#Lance: So is it a bad time to say I am also half alien? I swear I am not trying to compete or anything

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

Now thing is I am normally not that into "Lance is secret alien" aus, but once in awhile i still think about that one au someone wrote on ao3 about Lance being Lotor's son, and like can you imagine? The sheer comedy of it all? Nobody likes it especially not Lance. He is just being dragged into universe's most messiest family situation and he loathes everyone involved. Someone help he did not sign up for this

[autisticlancemcclain]

Should Lance have told the team earlier?

Yeah, probably. But he didn’t, so it was moot point. It was too late, now — at this point, he feels like it would be almost insulting.

Like, how the fuck is he supposed to say ‘hey, y’all. Y’know how we pilot a mecha mind-meld robot lion together? And we’re supposed to trust each other implicitly? Well! You see, twelve years ago, me and my dumbass sisters went on an adventure in a little moonpool we found. This pool happened to be magic, and now whenever I touch water I grow a fucking tail.’

Yeah. No.

Lance had the perfect opportunity to say something after the real life, genuine, actual occurrence of a mermaid planet he rescued came up in conversation. He could have dropped the bomb then. Hell, he could have removed a glove or something while he was down there and then at least Hunk would have seen!

But alas, Lance had been a bit preoccupied with, y’know, freeing a race of enslaved, brainwashed alien mermaids to be thinking that far ahead. He feels like he has an excuse for that one.

His excuse for his continued silence on the matter?

Well. He has anxiety. Also, he’s a chronic people-pleaser. He’s a little freaked about the reactions forthcoming for keeping such a huge secret, as well, so he feels like he’s trapped in a feedback loop from hell.

On top of that, the explanation of the mermaid incident is objectively humiliating. He can’t even blame genetics or a curse or anything. He just shares one brain cell with his sisters, and unfortunately they left it at home one night and were turned into creatures of myth.

All this is to say that yes, Lance fully understands that his current situation is 100% on him (well, 99% on him. Maria gets 1% of the blame for all eternity as jumping into the moonpool was her dumbass decision). Lance looks up to where Keith is standing, slack-jawed, towel dropped to the floor, staring at what is unmistakably a giant tail in place of Lance’s legs. He has not blinked in several minutes.

“Would you believe that you’re sleep deprived and this is a dream brought to you by your unyielding lust and thirst for my otherworldly form?” Lance tries.

“You’re a fish,” Keith breathes after several minutes of stunned silence.

Lance can’t help the haughty snoot, as ridiculous as he knows he’s being. “Half fish,” he corrects. “I am still very much half god of sexy. You know what, I don’t even have this thing —” he flips his tail, causing Keith to jump, which makes Lance smirk despite himself and the situation — “all the time, so technically I’m only a quarter fish. An eighth, maybe.”

“Why the fuck are you a fish?!”

Keith’s tone has quickly shifted from one of bewildered and unbelieving astonishment to one of alarm. Perhaps the movement startled his caveman brain.

“Perhaps your caveman brain was startled by the sudden movement,” Lance says out loud, fully aware he’s being a dick. “But I don’t believe that’s any of your business. I can be half fish if I so please, and you can’t stop me. Maybe I want to be half bird, next! Or half butterfly!”

“Lance, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Lance throws his hands up, and allows himself to feel some of the panic he feels brewing in his chest. “I don’t know! I’m stressed out! You weren’t supposed to be in here! I was supposed to be able to dry off before anyone saw me! I think I’m allowed to be a little nonsensical for a while!”

Lance can feel the burn of tears in his eyes, and is humiliated to feel himself begin to cry. Aw, man, fuck, is the mermaid thing not bad enough? Does he really have to fucking cry in front of his esteemed rival?

“Please don’t cry,” Keith says, visibly panicked.

Lance sobs, which prompts Keith to surge forward.

Keith carefully kneels down next to him, giving the tail a wide berth, and and hesitantly pats Lance on the shoulder. “Uh, there there?”

Lance wails harder. Oh, why couldn’t Hunk have found him? Or Coran? Or even Pidge! Why did he have to get stuck with the one who handles emotional people the way one might handle a particularly volatile and rabid squirrel?

“Uh, it’s all going to be good!” Keith tries again, increasingly frantic. “I’m not mad! Just a little surprised! I didn’t know you were a mermaid, so I think that’s justified a little! Sorry! Please stop sobbing!”

Despite the misery of the situation at large, Lance feels laughter bubbling up his throat. Maybe it’s hysteria, maybe it’s the overwhelming emotion. Maybe it’s the fact that Keith’s panicked face is always funny. Regardless, he knows that if he starts laughing right now, his tears and snot still running down his face, Keith will absolutely freak out and go get backup, and Lance would like to keep this clusterfuck of a situation on a need-to-know basis, thanks.

He takes a deep breath, and then another, trying to get his emotions under control.

Fine. This is fine. All he has to do is convince Keith to keep his mouth shut, and then he can continue to be devoured by guilt and plagued with the burdens of secrets for the rest of his time in space, which could be decades. All is well.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Lance begs the second he has the tears mostly under control.

“Why?” Keith responds automatically.

Lance blinks at him, incredulous.

“Uh, I mean, sure. I’ll keep your gigantic secret for you. No problem. I love lying to people, especially about the fact that mermaids exist on Earth. This is fine and good.”

Lance rolls his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “Look,” he says carefully, “this is a… perilous situation. I understand that me keeping a big secret is not great. But… I’ve grown up knowing that this is a secret that could get me killed, or hurt, or worse, even.” Lance ignores Keith’s mutter of “What the fuck is worse than killed or hurt?”, continuing on his tirade. “I’m not ashamed or anything, and it’s not that I don’t trust you guys, but this is kind of a huge deal. I’ve never had to tell anyone about this before, I don’t even know where to start. Hell, I didn’t even know if anyone would’ve believed me —”

“I would’ve,” Keith interjects. At Lance’s look of confusion, he clears his throat, glancing down. “Believed you, that is. I would’ve believed you.”

“Oh,” Lance says. He doesn’t really know what to make of that, or the weird feeling it brings him. “Thanks, I guess.” That feels inadequate, somehow, but he’s not sure how else to respond.

He coughs, running a hand down his scales. “Oh, I’m almost dry,” he comments.

Now Keith is the one looking at him in confusion.

“Watch,” Lance says, and in seconds, Lance closes his eyes as he feels the familiar, tingly feeling of his body turning back human.

When he opens them again, Keith’s jaw is dropped, and he looks almost as shocked as he did walking into the pool and seeing the… situation for the first time.

“I’m only a mermaid when I’m wet, Lance explains.

Keith snaps his jaw shut, shaking his head. “I guess it can’t get any weirder,” he says idly.

Lance snorts. “Just you wait until I tell you how I got into this stupid conundrum.”

part two

[lailyn]

Can I have another loki fic with stomach ache? Any pairing is good. Also, the fic you wrote for me earlier was amazing! Now I want more....

These Chains Around Our Hearts

Pairing: Loki/Steve Rogers

"Another war movie?"

"This one’s said to be...not bad."

“Not bad,” Loki echoed. “Not one for overselling, are you?”

“I haven’t had much luck trying to impress you with my movie choices,” Steve said. “But it did win around seven Oscars or something so...not that that’s a true indication of what makes a movie great but it’s on my bucket list and I thought we could - ”

With a tease of a smile, Loki plucked the DVD cover out of Steve’s hand; for some reason, the good captain looked flustered. "Tut-tut, Captain. I was not questioning your taste in movies nor your diligence in compiling your list of buckets.” 

“'Bridge On The River Kwai'," he read. "Sounds promising. Was this your war?”

“I’ve fought many,” Steve said, smiling faintly. “But you could say this was my first, yes. Only it was fought on a different front.”

“Then let’s watch it, shall we?” Loki asked brightly. 

“I’ll be right with you. I just need to grab a few snacks from the kitchen - ”

“But we just ate,” Loki grumbled to himself as he picked a corner to get comfortable in, making sure there was ample room on the couch for Steve when he returned. 

The pot pie Steve made for dinner had been a tad too rich and Loki felt uncomfortably full despite not having eaten very much. He listened to the sounds of Steve pottering about in the kitchen and wondered if he had any space left to fit whatever bonne bouche his host had prepared for their movie night. 

Loki had suspected from the start, back when they first started seeing each other, that Steve was one nervous entertainer. True enough, when the super soldier emerged from the kitchen, his already impressive arms were burgeoning with bags of crispy, salty things, jars of dips and cans of drinks. 

“Oh my.” Loki eyed the smorgasbord laid before him critically. “Is that all?"

"It's not enough? I could get some more - " But before Steve could make a beeline for the kitchen once more, a hand touched his wrist.

"I was teasing."

They settled into their usual seating arrangement, not too close but at a companiable distance from each other. Steve and his appetite dived face-first into the tortilla chips and dips, but Loki refused to partake, what with his stomach feeling as unsettled as it was. 

For a film made in the fifties, Loki found it quite impressive, almost believable even, if one had not lived through the dark times first-hand. 

“Did you win it?” Loki asked. “Your first war?”

Loki’s vast knowledge of the cosmos and all it contained was legendary and Steve for one knew it included Midgardian history, so there was no way this was not a trick question. “In a manner of speaking.”

“You were fighting the same war, you said. Did it look like this?” Loki pointed at the screen with his regal chin. 

“No,” Steve shuddered. After the surrender of Germany in 1945, the Allied forces’ attention shifted east, and this was a film depicting the horrors of the time.

How many of his comrades-in-arms had been taken prisoner? Forced to live in squalid conditions, ravaged by disease and starved slowly to death as they slaved away in the harsh tropical sun piecing the Railway of Death track by track?

"The Auschwitz of the East." The thousand-yard stare bruised Steve's baby blues to a dark, angry cobalt. "I don't know if I could have survived it."

"Of course you would," Loki said firmly. "If any man could, it's you." 

Steve's mind turned, uncertain if he was deserving of such high praise, especially when it came from none other than Loki, the God of Chaos himself. 

"I am familiar with the concept of war. I was Odin's war trophy after all," Loki said casually.

Steve turned his head slowly. 

"Story for another day, Captain," Loki forced a smile; he was no longer in the mood for a romantic evening, let alone a heartfelt tete-a-tete. The vague discomfort in his belly was commanding more and more of his attention by the minute. 

He laid a hand on his stomach. When it twinged again, Loki knew he was in for a long, long night. 

Steve caught Loki's sigh. "Loki?"

"I'm fine," he said gruffly.

Now showing was a scene depicting insubordination among the ranks, and by the time the Japanese sergeant had finished giving the prisoners a dressing-down and placed them in a punishment hut, the twinging in Loki's stomach had blossomed into a full-blown ache that no amount of rubbing was helping. 

Steve caught Loki's hand grabbing his waist again. "You okay?"

"I am fine, Captain."

"Are you sure?"

"I seem to have what you Midgardians call a stitch," Loki said as he kneaded his side gently, his smile wan. "It is nothing."

At being denied its existence, Loki's stomach voiced its protest in the form of a loud, whining rumble. 

"That doesn't sound like a stitch."

"You are not going to let this go, are you?"

Steve groped for the remote control that had slipped somewhere down the side of the couch. "Yeah, no. We can continue watching some other time." 

Ignoring Loki's mewl of protest, he stabbed the pause button before he stood up, gathering the uneaten snacks and drinks to clear the table.

Loki rose to help, but as soon as he did, a sudden pain lanced through his abdomen, sharper than anything he had felt tonight, and he sank back onto the couch with a gasp. 

Steve dropped everything with a crash. "Loki, what's going on?"

A tense few seconds later, the pained expression on Loki's face eased and his whole body relaxed. "Something I ate is not sitting right with me, that is all."

"Do you want some water?" 

Loki shook his head. 

"Do you feel sick?" Steve pressed.

A wince. "A little. There is a slight ache, it is more uncomfortable than painful really."

"Somehow I don't think slight means quite the same with you guys," Steve sighed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Only Steve could say something like that without sounding chastising or judgemental, only worried if not a little bit sad. 

"It was not my intention to keep anything from you, Captain," Loki said placatingly. "And I speak true, it is only a mild discomfort. Perhaps I merely overindulged."

It was evident from the look on Steve's face that he did not believe a single word Loki said. 

With a sigh, Steve patted his thigh. "Come lie down."

A flush of colour suffused Loki's cheeks. "I can't possibly."

He felt Steve lay a hand on his back, contemplated leaning into it, but the thought was obliterated by a fresh round of cramps so intense they folded him in half. 

These things happen at the worst possible time, Loki cursed silently, groaning into his knees in sheer frustration. 

Steve must have mistaken his moan for one of pain for suddenly, a strong arm enveloped Loki from behind and pull him down. 

Resist, don't give in, resi -

"Loki."

Like magic, the gentleness with which Steve said his name drained all the tension from Loki's body and sapped him of the energy to remain upright. He sagged sideways in a slump. 

Utterly mortified by his inelegant tumble into Steve's lap, Loki hid his face against a taut, well-muscled thigh. To his credit, the captain said absolutely nothing, only running a hand up and down the side of Loki's arm.

If his stomach wasn't hurting so much, Loki would have appreciated the comfort of Steve's lap much more vocally instead of trying not to be sick in it. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to get someone? Banner? Dr Cho?" 

"There is no need. I will be fine."

"What if this is something serious?" Steve patted his jacket for his mobile phone. “I should get your brother.”

“No!” Loki peered through strands of hair, which Steve tentatively brushed away. "If it were, it would have killed me already." At the aghast expression on Steve's face, he added in a hurry, "Or conversely, my healing spell would have cured it completely."

"What do you think it was?" Steve asked anxiously. "It wasn't my pie, was it?"

Loki shook his head. "No, Captain. This is just a run-of-the-mill stomachache, albeit a very irritating one. Exploring the vast diversity of Midgardian cuisine has truly been an adventure."

"Thor can eat anything."

"There is nothing my Brother can't and won't eat. I have seen Thor devour five wild boars in one sitting and that was after a light training station, imagine what he could polish off after a day's battle or two." A sullen mutter. "I am not like Thor."

"No." Steve smiled. "No, you're not. You're different."

Loki knew better than anyone all the ways in which he was different. He wondered if they matched Steve's list. "How so?"

Steve shrugged. "You were right. I like war movies. And you're the only person who'd watch them with me."

"I suppose I too am nostalgic for the olden days. Even if they were someone else's," Loki said, mirroring his companion's smile; it felt just as awkward on his face as it had looked on Steve. 

He tried to make himself comfortable but lying on his back hurt too much. With his head still in Steve's lap, Loki turned onto his side and curled into a tight ball. 

Meanwhile, Steve was beginning to fret. “What can I do?”

“Retire for the night, I suppose. I’m afraid I am not very good company at the moment.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” 

“Captain.”

“No man left behind, Loki. I’m staying.” Steve let Loki squirm against him as he tried to find the most comfortable position. “What do you need?”

“Sleep.” Loki was almost too embarrassed to admit it. “I could try walking it off, but - ”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve growled. “We’re watching a goddamn movie, not kicking some alien's ass in battle."

"I'm sorry you couldn't finish the movie," said the only alien in the room.

"It's okay. I couldn't concentrate anyway."

"Something on your mind, Captain?"

Steve shook his head. "Someone," he corrected.

"Anyone I know?" Loki asked, wanting to jest, but his intestines chose that moment to coil into knots inside him, each tighter than the one before; he could barely keep from crying out, he was in so much pain.

"I'm looking at him," Loki heard Steve say in a voice so soft it could only be a product of his muddled imagination.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the grounding warmth of Steve's body heat against his face.

The beast clawing away in his belly was not real. Steve was. Good, kind, sensitive Steve.

Steve watched in sympathy as Loki massaged his stomach gingerly. "You really don't feel good, huh."

"There was a time when I would rather face the axe than admit to something so pitiful." Loki opened his eyes a mere fraction, lest he revealed too much his pain. "But no, I do not." 

"I'm not used to seeing you like this," Steve said quietly. "You always get stomachaches this bad?"

Loki had to laugh; Steve looked so serious it was adorable. "I have survived horrors far worse than this, Captain."

"Yeah, but you kept it to yourself this long, so it must be pretty bad."

"Oh, you know me too well," Loki said sarcastically. "I must have been too engrossed in the film to notice my stomach eating itself."

Steve appeared offended. "Hey, it's based on a true story!"

"They did not blow it up in the end, you know."

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked, baffled.

"The Bridge. There were many bridges like it along River Kwai, but the rest of it?  The uprising and the sabotage? That is all fiction," Loki said flatly. "Glorious fiction."

His eyes fluttered shut with a solemness analogous to that of one burdened with bearing bad news. 

It was hardly news, was it? These people had been dead for almost a century -

"Your friends did not escape the jungles. They were all packed onto ships that took them across the sea to the Land of the Rising Sun, but your own warships mistook them for the enemy and blew them out of the water. All ten thousand of them."

"Tell me one thing. Why does telling stories come so easily to you but not this?" Steve swatted Loki's hand away and replaced it with his own, ignoring Loki's surprised gasp. "Yes, war sucked. Watching your friends die in front of you sucked. But right now I don't care about any of that. I care about you!"

Loki swallowed hard. "Captain…"

But Steve was not done giving Loki a piece of his mind.

"I want you to tell me these things," he berated, his fingers curling around the taut flesh of Loki's stomach. "I'm not good at reading you."

A sharpness cut through Loki's words, a warning in disguise. "I do not want you to."

"I couldn't if I tried," Steve said quietly. "I have brought down walls thicker than you've ever seen. But I can't see through yours." 

Loki fell into a silence so deep it left Steve wondering if he had ruined the moment beyond repair. 

"A war hero like you has no business consorting with someone like me." Loki turned his face. "I am but a prisoner, begging for scraps from you, and from everyone else in the universe."

Steve's hand stilled. Loki's thin abdomen throbbed under his palm, the pulsations picking up pace in time with the racing of the ancient heart.

"I have been in chains since the day I was born. I will not chain you to me." Loki interlaced his fingers with the ones still clasped to his stomach. "This is a momentary comfort."

"We are all prisoners here, Loki," Steve said gently. 

As all anger left him, his other hand searched for Loki's. "We don't belong to this time, but there is no escaping it." 

His thumb danced across the bony row of Loki's knuckles. "There is only living."

"Perhaps I have lived too long." 

"That is a decision only you can make," Steve said, the sadness returning to his eyes. "But I have just found you. And I want you to know that I care."

With the confession finally out of the way, Steve inhaled deeply and leaned his head back against the couch, his hand resuming its gentle kneading. It was comforting, the sensation of Loki's tight, concave abdomen giving little by little to his ministrations. 

It was not overindulgence, the cause of Loki's pain. He knew that now.

"Captain."

"Yes, Loki?"

"What exactly do you want from me?"

Steve went quiet. The answer could not be any clearer, but Loki was notoriously oblivious to any notion of sentiment, even the most obvious one. 

"You said I was your comfort. I want you to allow yourself to be mine."

Loki remained quiet for longer. When he finally spoke, his voice quaked with a timbre of hope and unbridled joy. 

"If I say yes, would you do me a courtesy and let me choose what to watch for movie night?" 

Steve laughed. "Sure. On one condition." 

“This negotiation has strayed too far off course, Capta -”

“Steve,” he interrupted, cradling Loki's face in his hands. “Call me Steve.” 

It was an offer Loki could not refuse. "Steve." 

The name tasted good on his tongue. And so did those lips. 

[mystech-master]

My FGO Servant ideas/Servants I'd expect

These are some Servant ideas that I have had since I've already asked what you guys want.

I know that the Servant has to be someone that people know for the most part, since almost every Servant is someone that everyone knows with a few exceptions.

Some spoilers for other Fate works bellow

Saber

Yagyu Jubei, the One-Eyed Samurai. I feel like his NP will be some kind of Mystic Eye under his eyepatch or something. But if they want to go super Bullshut, I could imagine him being a Pseudo-Servant of Yvette L Lehrman.

Archer

Tchaikovsky, composer of 1812 Overture. The Orchestral song featuring CANNONS! I have already made a Reddit post about it here. I am trying not to just shove people in Caster

Angelica Ainsworth, holder of the Gilgamesh Class Card in Prisma Illya. I wonder how Archer/Caster Gil would react to her, or even Enkidu. I mean we know Kid Gil isn't fond of her.

Lancer

Arachne, the Spider-Woman Weaver. Her Lance would simply be an enlarged sewing needle. She'd either be a sort of Spider- Centaur, or the Spider-Legs would be coming out of her legs. For some extra shit, she might be merged with the Japanese Spider-Yokai Jorogumo, or just reference it similar to how Galatea referenced the tsukumogami. Also, her being a woman made into a monster by Athena, Medusa might gain a new friend.

Sigma,>! Maiya Hisau's son from Fate/Strange Fake. Apparently the True Lancer of the True and False Holy Grail War!<. I really just want him in to see how he'd interact with the EMIYA family. ~~Someone give Shirou/EMIYA some guy friends!~~ Of course, we'll need to wait a long time for strange fate to finish to get him since the author doesn't like using f/sf characters for anything else atm.

Loki, god of mischief. Maybe being half-Jotunn can be a good enough justification to keep him as himself and not need to be a Pseudo. I like OSP's interpretation of a "genderfluid benevolent but mischievous Hearth Spirit who protects the home and family". Genderfluid would open up for one of Fate's many genderbends they love doing, but if they kept him male and make his character about all the kids he has, then imagine...Loki, who is a god of mischief and a dad.........Loki making dad jokes. Although I feel like they might go with the female Loki one since Fate loves Genderbends and IDk if Japan has an equivalent to dad jokes. The reason he'd be a Lancer is the spear of Mistletoe he gave to Höðr which then resulted in Baldr's death which is treated as the precursor to Ragnarok.

Rider

Jiraiya, the Gallant Ninja. It was either this, with him riding his summonable Toad (I mostly think of this video), Assassin b/c Ninja, Caster b/c of reasons covered in the video linked before and some similar videos by the same guy, and Saber with the Nakirimaru, or "wave cutting sword," used to exorcise the Snake Spirit from Orochimaru. I went with Rider so the Rock-Paper-Scissors match of Frog-Slug-Snake matches the classes of Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Orochimaru respectively.

Caster

Tsunade, the Slug Maiden. The reason is mentioned above in Jiraiya's segment.

TOHSAKA, Rin as a Counter Guardian. The closest we'll get to actual Rin on her own with no other god(dess) inhabiting her body as a servant. NP would be the Jeweled Sword Zelretch. Also, imagine Ishtar seeing the older Rin (her vessel)'s more developed body and getting pissed.

Orpheus, the musical son of Apollo. Considering one big part of his story was being so bummed about his wife dying that his music just depressed everyone, even the gods, with his bad vibes, I could imagine them making him into sort of an emo guitar player or some shit. But if that is too lame then giving his Lyre some Siren Song-esque powers might be something since during his adventures with the Argonauts, since when the sirens began to sing he "played music that was louder and more beautiful, drowning out the Sirens' bewitching songs."

Assassin

Not too sure on the spirit, hopefully a Death God, but I want a Pseudo-Servant of Kairi Sisigou. I mean a Necromancer Mercenary, TELL ME that doesn't fit. Also the possible fun interactions he can have with Mordred again, and her family and new friends.

I mentioned above, Orochimaru, with him being a Pseudo-Servant in Souichirou Kuzuki. I just needed a snake-themed servant to put him in because I know everyone wants him as a pesudo so Medea can have her husband.

Berserker

Kriemhild, wife of Siegfried. Either this or Avenger. Berserker would be the most fitting for my idea, but Avenger would also fit and most likely have cooler animations I bet. As the wiki says about her personality: "Kriemhild held a "deep‐rooted and blind love" for Siegfried, such that it's described as "passionate love that repays the murder of one’s loved one with twice the payback." Siegfried's death, rather than assuage the feud with Brunhild, caused Kriemhild to "burn with the flames of revenge."' NP being a more demonic/dark version of Balmung. I wanted her to be a sort of obsessive wife and mother to Siegfried and Sieg (I like to imagine them having a mentor-student to father-son dynamic), the family dynamics between the three would be fun to imagine.

Lycaon, the wolf king. He once tested Zeus' omniscience by serving him the roasted flesh of Lycaon's own son Nyctimus, in order to see whether Zeus was truly all-knowing. In return for these gruesome deeds, Zeus transformed Lycaon into a wolf. He'd be a pseudo for Svin Glascheit. I just needed a wolf spirit to put Svin in. I mean everyone already is imagining Berserker-Jack the Ripper using Flat as a vessel.

Magni, son of Thor. Do I even need to explain who I am using as a vessel for this Spirit?

Avenger

Pandora, the all-endowed first woman. At first, I was unsure about her class. Yes, the whole thing of Pandora's Box was made as a punishment for Prometheus stealing fire (I wonder how Fate would interpret this with the whole Age of Gods vs Age of Man thing), but as the wiki says "She was given knowledge by the gods that she had to wait until humanity perished so that she can finally open the box and release the world's true potential. Because of her immortality, Pandora suffered greatly as people unreasonably tried to kill the undying mud doll whenever they discovered she wasn't human. After so many years of suffering, Pandora began questioning on why she had to go through this for humans."

Captain Ahab, Captain of the Pequod. >!Implied to be one of Watcher's Shadows in fate/strange fake, so the reason he'd be unavailable is stated above!<. His NP would be his prosthetic leg made out of whalebone, which may give him some aquatic abilities. Or it might be the harpoon that he got tangled in which resulted in his death.

MoonCancer

Tsukuyomi, the Shinto Moon God. Using Hakuno Kishinami as a vessel. I mean combining the Admin authority from the EXTELLA's Regalia which grants him kingship of the Moon Cell with Tsukuyomi's moon god authority would be pretty cool. I know a lot of people want a Dioscuri situation where we get both male and female Hakunos but I feel like it'd be one or the other. Of course, this is only if Hakuno NEEDS a god in him. I partially Headcanon that the reason BB made Jinako a MoonCancer was as a test run for when she does it to Hakuno.

Alter Ego

Ergo, The Man Who Devoured God. From The Adventures of Lord El-Melloi. " Because of the method of creation he has several gods within him after devouring their flesh. All three gods within him, one of which is Sun Wukong, have the shared themes of "water gods" and "hands"." Having 3 gods fits man other Alter Egos haveing 3 gods in them (Sakura Five, Ashiya Douman, and Sitonai).

>!U-Olga Marie, the Alien God. The Best chance we get of having Olga back. Similar reason for being summoned as Kiara.!<

Lemme know what you guys think of my ideas and if you'd add anything to them.

[aion-rsa]

Lance Henriksen on His Career: ‘Every Job I’ve Ever Gotten Was a Gift’

https://ift.tt/39QbXna

Lance Henriksen has been one of the screen’s most distinctive character actors and overall badasses for going on 50 years. A genuine working actor who always seems to be showing up in a film or TV show, the New York-born Henriksen’s early film career featured small roles in some of the most iconic films of the 1970s, including Dog Day Afternoon, Network and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Even though his long and varied run on the big and small screen was just getting underway, he managed to work with directors like Sidney Lumet and Steven Spielberg.

He also didn’t have a clue at the time that those films would endure decades later as classics of their era.

“I had no idea,” he says while speaking to us on the phone about his latest film, Falling. “I was just grateful to have a job and do my best and try. It was a gift. Every job I’ve ever gotten, I feel it was a gift. I don’t make any bones about that. It’s just a lot of luck.”

Now at the age of 80, Henriksen is a statesman of cinema in Falling, Viggo Mortensen’s directorial debut. However, the older actor wasn’t always sure luck was going to come his come his way. His father was a merchant sailor who was away at sea most of the time. His mother, who worked as a dance instructor, a model, and a waitress, divorced Henriksen’s father when her son was just two and struggled to raise both Lance and his brother on her own. Stints in foster care and abuse at the hands of other family members followed, with Henriksen out of school after first grade and out of his home for good at 12. He didn’t learn to read until he was nearly 30 years old.

It was around that time that he began working in theater, first in set design and then eventually on the sets themselves as an actor. His first film appearance came in 1972, in the long-forgotten It Ain’t Easy for director (and future Star Trek: The Next Generation producer/writer) Maurice Hurley. Three years later, he was an FBI agent in Lumet’s Dog Day Afternoon, which got him a call from Spielberg, the red-hot young director of Jaws who was then prepping his alien contact epic, Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

In that film, Henriksen played one of the many scientists and technicians on hand for the arrival of the alien mothership and its crew.

“[Spielberg] was getting ready to shoot the mothership leaving, with all the little creatures and all the astronauts going up onto the machine,” the actor recalls now. “And I ran over and said, ‘Hey, listen, Steven, I’ve got an idea. What if I take my coat, throw it over one of these little creatures, and run into the Porta-Potties with it, so we’ve got proof, because this thing’s going to take off and disappear.’ And he looked at me and goes, ‘Lance, listen to me, that’s a different movie.’”

Following that mid-1970s run, which also included the 1978 horror sequel, Damien: Omen II, and the truly bonkers sci-fi cult film The Visitor, with John Huston and Glenn Ford, Henriksen wouldn’t see his next big break until 1982. That’s when a first-time director named James Cameron cast him in Piranha 2: The Spawning, which Cameron was shooting for exploitation producer Ovidio G. Assonitis.

“I like Jim,” says Henriksen of the man who would later go on to make game-changing, record-breaking blockbusters like Titanic and Avatar. “I met him on Piranha 2. Neither one of us liked that movie, but we did it. We had to do that movie. We weren’t supported very much by the producers…And then when the movie was done, we all went home and I remember they fired Jim the last day of shooting so that they could edit and control the movie.”

According to Henriksen, the producers of Piranha 2 took the film out of Cameron’s hands and presented their own edit to distributor Columbia Pictures, which rejected it.

Says Henriksen, “Jim took the same footage that they showed Columbia. He re-edited it and brought it back to [the studio]. And that’s the cut that released. It’s a great story. I hope it’s true.”

Cameron cast Henriksen in his next two movies, both of which turned into sci-fi/action classics: 1984’s The Terminator and 1986’s Aliens. It was in the latter film that Henriksen created the first of several iconic performances by playing the enigmatic and ultimately heroic android Bishop. Other 1980s standouts for Henriksen included Prince of the City, The Right Stuff, and Jagged Edge, while the latter half of that decade yielded lead roles in two horror cult classics, Pumpkinhead and Near Dark.

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Although Henriksen continued to work steadily in movies throughout the 1990s, 2000s and 2010s, it was a TV show that yielded perhaps his most famous character after Bishop: ex-FBI profiler and serial killer hunter Frank Black in creator Chris Carter’s nightmarish thriller series Millennium. The series was Carter’s follow-up to The X-Files and it ran for three seasons and 67 episodes on Fox from 1996 to 1999.

“I think the thing that I admired the most was when I was offered the role, I didn’t right away know it was television,” says Henriksen, who also admits that the show’s oppressive nature and the tormented psyche of his character wore on him during its three-year run. “I got to a restaurant with Chris Carter and the director. I said, ‘Let me ask you something. This is so dark. A lot of serial killers. A lot of bad people. Where’s the light going to come from?’ And all Chris Carter said to me was, ‘The yellow house.’ And then I got it right away. It was about [Black’s] family and I agreed to do it.”

Henriksen adds, “Occasionally it sucked me in,” referring to Millennium’s relentlessly grim atmosphere. “But it was a tough show. It wasn’t an easy one. It was also kind of a groundbreaker at the time, I think.” Henriksen has been quoted as saying that it took him “a year” to get out of the head of Frank Black after the show was cancelled, and has often noted that he finds it difficult to detach himself from a character after the project has finished shooting.

When it came to Falling, Henriksen says he was actually leery at first of playing Willis Peterson, the conservative and homophobic father of a middle-aged gay man named John (Mortensen, who also wrote and scored the movie). Nearing the end of his life, perpetually angry and having pushed two wives and his children away from him, Willis is perhaps the most complex role of Henriksen’s career but one which he says was exhausting to play.

“I have to tell you the minute we were wrapped and we finished the movie, I said, ‘Viggo, I’m going to disappear for a while. I got to get myself back,’” Henriksen explains. “I was a little afraid to do it. I got so deep into some of it that I got a little afraid that I’m going to get a form of Alzheimer’s of some kind–I won’t be able to shake it. But I was able to shake it. But anyway, it was intense. It really was, the stakes were very high. And we had a short time to do it. We shot it in five weeks.”

Henriksen’s relationship with Mortensen–best known to genre fans as Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings–stretches back to the 2008 Western Appaloosa, in which both men starred alongside Ed Harris. “We both love Westerns and we all enjoyed it,” says Henriksen of his first collaboration with Mortensen. “All three of us: Ed loves Westerns. He knows how to ride, he knows how to do it. It was nice to meet Viggo. He’s as good a guy as I’ve ever met. I liked him right away, really good guy.”

Nevertheless, Henriksen–a graduate of the Actors Studio and a practitioner of method acting–still wasn’t sure he wanted to play Willis when Mortensen sent him the Falling script. “It scared me,” he admits. “He said, ‘Would you do it?’ I said, ‘Sure, I’m scared, but I’ll do it.’ And then we lost the original backing and it took two years to finally get new backing, and he said, ‘You still want to do it?’ And I went, ‘Yeah.’ And he goes, ‘That didn’t sound very enthusiastic, Lance.’ I said to him, ‘The truth is, I’m going to have to visit some real dark places from my youth, my childhood, all of that, and I’m nervous.’”

In Falling, John brings Willis home to Los Angeles with him to stay with his family, including husband Eric (Terry Chen) and their adopted daughter Monica (Gabby Velis) while they look for a new home for Willis closer to John and his sister Sarah (Laura Linney). But Willis is resolutely against leaving his rural farm in heartland America, determined to stick to his sheltered lifestyle even as the onset of dementia begins to blur the past and the present in his mind.

Despite his anxiety about delving into Willis’ tortured, embittered psyche, Henriksen now imparts that participating in the film became an instant highlight of his career. “It was the best experience I’ve ever had as an actor,” he says. “The support to do it and [Mortensen’s] appreciation level and all of those things were everything that I hoped for… I have nothing but gratitude. This is maybe the best role I’ve gotten in my lifetime. I really think that.”

Those are strong words coming from an actor who has appeared in many of the definitive films of the last five decades, but Falling may well feature some of the most emotionally raw work he’s done during his lifetime in the business. “I’m grateful to be an actor,” Lance Henriksen says with sincerity. “I’m an apprentice to every new subject. It’s been my education. I’m a lucky guy, I really am.”

Falling is out in theaters, on digital, and on demand now.

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[angstalottle]

I Promised

Ah sorry @bradcel for how long this took but my part of the @langstron exchange is done.

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

One of Lance’s favourite parts of being a paladin is actually getting to go out and meet people.

With every new planet brings new cultures and new histories to learn about.

Amongst the others he’s really the only one that gets so involved in their culture on each and every planet. They usually just come for whatever it is they need then leave without learning anything.

Then again, most of them had never really been born outside of the culture they grew up in.

They had never experienced having to adapt to a new country with new rules that if you don’t learn you could end up dead.

In Cuba Lance never had to be afraid of getting a police officer.

He never had to be aware of being profiled based on the colour of his skin or the language he spoke.

The others never had to learn to adapt to survive...

Well accept for Hunk.

Lance can actually remember the first day they met and the day he fell in love with his best friend.

He had just been shoved into a locker and told to go back to Mexico when his knight in shining armour saved him.

And unlike the times the teachers pulled him out he never told him to speak English or just ignore them.

Instead he told him something that changed his life forever.

“These are people who believe they are the normal one. That because they see their faces on TV, in movies and running the country it means they matter more. But they don’t. They just know they lack a culture as unique and old as yours and mine so they try to hurt us. And it may not be fair but we gotta make sure they don’t get to.”

Looking back at that moment Lance remembers him standing tall and brave, like he could carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

In reality he was crying and had dirt on his nose from where a project blew up in his face earlier that day.

It had been years since then and Hunk was still as brave and incredible to Lance as he had been then.

That’s why for the mission he had been so excited when the two of them were sent to a planet's archeological site.

Planet Corina was mostly large cities filled with loud and rambunctious people that looked to celebrate whenever possible.

They were currently holding a celebration to honour the paladins of Voltron enjoying their meal last night and declared it a holiday for all chefs.

It was sweet up until one of their large fireworks uncovered an ancient cave system filled with statues dedicated to the planets old gods.

A team had quickly been put together and due to the instability of the cave systems Hunk and Lance were sent along to keep the archaeologists safe.

That had been three hours ago.

Three hours of mindlessly chatting to Hunk as they walked through a labyrinth of tunnels and pointed out interesting markings.

Three hours of Lance feeling his heart melt with every smile and gentle touch he got from the yellow paladin.

Three hours since they had enough signal to get through to their friends on the coms.

“I bet there used to be a river or something down here that cut through the stone millenia ago” Hunk grinned as he ran a hand along the smooth wall.

The group was a fair bit behind them taking their time as they went.

Not that Lance minded. He likes spending time with Hunk.

“Gotta admit it would be impressive if all this was man made.... or Alien made I mean. This place must be under the entire city.” Lance replied as he came to a stop and picked up an arrow shaped rock.

“Huh wonder where this came fro-“

He never got to finish that though as that was the moment the ceiling and floor collapsed.

Hunk woke up slowly to a pounding headache.

It was dark and the floor was cold and hard so naturally he assumed he has fallen out of bed and that ringing in his ears was actually the castle alarm calling him to battle.

However as he felt around and found no sign of his bed nor his pjs things started coming back to him.

He sat up so quick that he whacked his head against the low ceiling that surely would have resulted in a concussion if it weren’t for his helmet.

Groaning and feeling along his armour he came to the built in light and flicked it on feeling terror rise in his throat as he could see.

It was like he was in a coffin made on stone.

It was almost sealed save for a few arm sized holes above him that let a supply of fresh air blow through which considering the long crack along his helmet it was a good thing.

Even if they did have a signal it wasn’t likely his coms would still work.

“Paladins?”

A voice pulled Hunks attention away from his own rapid breathing.

One of the arkeologists was staring through one of the holes at him.

“H-here” Hunk croaked even if it was obvious.

They visibly relaxed upon seeing him “the tunnels have collapsed but fear not as were are getting help for the two of you.”

Two of you?

Hunk couldn’t quite figure out who else they could mean when the realisation hit him with more fear than he had ever felt in his entire life.

Lance.

“The… the other Paladin.” Hunk took a moment to cough clearing the dust from his lungs. “W-where is he?”

Their eyes darted around Hunk before shaking their head “I… I do not know. I cannot stay I am sorry but I fear he is buried.”

They ran off before Hunk could really process the information.

Lance… his Lance was… he could be.

The bile rose in his throat and it took everything he could not to throw up at the thought.

Poor little Lance so skinny and fragile buried under all this rock.

What if he was scared?

Of God, what if he was crying for his help and Hunk was too busy feeling sorry for himself to hear him.

Logically Hunk knew it was a miracle that the rocks had fallen in such a way around him leaving him unharmed and that even one small movement could send it all tumbling down but that didn’t stop him frantically hammering his fists against the rock trying to break out to his Lance.

When dust began to pour into his face Hunk stopped to catch his breath.

That’s when he heard it.

Soft gasps coming from his left.

They were barely audible but by god they were there.

L-Lance?” Hunk called out not really expecting a reply but desperately hoping for one.

“...unknown” it was little more than a whisper but it was something.

It was also broken and followed by a wet wheezing cough but at this point Hunk was willing to take what he could get.

“Lance are you hurt? Are you ok?” Hunk asked frantically as he half turned to face the source of the noise.

There were a few moments of silence before Lance finally answered and it really wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“... my legs… I can’t… oh god I can’t feel my legs.”

Hunk swallowed the lump in his throat.

Now wasn’t the time to panic. He had to keep it together for Lance.

“Ok buddy it’s gonna be ok. Helps on its way and we’ll get you in a pod real soon.”

“Are you ok?” Lance asked while Hunk pulled a few rocks away from the hole he figured was closest to Lance.

He wanted to laugh because of course while buried under a mountain of rocks he would worry about him.

That’s just so… so Lance.

It almost brought a smile to his face.

Almost.

“I’m fine buddy. Just a few bruises but nothing a quick session in the pod can’t fix.”

Lance hummed in response but didn’t say anything.

Hunk hoped it was because he couldn’t think of a reply and not that he was unable to say anything.

A quiet Lance was never a good one.

He didn’t really have much room to put the rubble he moved so he ended up pushing it down by his legs.

It made it harder to move but it was all worth it when he finally caught sight of the familiar blue armour.

Then the blood began to drip down.

Lance was on a ledge about half a foot above him with his hand so agonisingly close to the edge that if Hunks arm was just a little bit longer he could hold his hand.

The blood was dripping sluggishly but at an alarming volume down onto Hunk. The scent filled his nose and made him gag on the air.

Now that he could see him Hunk could see the real reason why Lance couldn’t feel his legs.

Mainly because they weren’t there.

By Lances knees there was nothing but a wall of rock that had markings from the top floor etched into them and Hunk realised with growing horror that it must have fallen and broken Lance’s legs off.

He prayed to whoever was listening that Lance wasn’t awake for that.

Right now Hunk couldn’t think about the fact that this wouldn’t be a quick fix.

That a couple days in a pod wouldn’t make Lance whole again.

When they got out of there Lance was in for a long hard struggle to even walk.

If… if they got out.

Right now he had to focus on keeping Lance awake because he was currently useless to stop the blood loss.

“H-hey Lance i… do you remember when you first tried my cooking?”

Lance groaned but nodded yes “I… I asked you to marry me because it was… so.. good.” He coughed growing quieter.

“Yeah and do you remember what I said?”

This time Lance didn’t reply.

“I said that if you ever asked again I would say yes in a heart beat. B-because I love you Lance. God I love you so much and… I can’t lose you.”

He was crying now.

Full body sobbing as he desperately tried to reach for him but failed.

He was so close….

But so far.

At some point Hunk hyperventilated and passed out.

It wasn’t until he fell out of the pods did he actually realise the full extent of his own injuries.

A concussion and two cracked ribs were bad but nothing compared to Lance.

His entire legs had been shattered and what had remained needed to be removed.

One of his lungs collapsed and punctured due to five broken ribs.

His eye socket was cracked and a concussion meant that when he finally was ready to come out he didn’t really remember what happened.

He did remember one thing though.

It was a fact he held onto throughout his entire recovery and then finally when he could walk again he kneeled before Hunk and asked one very important question.

“Will you marry me?”

And as promised Hunk said “yes.”

[mst3kproject]

324: Master Ninja II

There used to be a restaurant in the plaza across the street from where I work that actually had a conveyor belt buffet.  Plates of sushi would go around and you could pick the ones that looked tasty, and when you were done the staff would count the empty plates to calculate your bill… whereupon you would realize your eyes were bigger than your tummy and your wallet was smaller than either.  It truly was a work of evil genius.

So here we have the continuing adventures of Max and McAllister the Boring White Ninjas, and Max is still a whiny dolt with a hamster instead of a personality.  First, he enters a motorcycle race, where he’s beaten by Carrie, a young woman trying to unionize the cannery her town depends on.  Naturally the business owners don’t want to waste money treating their employees like human beings, so they’re trying to run her out of town. The good guys win, the girl kisses Max, and we’re on to the next episode, in which a senator’s garden party is interrupted by members of a militant cult.  Lucky for his guests, the senator’s cute daughter Alicia invited Max and McCallister, so there are ninjas on hand when the cops need somebody to rescue the hostages.  Unlucky for McCallister, the Foot Clan is still following him and they choose the worst times to swordfight.  The good guys win, the girl kisses Max, and then the movie’s over. ‘Bout time.

This movie is so boring I think I actually died while watching it. I saw a light and flew towards it, but then a voice told me that my job wasn’t over – I still had to write the review! Next thing I knew, I was face-down, drooling in my keyboard.  Now that I’m back, though… what the hell am I supposed to write?  I think I already got through everything I had to say about The Master in my first review, and the second is really just more of the same. Timothy Van Patten is just about the most boring actor I can possibly imagine, and we get the idea that Max wouldn’t give a shit about any of this injustice if there weren’t pretty girls involved.  None of the this-week-only characters are played with any conviction.  The stunt fighters are bad.  Lee Van Cleef has more screen presence than the entire rest of the cast put together and is entirely wasted on this stupid show.

One thing that I guess does kind of stand out is how badly they use slow motion.  We see it now and then – particularly in two consecutive motorcycle jumps, which I suppose are meant to look impressive.  They’re not very, and the slow-mo just gives us time to notice that rather than Van Patten and Van Cleef, the bike is being ridden by a stuntman and a potato sack in a helmet.  Later we get slow-motion of a truck breaking through a gate, which just doesn’t come across as worthy of it.  They don’t even do anything to make the wood break dramatically.  Remember in A Knight’s Tale where they filled the lances with spaghetti to make lots of fake splinters when they broke?  There’s nothing like that here, they just run over a gate and expect us to think it’s cool.

Then there’s the ham-fisted writing.  The villains are such caricatures of evil, they’re almost as bad as real-life politicians.  Even worse, the exposition.  Why does McAllister just randomly die in the hotel room?  There seems no reason for it, unless, like me, he died of boredom listening to Max talk.  It establishes he can do that so he can ‘resurrect’ later, but it’s so obvious that when he does ‘die’ we don’t believe it for a second.  It’s all so blatant that it’s almost painful to watch.

So when the movie explains things, it’s annoying, but when it doesn’t, it’s even worse.  Episode Two begins with Max in a small airplane, saving a girl whose car brakes are out. Uh… what?  Where’d he get the plane?  When did he learn to fly it?  How did he know the girl needed saving?  Did she just happen to be there?  What the hell is going on?  We never find out.  The fact that this sequence gets the whole plot going means it at least introduces the plane without the big flashing sign that this will be important again later, but all our initial questions about the opening remain unanswered.

I can also say that the second episode that went into Master Ninja II, while still not something I’d go out of my way to watch, is much, much better than the first one.  This is at least partly the writing – the bad guys in the second half are slightly less cartoonish and much more threatening, and the various intersecting storylines make it somewhat less boring.  The second half also has actual ninja stuff going on, which is a definite plus in a movie called Master Ninja.

There’s not a whole lot of ninja-ing happening in the first half, and when it does, it’s almost as if they chicken out from actually showing us. McCallister throws down a smoke bomb to vanish with the damsel in distress… and the camera cuts away!  They had a chance for a neat in-camera effect, and they totally dropped the ball!  Later, Max throws a grappling hook so he can climb a wall… and again, the camera cuts away!  Instead, the set-piece action sequences for this half are a couple of car chases. These are badly filmed, never giving us the sense of danger they should have, and make the aforementioned poor use of slow-motion.  A few caltrops and throwing stars come out, but only really appear in close-ups of a hand holding them, in the vain hope we won’t realize it’s not actually Lee Van Cleef doing the ninja stuff.

The second half more than makes up for it.  Max throws a smoke bomb, and we actually see the effect it has on the soldier he’s fighting!  McCallister climbs a wall, slips, and has to grab the bricks with his crampons and throw his grappling hook again!  Ninjas doing ninja things!  And of course there’s the fight between McCallister and the Foot Clan guy. It’s not great.  The relatively enclosed space of the hotel suite could have been used far better, and if Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum will forgive me, I’m afraid I just do not believe that ninjas shout “ha!” every time they throw a punch. And yet, after the near-absence of ninja stuff in the first half, I was eating it up.

The big problem with the second half of Master Ninja II , besides the whole why does he have an airplane?! thing, is that we don’t have a sense of place.  This isn’t so important at the senator’s garden party, where everybody’s pretty much in the same space and the bad guys descend from above and leave the same way. We also know how the cops managed to find their hideout, since we saw the tracker get stuck to the helicopter (although how Max found it I have no idea), but what’s where in this place? We’re told that the hostages are up in the tower, but that doesn’t look like a good place to keep them.  We don’t have a sense of where all that is in relation to where Max and McCallister get in or what obstacles might be in their ways, and not enough is made of what does happen inside that it seems important it would be a surprise.

While the fight between McCallister and Foot Clan Guy does provide the best action scene in the entire movie, it also has nothing to do with the plot of that particular episode.  Again, this is a thing that would work in a TV show, where they need to intermittently remind us that the overarching storyline is still going on somewhere in the background.  If this extra ninja were to do something like injure McCallister, leaving him less able to carry out the rescue, that would be important.  Or if he and McCallister were to put aside their differences for the episode and work towards a common goal, maybe something to do with the security guy who seems to know them both, that would be relevant.  But he appears, there’s one fight, and then he’s gone.

I’ve complained before about the practice of putting two episodes of a TV show together into a movie, but out of all the variations on that theme that showed up on MST3K, I’m pretty sure the Master Ninja people did the worst job of it.  Sandy Frank would at least give us both the beginning and the end of things like Time of the Apes and Fugitive Alien, even if it were hard to understand them without some of the stuff from the middle.  Cosmic Princess and Riding with Death both picked pairs of episodes that had characters or situations in common, and did some dubbing to strengthen the connection.  Master Ninja just gives us Episode One and Episode Two, without even the slightest attempt to provide a narrative connection or to disguise the fact that these are two unrelated stories.  It’s particularly blatant when they just cut from ‘happy ending of Episode One’ to ‘action opening of Episode Two’ without any sort of bridge.

I really did mean to get to Master Ninja II ages ago, but every time I tried to watch it I ended up just giving up.  The first episode was just such a slog of annoying writing and bad acting that I couldn’t take it.  When I finally watched it, the fact that the second half was so much better helped, but on average the whole Master Ninja series is just so dull and nondescript that I have no urge to watch it or anything else to do with it.  Thank goodness MST3K never did a Master Ninja III.

[alounuitte]

what’s in a name

(i still remain the same)

A late night conversation between Pidge and Shiro, on names, identity, and people understanding each other. (An improved version of how Shiro tells Pidge he knows her name.) Oneshot, 1600 words. 

Check notes for AO3 mirror, or

She’s already found a hiding place for when she can’t sleep, where an alcove off some kind of big library leads to a sheltered balcony with a view of the stars.  It’s small, and quiet, and hard to see, and even if that Allura girl probably knows where it is, the more important thing is that Lance and Hunk don’t. 

She sets up her radio and puts on her headphones, but tonight she doesn’t pull up any of the reception data on her laptop screen, just listens to the quiet static of distant radio chatter in the far reaches of space and the low hum of EM waves rolling off of the next closest stars. Weirdly, even if now she knows what she does about these guys trying to conquer the universe, listening in on the diffused reflections of alien space communications has become a kind of comfort on the nights when she can’t stop thinking. At least it’s something to do, keep half an ear out for any hint of information that might be important, record what she does pick up so she can look back at it later and pinpoint any fragment that could be a clue. 

With a sigh, she closes her eyes and leans back against the cool stone wall, taking off her glasses to rub her face with one hand. It’s been kind of a harrowing day, which must be why she can’t get her thoughts to quiet down. Between training for combat and learning to pilot her lion, she’s exhausted, but all this team building work they keep doing has been putting her on edge, especially when she remembers that to form Voltron, they’re all supposed to be so in sync it’s like sharing each other’s thoughts. 

She hunches her shoulders and shoves her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt, running her thumb along the edge of the photograph tucked in on one side. She’s been keeping it on her all the time now, since everyone seems to wanna see it so bad. She knows Hunk’s a great guy, and Keith and Shiro both seem pretty okay, but she doesn’t trust Lance not to go rifling through her stuff if he gets the idea in his head to spy on her. 

When she hears the knocking sound, at first she thinks it’s in her headphones, some kind of signal or stellar interference her receiver picks up as a dull tock-tock-tock. It’s not until she hears it a second time that she opens her eyes and sits up, hastily shoving her glasses back on her face as she looks over her shoulder to see Shiro standing in the open doorway, his hand still raised to tap on the wall again. 

“Oh,” she says, embarrassed, and takes off her headphones. “Uh, did - did you need me for something, sir?” 

“Just wanted to see how you were doing,” Shiro says, folding his hands behind his back. “Mind if I sit down?” 

“N-no, I, um, go ahead,” she says, moving her things to the side. “I mean, it’s not like it‘s just for me, or anything!” 

He sits down on the ground a few feet away from her. “You’re up late,” he says. “Trouble sleeping?” 

“Guess so,” she replies, and laughs nervously. 

“I don’t blame you,” he says. “I know there must be a lot on your mind.”

A moment passes in silence, and she swallows hard, watching Shiro out of the corner of her eye. She hasn’t really been sure how to act around their commander since she told him who her family was, doesn’t know if they would ever have mentioned her, let alone what they would have said, and she doesn’t want to let anything slip that the others might catch. 

“So, um,” she manages finally, “was there something you needed to talk to me about, or…?” 

Shiro frowns, his brows drawing tightly together. “Actually,” he says, “I wanted to ask you something.” 

She nods quickly, her heart pounding so hard in her throat she can’t form words to respond. 

He takes a deep breath and hesitates, bracing his arms across his knees as he looks over at her. Finally, he says, “Your dad and brother, they… never mentioned your name. Sam didn’t say he had another son.”

She hunches her shoulders, looking away so he can’t see the look on her face. 

“Talked a lot about his daughter, though,” Shiro continues. “Katie.”

The sound of her name feels like a punch in the chest, and she can’t stop herself from making a sound, choked off in her throat. 

“That’s you, right?” he asks. 

She nods, and opens her mouth to speak, but her voice comes out like a squeak. Her vision blurs and she blinks rapidly, willing the tears to disappear. She’s not gonna cry in front of her new commander like some stupid kid. She’s not. 

“I’m - sorry,” he says. “I don’t mean - I didn’t want to upset you. I just -“ 

“No, no,” she says, shaking her head, “it’s okay! It’s just - been a while since anyone called me that.” Her voice is shaking; she takes a deep breath to steady it, looking over at him with the best smile she can muster. “Well, a year isn’t really that long, I guess, but it sure feels like a while. A-And, I mean, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with the name Pidge! It’s fine, I don’t mind it, really! I wouldn’t have picked a name I didn’t like, it’s just - just -“ 

“You’re rambling,” Shiro says gently, his brows drawing together. 

She laughs weakly and swallows, a lump in her throat. “Y-Yeah, I guess I am, huh?” she manages, and feels a tear roll down the side of her nose. “Shhh - um, quiznak -“ she stammers, taking her glasses off to scrub at her eyes. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t - know why -“ 

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, reaching out a hand, and then hesitates, his fingers hovering over her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you, Pidge. I shouldn’t have pried.” 

“N-no, it’s okay,” she insists again. “I - I guess I shoulda known they would have - I mean, Matt and I were pretty close as kids, you know? Even if he was too busy having adventures up there to miss me, they must have told stories in your time off or something.” She sniffles and puts her glasses back on, looking down at her hands. “I probably shoulda told you sooner, but I figured you wouldn’t put the pieces together, I mean, until I said they’re my family, since I, I don’t really look much like a girl anymore now - now that I…” 

She trails off, rubbing the back of her neck, unsure how much she should say. Shiro opens his mouth and closes it again, letting his hand settle on her arm instead. 

“Sorry,” she says again, and bites her lip to keep it from trembling. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Shiro says, and glances down, his mouth tightening as he thinks. “What… do you want me to call you now?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I mean, like I said, I don’t mind being called Pidge. And I - I don’t know if I want the others to know I’m…” She’s not sure how to finish, not sure what it is she’s so afraid of them knowing. Maybe they’d accept a girl being on the team - well, at least Hunk would, and probably Keith, too. But even back home, when everyone knew her as a girl, she didn’t exactly go around telling people she was trans.

“I won’t say anything to them,” Shiro says, unexpectedly solemn. “Coming out is a personal decision, and I don’t want to put you in a difficult position.”

She blinks at him, surprised. “But, to form Voltron…”

“We’ve already gotten a lot better at forming Voltron,” he reminds her with a faint smile. “I know it must be pretty scary, thinking of everyone being in your head, though.” He looks away with an awkward chuckle. “I guess for me, it helps to think that if we’re really so in sync that our minds are like one… maybe we can also understand each other a little better, and see past our differences to what we all share.”

“You really think so?” she asks, her voice trembling. 

“I can’t say I know how this works any more than you do,” he replies. “But I hope so. And if these lions really choose their pilots like our Altean friends say… well, I’d like to think maybe they know what they’re doing.”

She laughs at that, really laughs, and feels a little of the weight lift off from her shoulders. “Yeah,” she says, “I guess you’re right.”

“But don’t worry, Pidge,” he says as he gets to his feet. “Your secret’s safe with me. And if you ever decide you do want to tell the others, I’m right behind you.” 

“Thanks, Commander,” she says, grinning up at him. “That means a lot to me.” 

He nods and waves. “You should try to get some sleep,” he reminds her gently as he turns towards the door. “We’re going to have plenty of work to do tomorrow, and I need my team in top form.”

“Yes, sir,” she agrees, and starts to pack up her equipment. As the door opens, something else occurs to her, and she sits upright again, looking over her shoulder. “Hey, Shiro?”

“Hm?” he answers, looking back with a slight frown. 

She runs a hand through her uneven hair, looking away. “Um,” she manages, more to the ground than to him, “I just - wanted to say that, uh - you don’t have to, or anything, but when no one else is around, if - if you want to call me Katie, that’s - that’s okay, too.”

“Alright,” he agrees, his furrowed brow giving way to a smile. “I’ll see you in the morning, Katie.”

“Bright and early,” she agrees, and as she finishes putting her things in their cases and starts down the hall to her room, she thinks it’s the first time since she joined the academy she’s actually felt like herself.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Girl Who Cried Witchcraft

Everything hurt.

Well, everything always hurt, but it hurts more than usual at this very moment. Mary can barely force her eyelids open; it’s like they’re sewn together. She thinks she’s standing up, but it feels like she’s falling down. And, holy mother of God, did her neck hurt.

She thinks shock has finally worn off. She can feel every stab of pain, every pinprick is agony that needles her body. The lashes streaked across her back hurt more than usual, rubbing uncomfortably against her dirt-caked dress. Frays of fabric bite into the scabs, chafing until they break it back open and itch the interior of her flesh. Her knees are darker than a ripe eggplant in the fall and she thinks the burns on her neck are peeling again. Her feet ache from old lashings on the soles, her head is killing her, her fingernails are chipped and broken and some are missing from hard labor, cracks crusted in dark red, and blood has been dribbling out in persistent streams from her nose a little while ago- she can’t remember why. Maybe Mercy or Abigail threw a rock at her? They never did like her.... And why did her neck hurt so much? It feels like someone is pressing down on her airways, strangling her.

But it was fine! Everything was fine! She managed to survive in Salem with all of these wounds. If open injuries were going to get badly infected anywhere, it would be the unsanitary 17th-century.

But she was okay.

You see, now she’s...- well, she can’t quite remember. Her head hurts too much. So does her neck. The tightness and pressure keeps increasing and increasing and-

Geez, though, who turned on the lights? She’s barely opening her eyes and she already feels like she’s being blinded. Burning white light stabs into her retinas; how can candles or lanterns make such a glare?

And what was that sound? Was someone...washing their hands? Better yet: when did she go into a washroom? She would have noticed...

Wait, what the hell? This mirror is cleaner compared to the one in the Proctor house. It’s also hung up on the wall- who hung up their mirrors? And what were those doors in the reflection? (“Bathroom stalls,” A knowledgeable voice whispered in her mind with wisdom she didn’t know she had.) And who in the ever loving hell is that woman washing her hands next to her? And why was her hair not tied up and covered by a bonnet?!

Wait-

Mary does a double take. She inhales a sharp breath and slowly cranes her head around to look at the stranger. Her face drains of all color as the dark-skinned woman’s mouth fell agape in equal shock. They both stare at each other for a long time before Mary bolts towards the door. She stumbles into an unfamiliar hallway (no buildings had hallways like this!!) with even more unfamiliar people. They seem to recognize her as an unknown alien to this place and turned to stare. It didn’t help that she was breathing heavily and looked like she was in serious need of a hospital.

She took two steps back, only to get herself into a wall. She narrowly dodges someone coming at her and- was there a pitchfork or sickle around here she could use? (“No,” Said the voice, “You aren’t there anymore.”)

Mary swerved away from the lady walking towards her and sprints into a tiny room filled with bottles and cleaning tools (“Janitor’s closet,” Said the voice, “A janitor is someone who cleans places for a living. Not like a servant or maid, though. It’s different.”), pressing up against the door to keep it shut once she’s inside. She slumps to the ground, trying to catch her breath and process what exactly was happening.

She could hear talking out in the hallway. It was muffled through the wall, but it would only take a little common sense to realize they were talking about her. Because of course they were.

  “...I don’t know. I just blinked and there she was!”

  “...That’s so weird. I’ve never seen her here before. Maybe she’s a new crew member?”

  “...We would have known by now.”

  “...True.”

  “...Plus, she looked so young! Maybe sixteen?”

  “...Joan, Katherine, and Maggie are young, too.”

  “...Oh yeah.”

Mary holds her breath and prays to God that they’ll go away. They don’t. The Lord must still be angry with her.

There’s a knock on the door that sends Mary hauling herself into the opposite wall. She collides with a shelf full of cleaning supplies and she feels her scarred back and aching neck throb disagreement. She grits her teeth and waits for the pain to subside, which causes her to miss what’s being said to her for the first few seconds.

  “..Hello? Hello? Are you okay in there?” Asked a first voice, which had a very weird accent to it. Nobody in Salem sounded like that.

  “What kind of drugs are you on, kid?” Piped up a second.

  “...Anne!”

  “...What? It’s a good question. You aren’t thinking it?”

  “...Definitely not.”

It takes a moment for Mary to register that words are being spoken to her. Words of concern; not ones that are screaming religious sacraments or witchery and accusations or cruel words directed specifically towards her. These people sounded genuinely worried about her. That didn’t stop her from putting up a tough front, though.

  “Wh-what? I’m- I’m not- not-!”

(“Drugs are...well, bad things in this world. They change your attitude and perception. People get addicted to them.” Explained the voice.)

Or, well, she tried to sound tough.

  “Poor thing must be so scared...” Murmured the first voice.

Oh, she definitely was.

  “Where am I?” Mary asked fearfully, her voice shaking more than she would like to admit.

  “London. In a theater.” The second voice answers without missing a beat, then added softly to their friend, “...See, I told you she wasn’t from here.”

London? Where- (“London is the capital of England.” Informed the voice.)

England...

Mary’s face paled. She couldn’t possibly be in England! How did she get at the sight of so much sin? How was she no longer in Salem? What-

A sudden pain in her neck halted Mary’s panic attack. She hissed in pain between her gritted teeth and raised a hand to clutch tightly at her throat. When her fingers brushed across the skin, she felt roughness and tenderness, as her flesh stung intensely when touched. She whimpered this time.

  “Kid?” A few knocks on the door, but Mary doesn’t really hear them or the person. She was too focused on the wound lancing across her neck. Upon inspection, she finds that it goes all the way around her neck.

...Had she been hung?

No. No, she definitely wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t. So how-

Mary’s stomach dropped.

She remembered being at the execution of Rebecca Nurse, Martha Corey, and John Proctor. Most of the other afflicted girls were gone, like Abigail and Mercy, who had run off to a boat. The hanging was the worst of them all for Mary. She was already struggling with the guilty and grief and trauma from the court experience, but this...it drove her over the edge.

She remembered stepping up onto the scaffolding late at night, tying up her beloved cloak, and-

  “Are you okay in there?”

Mary swears softly to herself. She wants to scream and pull her hair out, but that hasn’t done any good before. Besides, she doesn’t want to add anymore pain to her already throbbing head.

  “Do you mind coming out here? So we can talk face-to-face? Maybe we can help you?” Requested the first voice.

Mary was this close to just saying “That’s it! I’m killing myself!” and then guzzling down the cleaning chemicals in the room with her (the voice in her head said they were very toxic), but, this time, she stamps down that urge. Instead, stands up very slowly, half because of her hesitancy and half because of her wounds. She arms herself with a mop and opens the door begrudgingly.

Two completely normal looking people stared in at her, trying to seem as less threatening as possible, which she kind of appreciated.

Both of them were taller than her, most people were, and appeared to be a lot older. However, their clothes...one of them, a pale white lady, was clad in a shiny green dress of sorts, which was way too short for a woman to wear, and the dark-skinned person she had seen in the bathroom was wearing a sparkly blue outfit. It wasn’t a dress, rather something closer to men’s attire, and they both had their hair weird and weren’t wearing a bonnet.

  “Hi,” The dark-skinned woman said with a small smile, “I’m Catherine Parr. That’s Anne Boleyn. What’s your name?”

Mary looked both women up and down again, drinking in their appearance further. Were they witches? Surely that had to be. What normal person wouldn’t cover their head and would wear clothes like that? They must have teleported her to this sinful country or something! And...revived her? Because she definitely had died. (“Welcome to the 21st-century.”)

  “Mary,” She finally said softly. Her throat hurts when she talks.

Cathy and Anne exchange looks, with some kind of recognition flashing in their eyes, and for a moment Mary worried that she’ll have to accuse witchcraft on them if they know about her and her history. Then, they smile in a friendly way that eases her up a little. Not enough to pry her hand loose from the mop handle, though.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mary.” Anne said, “So I take it that you’re not from around here, huh? You must be real confused.”

Mary is only partially listening. She’s gone temporarily deaf in one ear and the other is constantly ringing, so she can’t hear much.

  “Yes...I am.” She said slowly.

  “Do you have any idea how you got here?” Cathy asked.

Mary shook her head. Really, that’s the truth. Being transported to another country entirely has never happened to her before.

  “That’s okay,” Anne said, “We’re not strangers to weird and unexplainable occurrences.”

Mary is actually curious about that and and the grins Anne and Cathy give each other, and really wants to question them, but her conscious starts to waver. She blinks several times, but black spots continue to rage across her vision. Through the dark blizzard, she sees Cathy turn back to her.

  “Mary?”

Arms on her shoulders. Mary stiffens, spine arching and causing a horrible sensation to ripple through her back.

  “Holy shit, is that blood?!”

  “Oh my god- her back...”

Warmth starts to spread across Mary’s back. Something is running down her waist and legs. Pain turns to numbness.

  “Anne, call 999-”

  “No!”

Raising the mop, Mary hits Cathy in the stomach as hard as she could, winding the woman and causing her to stumble to the wide while clutching at her midsection. She notices anger flash in Anne’s eyes.

  “What the fuck is-”

Mary swings again, nailing Anne in the shoulder.

  “Witch!” She shrieked and doesn’t miss the way the green-clad woman pales, “Get away from me, you witch! Get away!!”

The screaming draws people to the hallway and Mary backs away, shakily pointing the mop at them like it was the legendary sword Excalibur. (She only knows what that is because the Knowledge Voice in her head told her.) Among them is another dark-skinned woman, this one older than Cathy and clad in golden clothes that were even more revealing that Anne’s. She’s the one who charges forward and, in response, Mary scampers back into the storage closet.

  “What is going on?!” The woman yelled, “Who is that child?!”

  “She said her name was Mary,” Cathy wheezed out, tenderly massaging the place where she was hit, “She appeared-”

  “Mary?”

The pretty golden lady’s eyes are really wide.

  “My daughter?”

The mop dropped from Mary’s hands. That catches the woman’s attention and she turns to look at where she’s peeking fearfully out of the janitor’s closet.

  “Catherine-”

  “Mary...” The woman, also Catherine, ignored Cathy. She steps towards Mary, who backs away with a whimper. “Shh, shh,” She shushed softly, “It’s me, darling. It’s your mother.”

  “Mother?” Mary squeaked.

She never knew her parents. Everyone in the village said she was an orphan. And, although their skin tones didn’t match, the Knowledge Voice said that a colored woman could have a white child if her husband was also white. Sometimes even if they were both colored! So...maybe this was her mother. Maybe they were both revived due to witchery for the sole purpose of reuniting!

Mary didn’t care about how crazy that sounded, she vaulted herself into Catherine’s arms, clinging tightly.

  “Mom...” She whispered.

If that set off alarm bells in Catherine’s brain, she didn’t show it.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Just Another Soldier Chapter 7

Yon-Rogg x reader

Summary:  Post-snap

Word Count: 1621

A/N: Okay, this was written before Endgame came out, so it was just me speculating. I might eventually branch off and write another that follows the plot for real, but this one IS NOT CANON COMPLIANT IN THE SLIGHTEST. Also, since it was written before, it’s got no spoilers, but I doubt anyone that cares has still not seen it by the time this goes live. ALSO, as usual, this is all I’ve got for the time being on this one (as of 28 May 2019), and I’m not actively planning more. Later down the line I might add to it, so check the Masterlist if you’re reading it a decent amount of time after the listed date, but as of that date, I’ve got nothing to add to this.

“We’re going to need backup if we’re going to make this plan work,” Steve was saying. What remained of the Avengers after the snap—Carol and Nebula included—were gathered in the meeting room. “We need an army strong enough to act as a distraction. Anyone got any ideas?”

Carol was the first to speak up. “I might have a couple strings I can pull, but I don’t know if they made it through.”

“Find out. Right now, I don’t care where they come from.”

“Enemy of my enemy …” Scott muttered.

“Exactly.”

It was a matter of hours once Carol sent her messages and already there were two simultaneous proximity alerts announcing two arrivals. The others were resting, but Steve and Carol stepped outside to greet the two ships.

A skrull left his ship first.

“Steve, this is Talos. He’s an old friend.”

“What’s this I hear about you planning on attacking Thanos?” the alien smiled. “It’s good to see you, Carol.”

“You too,” she replied, happily hugging her friend. “Your family?”

“All safe. We all escaped alive, surprisingly. Many others were not that lucky. That’s why I’m here.”

“Thank you for coming,” Steve said earnestly.

“Of course.” Talos glanced over his shoulder at the other ship. “Am I mistaken, or is that a Kree vessel?”

“It is,” Carol’s voice was noticeably on-edge. “You’ll want to get behind me when they come out. Just in case. I’m not sure who it was that picked up my call.”

“Oh, now that’s just delightful.” The hatch of the other hip hissed as it started opening, so he moved as instructed. “I’ve got a ten-man squad in my ship, by the way.”

“That’s gr—” Carol cut herself off at the sight of the person that was descending the ramp. “Oh, no . . .”

It was Y/N. Or rather, it looked more like the ghost of Y/N. Her once practically glowing emerald suit was dulled by scorch marks and scuffs. Old bloodstains that hadn’t been cleaned surrounded tears in places like the abdomen and left leg.

I really hope she isn’t hurt, Carol thought.

The most striking feature, however, was her face. The warrior captain was pale, her eyes red and tired. Memories of that conversation Carol had eavesdropped on danced around her mind. Back then, Y/N had said she’d never seen her husband look so tired. Now, it seemed it was her turn.

“Y/N …” Carol breathed.

“Vers,” the woman greeted stiffly.

Carol didn’t bother to correct her old friend. “What happened?”

“I think you can guess. He didn’t make it, and I didn’t get to say goodbye. I just woke up to a bed full of dust.”

Steve winced upon hearing that. He knew nothing about this beaten-looking stranger, but he knew how it felt to watch his best friend vanish. Just waking to that … The pain would be unimaginable. He could infer that this mystery man was someone both females knew, but this woman was obviously involved with him romantically.

“Thank you for coming despite … everything, I guess.”

Talos wanted to make a remark about how this woman was Kree—a ruthless one at that he’d learned from the one time they’d crossed paths on the battlefield—but it was clear that she was still mourning. As vicious as her kind could be, no one in the universe had deserved the fate bestowed upon them by the Titan.

Cold, Y/E/C eyes met Carol’s. “I just want my husband back.”

That was all the prompting Carol needed to jog forward and hug her friend. “We’ll bring him back. Him and everyone else.”

The soldier met Talos’ eyes over Carol’s shoulder. Worry lanced through his heart for an instant before the woman nodded. It was a clear sign between the old soldiers that they would find no enemy this day. He solemnly returned the gesture.

“Let’s head inside,” Steve announced once the moment passed. “Talos, bring your troops. Everyone needs to meet to make this plan work.”

It was the night before they put phase one of the plan into action, and of course Steve couldn’t sleep. And from his ensuing wandering around the base, it looked like not many people could. Clint was holed up in the air vents, Natasha in the gym, Tony and Rhodes were in the shop with Banner. Steve could almost believe it was a normal night. If not for the hollow feeling that haunted almost everyone in the building, that is.

So really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he stumbled across a certain Kree captain on the room, standing by the railing and looking up at the stars.

“Couldn’t sleep?” The words left his mouth before he thought about how cliché they were.

She didn’t seem to mind, though. “No.”

He took up the place next to her. “It’s still amazing to think that you guys came from up there,” the man from another time admitted, eyes gazing up at the stars in wonder.

“I suppose it would be impressive around here,” she mused. “Where I’m from it’s pretty standard.”

“Where are you from?”

“A Kree colony at first. Descended from Asgardians somewhere up in the family tree … Moved to Hala after the colony was destroyed. Called it home ever since.”

Steve chuckled. “Descended from Asgardians, huh? That have anything to do with Carol telling me she could never beat you in a spar?”

Y/N actually laughed. “Maybe, but don’t tell her that. Got to keep some of the mystery somehow. At least, that’s what my husband used to say.”

“Would it be rude if I asked you about him? He’s obviously important to you.”

“It’s fine. We’d just celebrated our 34th anniversary he week before it happened. Known each other since we were fifteen …”

Old memories started to play behind her eyelids. That time on Volda, that first spar, even all the times Vers had woken them early itching for a fight. The one that stuck out however was the time he proposed.

They’d been on leave on a war, frosted planet she couldn’t recall the name of not long after finally finishing their time on Volda. She’d complained that she wanted to enjoy the local sun’s warmth after all that time in the cold and mud, so they spent part of the day dozing on the cabin’s porch.

At some point, she ended up lying with her head in his lap as he watched the local fauna walk by obliviously. The yellow sunlight made his hair appear almost blond, and made those golden eyes practically glow. “This is perfect,” she’d murmured, hand squeezing the one he had resting on her stomach.

He inhaled as if to say something as he looked down at her and seemingly cut himself off. One of those smiles that only lasts a second but leaves the corners of the lips quirked up for hours flitted across his face. “Yes, it is.” The love in those molten eyes could not be mistaken as anything else. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

She shook her head, having an inkling of where he was going with this. “Not really. You know as well as I that it’s not exactly the norm for soldiers.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “Well, what would you say if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?”

“I think I’d have to ask you to marry me.” She sat up as she spoke, eyes never leaving his as she moved to straddle his legs.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Yon-Rogg, will you—” She was cut off by his lips meeting hers. The scruff of his beard scratched at her skin as they kissed.

“Of course I will,” came his reply hours later once they were snuggled together under the large bed’s plush covers.

She pressed a sleepy kiss to his shoulder. “Good.”

The memory ended, and she opened her eyes, returning to the present where Steve was still standing quietly beside her. “Sorry,” she apologized quietly.

“It’s not a problem. My best friend was lost … I’d just gotten him back … He was the only one I knew back before I went into the ice.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” she tried to joke. The smile was half-hearted, but he appreciated the effort.

“Deal.”

Steve was the first to fish out a couple pictures of his best friend. One was old. Black-and-whit old. And it showed a rather handsome man in a military uniform. The other was clearly new. Crystal clear, full color. It showed the same man, this time tired around the eyes and scruffier, with longer hair. “James Buchanan Barnes. Pulled me out of so many fights when we were kids. Hydra, real bad guys, took him and made him a weapon. I just got him back. He was recovering before Thanos came.”

“Handsome guy.”

“Easy now,” Steve chuckled. “You’re a married woman.”

“Speaking of,” with that, she used her suit’s computer to display a hologram of her husband. It hurt, looking at the three-dimensional rendering of him standing there proudly in his uniform. The photo had been taken a handful of days before the snap; he’d just gotten a promotion. Mischief sparkled in those golden eyes even in the hologram, and a smirk pulled at his lips. She hadn’t looked at the photo since she woke up without him, covered in his remains. She couldn’t bare to. Even now, she felt nausea creeping through her very being, forcing her to close the image after a few moments. “Sorry, I can’t—”

Steve seemed to understand. He gently squeezed her shoulder in solidarity. “Handsome guy.”

She could only fight back a sob.

[worldly-diversity]

   ‘ drabble ’ + lotor's christmas present for lance — Lance McClain — ( @eldunea​ )

Despite having gone on this crazy trip, having discovered aliens most definitely existed, meeting Allura and Coran, and then finding out Keith was half Galra… Well, he'd never imagined any of them were anything but 100% human.

Yet apparently, according to Lotor there was no such thing. Now hadn't that thrown him for a loop! Yet despite Altean DNA being prevalent to a set percentage in human genes— or something… —he himself carried enough of it that Lotor had been able to tell within moments…

It made him think about his first meeting with Allura rather frequently actually, considering she'd not cared to notice much beyond the roundness of his ears which, if she'd thought he was Altean like her, would probably have been a reasonable reaction. He kept justifying their silence thereafter to himself…

Shaking the thought off he glanced to the box beside him. He'd been careful with everything including the packaging, how stupid was that? Yet still his heart decided to mess with him whenever he thought of Lotor's gift.

Sure, the guy was a complete and total bastard who enjoyed causing about five simultaneous mental and nervous breakdowns in him, but… He was also thoughtful in his own way, he didn't tiptoe around things just because he thought it might hurt you, and Lance didn't really think he'd keep secrets out of malice either. Oh, he'd keep them for plenty of reasons, but not that.

Despite what some people might say about him, he was no idiot.

"Aw fuck, who am I fooling?!"

Face buried into his pillow to hide the flush on his face, and when he felt slightly more composed he glanced toward the book, carefully marked with a strip of paper so as to keep from damaging the pages themselves. He'd never cared to be so careful with anything before…

The robes Lotor had given him had been tried on once, in privacy, before carefully hanging them so they wouldn't crease or end up stained or anything like that. And, if he was completely honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted anyone else to know.

He couldn't even begin to anticipate Allura and Coran's reactions, never mind that he was worried they'd confirm that they'd already known, but it was his human teammates he feared for most. Despite knowing that Shiro, Pidge and Hunk were some of the kindest people he'd ever known, the change would be subtle.

No one but he, Keith and Lotor would notice the way those three would inevitably grow closer in their status as the only three full humans on the ship… Sure, they'd still act as they always had, but the divide would be there, and ironically it would work to Lotor's advantage. Lotor, who could play both himself and Keith in any way he likely wanted.

He snorted softly at the thought and shook his head. He didn't need to end up with his head in the gutter thank you— But regardless, Lotor could understand them like no other. He was a halfblood like Keith was, with Galran ancestry and born into the royal family at that. He knew the culture, the instincts…

It was the same for Lance in a way because Lotor was Altean as well, and unlike Allura knew what it was like to be one foot in and one foot out of a culture, one step away from being accepted yet somehow barging into the wall each time anyway, no matter how much people told you you were welcome. And heck, in a way Lotor was far more up to date on Altean culture than she was, since he hadn't been frozen in a pod for the last 10.000 years…

Lance felt bad sometimes, in the way he could feel himself growing distant from the others, but that didn't change the way he'd been growing closer to Keith and Lotor, the way that he knew that one day a divide would split open between them—

For all that they couldn't allow that to happen because they needed Voltron, he couldn't quite bring himself to step forward and bridge the divide before it was too late…

[thesunshinebunny]

Kind of a crossover one with Voltron headcannons for paladins (plus whoever you want) with an s/o (or platonic reader) who has the omnitrix (Ben 10)?

Ok, I made a small change. I was never a Ben 10′s fan, but I know the basics, therefore, the reader instead of having a monstrosity per clock attached to they arm, will have a small device placed under the dermis of they right arm. The device is visible when it’s activated, as it shines below the skin. Activation is done through the mind, since its connectors are on the veins, circulating blood and information to the brain and vice versa.As in Ben 10, if the device is reached by a living cell of another living being, the device will take all the redundant information for the transformation. The storage of information is unlimited, so the reader can be transformed into innumerable living beings._**Have fun !!!**__****__**Shiro**_* You saw each other for the first time when you helped Ulaz rescue him from the Galra ship, camouflaged as a general. * Like your comrade, you let Shiro go to Earth alone.* Months later and with the sacrifice of Ulaz, Shiro and you meet again in a Galra ship. * Almost don’t slice your head with his arm. * It took five minutes and forty seconds to explain the situation to our stressed Space Dad. * Needless to say, when you set foot in the castle looking like Galra, they almost ate you alive. * Time to activate the intergalactic magic device. * Everyone freaking out around you, it would have been fun to have a camera right now.* I don’t think I need to say that you became an important ally for the coalition. * Long nights of paperwork. * Countless battles on different planets. * Not only did you become an ally, but also a partner and a friend.* You usually leave for weeks with The Blade to train or have a covered mission. Sometimes they send you in company, but most of the time alone. * Shiro unconsciously worried to the core. * One night you arrived at the castle with multiple wounds all over your body. * Space Dad worried at 1000%* Leaving problems aside, you _really_ became good friends. * And maybe a little more.* When you are not training or planning tactics for their next landing on an unknown planet, you are in Shiro’s room relaxing. * Other times in yours (prepared for a few days stay) * Sometimes, you even play hide and seek. For him, it’s impossible to win, but he’s getting closer every time._**Keith**_* Unlike Shiro’s, you met Keith in your human form on a mission of The Blade. * He staying very WTF IS GOING ON !!! You are human, You shouldn’t be in a place full of Galras. * Calm down cowboy !!* There was no explanation for this boy to go into ninja mode and try to protect you from the threat. * Let’s say that when, instead of seeing a pink and small figure when turning around, a gray giant was found runing and breaking a base wall. * Keith.exe stop running.* At The Blade´s base, with the fumes calm, there was a better presentation. * Camouflage companions from here on. * Infiltration in a Galra ship: Keith and you. * Find information on an enemy planet: Keith and you. * Talk to paladins: there are more like Kolivan and Keith, but once in a while you were in contact with them by transmission.* Practice and combat partners.* Also, it was relaxing for both of us to have another human in the ranks and to be able to do mundane things when you were not in service. * For example: cooking. Both of you are very bad in the kitchen, but that made it even funnier when you had no idea of ​​the ingredients you were putting in the mix. * A pink gum substance, a green moss jelly and a blue liquid… I don’t think is a good combination._**Lance**_* Would you believe me if I told you that you met Lance on a half-desert planet, trying to hide from the Galra Empire, while he was flirting with a group of girls around you? * Yeah, good start.* Anyway, first bad impression aside, you and Lance get along very well. * As with Keith and Shiro, training partners, with an extra: transform into different creatures avoiding being hit by his Bayard. * It was fun to see Lance frustrated at not being able to reach you when you went from a giant of almost five meters to a blue slug less than 10 cm long.* Always trying to find the “sexy” side of a creature. * “You are very beautiful when your fur changes color and falls like a cat’s spit hair ball” * _“Honey… no”_* The thing stopped being funny when he confused an Olkari with you, thinking you were flirting with another person. * The same thing happened to you when you saw Lance flirting with a woman Galra from The Blade. * I don’t know if this was the best way to declare, but meh … worse is nothing. * And by declaring, I mean getting out of nowhere and giving that violet woman a punch, then giving Lance a kiss._**Hunk**_* The reaction was very similar as that mystic moment of the paladins with the transformation of Allura in Galra. * “How many creatures can you transform at once? Is there an absorption limit? Can it transform you into a plant? Your clothes change to the form of the creature? ” * _“One. Not that I know. No. The clothes break or stay the same depending on what I’m transformed in”_* Completely worried every time you descend on a planet since you can disappear in a matter of seconds. * At first, to play a joke, you transformed for a few minutes into the species of that planet and tried to change your voice to mislead him. * Months of knowing, this no longer happens, Hunk would recognize you in a matter of seconds, even being in the middle of a crowd.* Long nights studying all the species of the device. * Believe it or not, memorizing thousands of creatures is not easy for you, but for Hunk … it’s a piece of cake. * Do you know how difficult it is to think in a thousandth of a second the species that needs to be changed and not be able to make a mistakes? * TOO DIFFICULT, THE PRESSURE GOD._**Pidge**_* Trying multiple times to perform experiments on your arm to understand that rare mechanism. * “We can try to extract the device for a few seconds while you are transformed and see if you stay in that form or if you return to human” * Fear for your life is something constant. * _“That’s not how it works honey”_* Days and nights trying to build a device closest to yours. * But after the 85th failed attempt, Pidge, for the first time, gave up. * “It’s impossible, however close I am, I can’t find a way to store the information for more than an hour.” * _“Pidge, sweatty, it’s alien technology of who knows how many years. Unless you look in the historical archives of the entire space, this is the best you will be able to achieve. ”_* Offended to 1000000% * Nothing that a space cartepillar giving cuddles on the neck doesn’t help. * As much as the original as you.

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

What is up hoes! Y’all ready for this shit?! Because it is part 3 of the epic gay disaster romance that is the Shiro/Kogane and McClain siblings!!!

Y’all know the drill, I ain’t gunna lube you up for this shit cuz y’all should be good and ready by now!

Okay, so by this time Adashi is getting their shit together and Veracxa know what they want but just want to take things slow and flirty. All that’s left is to help out their little brothers.

*evil older sibling laughs*

So of course they enlist the help of Pidge and Hunk because they’re their brothers’ best friend and the possibility of getting a lot of embarrassing juicy gossip about Klance that they can use as blackmail later.

Pidge: I got Keith’s secret love poem stash in a pen drive

Shiro: Nah, I have plenty of those from his middle school days.

Pidge: And fanfic of them living a domestic life together?

Shiro: ...I am intrigued.

Hunk: Lance once dragged me to an alien space bar where he got wasted on nunvil and proceeded to aggressively flirt with the coat rack he thought look like Keith.

Veronica: Please tell me you have that on video.

Hunk: What kind of heathen takes a video of their best friend at their lowest point in life? *pulls out several pen drives* I have five plus copies.

At some point Allura pops in and suggest that they trap them in the elevator again.

Veronica & Adam: Again?!

Allura: It was an accident the first time.

So they did, and it was this big complex shenanigan filled ordeal that was somehow able to get them into an elevator alone where Pidge then hacked into the system and shut it down for about an hour.

It was awkward to say the least...

Lance, trying to mask his internal panic with jokes while their friends “try” to get them out: Well, at least we’re not shirtless this time.

Keith, slightly disappointed: Yeah...

Nothing much happens except some awkward staring and chit chat so they move on to plan B.

Adam suggest sparing since it worked out well for Veronica and Acxa to which Veronica punches him for while Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Allura, and Coran warn that it’s a bad idea.

Everyone is suspicious and asks why.

Pidge: They have so much sexual tension wrapped up inside them it’s like watching them have aggressive sex with their clothes on.

They still go through with it though and it is exactly as Pidge described which leaves everyone hot and flustered.

Keith, standing above Lance with his sword pointed at his neck, flushed and breathless: *chuckling* Did you get worse at this?

Lance, having an internal bisexual crisis: Y-you’re mullet got worse at this!

Finally, Hunk suggested that they get them tipsy, not drunk. If they’re drunk they’ll probably do something embarrassing that they won’t remember which will drive them further into denial. But if they’re tipsy they’ll be relaxed and loose enough to talk about things calmly and willingly.

Shrio, who knows Keith is an embarrassing giggly flirty drunk: And then maybe get them drunk after???

Adam, who knows Lance is a stupidly honest and sappy drunk: I second that!!!!

So they sneak out late one night to a near by bar in town where they proceed to shove multiple drinks in klance is face while also hyping them up.

Hunk: Look at Keith over there with his mullet.

Lance, slamming down another drink: Stupid mullet, it’s un-fucking-fair how well he’s able to pull it off!

Veronica: Mmh, what about those fingerless gloves tho?

Lance: You know, I thought he only had those for the “bad boy” biker aesthetic but it turns out HE IS A BAD BOY BIKER!

Adam: What about that face of his? You’ve always complained how he has a stupid face.

Lance, aggressively: A stupidly cute face!

Veronica, smirking: Seems like you should go kiss it. I mean, it is stupidly cute, it would be an insult not too.

Lance, dead serious: Yeah, you’re right, maybe I should!

Adam & Hunk: Do it! Do it! Do it!

Lance, slamming his fist on the table: I’m gunna smooch that stupid fucker’s face!

Meanwhile, over on Keith’s side...

Keith, slamming down his second drink and sobbing: Does he not think I’m gay enough?! Should I have worn my other Gogo boots!

Shiro, trying not to laugh as he places a comforting hand on his brother: That’s impossible, next to me you’re the gayest boy I know.

Keith: You’re such a good brother Shiro, I love you so much! But I love Lance too!

Acxa, slipping Keith another drink: Have you told him this revelation?

Keith: Why would I? He’s in love with Allura! And who could blame him? If I were Bi I would be in love with her too!

Pidge, sipping on a juice box: But how do you know he’s in love with Allura?

Keith: Uh, I thought I’ve already stated that it was plainly obvious!

Pidge, rolling her eyes: But you haven’t asked him have you?

Keith:...no.

Acxa: And aren’t Allura and Romelle a thing?

Keith: WHAT?!

Shiro, fake surprise: Oh, that’s right! Lance helped Allura get ready for that date a few months back.

Keith: I-I thought THEY were going on a date!

Shiro: No, no, Lance just invited her over for dinner with his family because he said, and I quote, “she’s my sister from another mister.”

Keith: How did I not know about this?!?!

Acxa, cooly as she sips her drink: Because you were too busy being gay.

Keith:...Mother fucker!!!! You mean I could of been trying to flirt with him this whole time?!?!?

Pidge: You mean, you haven’t already?

Keith, standing with pissed off determination: I’m gunna give that fucker a piece of my mind!

All cheering: Get some!

So they both stumble towards each other and meet half way before angrily confessing to each other.

Keith: I thought you were dating Allura!

Lance: Gross, no! She’s like my sister! Meanwhile, you’re sitting around here with you’re stupid gorgeous face!!!

Keith: You’re one to talk with you’re pretty eyes!!!

Lance: Well, look in the mirror buddy!!!

Keith: Dick!

Lance: Asshole!

Keith & Lance: *aggressively make out*

So after that whole fiasco both the McClains and Shiro/Koganes siblings are now a flirty, mushy, romantic mess. It is both the best and worst think to ever happen.

Maybe I’ll talk more about that later.......?

[chatlote]

Totally forgot to mention but yesterday I finally saw ‘to all the boys i’ve loved before’ and now I understand why some people thought this was an AU of that. But yeah I never meant for it to be inspired on it, since I didn’t even know the plot of it. Fun movie though! Thank you again to all of you who have been sending me asks and commenting <3 

(<-Previous) (First) (Commissions) (Ko-fi)

Eventually Lance stops running, and with a heavy breath he turns around to look at Keith. They are both grinning, and their hands are still linked. Lance has no idea why they’re smiling. Technically they just went through a pretty embarrassing moment, being caught cuddling and all; but since Keith is smiling and holding the letter to his chest, Lance doesn’t find it in himself to feel bad. “I’m sorry if that was- weird for you and all-” Lance apologizes between breaths. “I was half asleep and-” “It’s fine, and it was nice, I think.” Keith replies, a little apprehensive. If Lance wasn’t fully awake, he would most likely ask Keith to further elaborate, being curious of what he meant by ‘nice’. “Okay.” He says instead, because unfortunately he is very awake. Keith looks down and lowers his voice. “Thank you for uh- helping me when I woke up.”

It takes a while for Lance to process the words, because at this point he was thinking it had been a dream. Apparently it isn’t and it takes all of his mental strength to not start screaming, or hide himself, or both at the same time. “Anytime, man.” He says, trying to sound as casual as possible. Keith seems to buy it, though he does look concerned which worries Lance or a second. “Shouldn’t we get going to check on the thing you forgot?” Lance chuckles softly. “That was just an excuse to get out of there.” Keith blinks surprised, and then chuckles too. “You’re the worst.” “Maybe.” He grins. “But if it makes you feel better, I just realized I do have an emergency. I’m starving, wanna join me as we eat the worst possible breakfast in the universe?” “You already made me run all the way here.” “Guess you don’t have a choice then.” Keith looks at him amused. “Guess so.”

The mood shifts a few minutes later. When Lance is staring down at the usual green goo, feeling no longer that hungry. “We seriously need to restock on food that isn’t the goo.” He complains, missing even the weird recipes that Hunk had come up with using alien fruit. “I will even take the role of cook if I have to." He turns to Keith. "Believe it or not I am an amazingly talented cook as well." Keith chuckles. “Yeah, I remember you mentioned that you would show me your family recipes on the letters.” “Yeap and you better look forward to it!” Lance says proudly, but one second after he also realizes that he doesn’t remember writing about cooking in the pen pal letters. “Wait where did I mention it on the letters? I don’t remember... oh-” It clicks. The love letters. All his rants of them living together where he talks about cooking for Keith. He looks at Keith, who seems to have just realized what he said as well. “I- I am sorry- I just, I didn’t mean to-” Keith fails terribly at constructing any sort of sentence but Lance doesn’t blame him. This is the first time that Keith gets even close to acknowledging  that he read the contents of the love letters. Lance doesn't know what to do about it either. “It’s okay.” Lance says calmly, staring at his weird breakfast.

A few seconds, or maybe minutes, pass in silence. And for once, the one who speaks up during an awkward moment is Keith. “We could try going to the space mall again, Hunk said there was a good place for food there.” He tries to say as nonchalantly as he can, but his voice sounds robotic, like he rehearsed the sentence several times in his head before saying it. “We should be well nourished for when we go to battle.” Lance decides to help him out on bringing the mood back to normal. “Look at you being all leader-ish.” He tries teasing. “You do remember that we can do things for fun too right?” “Yes Lance, I know.” Keith rolls his eyes, already looking more comfortable. “Prove it then.” Keith frowns confused. “When we have our competitions? And when we come up with games to pass the time, we also played videogames last-" “Okay, those almost count. But what I mean is, I am the one who invites you to those, or tease you into participating in them. What I want to know is, what would you invite me to do for fun?” Lance asks, the grin returning to his face, he likes challenging Keith with things like these. “Reminder that training doesn’t count.” Keith spends a few seconds in silence, obviously thinking hard about Lance question. And Lance is willing to give him all the time he needs. Eventually he looks back up to Lance, grinning again as well. “I think I have something.”

(Next ->)

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Dueling Hearts - 5

Chapter Summary:

Pidge forgets the court of public opinion, Allura frets, and Lance loses his shoe.

Chapters:  5/7 Word Count:  5112 (30 189 total)

Read Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

A/N:

those first two scenes did not exist in my original outline...

also thank you to everyone who’s been reading/reblogging this!!

Read Below (or read it on ao3):

Pidge doesn’t bother getting out of bed the following morning. No pressing business awaits her, no task begging her attention, no mystery to solve through action and thought. The entertainment console - whether media or games - holds no appeal to her, the tile ceiling more interesting in her exhausted fugue.

She slept fitfully after King Thurar’s visit, a part of her fearing he’d barge into the room unannounced as soon as she slipped into unconsciousness, greeting her with a blood-stained sword and bragging about Lance’s death. Her imagination kept her busy, and when she finally fell into a doze the walls surrounding her closed in, something in the corner creeping towards her but never straying from her periphery.

It incited a need within her to flee, but terror paralyzed her.

But she forces herself upright and pushes her glasses - will she ever see her family again? Will the king even think to invite his future in-laws to his wedding? - onto her face. Her eyelashes stick together when she blinks, and she’s sure she looks awful, especially after skipping a shower the night before.

(She almost took her shirt off in front of King Thurar so like quiznak she was going to undress entirely with that mortifying event so fresh.)

Perhaps if she makes herself as physically unappealing as possible the king will—

A sharp chime sounds from the door, the guard outside announcing over the comm, “Minister Lirnem is here to see you.”

A prickle of foreboding washes over Pidge when she recalls running into the minster on her mad dash back to her rooms, but she climbs out of bed and tells the guard to admit her.

Minister Lirnem doesn’t enter alone. Three Barsinian women follow, one pushing a cart laden with two covered trays, another with a data pad in hand and what looks like a fancy camera fit for National Geographic hanging carelessly from her shoulder, and the third with a briefcase and a long fabric bag draped over her shoulder.

“Uh…hi,” Pidge says, unsure what else to say while so conscious of her oily face and bed-mussed hair. “W-what do you want?”

She winces when the question slips out ruder than she means - and, well, why shouldn’t she be rude? Isn’t Minister Lirnem, who promised to do something for her, complicit? - but before she can apologize or ask another in followup, Minister Lirnem wonders, “Why are your eyes red? Is that a…feature of your race that you usually cover up?”

Pidge’s lips part in surprise as she rubs her exhausted eyes. “I’m just…tired,” she says, and it’s not a total lie.

(Minister Lirnem needn’t know she cried herself into a stupor last night.)

“Well, if you need to bathe, then bathe. You have a dress fitting and a photo shoot, and you and I can speak over brunch after.”

Pidge’s eyes widen, limbs stiffening in shock. “A dress fitting? For what? For the duel? I wasn’t even fit for that bizarre dress I wore to the ball.”

(She really hopes Minister Lirnem won’t wonder where that dress is now…)

“For the duel you can wear whatever you like,” she replies, primly clasping her webbed hands together. “So long as it is nice and befitting a lady of the court.”

“But I’m not—”

“If His Majesty wins, you will be,” Minister Lirnem reminds her almost impassively. But her thin lips press together, and Pidge wonders if she’s also unhappy with this situation. “This fitting, however, is for your wedding dress.”

If Pidge held something, she would’ve snapped it clean in half while her heart skips a stunned beat. “W-what? But I’m not—he hasn’t—Lance can still—”

“Attend to your morning needs,” Minister Lirnem advises her. “We will begin when you are ready.”

But Pidge will never be ready to be the bride of a man that literally holds her hostage; her feet aren’t cold so much as frozen at absolute zero.

She forces air into her lungs and takes a stiff step towards the bathroom, and another, and the next, until a door separates her from the heralds of her fate. Tiles cool her bare feet, and her shell-shocked reflection stares back at her from over a marble basin.

Pidge grabs a towel, buries her face in its soft cotton-like fabric, and screams.

A part of her wants to escape again, never mind the witnesses that stand between her and the balcony, but she can’t, not with a threat hanging over her head - over Lance’s head.

It’s bad enough she’ll have to marry King Thurar, but if she has to watch him kill Lance too?

Her grip on the towel tightens, her whole body trembling and a sob bursting out of her. But she suppresses the next, taking deep breaths in an effort to keep her emotions in check.

It’s the only control that remains to her.

The shower gives her the opportunity to compose herself, and when she emerges with pruny fingers in a cloud of steam, her heartbeat isn’t too uneven and it doesn’t hurt so much to breathe.

She even manages a small smile for Minister Lirnem, who bids her to stand on a stool before the floor-length mirror in the corner. The tailor - or seamstress? - that she brought drapes a pale green gown over her, its hem covering the stool and a long train trailing behind her.

Pidge finds it ironic that a wedding dress is far simpler - and more elegant - than the gaudy ball gown now dangling from the balcony railing. Not a single thread of wire embroiders this gown, the sleeves made of a lacy material that falls past the tips of her fingers and tapers to a point. The collar is high and edged with the same lace as the sleeves - irritating her neck - and the skirt flares at her waist.

If she didn’t worry she’d trip over it - or if anxiety didn’t churn in her stomach - Pidge would be tempted to spin and watch the hem lift around her.

“You are…shorter than I expected, Green Paladin,” the seamstress observes as she marks where she needs to hem the dress.

“I’m guessing you didn’t design the dress I wore to the ball,” Pidge says.

The seamstress smiles thinly and admits, “My apprentice designed that. It was a project meant to test his mastery.”

“Did he pass?”

“He…did,” she says, “but only because His Majesty liked it.”

Pidge snorts, amused despite herself, and holds as still as she can while the seamstress pins the dress in places it hangs loosely.

She wears something more basic for the photo shoot but, naturally, embroidered with wires in a floral pattern that glows green. She complies with the photographers requests - except for one.

“Please smile,” she says, offering one of her own.

Pidge presses her lips together, partly because she has no reason to quirk them and partly out of defiance. Her fingers grip her skirt tightly, watching the photographer glance beseechingly at Minister Lirnem.

The minister sighs and says, “Carry on. The photographs are more important than her smiling.”

Pidge’s lips twitch out of triumph, but she keeps a straight face for the rest of the photo shoot.

The seamstress and the photographer leave after the shoot, and Pidge changes into her own clothes from among what Hunk brought her from her bedroom aboard the Castle of Lions. Minister Lirnem’s last escort sets up their meal at the small table, and Pidge sits across from her.

She picks at the tableware, the knot of dread in her stomach depriving her of any appetite the sight of Barsinian food hasn’t.

“Why the photo shoot?” Pidge asks when the silence as Minister Lirnem eats grows too stifling.

“The images are for a press release,” Minister Lirnem tells her. “The people of Barsina will have to know something of their future queen should His Majesty win the duel.”

Pidge’s stomach flips, her eyes widening; public relations was always Allura’s - and sometimes Shiro’s or Hunk’s - thing, so she never really stopped to consider what implications King Thurar’s challenge would have on his subjects.

Perhaps she’d been too self-centered not to even wonder how Barsina itself would view her.

“I’d make an awful queen,” she confesses. She prods the black-dotted gelatin in her bowl with a spork.

“I told His Majesty as much,” Minister Lirnem says with a frankness that startles Pidge. She jerks her head back and stares at her, unsure if she should feel insulted or not, but the minister continues, “Your reputation as the Green Paladin preceded you, and it tells of a woman too devoted to her own research and family to lead a people, let alone a population and culture alien to her.”

“I…”

“Barsina needs an alliance with Voltron far more than it needs an alien queen,” Minister Lirnem explains. She sips her burgundy tea, the ceramic cup clattering on the saucer as she sets it down. “His Majesty did not care to hear that. It is his youth and inexperience, I am sure.”

Pidge’s grip on her spork tightens. “W-what did he tell you?” she asks, a part of her fearing the answer.

“He promised you will be able to research to your heart’s content.”

“How…kind of him,” Pidge says through gritted teeth, the spork’s handle bending slightly.

“His Majesty wishes he could devote more time to his own research and inventions,” Minister Lirnem adds, “so he desires a queen that can lead his scientific endeavors while he rules. His mother and predecessor ruled while his father, her consort, was an engineer, so I suppose he longs for the same partnership with his consort.”

Pidge sets her spork down and flexes her stiff fingers. Her heartbeat fills her ears as she chooses her next words carefully, “Why are you telling me this? So I’ll understand him?”

She can’t keep the bitterness from her voice nor the scowl from her face; why should she understand a man that kidnapped her?

“In part,” Minister Lirnem concedes. She frowns at her half-empty tray - perhaps she has no appetite either - and says, “He was a child when his mother passed away, so I ruled as his regent until he came of age. I took us into hiding and restricted our travel in space to avoid too much attention from the Galra, but His Majesty wishes to set up alliances with other planets, and I cannot fault him for that.”

“Well, he’s doing it all wrong.” Pidge crosses her arms and glares at the woman sitting across from her.

“His method, while unconventional, can work,” Minister Lirnem says. “Voltron will not fight Barsina when it can cost them future allies.”

Pidge’s jaw sets stubbornly, but she can’t argue, not when she knows she’s right.

(They’d just help her escape some other way…wouldn’t they?)

“However, I do wonder…with such a start to your partnership—”

“Some partnership,” Pidge scoffs.

“—will you ever be so content to have been forced away from your friends and family and someone His Majesty suspects is your lover?”

“He’s not my—” she blurts on reflex, cutting herself off when she realizes even a truthful denial may do her no favors.

But her face warms at the way Minister Lirnem designates Lance, a heat in her chest because by quiznak does she wish it’s true.

(He almost kissed her…didn’t he?)

“Do you love him?” Minister Lirnem wonders. “Do you love the Red Paladin?”

Pidge bites her lip - she’s never said it aloud and doesn’t wish to start now before a near-stranger that’s as good as an enemy to her - but irritably mumbles, “Yes, but…apparently it doesn’t matter.”

Minister Lirnem stands without replying and walks to the door. “A servant will come for the trays,” she says. “You should eat something. Winters in this part of Barsina are cold, and Tolemac Castle, for its beauty, is poorly insulated; you will need a little more fat on your bones to keep you warm.”

“Uh…” Pidge scrambles to follow, stunned. “Wait, Minister, I have a question.”

Minister Lirnem turns to face her, hands hidden in her long sleeves. “Yes?”

Her heart pounds as she asks, “If I…marry the king and, assuming I follow the laws of Barsina and fulfill whatever duties he expects of me, will I be able to see my family again?”

“If you marry the king,” she tells her, “he will be your family.”

Pidge’s chest tightens, and it takes more than a little effort to breathe. “Oh…then I’d better not marry him,” she says, sounding numb and painfully resigned to her own ears.

“No, I suppose you had better not,” Minister Lirnem agrees. “If there is nothing else—”

“Actually, can you ask one of my teammates to bring me something?” Pidge wonders. She knows her request is silly, especially with her future hanging in the balance, but she wants to be frivolous for once.

“So long as it is not forbidden you.”

“You said I can wear whatever I want to the duel?” Pidge smiles when she nods. “Can you ask them to bring me my dress? They’ll know which one…”

***

Lance woke up that morning telling himself that today would be the day - or quintant? - he would finally summon his Altean broadsword. Between Keith swinging at him - Lance suspected he enjoyed himself a little too much - and the drones on the training deck and his own determination, he hoped it would come true.

Instead, when Allura comes by the training deck to check on him, his bayard still fluctuates between his rifle and its base form and even when he deliberately allows the drones to close in on him, too near to aim a gun, he can’t.

He chucks his bayard across the room.

A frustrated growl escapes him when it collides with the far wall, his fingers curling into fists. Anger - at the situation and at himself - floods him; Pidge depends on him, and he can’t even summon his bayard in the proper form?

“Lance?” Allura’s footsteps echo through the room, and her hand rests on his shoulder. “Did your bayard…do something to you?”

“That’s the problem!” Lance exclaims, spinning around and flailing his arms. “It’s not doing what I need it to! I’ve tried everything we can think of - I even let the drones get close enough to me to shoot me”—his shoulder stings as he’s not training with armor since he’s not allowed any for the actual duel—”but nothing is working!”

Allura smiles, but he can tell it’s strained. “Have you tried—”

“Everything,” Lance insists.

Her shoulders sag, a sigh escaping her. “You can’t go to the duel unarmed, Lance.”

“Can’t I?” He shrugs and holds up his fists. “I have two guns right here.” And oh, would a punch flying across King Thurar’s smug face be satisfying…

But Allura doesn’t smile - of course not, not when it’s barely a joke. “Perhaps you should ask Hunk to help you set up an alternative.”

“Maybe…” he concedes.

It’s not the first they’ve spoken of it, building a hurried and makeshift weapon for him to cart to the duel, but he stubbornly holds onto the wild hope that he can summon the broadsword from his bayard at will.

He needs to; it’s his best bet, a weapon perfectly suited for him even if he hasn’t mastered it. And with Keith’s help over two quintants, he at least grasped the basics.

They won’t do him any good if he doesn’t have a quiznaking sword.

“Then do that,” Allura says. She frowns pensively and sighs. “I’m going to Tolemac Castle to visit Pidge. There are a few important things I need to discuss with her.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “What things?”

“It’s between me and her,” Allura says.

He crosses his arms, irritation flickering in him. “No, it’s not,” he protests. “I’m the one fighting this duel, not you, so—” He cuts himself off, his stomach flipping with fresh fear, but anger quickly replaces it. “You’re preparing her for if I lose, aren’t you?”

“I—”

“What does happen if I lose?” Lance wonders. His heart sinks with something akin to despair, but he forces it away. “We won’t…abandon her, will we?”

Allura’s eyes widen, and she reassures him, “No, of course not! I will not abandon her to a fate she doesn’t want, no more than you would.”

“And if we do, her family would probably kill us.”

Allura chuckles. “That they would, and we would deserve it.”

Lance runs his fingers through his sweaty hair, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “It won’t come to that,” he promises with more confidence than he feels. His eyes slide past Allura, to his bayard lying on the floor.

“I hope not,” Allura says. “And…is there anything you wish for me to tell Pidge?”

Lance can think of a million and one things he wants to tell Pidge: that he misses her and her laughter and her teasing so desperately his chest aches, that he’ll win the duel and free her, that he’ll lose the duel and smuggle her away from a royal wedding if he has to, that he loves her and her smile and her big brain and how she always has the answers to the questions both out of his mouth and from his heart.

And he wants to know why she didn’t even talk to him when she escaped to the training pitch…and why he hasn’t seen her since.

Fear grips him, squeezing his heart, and he wonders if she was caught.

But to Allura’s question, he simply replies, “No.”

Everything he wants to tell Pidge he wants and needs to tell her himself…so why doesn’t he?

Allura’s eyes narrow, in suspicion or skepticism, but she says, “All right. I will be on my way then.”

Lance mumbles a goodbye, barely paying attention to her departure in favor of the idea gripping him. If Pidge can’t see him…what’s stopping him from seeing her?

(Besides the duel’s stupid rules, at least.)

Lance collects his bayard and runs to his room for a shower - Pidge deserves better than to greet him at his smelliest. He clips on the cuff from his armor, the map to Tolemac Castle’s grounds downloaded onto it, and attaches a personal cloaking device - built by Pidge; they owe her so much - to his jacket.

(He just hopes Tolemac Castle doesn’t have any thermal cameras or sonar installed to survey its grounds.)

Excitement thrums through his blood, and it’s almost enough to drown out the worry that she won’t want to see him.

Almost.

***

Pidge doodles on a data pad with a stylus, mind buzzing with what information she learned from Minister Lirnem. Her palms sweat - the stylus nearly slipped from her fingers barely a dobosh ago - and her heart stutters with anxiety, and she seeks to distract herself from her fate.

But scribbling designs for the robots she wants to build isn’t helping.

She pinches the Rover pendant of her necklace in her teeth, sliding the chain along it. Rover himself takes shape on the data pad, a black pyramid and a green circle on the screen.

The reminder of something else she loved that she lost makes her chest tighten.

It’s a relief when the door chimes, and a grin pushes at her lips when the guard announces, “Princess Allura here to see you.”

Pidge fidgets with the stylus in the time it takes for the locks to click open and Allura herself to walk through the door.

She smiles, and Pidge doesn’t hesitate to embrace her.

“Pidge,” she says when they pull apart, her hands on her shoulders like a proud parent’s - or like Matt’s. Her smile falters. “I am so sorry this happened to you; this is my fault.”

“What?” The apology shocks Pidge’s system, her jaw dropping. “No, it’s not!”

“It is.” Allura sighs, avoiding her eyes in favor of taking in the lavish room. “I encouraged you to charm the king. Perhaps if I instead—”

“No!” Pidge, unsure what to say or do to alleviate her concerns, shakes her head so fast she almost makes herself dizzy. “It’s not your fault at all! W-why would it be? It’s not like you locked me in a tower and threatened Lance!”

“Maybe not, but I as good as—threatened Lance?” Allura’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “What do you mean? The duel is only to first blood.”

Pidge immediately regrets letting that slip, because if Allura takes that information back the Castle of Lions with her, Lance will find out. And if he finds out…he’ll be that much more likely to do something more stupid. So she raises her hands and forces a smile on her face before backtracking, “Th-that’s what I meant! Even a paper cut’s threatening if you get it from a sword.”

(She winces, the contradiction in the statement almost painful when she doesn’t correct it.)

“If that’s it—”

“It is,” Pidge insists.

“All right,” Allura says, tone resigned. She sits heavily at the table, arm resting atop it. “Lance has been doing all he can to win the duel.”

Pidge swallows as she drops into the chair opposite, mind drifting to the one training session she observed. Her stomach flips, but she agrees, “I know.”

“But…Pidge, Barsina’s not so valuable to the Coalition that we’re not willing to just walk away from an alliance.”

She stiffens and stares at her fingers wringing the hem of her shirt. “I’m guessing if I escape and leave we’d get worse than lose a potential ally.”

“You hit the head on the nail,” Allura admits.

“Nail on the head,” Pidge corrects automatically.

“Nail what on the head?”

“Never mind,” she mumbles. She clears her throat, skin crawling with sudden self-consciousness, and attempts to joke, “I guess we can’t all throw a royal suitor across a room to teach them a lesson.”

Allura grins and concedes, “I suppose not, although I would gladly throw His Majesty across his own grand ballroom on your behalf if I thought it would help.”

Pidge smiles, her chest warming with something like reassurance, and some of the tension oozes out of her shoulders. “And I would appreciate that. I’ll just have to settle for Lance poking him with a sword instead.”

And he will, Pidge tries to convince herself. He has to.

“I hope that will be the outcome of the duel,” Allura says, “but no matter what happens, Pidge, I want you to know that you will not have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know I don’t,” Pidge says, her hands clenching into fists and jaw setting.

But the knot of dread in her stomach tugs tighter. What if King Thurar wins the duel and she refuses to marry him anyway?

He’s already held Lance against her just for her one and only escape…

Allura’s visit stays brief, her updates on their team limited. She confesses to avoiding speaking to the Coalition - especially Earth, and especially Pidge’s family - and adds that, despite the looming duel, Coran still works to find a legal loophole for them to exploit.

And Lance…well, he sent no message with her, and Pidge’s heart sinks in disappointment.

He vows to fight for her but doesn’t wish to say anything?

Pidge’s chest hurts when she thinks of Lance and the last time she saw him too hard, and as her fingernails dig into the palms of her hands, she wonders what she would say to him if they faced each other.

For one, she’d demand what the quiznak he—

A thud from the balcony makes Pidge jump out of her chair. Her heart pounds as she creeps towards the door, remembering the rope she left tied to the railing. She pushes aside the curtains and opens the door and finds a shoe and—

“Lance?”

Pidge’s breath catches as a familiar yelp rises from the balcony railing near the castle’s wall. She sprints across the balcony when Lance himself appears, the timer on a cloaking device running to zero while his body dangles from the railing.

She grabs his arms and heaves with a grunt of effort, muscles straining as his feet find purchase on the wall. She tugs him over the railing, stumbling backwards and panting when she lets him go and he falls.

Lance pushes himself upright, groaning and clutching his shoulder, her hasty lifeline in a pile beside him. “Th-thanks for the—”

Pidge launches herself at him, her arms winding around his neck as she presses her forehead to his collarbone. A lump sticks in her throat when she swallows, her eyes burning even as relief washes over her.

Lance hugs her tightly around the waist, his body trembling against hers and his heart pounding a rapid but steady beat. “P-Pidge, are you—”

A sob escapes her as she shakes her head. “N-no…w-what’re you doing here?” she demands. “You could’ve hurt yourself b-before the stupid d-duel…” She pulls away to look at him, to drink in his face, struck by a sudden gut-wrenching fear:

King Thurar never mentioned what would happen if Lance is caught here.

“W-we can talk inside,” Pidge says. She reluctantly extracts herself from his arms and stands, offering him a hand.

His wraps around hers, and even once they’re ensconced inside, away from the balcony where their voices can drift down to the busy gardens, he doesn’t let go.

“Pidge…” Lance cups her face with his free hand, and she leans into it, her eyes slipping shut. His thumb skirts across her cheek, and she sighs. “I-I’m here because I miss you.” His lips brush her forehead, and he runs his fingers through her hair.

Pidge sniffs, her hand gripping his like it’s a lifeline even as she says, “Y-you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” Lance wonders, his eyes narrowing when she opens hers to meet them. “I-I saw you yesterday when I was training, but you didn’t come to—”

“I-it was risky,” she says, tearing her gaze away from his. “I could’ve been caught”—she was caught—”and I didn’t want to distract you.”

“If that’s all, then why aren’t you looking at me?”

Pidge bites her lip and forces her gaze back up. “Better?”

Lance frowns, but he reassures her, “Don’t worry, Pidge. I’ve got it, okay?” His hands warm her face, his forehead resting against hers while her fingers wrap around his wrists. “I’ll kick that king’s quiznak tomorrow, and we can go home.”

And Pidge, for all her anxiety and fear, believes him.

***

Lance’s heart pounds with him standing so close to Pidge, heat flooding his body to the tips of his toes and fingers even while regret that she’s upset - actually scared - fills him.

This is his fault, after all, so if he can inspire some confidence in her - even if he doesn’t have much himself - then he will.

He just hopes any she has in him won’t be misplaced.

He holds her close, arms wrapping around her and pulling her against him, and every shuddering breath she takes wracks his body, the necklace he gave her trapped between them. He’d happily spend the night like this - why should he return to the Castle anyway when he’ll be right back here in the morning? - but he came on a mission, and it begins with telling Pidge—

“Why did you never tell me about your bayard upgrade?”

Lance stiffens, surprised by her question and when she pulls back to meet his gaze, an eyebrow raised expectantly. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It…never seemed important since I never got it again.”

“Really?” Pidge frowns skeptically, her arms falling away from him to cross. “It’s a notable development seeing as how my and Hunk’s bayards have changed even if you haven’t been able to repeat it yet.”

Lance misses her warmth and tries to reach for her, but she takes a step back. “It was—”

“And why did you accept the king’s challenge anyway?” Pidge demands.

She’s angry with him, he realizes with a gut-wrenching certainty, and with how dismal his progress at learning how to use a sword - which he doesn’t even have for the duel - he deserves it.

Maybe that’s why he irritably quips, “I guess you didn’t appreciate the romance in my gesture.”

He knows it’s the worst thing to say as soon as the words leave his lips even without Pidge’s face darkening and her lips twisting into a scowl. He knows it, because it doesn’t even come close to hinting at the depths of his feelings for her, for how thinking of her with someone else hurts.

Pidge snaps, “There’s no romance in this because no one - not you and not that jerk - asked what I want!”

“But I—”

“Is this what it takes for you to finally notice me?” Pidge wonders. She flails her arms, and something like hurt tinges her voice. “For you to think you’re going to lose me to a quiznaking king like you thought you lost Allura?”

He reaches for her with growing panic, tries to grasp her hand, but she wrenches it away. “Pidge—”

Her voice breaks, driving a stake deeper into his heart, as she says, “Y-you don’t have to w-win me, Lance.” She sniffs and wipes at her nose with her sleeve. “You a-already h-have me if only I h-have you too.”

An absurd heat rushes to his face, and her words stun him speechless even while his heart hammers in an effort to burst from his chest. His lips part uselessly as he seeks the words to reassure and comfort her and tell her that of course she has him!

He hesitates too long.

“F-fine.” Pidge, her face a burning and embarrassed red, unclasps her necklace and flings it at him.

Lance, startled, fumbles to catch the delicate gold chain and pendant as she shoves him towards the balcony. “Wait, Pidge—”

“Y-you’d better leave before the guards hear you and d-drag you away to be locked in a dungeon,” she tells him.

Lance trips over the threshold and tries to return the necklace to her, but she shakes her head. “This is yours,” he insists.

“I-I don’t want it,” she says, scowling despite the tears swimming in her eyes.

His chest tightens. “Katie, listen to me—”

Pidge turns her back to him, shoulders trembling, and says, “B-be careful on your way down. A-and…you’ll do great a-at the duel.” She flashes him a tight smile that makes his heart ache with the familiar pain of rejection right before she closes the door.

Continue to Chapter Six

[no-i-didnt-notice-im-short]

Family (Luciana’s POV)

“Wait so you are actually twins? He got all the looks, huh?”

She heard this way too many times for it to be a welcomed statement at this point. It delivered the meaning that whoever said this didn’t think she could be pretty or that her brother wasn’t smart to any extent. They should be one or the other but didn’t know which one was worse.

Luciana McClain thought she left that statement buried in the ashes of her destroyed house back in Cuba, but here, miles away in another country after an alien invasion she was faced with it again. Keith, the emo brooding Paladin, smiled at her handing her a drink while Lance slept on his hospital bed.

Apparently after the delayed arrival of the Red Lion to Lance, he sustained catastrophic injuries to his abdominal areas causing a lot of complications that sent him straight to surgery. He didn’t feel the severity of the pain until the adrenaline completely left his system and he collapsed the second he reached the Garrison base.

As one of the youngest second year residents at the local hospital in the area she lived in, planning to specialise in cardiothoracic surgery, she dreadfully understood every word the doctor said. She understood the sugar-coated version he said to her parents and could point out all the hidden messages between the lines. Veronica looked at her sister silently giving her a warning that she will demand to know the truth regardless of what the doctor told her.

“What?” She stared at Keith dumbfounded. She had just told him what she studied and her future plans in specialised surgery.

“I mean, Lance is very good-looking, even he knows it, and you are like crazy smart. I mean a freaking surgeon! That is everything compared to piloting, if I say so myself.”

Lance had admitted to his sister the second he stepped foot into the base, after all their hugs and introductions and private family alone time, that he was dating the Black paladin. She went wide eyed and hugged her brother even tighter than the first time, congratulating him for finally admitting that all the made up rivalry he would call her about at three in the morning was actually an oppressed crush on the boy.

“Piloting is very complicated.”

“Well, yeah. But we don’t cut people open and fix their insides all while taking into account the differences found in each person.”

“You seem very interested in medicine.” she said dryly.

She was trying so hard to put an effort into staying civil with the boy, but she hated having these conversations if the person was this close to her brother. From experience, it always ended badly.

“It’s a pretty interesting field, and Lance doesn’t talk about anything this serious if it wasn’t about a mission or a face mask, so I would love to hear your stories.”

“So you’re calling your boyfriend, my twin brother and best friend, dumb.”

“What?” Keith took a step back from Luciana, defensive. “Of course not.”

“Then why did you say that?”

“That I am interested in medicine?”

“That He got all the looks and that you can’t believe that we are twins.” She took a step forward the more he took a step back. “That Lance doesn’t talk about anything interesting. Did you ever ask him about his interests?”

Keith opened his mouth to answer but Luciana cut him off.

“Of course not. You wanna know how I know? You called him boring. You called him dumb. If you actually asked him you would know that he was offered a full scholarship to get into Biochemistry or Pharmacy. He knows the complexity of chemical compounds and what makes up a medicine better than a third year pharmacist. You would know that he has been experimenting ever since he was a kid and that the first thing he had ever asked for, ever, was a set of lab apparatus’.

“He, unfortunately, also read too much for his own good that he fantasized about space for as long as he could read. He read about where he could find the best Piloting schools and studied for the entrance exam like it was boot camp for two months to be prepared for the advanced classes’ finals without actually attending their classes to get another scholarship as to not hurt our parents financially. He thought about the good of the whole family before making any decisions and you have the audacity of implying that he is boring or dumb?”

Keith stared at her wide eyed. Suffocating silence save for the beeping of the heart monitor hooked onto Lance indicating that he is alive and well and on earth. She almost felt bad for Keith but quickly stopped herself. If she didn’t set some things straight now, no one will. He needed to know more about Lance and that whatever the idea or persona he chose to hold as a mask was just that, a mask. He was much more complex than that. He had feelings, sometimes too much, and he overthinks about the tiniest of gestures and words that it was easy for him to get hurt. But when it was easy for you to get hurt because you learn to hide, to not attract attention onto yourself, to protect yourself from the prying eyes whether it be a boyfriend, a sister or a parent.

It took her years to perfect her ‘Lance Language’ and she was not about to sit and watch her brother’s relationship get wrecked, again, simply because his boyfriend didn’t take time out of his day to actually put some effort into getting to know him.

“Luci…” A small low voice came out from the other side of the room, next to the beeping sound. Lance. “Don’t grill my boyfriend when i am asleep. Wait for me to be conscious to defend him.”

All the pent up tension in her muscles melted at the sound of her brother’s voice. She fast walked to his side and held his hand. Her thumb massaging his knuckles. His abnormally pallor face looked at her with half-lidded ocean blue eyes, another feature they both shared. His scarred right eyebrow raised while pointing at Keith with his eyes.

Code: Don’t talk to my boyfriend like that, I actually care about him.

Her face softened tenfold and she smiled at him.

Code: I love you and i don’t care. I will set my power over him.

“Wait… twin telepathy is a real thing?” Keith’s wobbly voice sent both the siblings into a fit of laughter. Painfully so in Lance’s case.

“Guess you’ll never know, Mullet.” Lance looked at his boyfriend, eyes filled with love and admiration. He held his hand to the other male, urging him to take it. Keith didn’t disappoint.

“Dr. McClain.” Keith started looking at her. “I love your brother and i swear to you that i will put 120% of my efforts into making sure he is loved, healthy and appreciated.”

She smiled at him and made her way to leave. Maybe by some space miracle, this relationship would be different. She already asked Shiro about Keith and shared her fears onto the older ex-Paladin. He assured her that if Keith was given a warning about something, he will do more than just fix it. He would perfect it; Apparently it was something he learned at the Home.

Even thought she was assured he was different, this was still her brother.

“Oh, and Dr. McClain.” She turned to Keith right before leaving the room to give them some privacy. “Lance didn’t get all the looks, i mean he is quite beautiful… But so are you. Please don’t take it like that... i am horrible with words and your beauty is exactly like how Lance described to me and I am so sorry for all the misunderstandings.”

She hugged Keith and thanked him before leaving.

Veronica // Krolia