#Siw: Somehow it worked

[k8ie-h0lt]

Somehow it worked

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Keith/ Lance Summary: At first Lance didn't think it could have been possible for them to get along. But somehow they did. A/N: Made for the Tears of Neptune Exchange @vldlanceprotectionsquad  as well, for @abcleverun I hope you like it. Prompt: Ships: Klance + Self love Word Count: 1,743 Or read on: ao3

So long story short, Lance and Keith went from not liking each other to tolerating the fact that they had to interact with each other as they had mutual friends. To well, now in this gray area where they could laugh and just hang out. It had been nice. Very chill in some occasions. But for Lance. Well, he still didn’t know where to go from there.

He felt as if he were drowning.  

Not that he knew as to why he thought that, it just became a thing. They talked. Had sat next to each other but there had been something there. A barrier? Maybe a wall. He didn’t know how to describe it. Only that he was lost.

Did he ever find the answer? No. Not exactly. But he did figure that somewhere along the way when he was friends with Keith, they noticed the shift there. Where they could have a peaceful moment and something in the air would just feel warm and soft. Like the sweaters his grandma made him.

Or how a bottle would be placed on the table and the whole gang would just start up a game. His limbs would relax, his eyes would roam until he would catch Keith’s. They wouldn’t say anything about it. But he knew that Keith wanted something.  

.

The beach had become a place where Lance and Keith went to. Why exactly there? Well, he didn’t know the complete answer. He knew that Keith was that kind of guy that liked nature and privacy. While Lance had grown up close to the ocean that he found himself comfortable with the idea of going back there as he had spent many summers there during his childhood.

It had become a place just for them, and it had in turn offered a zone where they often told each other their secrets.

Some were harmless. Others they had made Lance see why his heart fluttered like the waves in the ocean. Always crashing, always cycling back to the earth. Just like how Lance couldn’t go a day without having Keith close by. They just stayed like that.  

It had been a peaceful transition if he had to be honest. Watching the sky changing colors as time went by. With Keith’s body heat close to his and Lance seeing the world hum in silence. He could get used to it. Maybe he had been starting to when Keith kept calling for him to meet him by the beach where their spot would be secluded enough.  

Where the world was quiet enough, and they had that extra layer of protection to seek each other without judgment. He knew it could had been dangerous to linger in that kind of approach, but when Keith never scorned him, he had felt so relieved. As if he had been accepting each part, he had been showing to him. Few people ever saw the sides that he showed him. It had been terrifying.  

But it had been also liberating too when Keith had been patient and astute to let him be himself. As if he were allowed to be imperfect.  

.

“Will you ever stop that?”

“Stop what?”

Keith would look at him, and Lance swore he felt the insides of his body turn over when he finally elaborated. “Will you ever stop devaluing yourself?”

Lance wished he knew the answer to it or had been able to deflect it. But he couldn't because of how his heart had drained itself from blood, and how it had banged itself against his chest in the same way a rain storm raged on. Luckily there had been no water works that day. But Keith’s words, they had lingered. For a lot longer than he wished they had.  

It gave way to him constantly thinking about how he viewed his life.

How sometimes, he felt like he was a jellyfish. Invisible to most, soft all around but not defenseless. He could handle his own obstacles, could bring home the bacon just fine. Keith, had known about that. Had seen Lance work hard to get where he was. But Lance wished that Keith would just accept his help too.

They had known each other for a while now. Had begun to get closer. But that didn’t mean that Keith let Lance in. Not like he let anyone else if they weren’t Shiro.  

He understood.  

He really did. (But he couldn’t help but sigh dejectedly.)  

.

Once he found the time to go back to the beach, he remembered the silly dreams when he had been younger when he wanted to be a merman.

It had been one of the oldest memories that he could recall perfectly. With his tiny forearms being taped with plastic fins, alongside with flippers on as he pretended to be a merman with his siblings. He even dressed up as one for Halloween a couple years in a row. Funny enough that had been the costume that he wore when he first met Keith. And it had also been what started their very long history together.

Not that he thought about it a lot. It just came up like how other memories did when somebody wanted to replay old ones. It had been a normal reflex. He wasn’t being weird.  

They had started talking more. Slower, practically cautious now if Lance had to think about it. By the time that they found a pace that worked it had gone back and forth like walking in a swamp during summer.  

It could have been worse. Could had made them lose all connection all together. But the great thing about them was that they were both stubborn people.

They both made the efforts to see each other, to understand that they were both going in different directions in life but were still committed into being in each other’s lives. And that... that had been enough for him.

.

Normally when people spoke about ice or in general winter, they didn’t always give it a positive review.

In Lance’s opinion that had been terrible because ice was a beautiful concept. A lovely invention that nature created. It had been how he got Keith to ice skate with him when the lake near his grandma’s house froze.  

It had been why their time together was spinning into a warmer direction. Yeah, winter could be a pain to get to work and school, but when he saw Keith’s smiling face when the snow dropped, he could deal with the thousands of sweaters he would have to wear throughout the whole season.  

Because, Keith’s smile had been (and maybe had always been) everything to him.

.

Keith had been the first to kiss him.  

It had been during a late night where the ocean waves were slowing down, and he had been able to taste the salt water from Keith’s lips. The sand in between his toes hadn’t been that comfortable, but when it happened, the fact remained that they both knew what they had been desperately trying to figure out.  And the kiss had said it. Had made Lance lean closer, to practically now clutching the front of Keith’s shirt as he tried his best to memorize the sensation of his heart bursting from happiness.

It had been gratifying to have his feelings finally have a name for it after so long of wondering what had been plaguing him. To have an unexpected epiphany grab onto him; he had loved its sudden entrance into his life.  

Because wasn’t that how life liked to play? Being so unpredictable, but oh so, wonderful? He never wanted the night to end.

And it never technically ended since then. No matter what happened, he always smelt the ocean when Keith was by him, he could remember how tight Keith held on to him when they ice skated, or how wonderful it had felt like the impression of water running down his skin on hot summer days when Keith kissed him.

It had been a completely blissful awakening for him (and he was sure Keith thought so too when he smiled at him).  

.

When he got cornered by the mist that morning, he saw something very clearly. Between all the ups and downs, Keith had often been a center for him. In his own ways he known how to talk to Lance. Had made him feel like he could walk forward to any path because he had him.  

In any form, in any time, they just worked. They were Keith and Lance. Two people that despite how they first met, they had found a way to live side by side. The mist wasn’t scary to him anymore. Just like how the ocean had never scared Lance.  

It had been funny how the person that Lance first didn’t like had also become the very person that helped him overcome his own insecurities. To learn how to love himself. It reminded him of the time when he first learned how to swim. The water from the lake didn’t compare to the ocean. But in the beginning when he had a whole lake to learn to navigate, he remembered what his older siblings taught him. He took it easy, with one arm stretching out, then a leg pushing him forward.

It had been a very tedious routine, but with Keith, it had become a routine into stopping his negative thoughts. Obviously there still had been some bad days, when Lance had been learning. And it helped that he had seen the end of the tunnel because Keith had been walking with him.

It had made it easier to understand what Keith had been trying to say all that time ago. Life could and will be so much brighter once he stopped being so hard on himself.  

.

It felt a little cheesy to say that Keith reminded Lance of a lighthouse. But he did, he was a pillar where the light helped lost people find their directions. He may have not looked like that at first glance, but years since Lance got to know him, he could see the connection.  

He was strong and safe.  

And in Lance’s life he knew that as much as they were still new to their relationship, he could say that they were both learning how to be better alongside each other. They could do it. And they would achieve that happiness.

Because, he knew that they had each other to count on.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

all my tubes and wires and careful notes

Fandom: Kamen Rider Ghost

Characters: Tsukimura Akari, Alia

Song: "She Blinded Me With Science," Thomas Dolby (playlist here)

Note: Thank you to @si-siw for letting me borrow your headcanon and infecting me with this ship! I hope you enjoy the story!

The skies of the Ganma World may be clear, but the ground remains in a state, and so Akari and Igor have been working non-stop for nearly five hours when they hear a quiet, polite cough and look up to see Alia standing in the laboratory doorway. When she has their attention, she says, softly, “Are you on the verge of any particular scientific breakthroughs?”

Igor seems poised to launch into an extended explanation of what they’ve been working on, but Akari cuts him off with, “Not really. Decent progress, but nothing big yet.”

“I see. Thank you.” Then, directly to Igor, “In that case, I will need to borrow Miss Akari for a short period. You should use this time to have a meal, you’ve been working for some time.”

Blinking, Akari makes sure all of her notes are in order and then follows Alia out of the room and down the hall. “What did you need me for?”

She can see the curl of Alia’s tiny smile just from the way it changes her profile, before her mouth has even really moved. “I wanted company for lunch. And,” slightly more quietly, “I thought you might like some time out of Igor’s company.”

“I—yeah, I really do, thank you. He’s not a bad research partner, he’s just…” Akari gestures vaguely as she hunts for the right words and then settles on the diplomatic, “high energy. Plus at some point I’m going to have to explain the whole ‘I’m a lesbian’ thing and I’m not looking forward to it.”

“Is he very persistent?”

“No, you know, he really isn’t, but it’s still a conversation that we’ll need to have.” They turn a corner, go through a doorway, and are unexpectedly in a small sitting room, mostly plainly decorated, although one wall holds a painting that Akari blinks at. “Wait, did Cubi paint that?”

The tiny curl of a smile comes back. “He did. It makes the room brighter. Please, sit.”

Lunch is already served, the small table set with tea and sandwiches, and when Akari sees them her stomach growls, and she blushes. “Excuse me, I guess I am hungry.”

“Then sit down, please, and eat.”

Something seems odd as they sit down to eat, but Akari’s so hungry that she doesn’t bother working out what it is at first, in favor of wolfing down sandwiches as she gives Alia a progress report on the soil research. It’s nothing to do with the food, at least. Not the tea either, although the blend is unfamiliar. Certainly it isn’t Alia’s manner, she’s listening and asking thoughtful questions as always.

It’s—

“I love your manicure,” she’s saying, “sometimes I wish I could do fun stuff with my nails, but I do so much with my—I’m sorry.” She lowers her cup, blinking. “I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hands before.”

Alia looks down at her own hands, wrapped primly around her teacup. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

“I, if this is rude to ask then stop me, but do you hide them on ohh.” Akari trails off mid-sentence as a pattern of vividly pink circuitry pulses from Alia’s wrists to her manicured fingertips. “Oh, that’s beautiful.”

There’s a moment of silence as Alia stares at her in faint but obvious surprise. “Do you think so?” She lifts one hand from her cup and turns it in the air, as if she’s seeing it for the first time herself. “They’re prosthetic. My real hands were badly injured in one of the early trials of Eyecon technology. These are lifelike, but as you can see, they aren’t a perfect counterfeit.” The circuit pattern pulses down them again as she holds her hand out to Akari, a stylized eye appearing for a moment in the center of her palm. “My father preferred to address the issue as he addressed many others in his later life, by ignoring it, and so I became accustomed to keeping my hands concealed. In my Eyecon form they were whole, of course, but old habits are hard to break.”

Akari stares at Alia’s extended hand in shock and fascination. “I…wow, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”

“It’s all right. It was more than a hundred years ago at this point.”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose it…wait, if your hands are prosthetic then how did you manage the manicure? Are they acrylic?”

“They’re magnetic.” Suddenly smiling, Alia sets down her teacup and removes one of her pointed, painted thumbnails, revealing dull metal beneath, and then puts it back on. “Alain had several sets made for me as a gift shortly after we all returned to inhabiting our original flesh.”

“That was thoughtful of him.”

“He’s always been a thoughtful boy.”

Akari takes a sip of tea, amused by the reminder that of course Alain’s sister still thinks of him as a boy, and the meal continues in companionable silence for a few minutes until she realizes something else. “You were involved in the original Eyecon trials?”

Another one of those tiny curls of smile. “Of course. I was Edith’s research assistant for many years.”

“You were? Why didn’t he ever—of course he never mentioned, why would he give someone else credit. What parts of the project did you work on?”

“Oh, most of them, I’m primarily an engineer but I’ve dabbled in a number of scientific disciplines. And I do some design as well. Would you like to see my workshop?”

“I would love to.”

---

The first thing Akari sees are the notebooks. The heavy bookcase in Alia’s lab does hold some academic texts, but more than half of it is packed with enormous ledgers bound in dark leather, so many that she’s shocked the shelves don’t groan under their weight. Two more lie open on an enormous rolltop desk, their unlined pages filled with with notes and sketches in a tiny, precise hand. On the walls hang several large, heavy parchment sheets, on which are hand-drawn diagrams of machinery, hibernation capsules, an exploded Eyecon, and—

“Is that…Alain’s suit?”

“Yes.” Alia reaches up and trails a fond hand down the edge of the diagram, which is labeled Necrom—for Adel? Alain. “I designed it.”

“Oh.”

“And here is Makoto’s.” The next diagram, Makoto’s name written at the top in ink much less faded than the rest. “And the next one is an early draft of what eventually became Takeru’s, although Edith did some further work with it that he didn’t inform me about. He designed and built the transformation devices, but the suits are my work.”

“Oh, I…” Akari stares up at the diagrammed suits, the close-up sketches of tiny components, more of Alia’s perfect handwriting in notes that she can only partially read. Some are in Japanese, but others are in Latin, and more are in a language that she doesn’t recognize. There are more diagrams, too, rolled up in a wooden bin, each one neatly labeled. Specter 1.0, Necrom (Alternates), Wraith, Manes and Lemures, Eyecon (Prototype), Hands. And the tables—once she can tear her eyes away from the wall she sees that there’s a blank Eyecon disassembled on one table, and on another is an Ulorder with a panel open lying on top of yet another diagram, this one in different handwriting and weighed down at the corners with books. “This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever been in.”

“I am very glad that you think so.”

“I, I just.” A bit of futile gesturing as Akari struggles for words, and then, “Look, can I. Can I buy you dinner?”

Alia…blinks. “Pardon me?”

“I would, um, love to take you to dinner sometime, so we can. Talk. More. Because I really like talking to you. And, and maybe a concert or a movie or something, or there’s a History of Engineering exhibit at a museum near the temple, I know you haven’t gotten to visit the human world much and I could…show you around.”

There’s a long moment where Alia’s just staring at her and Akari considers the very serious possibility that she just messed up big time.

“I,” she starts again, “that is, if you want—”

“I would enjoy that.” Alia takes one of Akari’s hands in both of hers. Akari can feel how cool they are, the odd smoothness of the skin as pink circuits pulse down them, and normally she’d want to know more about that but right now there’s so much other stuff happening even if really it’s only one other thing. “A concert, if you know of one coming up, I think I get enough of engineering in the normal course of my day that maybe the museum might be better saved for a second visit.”

Akari’s ears are ringing. “There’s, um, a performance from a popular violinist coming up next Thursday night? Takeru gave me two tickets, he knows the performer…somehow…”

The curl of smile, small and warm and directly entirely at her. “I enjoy violin music. And we can discuss our work over dinner.”

If she nods any harder she’s going to get dizzy. “That. That sounds wonderful. I’ll, uh, I’ll pick you up at five!”

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

First Lines Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

I was tagged by @toku-fangirl-2015​ <3 <3 <3

So, uh, obviously I’ve got a lot of writing up, and a fair amount of stuff still in progress. We’ll do some recent full-length fics first, even if two of them are still works in progress:

The way it works is, you wake up in the morning and there’s a dragon living in your chest. (from a WIP)

Discord, May 9th, 2019, 11:19 PM gudetama's buttcheeks#19X46: oh holy shit holy shit holy shit ReadySetGou updated an antique railing#XX304: wtf is ReadySetGou wait that’s the Japanese guy youre in love with right I thought you said he died (from a WIP)

They meet for the first time in Marrakech, in a coffee shop. It’s not as if Gai’s looking for company. It’s just that he’s on the phone with Naomi, promising to bring her back a souvenir when he’s next in Japan, and when he looks up he realizes that someone else in the room understands the language he’s speaking. (from Phone Home)

All right! Now, prompt fics, working backwards!

“Hey, look, I’m sure we can take care of this later--” “You know, M, this would be easier if you’d just take off your pants.” (current prompt in progress)

Hiiro walks into the CR with the kind of tense dignity that generally means he’s had a long surgery and he’s very tired and stops when he sees that the cot is already occupied. “Pediatrician, is the Bugster actually sleeping?” (post)

Really, Shoutaro thinks, it shows a lot of restraint from Philip that he managed to wait a full week after discovering that Roidmudes were back in the world before he insisted on meeting one. (post)

First: they’re at the docks, walking together, talking about the problems they’ve encountered. Kiba says he’s not sure Kusaka is trustworthy, and Takumi nods and doesn’t say anything in response, because he definitely could say a few things, but he’s not sure if Kiba’s trustworthy either. (post)

“Oh, Sougo,” Tsukasa breathes out, “what have you done?” Sougo actually sputters a little. “Me? How is this my fault? I just got here.” (post)

The photo studio doesn’t move as frequently as it used to, which is sort of a relief. The constant hopping it used to do was exhausting–apart from whatever Tsukasa needs to get done, and whatever problems each World has, there’s always the issue of learning the way around a new neighborhood, not to mention finding a new grocery store. And, of course, the restructuring of Tsukasa’s wardrobe, which is a problem they’ve mostly learned to live with. (post)

“–so the Zyurangers were the first team to ever go past five members, but Big One from J.A.K.Q. was the first sentai ever to join his team late. And for a while the Kyouryugers were the biggest sentai, but now the Kyuurangers have them beat, especially since some of the Kyouryugers are part-time. I’m kind of wondering if we’re ever going to see a team bigger than the Kyuurangers, twelve is so many–” “Gai, my dear?” Gai blinks. “Yes?” (post)

When Keiichiro gets back to the apartment Kairi’s already there, curled up on the couch in Keiichiro’s bathrobe and a blanket with several boxes of takeout waiting on the table. None of the boxes seem to have been touched; Kairi’s attention is entirely devoted to the steaming cup of coffee he’s holding in both hands. (post)

“How did you find this place?” Yuichi says as they round the corner into the little alley. “Fujisaki recommended it to me, actually.” Kiyoshi grins up at him. “Apparently she and a couple of her girlfriends like to go here sometimes. She says the coffee’s only ok really, but the pastries are really nice. Here, this is it, Cafe,” he squints at the sign, “Nas–nascita.” (post)

Luka wanders through the common area of their slapdash temporary living space, lost in her own thoughts, and nearly pulls a gun when she hears Noël say, “Bonjour, Miss Luka.” (post)

It’s a crowded room, but nevertheless Tooma knows when he’s being watched, and he turns and meets the thoughtful gaze of the man in the check pants and the cabbie hat and says, “Why are you staring at me?” “Trying to remember where we’ve met before. Besides here, of course. You’re one of the Lupin guys, right?” “Lupin Blue.” Tooma pauses. “You’re Spada, I remember you. From the Kyuurangers.” As he speaks, he remembers–“You’re the chef.” (post)

Makito wanders into the library mid-morning with a slip of paper in hand and begins running his fingers along the shelves as he searches for a book, and then stops, frowning. “Hey, did someone organize these? Who did this?” Kai doesn’t look up from his homework. “Who did what?” “Organized the books.” “Oh, yeah, that. Houka’s boyfriend.” “Houka has a boyfriend who organizes books?” (post)

“Your sense of timing leaves something to be desired,” Tetsuo gasps. “As usual.” “What, as usual? I’m tryin’ to be more spontaneous.” (post)

Parad twitches violently and nearly falls over, and Emu looks up from the patient file he’s reviewing with some alarm. “Parad, are you all right? You feel,” and a wave of nausea hits him as he’s saying, “sick.” (post)

Souji’s an attractive man in general, but there’s something about his legs in particular that just makes Arata completely lose his mind. It’s not just that they’re good legs, although they are incredibly good legs–it’s that there seems to be a lot of them. Arata’s not sure how that works, since Souji’s not actually much taller than him, but he’s not going to argue with it. (post)

“All right, are we recording?” “Camera rolling, Dr. Kujou.” “Ok, excellent. This is a video record of Game Disease recovery experiment number one hundred and thirteen. Today we’re attempting a revival using Roidmude Core technology donated by Dr. Sawagami Rinna, she’s a fantastic lady, we’re sending her a fruit basket–I’m focusing, it’s fine. Subject is Momose Saki, we have on file a signed release from her next of kin–” (post)

Clink. Clink. Clink. There is someone in Maki’s laboratory, and he has not authorized anyone to be in there. Of course, it might be Date, the man’s always making himself inconvenient, but somehow Maki suspects that it is not. Clink, clink, clink. He steps into the laboratory and it is, of course, not Date. (post)

All right, and with that we’ve hit 20 and I’m stopping. Anyway...clearly I like to open with dialogue, but otherwise I’m not sure that you could say there’s a particular pattern.

I am tagging @si-siw and no one else, but feel free to blame me if you decide to do it too. ^_^