipulating her. The plight of the s8 Alteans who are deceived by Honerva is inherently frustrating to her, because she can see herself in them.

Absolutely none of this correlates with Allura seeing or perpetuating Alteans as a superior race. At every turn, her own people continue to disappoint her, and she increasingly and progressively separates herself from them in hopelessness, because they’re so brainwashed that they can’t see they’re just cannon fodder for someone else’s military agendas. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for a superior race, lol.

So let’s think about anti accusations here. Allura is a racial supremacist…but she’s arguing against her people who believe unquestionably in Honerva, another full Altean like herself? Nothing about that accusation makes sense with her actions.

The fact is, consistently from season 3 and onward, Allura is faced with her own people morally disappointing her.

The good news for the s8 Alteans like Tavo is that Allura is able to remove the dark entity Honerva is using to control him. Which allows other Alteans to “wake up” from being manipulated and try to make amends.

Regardless, Allura makes a very clear line that simply being Altean doesn’t make someone “right.” She sees herself fully at odds with her own people who are drawn in by Honerva’s lies. And she experienced well back in s2 (revealing Haggar as Honerva) and s3 (evil AU Alteans) that any given race, including her own, can house people who do bad things.

The fact is, she’s consistently and willingly drawn weapons against even her own people when they didn’t meet her moral expectations. So her response to Lotor isn’t particularly out of line there. She’s repulsed by a moral flaw.

And actually, Lotor himself wouldn’t have known this, but he very oddly echoed the AU Alteans by getting angry that Allura was angry over the means through which he was trying to get peace:

So Lotor actually reverts to the same logic of the AU Alteans—peace at any cost, just look at the results—

And keep in mind that the AU Alteans also manipulated Allura’s excitement about them, to get her to make the transreality comet usable so they could go into other realities. So Allura has felt betrayed and used before, by her own people.

So when she says this:

Yes, it’s a reference back to how Zarkon manipulated his friends in order to get access to the quintessence field, at the explicit cost of potentially killing his own people. But it’s not without understanding that yes, Alteans can be just as manipulative and betraying as Zarkon. Because she’s experienced it, again and again.  

As a matter of fact, six out of the eight seasons of Voltron: Legendary Defender feature villainous Alteans/Alteans on the wrong side of the war, and we continuously see Allura punished again and again for wishing that Alteans still lived.

No wonder she wanted to die.

This is something that I find uncomfortable about the narrative of the show. Previous iterations of Voltron did in fact have a “blood on everyone’s hands” perspective, such as within the ages 16+ Dynamic Comics. However, Arusians/Alteans in those old Voltron narratives were not victims of genocide. VLD turns Alteans into victims of the worst racial crime possible and then also consistently portrays them as inherently antagonistic to genuine peace efforts in some way, instead of focusing on the evil of the oppressors.

And this is such a double whammy for Lotor’s characters as well, given that he was abused by his parents and threatened with slavery via his Galran culture, and that he was half-Altean too trying to connect to his lost culture.

As a matter of fact, the larger show’s narrative interest in “victims as antagonists” makes it such that when we see victims try to enact actual justice, it feels almost jarring. Let’s look at that s8 Zarkon moment you brought up as an example, where Allura destroys his innocent perspective by showing him his evil deeds.

The s8 Zarkon is a weird topic because 1) This Zarkon actually doesn’t exist outside of Honerva’s mind, so how he has any kind of actual free-will is beyond me, unless someone wants to argue that Honerva actually cursed his true soul just as she cursed the other paladins. It’s hilarious too, because Honerva-mind-Zarkon also calls Honerva a psychopath, so I guess now Honerva is psychoanalyzing herself using her dead husband as the vehicle, while also discreetly helping the paladins to stop herself—

ANYWAY, using this Zarkon as a “proof” of Allura’s “racism” is also cherry picking in the weirdest of ways. Is she angry about his horrific and incalculable crimes, including even how he betrayed the OG paladins and ruined his own planet? Absolutely. Does she want him to be aware of his crimes instead of having to pretend like nothing’s wrong? Yes.

But notice here, this Zarkon actually shows remorse. He is actually crying over those memories and recognizing that he had done something wrong. And Allura can work with that. In fact, out of everyone standing around and doing nothing, it’s Allura who gives him a second chance and offers an alliance with Zarkon in order to stop a crazy Altean: 

Keep in mind too, Honerva didn’t have memory loss at the end of s8. She knew exactly what she’d done and had given up and had to actually be convinced to do anything halfway constructive. That’s a very different circumstance than mind-Zarkon had, who jumped at the chance to do something to fix what all had happened, and gets even morally righteous about it, calling his own wife a psychopath, lol.

So generally, antis who believe Allura was a racial supremacist haven’t watched the show holistically. We see her hold the same standards to her own people as she expects out of others. This show would look incredibly different if Allura were a true racial supremacist.

Ah, you ask. Okay, so we’ve refuted the big pieces of “evidence” used to incriminate Allura. But what about all of those weird details about ancient Altean history? The violent language-learning program that scared Pidge? The violent terraforming tech that almost kills Voltron? The concept that Alfor tried to play “police” over the Galra and actually blew up their planet? The Alteans’ ongoing discussions of “peace and diplomacy” and spreading it throughout the universe while they happen to sit on a massive load of ancient power?

The s3 finale and other facts throughout the series very heavily smash the claim that our canon, in-universe Alteans were evil colonizers like the AU Alteans. The biggest piece of evidence to the contrary is that the Altea we know was one (1) planet. You counted right. One planet. Not an empire, but a singular planet. The s3 finale corroborates this, showing Altea as being largely isolationist from a military perspective while Daibazaal and Nalquod warred "for generations," right in front of their salad.

So some viewers would have you believe that Alteans were these big bad, intergalactic police state colonizers. But for all of its great power and knowledge, the singular planet of Altea didn't even canonically interfere in the wars of its own galaxy for actual millennia? And looking at the screenshots upon the stabilization of the alliance, Alfor is revealed to not have had experience with a neighboring culture. His face while exploring Gyrgan’s homeworld is an indication that it’s all rather new for him too. So again, we have evidence showing that Alteans were not colonizing or even functioning as a police state.

Note here that in the s3 flashbacks, the show confirms that it actually wasn’t just Alfor who suggested an alliance. All five leaders had common interests in protecting their galaxy from even worse threats, so all five came together at the same time. This is actually the first piece of evidence we have of Altea entering into some kind of intergalactic military agreement to stave off said worse threats.

And all of this is on top of a history where in s6, the Galran Archivist confirms that the Galran Empire had existed before Zarkon for 3,000 years, with times of “expansion.” It’s very easy to see that Blaytz’s people were actively fighting off Galran occupation of their homeworld within this past.

And that’s actually what I think makes Alfor and the OG paladins some pretty interesting characters. Here, we had colonizing Galran empire setting down its sword and accepting the value and space of its neighbors. Here, we had master alchemist Alfor giving up military power within their group by acknowledging Zarkon as the superior strategist. Here, we had Blaytz who had previously been battling Galran occupation…fully accepting the Galra?   

So the OG Paladin backstory represents a pretty incredible alliance that removed a lot of intergalactic toxicity and helped heal broken bonds. But it required all five leaders to agree to that. Alfor did not throw his weight or power around within this. There were several checks and balances here.

But this backstory also helps to explain some of the quirky details about Alteans. Their planet existed within an active war zone, and it’s very likely that they’d had to fight off Galran occupation just as Blaytz’s people did. So the violent robot trainers and fear-based language learning systems start to make sense. Alteans weren’t just simpering people playing harps all day and eating grapes. They were actively prepared to defend their planet and their culture.

So when Allura says in season 1 that Alteans were “spreading diplomacy” across the universe, the only pieces of evidence we have of that is the OG paladins themselves, in which Alfor was a big part in creating that alliance—and then possibly the Alteans with the Balmerans, given their deep collective rituals with that planet while the Galra literally just came in and ripped the planet nearly to death. Allura tries to mimic what it means to accept and interact with a culture without changing it well in season 1, when she stumbles through trying to respect Arusian culture and its demands on its people. Also, there is a big fact that antis like to overlook:

The fact is, despite the untold numbers of civilizations we interact with across 76 episodes, no outside race remembers Alteans as evil colonizers. If they were really so big and bad, we would have heard it, like, “Man, yeah the Galrans are bad. Just as bad as those Alteans, back in the day.” Or something. But nope, nothing.

So I heavily question the history of Altea as an ancient colonizing race. If they were, then Altea wouldn't have just been a single planet with limited resources to fight wars in even its own galaxy. All of this supports the idea of Altean children being raised to fight--because they were preparing to defend themselves when/if diplomacy fails.... But the fact that the Balmerans see Alteans fondly and that literally every other race we run into is explicitly suspicious of Galrans and not at all of Alteans says something.

I think the only piece of evidence there might be for a genuinely colonizing ancient Altea is the use of terraforming technology, as mentioned in s4. Haggar discovers it and activates it to try and kill Voltron--and she nearly succeeds, because said tech destroys the entire crust of the planet to reform it. But you have to step back for a second and wonder--if ancient Alteans were so powerful, why was Alfor struggling so hard to even hold his own planet together in the midst of all these other cultures warring and larger threats? If they had this technology--and they did know about it because Allura recognized it right away as ancient technology--why the heck wouldn't they use it? Or were they using it, and it was to reform uninhabited planets to help sustain displaced peoples? Why is it, if Alteans were so terribly bad, we have no record across ANY of the many alien races being cautious of them? Even Galran Lieutenant Lahn snapped at Allura only because he was jealous of the general security she had back on, you guessed it, explicitly Altea. There's a lot of potential explanations for a positive use of terraforming technology, and the evidence against colonization and Altea committing omnicide against other races is incredibly more aligned with the other details in the canon.

And even Alfor’s creation of Voltron and the blowing up of Daibazaal—that’s something that antis like to position as evidence of his police-state ways to underhandedly control other cultures.

So let’s tackle those too while we’re at it.

Honestly, I know people like to hate on Alfor, and I do think his character picks up some misogynism just from the writers....But I don't think he was as much of a controller as people think he was. He was already in an alliance with four other leaders to try and stop bad things from happening in their galaxy. That meant they were expending incredible amounts of time and resources to accomplish that end—resources that were not renewable and may have been straining various planets. We know that he started building Voltron with Zarkon and everyone else's blessing because he called them "clean ships," but it's only after the rift creatures attack that suddenly Alfor's perception of Voltron moves from "clean energy" to "omg we need a more powerful weapon against this unknown enemy.”

So these are his intentions BEFORE he discovers rift creatures are a threat to the universe. While Zarkon states that these new ships are to be endlessly powerful for the Galra Empire, Alfor shames him by offering what his desire is for them:

  After the rift creatures nearly destroy Daibazaal, intentions change.

So here, we see the game change in a BIG way. Voltron is not just about offering a more renewable way of sustaining peace-keeping efforts. Alfor is now adjusting and finishing these ships with the explicit knowledge that if they are not powerful enough, then Daibazaal and the Galran people will die. Alfor’s got a LOT of pressure on him now to deliver a mighty and powerful weapon to stop this new threat. So even his creation of Voltron as a superweapon involved using it to protect people from imminent death—not to police them.

And about Alfor blowing up Daibazaal—once again, it’s Alfor trying to clean up Honerva and Zarkon’s mess. Honerva had convinced Zarkon that the rift needed to be wider, and so Zarkon deceived the paladins into widening it.

So keep in mind here, at this point in time—the rift was destabilizing and eating an entire planet. The entire universe was now at stake. Alfor had to choose between a bad fix and an even worse option of allowing everyone to die, but he very clearly evacuated people before destroying Daibazaal, as part of his promise to keep Galrans safe. So that no one would have to die.

And as a matter of fact—about that terraforming technology. How sure are you that Alfor didn’t intend to use it to build Galrans a new home? It’s entirely within the realm of acceptable conjecture that he allowed for the existence of that technology because it could restore what had been lost.

And here’s where the story gets really screwy and feeds into some anti hate. Because when Zarkon wakes up as a zombie, he desires more quintessence as zombies do.

So he’s pissed that Alfor just cut off his gateway, and he manipulates his people:

And it’s here where we get the idea that Alfor was an evil controller. The idea came from Zarkon, who—we can look around pretty easily and see that he was not a man of honor, ultimately. Even if you chose to not believe the s3 finale flashbacks as being objective, there’s something wrong with Zarkon. (It’s clear that the show thought using Coran was a smart way to shell off massive amounts of info, because clearly if this were truly in Coran’s perspective, we would NOT have had intimate looks into Zarkon and Honerva’s bedroom as Zarkon is tending to her, like omg.) Numerous sources, histories, and cultures outside of Coran confirm that Zarkon hit a point of no return on the evil scale, and that he projected his own blame for Daibazaal’s destabilization onto Alfor in order to raise up his new regime in the name of Quintessence™.

So at the end of the day, even Alfor was a victim. But yet somehow, various antis choose to believe Zarkon’s victim-punishing narrative because said antis can’t or else refuse to connect one scene to another since it undermines their justifications for why they can hate on Allura. And that’s not so much an issue with the story itself as it is just poor critical analysis or malicious weaponization of content against other fans.

Now, at this point, we’ve talked about Allura and we’ve talked about Altean history. I have numerous other posts about Allura’s interactions with other races and Galrans and overcoming trauma to give the entire universe a second chance. So if there is anything in this show that suggests Alteans were in any way a superior race, then it’s probably within the show’s own worldbuilding. The show contradicts its own definitions of what quintessence even is by suggesting Alteans have “bluer/purer quintessence” in order to justify why Lotor would even be trying to sacrifice them for anything. The show-championed concept that Alteans have a bluer, purer life force above all other people, and that only Altean energy could interface with the fabric of space-time. Now, this is a problem in the later seasons’ world building itself. And you know who wrote that in? The production team. So once again, we do have racial issues in this show, in ways that shows like Star Wars desperately try avoid by showing racial diversity in who has Midi-chlorians.

That said, I’m not a perfectly woke storyteller either. I think every story and show is going to have something problematic™, but with VLD it’s very clear that its disrespectful handling of genocide politics and shatterglass conspiracy theories, on top of its weird master race angle created the perfect storm. These mishandled and quirky details have created a cognitive dissonance with the provided narrative, resulting in some people in the anti fandoms to champion what aligns very closely to actual neo-Nazi propaganda against Jews, who according to them are not victims but instead the true perpetrators of all bad things. For the sake of the antis, I’m pretty sure they’re not intentionally looking at VLD this way and are probably just looking for any easily graspable reason to hate on Allura for interfering with their ship or something.

But this kind of subliminal propaganda that undermines victims, and the effect it has had on fandom morality politics, is deeply concerning to me. I really wish that we’d had an opportunity to respectfully and critically discuss this with the production team of the show, because a Y7-FV show about “strength in unity” should NOT result in us needing to have a conversation about people walking away with neo-Nazi-ish propaganda sentiments against genocide survivors. Like. Clearly, VLD is fictional, but it’s feeding into a real-life beast that it does NOT need to feed. And it’s keeping alive ongoing conspiracy narratives against some of our most vulnerable populations on the planet.

So, we need better stories. We need a production team that, if they’re going to get paid to do something involving portrayals of genocide and politics, that they need to do their research on those topics. Nobody is going to be perfect with a creation, but VLD validated some very damaging things—and it ALL is something that could have been fixable. I think it would have been incredibly validating to hear the production talk about and accept that these were issues that cropped up unintentionally, and to hear them confirm that these issues are not the sorts of things that VLD was supposed to champion.

The greatest tragedy of all of this is the potential that this show had to really champion some great and validating messages, and the potential that we as a fandom had to come together and do something that fandom was meant to do—which was celebrate the things we love. Because that’s why we’re all here. That’s why this crazy tumblr of mine even exists. It was supposed to celebrate things.

For that reason, I’m going to end this here. I’ve written several responses now as to my thoughts on the inappropriate narrative lens of the show, its contradictory and damaging worldbuilding about the purest race, and how it champions demonizing or punishing genocide survivors again and again. Within all of that, I’ve talked at length about Allura’s character and behavior over 8 seasons and how she built even empathetic connections with militant Galrans like Commander Lahn. In fact even her own homesickness is how she emotionally connects with Lahn, because she understands that desire to call something one’s own. To have a home. A family.

I now really would like to get back to writing stories that I find meaningful to me using these characters and these worlds—and trying to find the hope in all of this darkness, haha. And maybe with any luck, I can hope to do VLD some justice, knowing that I am still on a learning journey as well.

But I appreciate your note, and I hope this very extensive response helps to settle your questions and concerns once and for all regarding VLD Allura. If you should have any remaining questions, please feel free to reach out via a private message to discuss. Thank you!