#Keiths birthday week

[flownwrong]

chaotic ckr c6d squee propaganda (?) post

This, started half a year ago for @ds30below, was initially a general c6d short reviews post but kinda skewed majorly towards CKR's repertoire and wasn't too review-y. So I gave up on making sense and on including the non-CKR works. I don't know who the audience for this is, because I never give basic details for people who don't know about this stuff but say too much for those who do. I giffed what I could and tried to avoid what I know a lot about but haven't actually seen. Here goes.

Frank's Cock (1993)

Not much to say. It's only 8 minutes, it's beautiful and you should see it if you haven't. I won't spoil the subject, but you can likely guess. Watch it, cry a little. Then go watch some more of Mike Hoolboom's stuff, the vimeo link above is from his channel.

Two X-Files episodes (1994 – 1995)

Well, I haven't actually seen X-files since I was about fifteen and watched the like two seasons, and I remember none of it. I rewatched the two early episodes CKR appears in and they were fun. I did not watch the, the movie or whatever where he's doing the evil gay thing. But really, this one is on the list so I can show you this self-indulgent gif of him being Very Long:

Double Happiness (1994)

You shouldn't watch this one for CKR. I mean, you absolutely should see him here, looking like he's barely out of his teens and playing up the insecure act and having devastating chemistry with devastatingly beautiful Sandra Oh, but this is not why it's great. And it's really, really great. It's touching and funny and sincere. If you wanna have some feels about complicated family relationships and identity and growing up (at any point in life), you'll find them here.

Curtis's Charm (1995)

Don't regret watching it, can't recommend. Not gonna lie, I was emotionally affected. But I usually am by things as in-your-face bleak as this. Mostly, it's trying very hard to be smarter than it is, I think.

However: CKR's One Wild Curl is everything to me (see above, on the right. It was, like, actually curly. I was rendered speechless). And like two seconds of Hugh Dillon made me do a double-take, lol. Incredibly weird knowing this was shot like half a year before HCL began shooting. Feels like it must've been a decade earlier.

Hard Core Logo (1996)

I could make three separate posts about this one, so of course I have no idea what to say.

This one, you should watch for CKR, actually, he's something, but so is every single other aspect of this film. I wouldn't change a thing about it. It hits you like a 16 wheeler. Perfectly cast, unimaginably beautiful, hysterical and melancholy and disgusting and compelling.

Related recs:

A wonderfully fun article/retrospective/interview for its 20th anniversary a while back.

You should also absolutely read Hard Core Roadshow if you enjoyed the film. It's a book documenting the whole thing from conception to release. It touched me for its own sake, not just a backstage glance, full of love for the craft and the people and carrying this tangible bittersweetness about the heightened and fleeting nature of this kind of work.

(here, I feel compelled to include a quote from another c6d-related interview on Slings & Arrows, which I read after the book and went like man, it's really a universal experience isn't it.

Coyne: <...> But I also think, and this is my experience, what we were all experiencing, because we were all talking about our lives, our life in the arts — there’s something very melancholy about doing something you love, because it will never be good enough, it will always break your heart.

McKinney: Or it will be fleeting.

Coyne: It’ll be fleeting. You come together with people you feel passionately connected to and two weeks later they’re tearing down the sets.)

Quotes from the article and the book respectively include:

McDonald: So there was a kind of mutual dependency society with Hugh telling Callum, “Don’t worry, man, I got your back, I’ll tell you how high or low to wear your guitar, I’ll tell you how you should dress, I’ll tell you what you should drink…” and Callum was like, “I’ll tell you what hitting your mark is, I’ll tell you why they pull out fucking tape measures, I’ll tell you why you have to do it again, I’ll tell you about not overlapping dialogue..” and you know they clung to each other, like the other one was gonna fucking save them.

And:

A final gathering at the back of the tour bus with Bruce, Callum, Hugh, Bernie. We listen to the tape of HCL songs, all the way through, one last time. And we belt the words out. Bernie sings loudest, performing for Salerno's camera. Hugh and Callum sit back, looks of sadness. I get the sense that if they could do it, they'd chuck their lives and be Joe Dick and Billy Tallent forever. Callum leans to Bruce and says exactly what everyone else is thinking: "I don't want it to end."

There's much more to both texts than *gestures* the whatever those two had, but it certainly doesn't hurt.

And Xeriscape is the best HCL fic I've read. Granted, I read very few because it's not a source that creates in me a craving for fic. But this one perfectly matches the film's fucked up beauty with its language while also adding a quieter, more fraught layer of humanity that we only get glimpses of in canon and that perfectly fits John. 10/10, would recommend.

Anyway. Watch it. Read it. If you haven't. Otherwise, come scream with meeee! And go reblog my gifs or something. Idk.

Letters From Home (1996)

Mike Hoolboom strikes again, with another short. This goes into the "don't watch it for CKR, watch it because it's great" box. Yes, you will cry.

For Those Who Hunt The Wounded Down (1996)

Another bleak one! It sucked to watch, I mean, on purpose. There were a couple of very effective scenes. I really enjoyed the opening. They say the book is decent too, I haven't checked that out.

Actually, let's just switch back from coherent thought to undignified staring at his mouth with this one. What the fuck is that cigarette thing. I couldn't help myself.

Last Night (1998)

These gifs are not representative of the whole movie. There is more happening than CKR kissing or hugging people. He's also doing more than just kissing and hugging. It's all very... impressive.

Guess who's also here again? Sandra Oh! And say hi to Don McKellar, who is an absolute champion for writing/directing/starring. You'll be seeing more of him.

Another one for the "watch it for its own sake" box. Seriously, that late 90s indie stuff is banger after banger. It's so beautiful! Look at those colours! Look at those shots! It's very uneasy and charming and melanchioly and itself in the best way.

Twitch City (1998 – 2000)

Don McKellar is back to murder you with discomfort! Bruce McDonald lends a hand. Molly Parker is also here. And Daniel McIvor, who'd go on to direct, for example, Wilby Wonderful. It's a party. If you watched some stuff from above (or below) on this list, most faces and names will be familiar to you, tbh (another Hugh Dillon double-take happens).

If you liked Spaced, you'll love this. You might also love it because it commits to its weirdness with an admirable resolve and is genuinely hilarious. (Honestly, CKR's outfits alone warrant a watch.) The idiosyncrasy is definitely Don McKellar's doing 200%. It couldn't be more different from Last Night, but if you've seen one, you'll recognise the other.

Battlestar Galactica (2003 – 2009)

I don't think a person should be allowed to look this pretty in the sweaty-and-dying makeup in that light (this sentence probably looks very weird to those not under the CKR magic spell).

I don't know what to say about BSG because I really, really enjoyed early it initially, but by the middle of S2 it got... well, whatever that was. If you know you know, if you don't, still give it a go. You might get invested enough to suffer through it all, as I have been, slowly.

The unfortunate thing is that CKR got to be there mostly in the "what the fuck" years and not the "wow that's so cool" years. That, as you might be aware, is a pattern with him. But! When he was here, he was so genuinely, wonderfully creepy not in the typecast-baddy way, but in this slow, half-absent way, which really worked. You can also see him tortured a little, as a treat!! <3

Also, a wild John Pyper-Ferguson appears! If you're looking at him thinking you know him from somewhere but not immediately remembering, you'll figure it out, I believe in you. I was very happy to see him.

Wilby Wonderful (2004)

Another win for the put CKR in more good shit team!!! Guess who's here again? Sandra Oh! Also, Paul Gross. Don't watch it for him either though haha.

Another one for whoever wants to look at pushing against the weight of others' (or your own) expectations and growing into who you are or reconsidering who you are or finding meaningful connections with others even when you're kind of a mess and they are too.

Not nearly the first time CKR's gotten to play a queer character, but man, this one really is the heart of the in-universe community, and, through that, of the film. A rare chance to see him so far out of the prickly persona! He's just so solid and calm and there for others in this one and, and soft, ough. It's awesome.

By the way, if any of you have the commentary track or know someone who has, please drop me a line here or on discord (emotionalrisotto), I really wanna hear that.

Supernatural (2005)

I love Supernatural a lot. It was a formative experiences (albeit a very late one) and I owe a lot of my favourite stuff about fandom-ing to the buddies I met through it. I can't believe I'm telling you this (because who hasn't seen it, not because I'm reccing it), but you should really try it if you haven't. It's pretty rad.

I had no idea who this guy was when I saw that episode (the second ever one!), though. I simply cannot fathom what @nigeltde-fic felt when she first saw it. I think I personally got very lucky she didn't combust on the spot. It would've been unfortunate.

On a sillier note, CKR's character has weird tension with both Sam and Dean in this episode, which is par for the course. I personally think they should've... no, I shan't say it. You can probably imagine.

Californication (2008 – 2013)

I haven't actually seen it, lol (and I suspect I won't enjoy it, but I'm very curious and also CKR looks really really good).

The real reason for this one on the list is to share a fic rec. Really, it's a due South F/K fic featuring Lew Ashby. It's ridiculously hot and very satisfying in its romantic resolution, too (but then, I'm kind of big on selfcest. And consensual voyeurism. And pretend relationships when done like this. And sublimated yearning. Erm.)

Shattered (2010 – 2011)

I wish this never happened. I badly, badly wish this never happened. I can't turn back time, but I can warn those luckier than me: do not go there. Yes, even for this dude. You'll sleep better not knowing just what it is he was the EP on. And the only important part — the mascara — can be seen above (yes, the show does look that bad, it's not just the gifs).

Just kidding — I watched it, didn't I? You'll have fun hating it! Just prepare for industrial grade cringe, lower your expectations (No, lower. No, still lower than that. And just a bit more.) and you'll have a great time!

Star trek: Discovery (2024)

Or, as I call it, Star Trek: The Mediocre Show. Discovery S5 was... what it was, but it was a wonderful viewing experience — mostly thanks to the gang (@kittkatk and @feroxargentea especially!)

What a joy it is, to follow a show week by week, yelling and laughing and discussing the whole time. And giffing, too. I was very happy to contribute to the Disco fandom from my own little obsessive corner, and I was glad to see people adoring Rayner, haha.

He's a pretty neat character — very much a stereotype, yes, but with CKR's usual twist of odd vulnerability and weirdness. Also, I loved the ears. I miss the ears. The ears were great.

I even wrote a fic! Although it's not within my usual range to write for canons and universes I don't know well — and back then, I'd only seen S5 of Disco. It was a lot of suffering, and a lot of fun.

Closing thoughts

I'd really love the dude to get a better agent. And possibly better taste, but I realise that's a tougher ask. Seriously, it's been too long since he was in something majorly cool. I'm grateful to him, at least, for not making terrible music on the side. And I still have a lot of his back catalogue to get through, some of it even good, so there will be more insanity. Until then!

[riceisgood123]

Take you home and show you the sun

Lance had always promised Keith he’d take him home to Cuba. Show him everything he loved, everything he was missing out on. And finally, six years, a handful of scars, and a less than legitimate exchange of vows later, he did.

(Also Allura is very much alive! The altean marks are from reviving him)

Happy birthday, Lance 💙

(Closeups under the cut)

[loveinhawkins]

The birthday gift Robin gets from her parents is that they’re gonna help her fund a three month solo trip to Paris. Steve thinks she should be delivering this news with much more excitement than she currently is.

“Okay, but you’re going, right?” he says, as she bites her nails for the third time. When she doesn’t reply, he lifts his eyes to the heavens, despairing. “Oh my god, are you kidding? Robin, you’ve wanted this for—”

“Years,” she confirms, so quietly. “I want—” She swallows. “I want it so badly, Steve.”

He pauses, drops their usual teasing schtick. “Okay,” he says, a little softer. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just…” She moves her hand away from her mouth, tugs on a hangnail. “What if—what if something… happens. And I’m not…” She gestures vaguely. “Not here.”

Steve slings an arm over her shoulder. “Rob,” he says, “nothing’s gonna happen.”

Robin nods. “I know, I know.”

But then she sighs, and Steve understands: it’s one thing to know something objectively, another thing to feel the certainty in your bones.

He has a wave of gratitude for Robin’s parents, for them knowing that she needs this, for letting her have a year out, maybe even two, without judgement. It’s something they all need, really, in different ways: some time to let the weight of everything settle, to catch their breath.

Steve’s honestly been relishing the mundanity of it all, the comfort of routine—easy days where the biggest ‘disaster’ is him being late for their opening shift at Family Video.

“Keith’s keeping your job open for you, right?” Steve asks, just in case that’s a sticking point.

Robin nods again, laughing. “Yeah, mom arranged that all before she even booked the flights. Well, I think she just basically told him that—”

“So it’s gonna be a super long vacation.” Steve gives her knee a reassuring little shake, before tickling the back of it. “Jesus, Robin, if you don’t go, I’ll go for you.”

Robin snorts and wiggles out of his grip. “Shut up.”

“And I’ll speak French so badly that I’ll just get banned for life, like, right outta the gate, it’ll be tragic—”

“I’ve got the picture, dingus,” she says, and she’s smiling—finally, finally there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes.

And that excitement only grows as her flight date gets closer, as she calls Steve the week before, begging him to be the one to take her to the airport, because, “My dad took one look at my suitcase and burst into tears, please Steve, the man can’t do this.”

And then Steve’s pulling up to her driveway, and she’s already waiting for him, perched on her suitcase. She’s wearing a cobalt blue beret, and Steve loves her so much he thinks his heart might burst with it.

For a while, it’s all grins and laughter, Steve giggling every time he edges out of the driveway, and Robin’s mom stops him, frantically waving, asking if Robin’s got everything, did you pack that other coat, honey?

Then it feels like time rushes forward—they’re at the airport, and Steve gets out of the car to fetch Robin’s case from the trunk, but she’s already got it, is already standing in the parking lot, eyes wide.

“What’s gonna happen now?” she whispers.

Steve’s heart clenches; the last time she’d asked that had been as they sped to the hospital, Robin gripping his hand so tightly as Eddie lay unconscious.

Steve puts both hands on her shoulders. “You’re gonna have the best time,” he says, deadly serious, “and then you’re gonna come back and tell me all about it.”

She laughs, right on the edge of becoming tearful. “O-okay.” She blinks several times.

“Don’t,” Steve says, faux-warningly, “or you’ll set me off, too.”

And it’s only partly a joke.

“Okay,” Robin says again, and then she’s hugging Steve tight, pressing a damp kiss to his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“God, me too. Every day.” Steve rocks her back and forth, makes sure her beret doesn’t get dislodged with the force of the hug.

When they break apart, Robin picks up her case—she pauses, then grins.

“Now, if you’ll just point me in the right direction…”

Steve chuckles. He spins her around so she’s facing the airport, then pats her on the back.

She starts walking.

Steve stays right where he is; he knows she’ll look back right at the last second—ah, there she goes. He shakes his head, laughs. Waves.

He drives back alone.

When he gets home, he barely has time to even think about it, because the kids have biked over after school, clamouring for him to order pizza from the moment he opens the front door, and Eddie’s shrugging apologetically with a grin, and it’s only later that Steve realises that the whole thing was probably coordinated beforehand.

And he’s fine, really, he’s absolutely fine until he steps into the hall to use the phone, and he unthinkingly orders the pizza him and Robin usually share: one half with pepperoni, the other half with mushrooms.

And then he has to finish the rest of the phone call with a lump in his throat, and when he hangs up, Eddie is watching him with a sad kind of smile.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t. Don’t be nice to me, goddamn it.” Steve shuts his eyes. “I was fine, I was fine.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie knocks their foreheads together gently. “I’ll miss her, too.”

And God, missing Robin does hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the joy Steve feels whenever he receives a letter from her. He laughs himself stupid the first time, because instead of just using sheets of paper, she’s sent multiple postcards wrapped in an elastic band, her handwriting all squished so she can fit everything in.

She writes like she talks, all rambling enthusiasm, and Steve cherishes every word.

He can tell she’s having so much fun. She enthuses about little cafés she’s found, a bookstore near Notre Dame; she spends multiple pages on art galleries, how she has the time to wander, to look at a painting again and again until the meaning reveals itself, it was like when I solved that ‘crossword’ in the mall, it suddenly just clicked, you know? I need you here next time, you’ll look at it from another angle, I wanna know what you think.

She sends Polaroids, too. There’s one of her in a white shirt with a trilby hat at a jaunty angle—Steve can tell she’s been in the sun, because there’s freckles all over the bridge of her nose. On the back of the photograph, she’s written Had a carefree kiss!

And Steve cries when he reads it, because he knows what it means: that Robin’s often spoken wistfully about how she’s never got to have that fleeting summer kind of love, where nothing is all that serious.

But she’s still so young, and life is finally light, and she gets to have it now.

Other photographs are sent to Eddie, with instructions that he should translate the French Robin’s written on them, à force de pratique, on y arrive, mon cher Édouard!

“I said literally once that French at school wasn’t, like, the worst,” Eddie says, pouting. “Didn’t realise that meant she was gonna torture me from across the world.” He frowns at a picture of Robin petting a grey cat, a bowl of food at its little paws. “And I tried translating whatever the fuck she’s written here, but I can’t work it out.”

“Not even a guess?” Steve says.

“I mean, yeah, but it sounds so stilted, man, I know it’s wrong. Like, who actually says where the silver cat feeds—you dick, stop laughing! What’s so funny?”

Two months pass, and Robin’s back soon, but not soon enough to catch Steve’s birthday. It’s not like he wants to have a huge party, anyway—he goes to Wayne and Eddie’s for dinner, and discovers Dustin leading a not-so successful ‘secretly bake a birthday cake,’ meeting at Max’s.

Everyone’s on their second slice of cake when the phone rings, and Steve knows instantly who it is from the way Eddie shouts, “Huh? What?”, like there’s a delay on the line. Then he beams and shouts, “Steve! Got a long distance call for you.”

Steve’s over in a flash.

“I promise I’ve got you something,” Robin says, slightly muffled—every so often a word will cut out, but Steve gets the gist. “I swear, I’m not awful, I was gonna post it, but then I had no idea how many stamps I’d need, and I didn’t wanna risk losing it forever to, like, the nightmare limbo of customs, so I thought when I come back, I can—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Steve laughs, “you didn’t need to get me anything. This is the best present ever.”

“Oh, gross,” Robin says cheerfully. “You’re all sentimental in your old age. Happy Birthday, Steve.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, and the lump in his throat is back, but it’s not so bad; he can breathe through it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And then there’s a sound that Steve at first thinks is just from the bad quality of the line, but then he realises it’s Robin trying to stifle a yawn; “Wait, Jesus, isn’t it, like, two in the morning over there? Go to bed!”

She doesn’t listen, of course—they keep chatting, everyone in the room wants a turn on the phone, Robin teasing Eddie relentlessly for his French pronunciation.

And as Steve ends the call, he finds that the hurt of missing her has faded away into something else—knowing that there’ll be comings and goings in their lives all the time, adventures they’ll share and adventures they won’t. But they’ll always, always find their way back to one another.

Steve sets the phone into its cradle, pictures Robin doing the very same so many miles away.

Yeah, we’re gonna be just fine, you and me, Steve thinks, and feels the certainty of it right in his bones.

[jenni41arts]

Keith Birthday Week Piece 1

[dualityvn]

I haven’t poked you in a while Nightmare, I hope you’re well! I wanted to let Keith and Tenebris know that I finally worked up the courage to get the tattoos on my fingers, and I got my nails done for my birthday (which is next week) so I wanted to show them! They’re still healing so they look kinda rough, but I’ve been wanting them done for several years, so I’m happy how they turned out!

Hi Fraidy!

"Woah, cool tattoos! Happy early Birthday!" - Tenebris

*clears throat* "Right. 'Scuse me, you just have lovely hands. And they are manicured... Ah, Happy early Birthday!" - Keith

[siphisket]

commemorative klance doodle for surviving the past two weeks (also apparently happy late birthday to keith lol)

[girlboypersonthingy]

can I request a list of like green flags and red flags for each of the characters in voltron? btw I love your writing:)

Hello friendo, thank you sm! Thanks for the request, I adore this idea. Also…Sorry y’all, I was posting like every other day for two weeks and then I hopped off for like two months. Oof life is really life-ing rn. I honestly chose to write this prompt before a lot of other requests bc it seems like an easy and short thing to bust out quickly. I swear, I will get to the rest eventually 🩵 keep sending in requests if you’d like! And as always… ENJOY~

KEITH ❤️

Red Flags 🚩

TERRIBLE AT COMMUNICATING. We all know Keith is stubborn and easily overwhelmed with a short temper. He doesn’t really know how to talk to people without getting angry. He feels that bc he has a hard time explaining exactly what he means, people never understand him and that makes him mad.

Bro isn’t scared of anything…and that low key scares everyone else. Like…who isn’t afraid of anything? The whole team has tried sooooo hard to figure out what will get Keith to jump out of his skin and scream like a child but to no avail… Boy just doesn’t flinch, doesn’t care, couldn’t care less about bugs and rodents and clowns and heights or anything like that.

Wears his gloves in the shower sometimes. Like wtf ???

Green Flags ✅

Also bc he is not afraid of anything, boy will protect his friends/family/partner SO HARD. He will verbally AND physically tear someone apart just for looking at you the wrong way. Very protective and caring but in a good way ya know?

Actually very selfless and not self-centered in the slightest. Keith is very giving and helpful, despite his tough exterior, he’s very caring, observant and considerate. He’ll give the shirt off his back to someone in need. He’s always down to help others. Ugh Sweet heart ❤️‍🔥

Has a sick ass space wolf that will also protect you like COSMO IS A MAJOR PLUS OKAY BIG GREEN FLAG DOGGO

LANCE 💙

Red Flags 🚩

Obvi his biggest red flag is how flirty he is. Boy will flirt with anything that breaths and that can get really annoying sometimes and affect the rest of the team.

Jealous AS FUCK. Like the petty jealous type. Lance is the kind of guy to pretend he has a partner back home just bc some alien girl he was flirting with said she had a partner already. He’s like “OH YEAH? Wow cool me too, same same, yeah….” But homie’s ego is a bit sore now…

Lies a lot. Lance just panics sometimes and tells a lie. He knows it’s wrong and he always feels guilty after lying to someone but it always just slips out. His mouth moves faster than his brain most the time.

Green Flags ✅

THE BEST HUGGER/CUDDLER OMFGGGGGG. Lance is the best hugger and cuddle buddy ever, period, end of story, try to change my mind. His long arms always stretch fully around the recipient’s torso and he squeezes tight enough to make you feel warm but not smothered. Usually will rest his chin on the other person’s head if they’re short enough (so Pidge obvi).

Very aware of other’s moods/body language/tone of voice. Everyone thinks Lance is “the dumb one” but he’s actually very in tune with what’s going on in the moment, what’s going on around him. I think he can tell how others feel the second he sees them. Good intuition kinda thing. An empath for sure.

Very considerate and often remembers the little things about people. Does he remember what he learned in class just a couple days ago? Pffft heck no! Does he remember everyone’s birthday, every year and get them a very thoughtful gift? HELL YEAHH I LOVE THIS SWEET BOY OMFG 🩵

SHIRO 🖤

Red Flags 🚩

Honestly…idfk Shiro is so perf. Perfect baby boy all the way

Maybe he could seem too nice at first…? Like when someone is nice but ur like “are you for real? Or are you fake and evil and you’re hiding something?” I think Shiro could be perceived as being fake nice at first.

Omg I feel like Shiro is one of those “ oh no, that looks delicious but I can’t. I’m watching my carbs.” YOU KNOW SHIRO IS A GYM DUDE WHO COUNTS HIS CALORIES PLZ

Green Flags ✅

ALSO AN A+ HUGGER. Imagine those big ass arms holding you so softly and so close to his big, warm body. Omg so comforting, so relaxing. Often gives a gently squeeze just before letting go and pulling away. Ugh 😩❤️‍🔥

Literally the most trustworthy man in the universe. Will defend his friends, loved ones, and planet until the end of time. Shiro would die before revealing any secrets you’ve asked him to keep. The best person to vent to bc he’ll never tell another soul about it. He’s like a personal diary

Shiro is sooooo patient. Definitely the most patient one on the team. He really does take his own advice…ya know, patience yields focus 😌 very sweet, calm man. We love Shiro

PIDGE 💚

Red Flags 🚩

GIRL WILL WORK HERSELF TO DEATH PLZ GO CHECK UP ON HER, BRING HER FOOD AND WATER, GENTLY FORCE HER INTO BED SHE NEEDS SLEEP.

Lowkey kinda moody and can get snappy very easily. Pidge is a sweet heart and very smart and a good team player but she’s also stubborn and will yell to get her point across or make herself heard (she’s an Aries…what’d you expect?)

Sometimes very conceited and braggy about how smart she is. Like yeah Pidge, we know you’re a genius and you could code in your sleep. WE GET IT. UR SMART. GEEZ 😒

Green Flags ✅

Pidge is so baby. Yeah, she can get snappy and braggy sometimes but…SHES SO BABY PLZ FORGIVE HER. She’s just young and stressed okay? Give her a break. She’ll apologize eventually with puppy dog eyes and a soft voice and while she looks adorable, she is being sincere and really wants to resolve this.

Very loyal and determined. I mean look how hard she searched and fought for her dad and brother. She won’t stop for anything or anyone once she has her mind set. Pidge Will never leave you behind and will always turn back to help someone in need.

Androgynous royalty. Pidge is soooo chill about her gender and identity. We love a confident babe 🏳️‍🌈💚

HUNK 💛

Red Flags 🚩

Boy is too scared sometimes. I think Hunk has really bad anxiety and it’s not the anxiety that is the red flag, it’s how he copes with it…which he doesn’t. Hunk let’s his anxiety get the best if him sometimes…but he’s trying.

Honestly…does Hunk really have any other red flags??? Baby boy is so sweet idk 🤷🏻

Over eats to the point of getting sick sometimes…and never learns his lesson. (Me asf)

Green Flags ✅

THE SWEETEST MOST CONSIDERATE AND THOUGHTFUL MAN IN THE UNIVERSE OMFG WHAT A SWEET HEART 😩💛 honestly just a very good guy. We love Hunk.

Obvi his cooking skills!!! Can cook for any occasion, on any cooking surface, in any conditions. Can cook so many different dishes from so many rich cultures around the world! So talented. His food always hits.

THE ABSOLUTE BEST at cheering others up. Soooo funny and silly and kind and relatable. He tries so hard to brighten others’ days when they need it. Will stop what he’s doing just to go cheer up a friend or loved one and watch them smile again.

MATT 🧡

Red Flags 🚩

Interrupts A LOT. In any given conversation, he will interrupt and talk over someone else at least once every minute. Can get really annoying sometimes but in his defense, if he waits too long to speak up, he’ll just totally forget what he was gonna say.

Like Lance, I think Matt would be overly flirty and act like a Fuck boy sometimes. Like bro sit your nerd ass down, that person is SOOO out of your league plz chill.

Can not take anything seriously (unless it comes to his family or his or anyone else’s safety) but day to day, Matt makes so many dumb and inappropriate jokes at the worst times. Ugh 😒

Green Flags ✅

Very brotherly to everyone he considers a friend or family. Protective, constantly checking up on others, making sure they have eaten, asking if they need anything from him. He cares a lot. Bonus points bc he’s a very good brother to his actual sibling too. Aww Pidge and Matt are sibling goals. 🥹

HOT AS FUCK NO MATTER HIS HAIR STYLE/LENGTH. You can fight me on this. Matt is gorg and so is his hair at every single moment throughout the show.

Extremely accepting and open minded. Matt treats everyone he meets equally and never seems phased when he meets others so different from himself. He may ask some questions for the sake of his own curiosity, but would never pass judgment on another person.

[damthosefandoms]

Jumbled

(ao3 link)

Summary:

RIP Sodapop Curtis, you would’ve loved having an IEP/504 Plan.

(AKA, Soda struggles in school his whole life, and doesn’t understand why, because it’s the 1950s and 60s and getting a diagnosis for a learning disability isn’t exactly on the table. Neither is the scaffolding and support he really needs.)

Sodapop Curtis was the type of kid who sat at the kitchen table for hours on end crying over math homework until his dad got home from work and struggled to explain it to him. All that effort, and then he’d always inevitably lose it somewhere between the kitchen table that night and his teacher’s hand the next morning and all that effort would be for nothing.

Soda was five years old when he started kindergarten, at the tail-end of the summer of ‘56. He remembers his mom comforting him the night before, when he cried because he was going to miss Ponyboy who wasn’t old enough for school yet and because Darry was going into fourth grade and would be on the other side of the school all day, and Soda would never get to see him. He remembers pouting because Keith Mathews, his and his brothers’ collective best friend from down the street was going into first grade after promising Soda last year that he’d get in a lot of trouble so he could stay and do kindergarten with him (he lied).

And then Soda was just plain miserable, sitting there on the bus sandwiched between Keith and a boy a little younger than Sodapop named Johnny Cade (who lives two doors down from the Mathews’ house and Soda never sees because his parents are mean and keep him inside all day), because Darry decided he was “too cool” to sit with his horse-crazy kid brother in favor of the big kids whose mommies don’t make them wash their hair when it’s dirty and greasy and walk around with those little black switch-combs and pretend they’re the coolest kids on planet earth, ‘cause one day those combs will swap out for blades and they will be.

Probably because they are, but Sodapop doesn’t know that yet—right now he doesn’t really know or care about grease or what side of town he lives on. He is six years old and the only thing on Soda’s radar right now is that Mama promised they’d save up for him to go to horseback riding camp next summer, and that’s his biggest dream. He wants to be a rodeo legend or win the Kentucky Derby or something. He hasn’t quite decided yet. He figures he has time to parse out the specifics—he just wants to ride a horse.

They get to school, and after a particularly pushy reminder that Mama told him at the bus stop this morning to make sure Soda gets to his classroom alright, Darry points his little brother toward the Kindergarten wing. Soda takes Johnny Cade’s hand in his because he found out on the bus that Johnny is going to have the same teacher as him, and they push through the hallway of their elementary school to find Mrs. Moran’s Room Four.

Soda very quickly learns that not every kid goes into kindergarten equally. Johnny is the smallest and the youngest kid in their grade, and Soda’s the second-youngest and it only takes a few weeks for Soda to think to himself that maybe that’s why he can’t read yet. He’ll be six soon, and that’s how old Evie is. Most of the kids who live on his side of town started kindergarten when they were six, he realizes. She sits next to Soda and she’s a good reader, but she’s one of the oldest kids in their grade and so of course she’s smarter than him. Then again, Sherri Valance, who is also in his class, isn’t going to be six until next spring—kind of like Johnny, and according to the birthday chart on the wall—he asked Mrs. Moran to read it to him one day when he couldn’t sleep during nap time and she very begrudgingly agreed, so he memorized everyone’s birthdays and how old they’d be turning because why not, right?—but Sodapop finds out that she went to preschool.

He didn’t go to preschool. He doesn’t know anyone who did. He remembers Mama talking to Dad about preschool for Ponyboy this year, but Dad said something about “expensive” and Soda stopped listening ‘cause they always get sad or angry when that word comes up.

Sherri Valance can read and she’s got pretty red hair and a backpack that’s not even a hand-me-down, and she went to preschool. So did all her friends in Room Three. Soda doesn’t know anybody in Room Three but he knows that the kids his friends know in there didn’t go to preschool. Timmy Shepard was in Room Three last year with Keith. He didn’t go to preschool either; heck, neither did Keith. But they can both read now, and they went to first grade, so Sodapop figures he didn’t miss out on too much.

Until it’s the end of the year and he still can’t read. Well, you don’t need to read to go to horse camp. Soda doesn’t nap a single time that year, either. He spends his precious kindergarten naptime not-reading the book Mrs. Moran gives him to keep him busy and picking at his cot when she snaps at him to be quiet. Mrs. Moran decided the day she read his first name off the attendance sheet that she didn’t like him, and Sodapop Curtis did not like her either.

First grade is so much better and yet so, so much worse.

Soda has a very hard time on his first day, because he misses his mom, and his dad, and Ponyboy, who begged to go to school too this year but he’s still too little at only four years old and Mama’s doing her best to get him reading now. Darry is in fifth grade and seems even farther away, and Soda doesn't have recess with Keith and Tim’s grade this year, and Johnny’s in Room Seven making new friends. Evie’s in Room Eight, and Soda’s trapped alone in Room Nine. Sherri’s still in his class. On the third day of school, Soda decides her hair reminds him of cherries. She laughs, and it sticks.

The best and brightest part of first grade is his teachers. He was put in Mrs. Larkin’s room, and she’s amazing; but when he gets there on the first day, there are two teachers in the room. Miss Luft, it’s explained, is a student teacher, which means she’s learning about first grade just like they are. She’s learning how to teach and they’re learning how to learn.

Sodapop still doesn’t even know the alphabet. He doesn’t know his sounds and he can’t keep his letters straight. Mrs. Larkin has him sit with Miss Luft when he tries to write a small moment story. She draws lines in marker on his paper for him to write each word on. Every line she has to make longer than the last because he can barely fit two letters on it, and he’s pretty sure she can’t read what he wrote any more than he can.

But Miss Luft always calls him capable. She has to explain to Sodapop once a week what that word means. He does his best to remember, but he has a lot of things to remember and it gets lost in the jumble somewhere.

He hears Mrs. Larkin and Miss Luft talking, sometimes. They hide their words behind stacks of paper and turned heads but he can hear them anyway.

Reversals. Attention span. Off the wall.

“And he’s low,” he hears Mrs. Larkin say one morning. “Mrs. Bolan’s got one that low too, but at least hers is quiet.”

He has no clue what any of it means. It’s all teacher talk, he isn’t supposed to get it, and he knows they aren’t trying to hurt his feelings, but hearing it makes him feel bad anyway because they don’t talk about other kids like they do him. They don’t get those sad looks on their faces about other kids, either.

“Does your brain get jumbled sometimes, Soda?” Miss Luft asks him one day when he’s sitting at his desk, eyes red and puffy from crying because he wasn’t allowed to go to gym class unless he finished his spelling worksheet. But he can’t. He’s been sitting here for forty-five minutes, ever since they got back from recess, and he can’t. Do. It. He tries to write his letters how his teachers have shown him but they just won’t appear in the place he wanted them to, like his pencil won’t obey him when he writes. He tries to start at the top line and somehow his pencil puts itself at the bottom.

He tries to write the letters anyway, but they don’t look like he thinks they’re supposed to, and he doesn’t even know what that means because every time he looks at a b or d, or m or n or h, or—god forbid someone tells him to write the letter k. It just looks like a stick.

His numbers are just as bad. Someone’s always reminding him to put the one before the seven instead of the other way around, but he doesn’t remember writing seventy-one, he can’t even count that high!

“Jumbled?” He says in a shaky voice, still trying to calm down.

“Like mixed up. Like it’s hard to think ‘cause you got too much going on in there?” She taps his forehead and he half-heartedly giggles.

“Yeah, it gets real jumbled. All the time,” Soda says.

“I feel like that sometimes too,” Miss Luft says, and she sighs. “Like I can’t think at all some days. Like my brain shuts off without me tellin’ it to because there’s too much goin’ on and I can’t focus, and just answering one question gets overwhelming. It’s too much. But it’ll be okay, Soda, I know you got it in you. I believe in you, you hear? If I could do it, so can you.”

She doesn’t say much else, but Sodapop has never felt more seen. He cries and clings to her on her last day at their school, hating that she only got to stay for ten weeks. Mrs. Larkin is amazing and he loves being in her class, but the year just drags on and on, and towards the end of the year Soda can’t decide if school is getting harder or he’s getting dumber. Maybe it’s both.

He gets to go to horseback riding camp that summer, and he meets a kid named Dallas who he thinks was in Room Seven with Johnny. Dallas is mean. Soda finds out he’s a whole year older than him, which confuses him because Dallas is in his same grade at school.

“An’ how come I never seen you at recess or nothin’?” Soda says one day at lunch. He’s got a bologna sandwich, because his mom swears by cold cuts. Dally stole an apple out of their counselor’s lunch and doesn’t seem to have anything to eat otherwise.

“They don’t let me out much,” Dallas says. “S’what happens when you spend all your time in the principal’s office.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Just feels good to get in trouble sometimes.”

Soda doesn’t get him, but he likes horses, and so they become friends anyway. He and Dally start getting into trouble together, and Soda kind of starts to feel like he belongs somewhere. It takes his mind off the upcoming school year, which is great, because whenever he thinks about school, he gets butterflies in his stomach.

Dallas is in Room Twelve with Johnny when they get to second grade. Usually Soda keeps track of what classes all his friends end up in, but this year, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because second grade changes everything.

Mrs. Foster is ancient. She taught Soda’s mom once upon a time, and she had Darry in her class a few years earlier. Soda thought she’d be a great teacher because Darry loved her, but Soda can’t bring himself to even pretend to like her. She asks him what his parents were on when they named him.

“On what?”

Mrs. Foster just rolls her eyes and tells him to take a seat in the back where he clearly belongs. She lets him know that she’ll be calling him by his middle name this year. At least “Patrick” is “dignified.” Whatever that means.

Later, Soda can’t keep his words from erupting out of his mouth like a volcano during morning meeting, and she sends him back to his seat with a glare.

Five minutes later Steve Randle gets sent back to his seat for shouting out, too. He sits next to Soda in the back. He’s hiding a little red toy car in his desk and they play together. Mrs. Foster doesn’t seem to notice or care. She doesn’t call on Soda a single time that year, even when he does know the answer.

She also doesn’t like that Sodapop writes with his left hand. By the time he gets to third grade, he flinches and corrects himself every time he goes to pick up his pencil. He hopes this’ll solve the problem, but it never does.

Soda struggles the whole year. Steve doesn’t, and when Soda asks when his birthday is—he always needs to know, he needs to be able to sing happy birthday to all of his friends—Steve tells him he was born in April, the same year as Soda. Soda tells him how he can’t find a single pattern proving why he’s dumb, ‘cause age doesn’t seem to matter. Sherri aka Cherry is younger than him but smarter. She went to preschool. Johnny’s younger too, but he didn’t. Steve’s older and smarter but he tells Soda that he didn’t do preschool either.

“I did kindergarten twice, though,” Steve tells him. “Well, the first couple weeks anyway. Mom and Dad wanted me to start school when I was five but then I had to not do the whole year ‘cause my mom got sick and we were too busy and then she died so I stayed home with Dad. I did kindergarten the next year when I was six. Now I got friends in third grade and in second grade.”

They agree that Soda’s going to be Steve’s best second-grade friend. They trade that little red car back and forth and Soda still can’t read very well but he’s better at it now—Mrs. Larkin worked extra hard with him after Miss Luft left to make sure he knew his letters and sounds.

Mrs. Foster doesn’t seem to care, because she pretends he doesn’t exist. It’s a miracle Sodapop gets to third grade.

But it doesn’t matter. School doesn’t matter. Over time Soda just starts to remind himself that he has Steve, and Steve is smart, he’ll help him. Soda will get through this. Sure, after third grade Johnny gets held back, and it’s only a matter of time until Sodapop has to repeat a grade too, but… but he’ll be okay. He will. Someday a switch will go off and his brain will work right and he’ll be able to do it. He hasn’t failed yet, that has to mean something, right?

He hasn’t failed yet but no one has noticed he struggles, not his teachers, not his friends, no one. Maybe Miss Luft, but he’ll never see her again. He hopes she still thinks he’s capable. He had written in the book their class made for her that his favorite thing about her was that she believed in him.

As he gets older, he wonders if she even remembers his name.

But then again, he spends every weeknight crying at the kitchen table, physically unable to get past the first question on his homework sheets. In fourth grade Mama starts clearing everything off the table to help him focus, but he picks at the crumbs left behind from last night’s dinner, peels up the dried finger-paint Pony splattered everywhere, sits and rocks back and forth with each tick of the clock.

And every day after about an hour of making up little songs and fiddling on his paper until it’s spotted with holes, he starts crying, because he can’t bring himself to do his homework. And then Pony’s in school, finishing his homework before him, and Pony is just as much of a daydreamer, so that kind of stings. Darry has seven different classes to do homework for, on top of football practice, but he gets all his work done before Soda’s even started. His mom tries to help but it makes him cry even harder, ‘cause she doesn’t get it, it’s not about the homework it’s about his brain. It’s about Soda’s brain not working like everyone thinks it should.

It’s about his big, dumb, broken brain.

Johnny can’t read either, but he can focus, he can control his emotions and not cry or scream or stomp his feet at every little sound or touch, or overreact to things that aren’t a big deal at all, he doesn’t start throwing throngs off his desk when he’s mad, and he always has a reason why he does things. Steve can’t control his mouth or pay attention, but he can read and always turns in his homework on time. Keith never does his homework ever but he’s practically a genius compared to Sodapop.

Ponyboy brings home his first-ever spelling test and their mom sticks it on the fridge with a magnet.

That bright-red 100% is going to haunt Soda’s dreams.

Every night Dad gets home at 6:00 to find Soda still sitting at the table, eyes red and puffy, and tears staining his homework and the table. He chides him for the new mark Soda’s left in the table’s surface from digging the eraser-end of his pencil into it. Soda deflates, he didn’t mean to do that, it’s just—what else is he supposed to do? He’s not allowed to get up until his homework’s done.

Darrel Curtis Sr. is a loving father and a very easy-going guy, until he’s standing there over Soda’s shoulder holding his hand—his left hand, which Soda’s grateful for but also it feels so wrong after his experience in third grade—forcing him to write in the answers because he just doesn’t get that writing it is only part of the problem. His dad loves him, he’s gentle with his touch but every inch of Soda’s skin feels like it’s on fire when his dad makes him write.

It’s not his dad’s fault, but Darrel Sr. is only human, and he hates yelling at his kids, but he has to raise his voice to try to get Sodapop to hear him above his scream-crying because it’s the only way to help him learn.

Sometime when Soda’s in seventh grade, Ponyboy asks him what his problem is. Homework’s not that bad.

“I don’t like it anymore than you do, Soda, but I just don’t think it’s worth crying over, you dig?”

Soda throws his pencil at his brother, slams his history book shut, and walks out the back door. Ponyboy watches in confusion. When their mom comes in to check on them, he tells her Sodapop’s overreacting again.

Dally, who had moved away after third grade to New York but came back just in time to start seventh grade with Soda, finds him at the Pershing Park playground sitting on the swings. It’s where Soda ends up when he’s hopelessly overwhelmed by homework, or when the thought of school looms over him like a cartoon anvil. Something about pumping his legs and willing the swing to take him higher and higher takes away the sick feeling that the idea of popcorn reading Shakespeare in his fifth period English class gives him. Dally asks him if he wants to find something better to do, and a few hours later they wind up back at the Curtis house with busted knuckles and the beginnings of black eyes and they pour grease into Soda’s hair and grin at each other.

When Sodapop is sixteen years old, a sophomore in high school, his father finds him sitting at that same kitchen table, staring down over an assignment that’s asking him to write a thousand-word essay and Soda turns to his dad wordlessly, his throat is closing up, and his dad tells him to breathe.

But he can’t. He can’t. He’s going to be sick, he might actually throw up. He feels like he’s being stabbed in the chest. One thousand words. Sodapop can’t even count that high. He can’t even read Dr. Seuss. He can’t do this anymore.

“Dad, I want to drop out.”

“Aw, Pepsi-Cola,” his dad says gently that night, brushing Soda’s hair back and then pulling him into a hug, “I know you do. I’ve been talkin’ to your mother about it. We got the paperwork from the school. But I think you should think about it a little longer, alright?”

Soda agrees to try and finish out the year. His dad gets it.

His dad spent ten years listening to Soda cry over homework. His dad never called him dumb. His mom did what she could. But the only person in all his years of school who Soda ever knew really believed in him was Miss Luft, and she never came back.

He thinks maybe if he had more teachers like her, who believed in him and gave him extra help and supported him along the way, if there was something—something that made it so they had to listen to him, had to help him, had to accept that it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t read right, couldn’t focus, couldn’t control his mood swings or emotions or his volcano of a mouth… maybe he could’ve done better. Maybe if Mrs. Foster had let him write with his left hand, he could’ve figured it out.

Soda hopes one day they figure out what makes kids like him tick. What makes them struggle. He hopes one day that their schools will decide to help.

A few months after he talks to his dad, Sodapop finds the signed paperwork in his dad’s desk drawer. His parents have just been buried, and Soda can’t stop crying at the drop of a pin. He’s been skipping all his classes, but none of his teachers seem to care. It’s fine. He’s dumb anyway, a lost cause. They’ll just keep passing him up to the next grade without batting an eye at the fact that he never gets higher than a D+, no matter how hard he tries.

Sodapop will always be that one student who slips through the cracks.

He looks over the form to drop out. He figures the school will take it, if he pitches it to them as a last-will kind of situation. He doesn’t even need to ask Darry to give the okay, because Dad signed it months ago, like he had already known the decision Sodapop would make.

And he did. It’s dated that same night Soda sat at the kitchen table feeling like the world was ending and like he was dying because of a goddamn required word count.

But he knows Miss Luft believes in him, and he knows what his dad wanted, so he finishes out the school year—passes Gym and Auto Shop, too.

Soda hopes he made them proud. And now, he’ll never have to worry about explaining the dried tears on his spelling homework ever again.

[justaz]

lance who always wanted to be a fighter pilot would NEVER be a farmer and we can throw hands if you disagree. anyways au time. allurance happens or doesn’t happen doesn’t matter but they aren’t together now. allura is queen of new altea with her advisor coran and close “friend” romelle. shiro is retired on earth w his husband adam. pidge also stays on earth and works with her parents on advancing earth’s technology. when they make breakthroughs, they relay it to matt when he pops by earth and then he takes it up into space to the rebellion who spreads it to planets that are behind on the galactic scale. hunk travels planet to planet with his moms and they connects all these different cultures and essentially does what he does in canon.

keith sort of takes over the blade and (since the war is over) turns it from a hidden rebellion group to a public aid and relief organization. they go planet to planet and help rebuild the worlds as much as they can. lance is on earth with his family but is Torn. he longed to be a fighter pilot since he was a kid, but being in space was almost unbearable bc of how bad he wanted to come home. when keith is visiting earth and talking about his travels to different planets, theres this flash of envy within lance and he comments about it. bada bing bada boom lance is joining keith into space once he leaves (he really has no idea how he gets into these things). he tells his family who are hesitant but ultimately supportive.

lance joins keith with the blade and finds himself greatly enjoying his time back up in space. he isn’t sure why until he mentions that he forgot something back of earth and keith asks if he wants to go back and grab it. lance has a choice now. he can go home if he wished and he can go up in space if he asked. when they were all kidnapped by the blue lion and jumped thru a wormhole, lance hadn’t been expecting staying up in space, away from his family, for years. the last bit of unease in lance settles and he thoroughly enjoys his time with the blade. by the time he’s set to go home, he barely even noticed time passing but he’s glad to be back.

he happens to return right as summer kicks off and he joins his family down in varadero. by the time august rolls around, he’s growing antsy again and staring up at the night sky with longing. his parents join him one night and encourage him to chase his dreams, to make younger him proud. lance says he doesn’t want to be away from his family like last time. they reassure him he won’t and point out how he could come home whenever he wished.

lance now spends end of august to beginning of june in space with keith helping planets, then june to august with his family on earth. its a good balance and makes everyone quite happy. eventually, keith starts to spend a bit more time on earth. he stops by toward the end of july and happens to catch lance’s birthday but that’s definitely purely a coincidence. keith spends a week in the states with shiro and adam then a couple of days with pidge and her family before going back down to cuba to spend the rest of august with lance before they fly back out.

rachel is the first to notice when lance and keith begin to share a bed when he stays. his mother catches them wrestling out in the water and chuckles to herself. veronica watches their hands linger against one another while doing the dishes after a family dinner that keith had attended.

its not long before keith’s time on earth extends until he’s practically following lance’s schedule. it’s not a surprise to anyone when marco walks in on lance and keith making out. he accepts responsibility as he did not knock before entering. his father had instructed them all to do so. thats on him.

[greenrow]

Kiss it better

Lance and Keith are officially a couple and everything should be great! ... So why are the thoughts in Lance's head so loud?

Notes: let it be known that this is a birthday present and an adaptation for @herodzn

This comic

Also read on ao3 here

Lying on his back, Lance looked at the ceiling. Its white color blinding him slightly. He closed his eyes. Hearing how Keith shuffled nearby. Opening his eyes just enough, Lance observed Keith’s movements. He placed his guitar against the wall. Unlike Keith’s warm toned walls, Lance’s were cool toned and bare, disregarding a few posters hung haphazardly next to his table. Shedding off his jacket, Keith threw it onto the bed, its leather fabric crinkling and looking strangely blended with Lance’s blue bed sheets. And, finally, he sat on the foot of the bed, sliding down so that he could sit on the floor. With his legs pulled comfortably to his chest, he saw how Keith started to look around his room. He couldn’t help but laugh. He had been to his room countless of times. They have hang out in this room more times than he can count.

Closing his eyes again, Lance relaxed onto the pillow under his head and onto the bean bag he had claimed after they arrived from their work project.

He tried to enjoy the quietness that surrounded them. Peaceful. Their week had been quite chaotic with all the assignments they had and with the hangout sessions they had with everyone else. Loving. He couldn’t really add anything else to it. Being with Keith was just lovely. Like a pleasant dream he didn’t want to wake up from. His mind started to wonder. If being with Keith felt like this, then wouldn’t that mean that their perceived feeling were also a fantasy? Wouldn’t Keith grow bored of being in this dream with him? Wouldn’t he get annoyed at him?

Before he could stop himself, Lance called out to Keith.

“Hey, Keith?”

He hesitated for a second. Taking a shallow breath.

In and out.

“You like me right?”

Even without looking, he could picture Keith’s expression. Bewildered. Confused. Maybe even hurt.

“What-”, Keith tried to question. What a weird question to ask.

Lance interrupted him, almost stumbling over himself.

“Like…”

Deep breaths. Lance repeated in his mind.

He opened his eyes. Deep breaths.

In and out.

“Do you have feelings for me?”

In and out.

Keith stared at him, his expression completely blank. Well, maybe not completely blank. He could see how his eyebrows raised. Confused. Where had this come from? In a very matter of fact tone, he called out his name.

“Lance…”

Lance wanted to die. How could his name sound so precious coming from Keith’s mouth?

“We’re dating.”

No hesitation. They were in fact dating.

“Of course, I do?”

A question.

Lance closed his eyes. Keith’s eyes on him felt almost painful. He couldn’t look back. Not now.

“Right, right… I guess I-”

Deep breaths.

In and out.

Curling into himself, Lance puts some distance between them.

“I… get scared you might reevaluate those feelings…”

His voice became quiet, almost trembling. He hated how he sounded. Why did he have to bring this up now? He opened his eyes catching a glimpse of Keith’s face. He looked concerned. Sad. Lance averted his eyes.

In and out.

“Why would I?” Keith leaned forward, breaching the security distance he had put between them. Flinching when he felt Keith put a gentle hand on his knee. A loving encouragement to bring the truth out of him. With only a few movements, he was able to pull the words that formed a knot in his throat. Still looking away, Lance swallowed dryly.

“Y’know I can be a lot sometimes…”

Deep breaths.

In and out.

He took a sneak glance at Keith. He had furrowed eyebrows, clearly taken aback. Lance didn’t like that look on his face, much less being the reason behind it. He looked away once again.

“You’re not a lot, Lance.”

Keith did not hesitate. He sounded so sure, like this was the most obvious truth to ever exist. And, maybe, just maybe, it really was. Lance could hear the soft smile on his voice.

At times like these, Lance remembered how Keith used to be. Such a hotheaded guy. One that didn’t spare a single glance or thought to those around him, especially if Shiro was there. He remembered how they used to clash. Always fighting, bickering. God, he used to find Keith so insufferable back then. If it hadn’t been for Pidge, Hank and Shiro’s persistence, and for professor Coran’s insistence in them working together every single time there were group projects (which were most of the time, mind you), Lance didn’t believe they would become such good friends. The perfect partners in crime. Let alone dating.

Keith shifted, now closer. With his personal space starting to be intruded, Lance’s breath hitched, surprised. Still refusing to look at his boyfriend, he kept himself closed off, arms hugging his torso. He was trying to hide. If he was as still as possible, as small as possible, Keith might back off. *Might leave*. Oh. He didn’t want that. Never *that*.

Deep breaths, Lance. Deep breaths.

In and out.

In and out.

In and—

He felt a gentle touch on his cheek. Lance had to fight, really hard, to not just melt into the touch. Keith always did this. Touch him so softly. So preciously. He wanted to cry. Tenderly, Keith turned his face towards him. Eyes drinking every feature on his face, Keith smiled.

Was Keith always this pretty? His faced felt warmer. Yes. Yes, he was.

“I love you for you.”

Keith whispered. Like it was a secret, the most cherished one.

Lance definitely wanted to cry now.

“I uh…Pssh—” Lance looked all around his room. His bed as a good place, for now. “You- I uh…” He retreated more into himself. Shyly turning his head in a different direction making sure to still be within Keith’s warmed hand. “I mean, really?”

A beat passed. Then another. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Lance looked back at Keith.

Oh, so that’s why.

Keith was just staring at him. Lovingly so, he’d like to add. Lance stared back. He allowed himself to finally melt into Keith’s hand. He leaned forward when he felt how Keith pulled him in. Still giving him a chance to back away if he so wished. He didn’t.

They kissed. They talked in a way words could never. Words they never found. And so, they kissed.

And for now, all of Lance’s insecurities felt insignificant. Fell quiet.

It was just him and Keith.

And because of that, he was ok.

He breathed him in.

In and out.

He was happy. Safe. Loved.

[soadscrawl]

none of the garrison trio knows when keiths birthday is for a long time and keith gets hunk to do stupid menial tasks he doesnt wanna do by going "but hunk its my birthday :(((" and hunk feels too bad and does it everytime despite the fact that he does it like once a week because what if it IS actually his birthday this time!!!!

[jenni41arts]

Keith Birthday Week Piece 3: Klance Dancing

Lance took Keith dancing for his birthday

[paladinspride]

Voltron Fandom,

Are we doing anything for Keith's birthday? Is there a week or anything coming?

[soulreapin]

happy valentine’s day klancers here’s our favorite tragedy getting to be happy for once. xoxo soul

—

Keith wakes up to the sharp, pungent smell of roses in his nose.

That’s not always as alarming as it is right now, sometimes Lance gets flowers from the farmer’s market and sets them in delicate clear vases all over their apartment (Keith will always hate the smell of daffodils), but the farmer’s market hadn’t been in town for a number of weeks.

He sits up in bed, pushing the red flannel comforter down from where it was safely tucked up underneath his chin and looks around wildly. Their comfortable bedroom has a vase of red roses on every surface, even on the vanity tucked in the crook between the wall and the door of their ensuite bathroom.

They look fresh, vibrant and sweet in the low light.

He glances to his side and Lance’s side of the bed is noticeably empty. That should’ve been clue number one that something was up, not the smell of roses, but apparently it hadn’t been long enough since his time in the desert that waking up with his arms wrapped around himself and his knees tucked into the crook of his chin wasn’t considered abnormal yet.

A splay of his palm against the sheets tells him Lance has been up for some time. Something ugly and foreign squeezes itself around his heart, but Keith, under any circumstance, does not give himself time to figure out what it is and slides out of bed, stepping into his red lion slippers and following the apparent trail of red rose petals on their usually pristine wooden floor.

His slippers scuff on the wood as Keith trails down the short hallway into their living room, and if he thought their bedroom was bad, this is catastrophic. Floral arrangements sit large and pretty on their dining table, on their kitchen counters, on the coffee table where instead of fake fruit they set their feet in the middle.

Varying shades of red and pink and white flourish in the home Keith worked so hard to build for him and Lance, the life they hold on to with tight grips and locked elbows decorated with pretty scalloped petals and white lace keeping them all standing at attention.

On the center of their dining room table, where there are pencil marks thoroughly worn into the wood from hours doing homework for Lance to get his masters, are several fake candles set up around a red envelope, and from this distance Keith can’t tell if it’s sealed with wax or not, but he’d bet his braid that it was.

As Keith is walking over to the envelope, he panics. “What did I forget? Our anniversary isn’t until October, his birthday is in July, it’s February—oh. It’s February.”

He reaches the letter at the same time he has the realization. Today is February 14th, it’s Valentine’s Day, and Keith did not forget. There are reservations in his name tonight for their favorite mexican restaurant, the one Lance picked himself because it tasted the most like home, and he’s got a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a hand-written card tucked into the back of their closet because he knows Lance doesn’t look back there.

So he picks up the envelope with steady fingers, pops open the definite wax seal and before he can judge it, presses a kiss to the cold wax with the reminder that Lance’s careful hands had poured and pressed it into a heart shape, and slides a thin, white paper card out of the envelope.

In Lance’s scraggly, all-caps looking handwriting, he’s written, ‘good morning, keithy cat! happy valentines day. i know you freaked this morning when you saw all the flowers. mad i missed it. anyways i didn’t have to go into work like you were thinking. you’re going looking for me but because im SO GRACIOUS and an AMAZING HUSBAND ill give you your first one free, go down to nightsky florals. love, loverboy,’

Despite it all, it brings a small smile to Keith’s face. He folds the note delicately and tucks it back into the envelope, deciding to leave the battery-powered candles running.

“Damn you, Lance,” Keith mutters, but trudges back to their room and changes into simple, loose-fitting Lucky jeans and a red sweater. ‘Tis the season, and all that.

–

A small bell rings over Keith’s head as he pushes the door open to Night Sky florals. Shiro must have installed that after he went off to college, but the rest of the shop was still the same. Wooden bins of flowers sit on racks going all the way up to the ceiling, there are displays in the center with red roses and assorted bouquets on them, and greenery climbs up the sides of the racks and up the counter near the back of the room.

It’s light and homey. Keith spent a lot of time in Night Sky florals, sitting behind the counter and doing his AP Lit homework, staring daggers at To Kill a Mockingbird and scribbling down Quizlet-approved bullshit answers.

Now, Shiro is sitting on a stool behind the counter, assembling a small array of red roses, baby’s breath, and camelias. He looks up and sees Keith standing in the doorway, “Hey, kid!”

“Hi, Shiro,” Keith grumbles, smiling despite himself, skirting around the center displays to get to the counter, “How’ve you been?”

“You were at my house for dinner a week ago.” Shiro stands up and comes out from behind the counter to wrap Keith in a hug that basically breaks every rib in his body and eliminates a need for a chiropractor. “I think you know how I’ve been.”

Keith shrugs in his hold and hugs him back, “I don’t know, it might have changed in the week I haven’t seen you. Forgive me for caring about my brother.���

After a few more bone-crushing seconds, Keith is let go and allowed to expand his lungs to full capacity again. Shiro tosses over his shoulder as he turns away, “Denied. Back to the desert with you, creature.”

“You’re so odd,” Keith shakes his head and picks at a piece of stray fuzz on the sleeve of his sweater, “I was here for something. Lance sent me here. Is there something here for me?”

Shiro’s face lights up and he disappears off into the back. “He stopped by this morning! This is so cute, Keith I almost kind of hate it, I’m so glad you guys are happy together—aha! Found you, fucker.”

“I’m almost a little nervous about it,” he admits, “Like, he’s doing this for me, what if dinner and chocolates and a card isn’t enough?”

Something clatters to the ground in the back and Shiro reappears holding another red envelope with a pressed wax seal and a small, thin piece of paper. “Keith, I promise you, if you got him a pair of socks and a bag of cherry cordial Hershey’s Kisses, he’d love you forever.”

He accepts the letter and the small piece of paper, his face screwed up, “Those are absolutely disgusting, they taste like cough syrup. The peppermint ones are so much better.”

“Cough syrup aside,” Shiro comments, shaking his head like he can’t believe Keith has a correct opinion, “You know what I meant. He’s happy just having you.”

Keith sighs, a little dejectedly, and slides his thumbnail beneath the wax circle.

It reads, ‘congrats, keefers, you made it! this is the place we met for the first time. i bet you remember it. i came in to get funeral flowers for hunks robot and you insulted me various times all while giving me the most beautiful flowers i had ever seen. i thought you were beautiful too with your shitty ponytail and your silly looking apron. you had a pansy tucked into the pocket i think. ‘

“It was a rose.” Keith says, out loud, without even meaning to.

Shiro glances up from his bouquet in progress, “Congratulations?”

“No, um,” Suddenly embarrassed, Keith scratches the back of his neck, “The day I met Lance here, I had a red rose tucked into my apron. He said it was a pansy.”

“Are you blushing?” Shiro exclaims.

“Shut up, Shiro, go back to your flowers. In the time you’ve spent insulting me three more people have either died or gotten engaged and you are holding them back from their floral arrangements,” Keith sasses, looking back down at the letter.

‘whatever it was i thought it was really cute. im glad we ran into each other that day. rip hunk but if his robot hadn’t died i wouldnt have married this beefcake so who really won here (me its me i won). anyways. the little white paper shiro should’ve handed you will give you a little clue as to where to go next. love, lancelot.’

He slides the letter back into the envelope and flips the small paper over. On it are two dragons intertwined, one small and red and the other bigger, black, and missing its right wing. Keith knows this image; this image sits squarely over his spine.

“So, where are you off to next?” Shiro asks casually.

Keith glances up at Shiro, missing his right arm, and offers a small smile. “Ocean Waves Tattoo Parlor.”

“That’s right across the street from us–oh, that’s where Lance used to work when you two met, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I’d better be off now. I’ll see you for dinner next Wednesday?” Keith starts to move around the store, picking flowers out of bins and collecting them in his right hand.

“Same day, same time,” Shiro confirms, “Adam’s making pasta salad, I think–what are you doing?”

Keith has gathered a full bundle of red roses, pink carnations, greenery, and forget-me-nots. He drops a handful of cash onto the counter that seems like a vague approximation of what the total should be and waves goodbye, hurrying out of the shop before Shiro can throw his money back at him or realize Keith had probably underpaid.

—

After his brief stop at Night Sky Florals, Keith went to two more places. Ocean Wave Tattoo Parlor, where Lance used to work and coincidentally where he got his back piece done in Lance’s chair, the ice cream shop where they went on their first date to receive another letter from Romelle, and even at the library on the other side of town where Keith had dedicated hours of his life to helping Lance review for a final (that he passed with flying colors).

He ends up at Fortune Coffee House, their favorite spot to grab a drink or a muffin and just eat breakfast together before they go their separate ways. Keith had stopped at home first and dug the card and chocolates out from the back of the closet, since he had a feeling he’d be seeing Lance here, as this was supposedly the last location.

The door creaks closed behind Keith as he steps into the warm air of the coffee shop, a floor-to-ceiling shelving unit cordoning off the counter from the rest of the shop. Fortune Coffee House is decorated in warm shades of brown and cream, reminiscent of Keith’s college days.

“Welcome in–Keith Akira Kogane, where have you fucking been?” Pidge yells from behind the counter, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Right. Pidge Holt, Keith and Lance’s oldest shared friend, had ended up with a job at Fortune Coffee House, and Keith had been neglecting going out for a beer with her, Hunk, and Lance. Copyediting kept him busy, what can he say?

He sighs and walks up to the counter, flowers, card, and chocolate all balancing very precariously in the crook of one arm. “Hi, Pidge.”

“Don’t hi, Pidge me, you dirty fucker. I missed you!” If she could, Keith would bet every dime he had that she’d throw her pen at him. “Your hair is longer.”

Automatically, his hand shoots up to fidget with the end of his braid. She’s right, it has gotten a little longer, the tail now dangling over his heart instead of at his collar. “I guess it is. What’s new with you?”

“I got into AST.” She says nonchalantly, looking up at Keith with a devious grin.

“That’s great—holy shit, that’s great!”

AST, or Altea State Tech, was the best college in the entire area if you wanted to work on rockets one day, which Pidge did. Her grin is so bright, it blinds him a little, but he leans over the bar and wraps his free arm around her shoulders in an awkward hug.

“I know, isn’t it?” She gushes. “I start in September in the astronautical engineering program, the one Matt did, it’s going to be so, so great!”

“You’ve gotta tell me everything once you start,” Keith says when he pulls back, shifting all of his items between arms, “Has Lance stopped in today?”

“Basically used an entire giftcard stress-drinking iced green teas. He’s been here since eleven, so not very long.” Pidge snorts and picks up her mug with some silly science joke on it, taking a sip of whatever she’s concocted now. “I think he might’ve worn a hole in the floor. Same table as usual.”

“Oh, great,” an exhale rushes out of Keith’s chest, “Can I get a—”

“No, shut up. On the house.” Pidge points at an admittedly very large sign that says, Coming in with a special someone? Your first drink is on us!

“Well, I tried. Seeya, Pidgie. Have fun at AST.” Before Keith leaves, he drops a five dollar bill into the tip jar and slides between tables to get to the second, library-like room.

Fortune Coffee House had two spaces, the actual coffee bar and a second room with tables, an assortment of armchairs, and couches for studying, worship, or just to chat quietly. Keith slips through the doorframe and sees Lance sitting in his usual armchair, tucked into the alcove created by two windows. An empty plastic cup sits on the low table behind them.

Lance looks just as beautiful as the day Keith met him. His hair is longer and curlier, better taken care of, and freckles make their homes loud and proud across his face, but the Pacific ocean that sloshes around his pupils never changed, nor did the tilt of his smile or the slight scrunch of his nose when he laughed. Keith has kissed that scrunch on several occasions, to no fault of his own.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, blue,” Keith says as he approaches Lance, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “Got these for you.”

“Keithalicous, Keith, god, you scared me!” Lance exclaims but accepts both the kiss and the gifts he’s handed, running a gentle finger over the rose petals. “Did you get here okay?”

Keith thinks back on all the running around he’s done today and can’t tamp down the laugh. “As okay as I could’ve been. I liked the little game you sent me on. It was nice to go back to St. Taffy’s. Romelle still works there, yaknow?”

“I was just there this morning, goober.” Lance reminds him gently, setting the flowers and the chocolate on the table, working on opening the card. “I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure.”

He remembers what’s written in the card. It was written late at night when Keith couldn’t sleep and instead spent precious minutes watching Lance’s sleeping face shift. “Right, yeah, ‘course, ah, I knew that.”

“Wow, did your code just stop working?” Lance jokes as he finally gets the sealed white envelope open (it was spit-sealed, Keith didn’t fuck with wax,) and pulls out the card.

Keith had found it months ago. It was a deep green and pictured a featureless white deer, standing small amongst towering trees. He found it pretty, and by the way Lance traced a reverent finger over the spiny branches of the trees, he did too.

The card itself wasn't a problem. It was what was written inside the card, or more rather, how much was written inside the card. Keith had used every available inch of space from the top edge of the right side to where the small inscription was on the left.

While Lance reads, Keith pulls at a loose thread in his sweater. It pools in his hand by the time Lance glances up at Keith and slowly folds the card shut. His crystal-clear eyes are glassy and wet with tears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shut up,” Lance cuts in, “Shut all the way up. You’re such a gifted fucking writer, oh my god. That was beautiful. I love you too, Keithers.”

His hammering chest eases up and is replaced with birdsong and unbridled joy. “I’m glad. Did you…have a favorite part?”

Lance pauses, “Hm. I think it might’ve been ‘The stars could love me and the moon could cry for me, but I’d still choose you. Every time.’ Or ‘You are my north star over the ocean guiding me home and there is nowhere I would rather tilt my chin than up to your light.’ I told you, Keith, you’re a brilliant fucking writer.”

Keith doesn’t respond, but he does reach across and link Lance’s hand up with his. Lance tightens his grip, the gold metal of his rings digging into Keith’s fingers, and pulls Keith forward into a kiss that he wasn’t entirely sure was coffee shop appropriate.

“Can you cut that shit out? People read the Bible in here.” Pidge calls from the doorway.

“Sorry, Pidgie,” Lance says sheepishly, pulling away from Keith, “Thanks for the coffee.”

His mouth tastes like Lance’s strawberry Carmex and green tea. Keith accepts the hot strawberry mocha that’s handed to him and takes a sip, but he’s watching Lance like he’s the only star in the sky.

To Keith, he might as well be. There wasn’t room for much else in Keith’s night sky, anyways.

[xtruss]

Mount St. Helens Isn't Where It Should Be. Scientists May Finally Know Why.

The Volcano is Responsible for the Deadliest Eruption in the U.S., Yet Many Mysteries Remain About the Closely Watched Peak, Including Why it Formed in the First Place.

— By Maya Wei-Haas | Graphics By Diana Marques | Published: May 18, 2020 | September Wednesday 25, 2024

The gaping crater of Mount Saint Helens, seen here on September 5, 2019, is a reminder of the deadly volcanic blast that rocked the Pacific Northwest 40 years ago. Photograph By Amanda Lucier, The New York Times Via Redux

The frosty volcanic peaks of the Pacific Northwest stand in a remarkably straight line, rising from the crumpled landscape east of Interstate 5. But one volcano is conspicuously out of place. More than 25 miles to the west of the other explosive peaks, in the southwest corner of Washington State, sits Mount St. Helens.

It’s been 40 years since Mount St. Helens famously roared to life, sending ash and gas 15 miles high, flattening 135 square miles of forest, and killing 57 people in the country’s deadliest eruption. Today, the volcano is still one of the most dangerous in the United States, and the most active of the Cascade Range.

Where all this firepower comes from, however, has been an enduring mystery. The volcano’s defiant position out of line perches it atop a zone of rock too cold to produce the magma necessary to feed its furious blasts.

“There shouldn’t be a volcano where Mount St. Helens is,” says Seth Moran, scientist-in-charge at the U.S. Geological Survey’s Cascades Volcano Observatory in Vancouver, Washington.

Solving this puzzle is about more than satisfying geologic curiosity. The firestorm 40 years ago was a reminder of the dangers the Cascade volcanoes pose to millions of people—and a hard shove propelling volcanology into the future. In the decades since, scientists have used the extensive observations of that blast to better understand eruptions around the world, and bolster our readiness for those yet to come.

© NGP, Content may not reflect National Geographic's current map policy. Source: USGS

“This was a fundamental leap forward in our understanding of this style of eruption,” says Janine Krippner, a volcanologist with Smithsonian’s Global Volcanism Program.

Crucially, a more detailed view of the volcano’s inner workings could help researchers better track the shudders and shifts that foreshadow an eruption, potentially helping to hone volcanic forecasts and get people out of harm’s way.

Four decades after Mount St. Helens’ eruption, scientists finally are unearthing some clues to its curious position. In one of the most comprehensive efforts to trace a volcano’s roots, the Imaging Magma Under St. Helens project, or iMUSH for short, used a slew of analyses to bring these subterranean secrets to light. Overall, the volcano doesn’t follow the textbook picture of a peak sitting above a chamber of molten rock. Instead, it seems, a diffuse cloud of partially molten blobs lingers deep below the surface, offset to the east of the edifice, toward the neighboring Mount Adams.

A column of searing ash and gas rises from Mount St. Helens on May 18, 1980, seen here from the southwest. Less than two weeks after the eruption, some of this volcanic ash had drifted all the way around the world. Photograph By Corbis Via Getty Images

View From The Sky

On the crisp, clear morning of May 18, 1980, geologists Dorothy and Keith Stoffel were soaking up glorious views of Mount St. Helens from the air. As a special treat for Dorothy’s upcoming 31st birthday, the pair had secured permission from the USGS to charter a flight over the volcano. It had been rumbling for nearly two months, but the mountain was almost tranquil early that Sunday. When Dorothy called the USGS to check if the flight was a go, she was told: “Come on over, there’s nothing happening here.”

Usually covered in snow and glaciers, Mount St. Helen’s white flanks had been blackened by the volcano’s recent burbles. The pair snapped pictures of the symmetrical peak from the windows of the Cessna 182. “It was so calm and serene, I almost felt a sense of disappointment,” Dorothy recalls. “In my mind, I thought, Oh, the mountain’s become dormant again.”

A swollen bulge that protruded from its northern flank was one of the few visual reminders of its active state. Since late March of that year, the bulge had grown six and a half feet each day. As the Stoffels flew by, Dorothy spotted glistening white tracks of melted ice rolling down the volcano’s ashen face, a sign of the intense heat just below the surface. The plane then looped across the sky, eventually making two passes over the volcano’s crater.

At 8:30 a.m., they decided to make one last arc heading east above the bulge. That was when the volcano suddenly unraveled.

Faster than they could comprehend what was happening, a crack more than a mile long split the mountain, and the north side collapsed in the largest landslide ever recorded above water. The pair continued snapping images as the ground seemed to liquify, and more than 0.6 cubic miles of material—enough to fill a million Olympic swimming pools—churned downslope.

“As a geologist, you expect volcanoes to erupt,” Dorothy says. “You do not expect mountains to instantly fall apart.”

“As A Geologist, You Expect Volcanoes To Erupt. You Do Not Expect Mountains To Instantly Fall Apart.”

— Dorothy Stoffel, Retired Geologist

The landslide released the pressure on the magma building below—like popping the cork of a champagne bottle—and the volcano let loose. Billowing clouds of hot rock jetted northward in a massive sideways blast, the first of its kind observed in detail. Traveling as fast as 300 miles an hour, the explosion sheared the peak off the volcano, and wreaked devastation across hundreds of square miles.

Swelling clouds from the sideways blast began to overtake the Stoffels’ plane. The pilot dropped into a nosedive to gain speed. “I really thought our lives were over,” Dorothy says. But by veering south, the trio narrowly escaped.

As they retreated, Dorothy watched the plume of searing gas and ash billow skyward, flashes of volcanic lightning illuminating the crater. For more than nine hours, the plume towered over the volcano, blanketing the region in ash and blotting out the sun.

A helicopter drops off equipment at Mount St. Helens to monitor for potential activity. The array of instruments that keep close watch on the volcano has undergone multiple upgrades since the 1980 eruption. Photograph By Adam Mosbrucker, USGS

The Stoffels’ harrowing account is a vital piece of information among the numerous observations of the explosive event recorded by both citizens and scientists. Nearly 34 miles to the east, on Mount Adams, climber John Christiansen, raised his ice ax to the sky. The air was so electric, it shocked him through his woolen mitten. Some 45 miles to the southwest, on Oregon’s Sauvie Island, artist Lucinda Parker and her husband tracked the roiling plume as their three-year-old daughter played in the sand. More than 145 miles to the east, Douglas Bird and his family were leaving for church when he spotted the approaching clouds laden with ash, unlike anything he’d seen before.

The power of the blast has echoed through generations and brought researchers from around the world to Washington State to study the volcano. The iMUSH project was, in part, born from this intense fascination.

Peering Into The Deep

Mount St. Helens is a member of the Cascadia volcanic arc, which stretches from British Columbia to Northern California. Similar to many volcanoes around the world, this simmering range is the product of a subduction zone, a tectonic collision where, in this case, a dense oceanic plate plunges beneath a more buoyant continental plate. As the slab descends, pressures and temperatures climb, and fluids percolate out of the slab, triggering the solid mantle rocks to melt. Less dense than its surroundings, this molten magma shoves its way upward through the crust, creating volcanoes.

Most of the Cascade volcanoes—and others around the world—take shape above the spots where the plunging slab descends to roughly 62 miles deep, where temperatures get high enough for magma to form. But the situation is different at Mount St. Helens. Standing tens of miles to the west of other volcanoes, the infamous peak perches a mere 42 miles above the subducting plate.

The iMUSH project kicked off in the summer of 2014 in part to try and solve this conundrum. To craft images of the subsurface, scientists can study the speed at which seismic waves travel and their path underground; it’s not unlike taking a planetary ultrasound. Battling flat tires and unmaintained dirt roads, dozens of researchers assembled to deploy a fleet of seismometers all over the volcano’s flanks.

“As Far As The Group Was Able To Do, The Kitchen Sink Got Thrown At St. Helens.”

— Seth Moran, USGS Cascades Volcano Observatory

For one part of the analysis, the researchers detonated a series of blasts and watched the waves roll in. Another set of instruments recorded every tremble around the peak—such as the rumble of ocean waves and earthquakes on the other side of the world—for two years. Other researchers tackled the system by studying the chemistry of the rocks themselves. And still more scientists used Earth’s magnetic and electric fields to map out the conductivity of the subsurface.

“As far as the group was able to do, the kitchen sink got thrown at St. Helens,” says the USGS’s Moran, who was part of the iMUSH team.

The results show that seismic waves creep along slowly in a zone east of Mount St. Helens, some 10 to 25 miles deep. Differences in minerals can influence the speed of seismic waves, but magma can be another source of this sluggishness. Perhaps rocks melt as expected near the rest of the Cascade volcanoes, the analysis suggests, but some diverts westward to squeeze through the subsurface and feed Mount St. Helens.

The story from the rocks themselves fits with this picture. By melting samples of erupted rock under a variety of conditions in the lab, the team revealed that the sticky gas-rich magmas that give Mount St. Helens eruptions their punch form at a depth similar to the proposed reservoir, says Dawnika Blatter, an experimental petrologist on the iMUSH team who works with the USGS’ California Volcano Observatory.

The surprising offset of this magma “suggests we need to look more broadly than just right below a volcano if we’re going to understand where the magma is coming from,” says Geoffrey Abers, a geophysicist at Cornell University who was part of the iMUSH seismic analyses.

After the 1980 eruption, researchers may have even caught trembles from nearby this deep melt zone, as the earth adjusted to the draining of molten rock. For nearly a year after the blast, Moran says, tremors rumbled to the southeast of the peak. Subterranean shifts in magma can produce quakes around volcanoes, so knowing whether these tremors are in fact linked to Mount St. Helens’ magma pockets could help direct future monitoring efforts.

“We’ve known that the southeastern side of St. Helens is a little bit of a weak spot in the network,” Moran says. “Having insight into reasons why earthquakes are occurring out there gives more impetus to improving that side of the volcano.”

Mount St. Helens Sits Oddly Apart From The Other Cascade Volcanoes.

Ancient scars in the subterranean landscape may explain its unusual position, directing magma along

an unexpected route.

Million years ago, tectonic plate collisions sent a plateau called Siletzia inching toward ancient North America.

62-56 Million Years Ago

As the ocean between the two landmas-ses closed, sediments from the seafloor were scraped into a heap beneath the surface and squeezed into stone. This process formed what’s known as meta-sedimentary rock.

50-44 Million Years Ago

Meta-sedimentary rock Sinking ocean crust: The metasedimentary rock may have created a weak zone in the crust that helped molten rock rise to the surface. Some 20 million years ago, a massive slug of such melt pushed its way through, crystallizing and solidifying as a batholith.

28-18 Million Years Ago.

Analyses of Mount St. Helens hint that today, the magma originates from a zone of partially molten rock to the east. The different properties of the Spirit Lake batholith and the surrounding meta-

sedimentary rocks may alter the region’s geologic stresses, guiding magma west-ward to the oddly offset volcano.

Present Day

Mt. Adams. Mt. St.Helens. Batholith Fluid Release Drives Melting of Mantle Rocks Subducting Oceanic Plate:

Diana Marques, National Geographic Staff. Source: Paul Bedrosian, USGS; Alan Levander, Rice University

Ancient Scars

The choreographer of this magmatic dance is still being debated. Many scientists see clues in the surrounding landscape, which bears scars from millions of years of tectonic jostling that could help direct the modern flow of molten rock.

A volcanic plateau known as Siletzia once sat off North America’s west coast. But Earth’s continuous tectonic shifting slowly closed the gap, and some 50 million years ago, Siletzia collided with the continent. As the ocean between the two landmasses closed, seafloor sediments were scraped into a heap beneath the surface and squeezed into stone. According to the iMUSH team, this indelible tectonic suture may lie just beneath Mount St. Helens.

The scientists sketched out structures from this merger using a method known as Magnetotellurics, which tracks the conductivity of rocks. Minerals that are carbon- and sulfur-rich, similar to those that might form from marine sediments, “light up like a Christmas tree,” says Paul Bedrosian, a geophysicist with the USGS and a member of the iMUSH team. Sure enough, just beneath Mount St. Helens, a swath of such illumination marks the region where ancient marine sediments were turned into a particular rock type called metasedimentary.

The analysis unveiled another surprise just to the east of the volcano: A vast area of low-conductivity rock sits just above where deep magma may pond. The scientists believe this rock is a slug of now-cooled magma that formed millions of years before Mount St. Helens was born.

The differences in the properties of this volcanic plug, known as a batholith, and the metasedimentary rocks of the suture zone may alter the stresses in the region and thus direct the magma flow. The batholith limits magma from rising to the east of Mount St. Helens; the metasedimentary rocks could serve as a relief valve, drawing the volcano’s sticky, viscous magma to the surface.

A dense wall of rock beneath these metasediments, also revealed by the seismic array, may actually be part of this lost landscape, providing a westward stop for the flow of magma, says Jade Crosbie, a geophysicist with the USGS in Lakewood, Colorado, and part of the iMUSH team.

Navigating a Sea of Data

While the iMUSH analyses help sharpen our view deep inside the planet, the picture remains far from complete, Moran says. “One of the general rules in geophysical imaging is the deeper you go, the less you know.”

VOLCANOES 101. About 1,500 active volcanoes can be found around the world. Learn about the major types of volcanoes, the geological process behind eruptions, and where the most destructive volcanic eruption ever witnessed occurred.

Today, the remains of Siletzia can be seen only piecemeal at the surface, partially buried by flows of now solidified lava and soils studded with trees. This leaves scientists debating where the suture zone—and its role in magmatic direction—precisely lies. To actually put your hand on Siletzia rocks, you’d have to travel tens of miles to the west of Mount St. Helens, says seismologist Eric Kiser of the University of Arizona, who was an iMUSH team member.

As the researchers continue to sort through the sea of other data from iMUSH, many more questions dance in their heads. How does the system change over time? How quickly does the magma move? How does such a vast zone of partly melted rock focus into a volcanic pinprick on the surface? Each potential answer helps shape our understanding of how and why volcanoes erupt, which can help researchers connect what happens at one volcano to the broader picture of volcanism around the world, says seismologist Helen Janiszewski of the University of Hawaii at Manoa.

Since that fateful day in 1980, Mount St. Helens has awoken multiple times, even as the population living in its shadow has grown. That confluence reinforces the need to keep close watch on this particular peak, and scientists have embraced that task.

“Mount St. Helens is being monitored really well,” Kiser says. “The USGS people, they’ve got that under control.”

[sleepy3012]

New Family: A Hello Nieghbor Fanic

Summary: Nicky gets adopted

By: Sleepy

"See ya later you goofball" Maritza said giving Nicky a hug

"See you to" Nicky said walking away from Maritza and out the school

As he walked he kept thinking of what his parents might be doing, it was almost his birthday anyways

'I wonder what they will buy or give me this year?' Nicky thought to himself

'Maybe new spy gear? Or maybe alien posters? Ot maybe new a new hat, I really need one.'

All these good thoughts made a smile on His face, that was until he got to his house.

His smile droped as he saw police cars everwhere, Parents were gathered all around with a terified expresion on each of their faces.

Nicky ran as fast as he could towards the door, officer Leslie tried to stop Nicky from entering the house but it was too late.

Nicky screamed as he witness his parents dead on the floor, there was blood all over the walls and floor, the glass windows were broken, and moslty everthing was messed up in the hallways.

Officer Leslie quickly grabed Nicky and dragged him outside were his Police car was.

He gave Nicky a hug and kept shushing him and telling him that it was okay trying to calm the boy down, but it was no use.

Nicky was in tears screaming and yelling telling everyone to leave and after a minute he started to go crazy.

He began to attack the parents that were watching, Leslie got back up and they all formed a circle around him.

Nicky made a run for it but he failed as Keith Leslie's partner handcuffed Nicky and dragged him inside the car.

Nicky kicked the seat and cursed but Leslie and his partner ignored him and drove off to the distance.

Two weeks later at the adoption center:

" We do have one boy avalible" the lady said

"Well I guess we'll take him" Theodore said with a sigh

As the Peterson Family walked down the hallway full of rooms that had kids inside

"Is he nice?" Mya asked the lady

"Somewhat like that, but he has a bit of a dirty mouth" she responded

"Whats his actulal name?" Diane asked

"His full name is Nicolas Roth" the lady responed

"Is he ugly?" Aaron asked

"Aaron!" Diane scolded " i'm so sorry mam" She said

"Its okay their just, umm..being Kids."

"Well were here" the lady said

The lady opened the door and walked the the family to Nicky

"Nicky meet the Peterson's their here to adopt you sweety" the lady said

"whatever" He said with a frown

"Well are packed?" She asked

"Yeah" He said

"Well your all good to go Nicolas" She said with a smile

They all walked towards the car, Nicky got inside the car and looked out the window to see the lady waving, and he waved back.

When they got to the house, Theodore walked and showed Nicky around the house, and told him the rules.

After that he showed him his room

"This looks like shit" Nicky said

Theodore then grabed him by the chin and forced him to look at him

Nicky felt his soul come out his body, he felt his arms shake, as sweat fell down his forehead

"You not use that language in MY house do you understand young man?" Theodore growled

"Y...y..Yes sir." Nicky said quickly

"Good, now this will be your room and I hope you enjoy your time here, I suggest some sleep, so why don't you hope onto bed and get some rest?"

"O..okay." Nicky said shivering a bit

Theodore walked out the room leaving Nicky there speachless

He walked towards the bed and jumped on it laying there stareing at the celling.

"I hope this Family doesn't get murdered like my family" Nicky said sadly

After a few minutes Diane came inside the room and saw Nicky there sleeping and drooling.

She gave a warm smile at him and gabe him a kiss on his forehead

"Welcome to the family"