#Young Matt visage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bleakfated · 2 years ago

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INTERACTIONS. HEADCANONS. VISAGE. IISMS. WISHLIST. OPENS. SC.

STATISTICS

BASICS: name: teegan mattea carmichael age: 20s-30s gender & pronouns: female, she/her sexuality: pansexual faceclaim: ana de armas occupation: hunter location: all over for hunting, home is whitefish, montana

PERSONALITY: positive traits: caring, friendly, witty, realistic negative traits: shy, insecure, heedless, sarcastic

APPEARANCE: scars: few scattered small ones, nothing major tattoos: antipossession on chest piercings: earlobes

VERSES

BIOGRAPHY

TL;DR

Teegan Carmichael is the youngest of the Carmichael siblings, born to lifetime hunters Matthew and Grace. All of the children in the family were unaware of the supernatural until they were 13, where they learned about monsters, how to protect themselves, and eventually hunting if they were interested. Teegan was less interested in hunting than her older siblings and this was further solidified by her father's death. She stayed behind with their grieving mom for nearly a year, save for a few hunts that her siblings needed extra help. She does now hunt regularly with her sister, but spends more time at home in Montana than her siblings.

FULL BIO

Teegan Mattea Carmichael was born on February 27, 1983 as the last child of Grace and Matt Carmichael. As the youngest, she was often babied by both her parents and her older siblings. Her parents were hunters for a large part of their lives and when her older sister Roxanne came as a surprise, they had settled down into a cabin in Whitefish, Montana to help Grace's friend run a coffee shop for stable income and a place to live. The couple started to have arguments about what they planned to do with their daughter, as Grace didn't want her hunting and Matt believed her introduction to the supernatural was inevitable. An explosive fight led to Matt leaving for a couple of weeks. He had an affair with a woman he knew from high school one drunken night during this absence. Unknowingly, this affair resulted in a child that showed up on their doorstep with the police at only a few months old.

Sidney's mother, Miranda had gone missing and her parents had decided they could not take care of him and told the police to find his father. This was how Grace found out that Matt had slept with someone he knew, rather than a stranger. The fight was only further complicated by Grace finding out that she was pregnant with Teegan a few weeks later. Ultimately, with groveling on Matt's side and a lot of heated discussions the couple finally came to an agreement. Grace forgave Matt for what he had done and the kids would learn about the supernatural on their thirteenth birthday and would learn self-defense and weaponry skills in the meantime. Under no circumstances were they to hunt before they were sixteen and none of them would be expected to take up hunting either.

While she grew up, Teegan learned to hunt animals and fish from a young age, both of which she enjoyed to do alongside her parents and also aspiring to be like her older sister. Her parents often still hunted, but they didn't hunt as partners again until their three children knew about the supernatural. Instead, Matt and Grace alternated turns going on 'business' trips, often calling another hunter to meet them in whatever town needed help that week. On rare occasions before Roxie was old enough to watch her younger siblings, they would hunt together as a couple while the owners of the cafe would watch the kids. When Roxie was old enough, they would often take hunts together, still disguised as business trips until Teegan turned thirteen and learned the truth. It was around this time that on summer breaks Roxie would sometimes accompany her parents on hunting trips, because school always took precedence.

Her parents let her know everything about the supernatural, handing down their journals for her to read. When they lay it all out on the table, they assured her that she needn't feel like she had to hunt just because her parents and siblings did. It was perfectly acceptable to decide to live a normal life, as they only wanted to make sure that she would be able to protect herself. The thought of going up against monsters with sharp teeth, claws, and three times her strength honestly terrified her. It was not as instant of a decision for her as it was for her siblings. After few months of self defense training regardless, her big heart won out over her fear. She knew that she would never be able to sleep easy knowing that there were people out there that would continue to die because she was not using the knowledge (rather a misfortune or a fortune, depending on how you looked at it) that she was given. After that, she went on a few cases with her family and studied the ways to kill different monsters and how to pick up on signs of them in the papers.

When her sister graduated, she spent more of her time hunting, either alongside Grace and Matt or other hunters that they knew. Her parents didn't let her go alone. Unfortunately, things can never stay without tragedy for hunters, even if they were more or less raised into it rather than forced into it upon surviving an attack in their adulthood. When her brother Sidney was a few weeks away from graduating, their father was killed in a hunt gone wrong alongside Roxanne and Grace. Sidney received the call from Roxie and he pulled Teegan out of bed in the middle of the night and drove them across the country to properly lay their father to rest with a hunter's funeral. The family was lost in grief for a long time and Teegan would tell you Grace never found her way out. Her mom mostly stopped hunting following the loss and she couldn't blame her.

Sidney immediately turned his attention to hunting as a way to channel his emotions and a few months later, Roxie joined him. Teegan decided to stay alongside her mother for a while, only going along when they desperately needed her, until she felt her mother didn't need as much support and the urge to help more people became too strong. Finishing high school her senior year had been enough of a challenge, because she was still completely weighed down by grief. For a while, the three hunted as a trio and Teegan learned a lot from her siblings and found the time to have good moments with them. They were completely unstoppable together. However, Sidney's overbearing protectiveness of the two sisters eventually led to them splitting off on their own, so they could hunt the way they wanted to and not worry about arguing with him or watching him threaten nearly anyone that approached them romantically.

While the lifestyle of a hunter was hard, Teegan had found peace within it, and once again the sense of peace and routine would be disrupted. While on a case with a rawhead, the thing had gotten the upperhand on Roxie and out of nowhere, Teegan's hand had been able to shock it to death. Terrified of what this could mean and if it could happen again, she left her sister out of fear of hurting her. She turned off her cellphone and hunkered down in a motel room just outside of Columbus, Ohio. She spent months trying to research what could be happening with no answers. Meanwhile, she worked on gaining control over it since the first time had been involuntary. After about six months, she felt confident enough in her control to return home, but she did not allow her family within a few feet of her as a precaution.

When she arrived home, she found out her siblings had been sleuthing in the hunter community to figure out what could be wrong. According to what Roxie overheard at The Roadhouse, the Winchesters were looking for people like her and from what Gordon Walker was spewing, people like Sam Winchester were about to bring on some sort of demon war. The Carmichaels decided to keep Teegan's powers and involvement a secret as they discretely tried to find more answers about what might be happening. However, one night Teegan went to bed in a motel room with her sister and woke up in the middle of nowhere with other special children. She found out it was some sort of competition to figure out who was the strongest. Refusing to participate, she attempted to escape but was killed by Ava Wilson. Through the help of a witch named Madeline Cardelle, her siblings are able to find her body after the competition is over and resurrect her. After she comes back from the dead, there is no chance that her brother or sister let her take a case on her own.

A few years after this, turmoil struck the Carmichael family once again. Sidney was nearly killed by a demon and required a few weeks of hospitalization. Teegan and Roxie traveled to keep him company and then bring him home to Montana where they all decided to relax together for a few weeks, given the close call. Sidney made an offhand comment of finally knowing his blood type, AB, but Teegan realized this was impossible as she knew Grace was type O. Grace held onto the secret because it was far too late to turn back now, but it didn't take much digging on Roxie's part to find the documentation of Sidney's adoption. Breaking down, Grace told them the whole truth. Teegan, unlike her siblings, reassured her mom that night that she would always love her and could understand her motivations to protect their view of Matt and Sidney's feelings, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. She also assured her brother that night that he was always her brother no matter what. However, she really struggled with the idea that her father was a cheater, especially because her mother had still given her a middle name after him less than a year after she found out the truth about the affair.

Teegan works alongside her sister most often, though they are both known to pull back and go on their own while one is visiting their mother or they each find a case they are passionate about. The Carmichaels have a lot of contacts and can always find someone to work with them when their siblings are not available. They are also unique in the sense that they are not afraid to pull back from hunting and take some time for themselves. The family gets together as a whole at Christmas and Matt's birthday at the very least, but they're all known to take a week and go to their hometown or whisk their mom away for a vacation throughout the year. Teegan remains in close contact with her mom and her siblings when they're not together. The shyest of the Carmichaels, she will quietly ask other hunters if they will let her join in on a case and meekly leave at the slightest of resistance. She may come off a little quiet or awkward at first, but when she gets used to someone it is hard for her to stop talking. The Carmichaels are unaware of it, but their grandfather Gavin Carmichael didn't abandon his family. Rather he was part of the Men of Letters and was killed during Abaddon's attack.

#╰––– » 「 ⛦ 」 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁. ┊ teegan carmichael

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twototwotoo · 2 years ago

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A massive change of plans has become apparent. on the first day I had set out to do research on cooperative games for my project what would be sets of works based on game marketing with cooporation included. Surprisingly, by the end of the day, my plans got put on their head as I was reached out to by another branch of the collage, a band in search of art for their bands identity called WSC Asylum. At this point I was ready to throw away the entirety of my previous idea, due to it being so undeveloped that it was in its most ideal place to be scrapped and I instead set my cooperation idea on working with others to produce a set of work that they can use to publish their works in and outside of school. Sadly, due to the rush of this new venue, they had still had to find out what their ideal set of qualities they wanted the piece to inhibit, so I started a piece that took inspiration from Guns N’ Roses album Use Your Illusion.

I started out be outlining what the character would look like, and due to the original theming of the project, went with an angelic character. The band had yet sent me their specifications and I had to go off of expectation, and even if they didn’t want the character for anything, it could still be used later in my portfolio of work.I was happy with their look, a mix of human and otherworldly.

Alas, I thought that they looked too old. I wanted them to keep a middle aged visage, young but wise, but I had made them look too old by incorporating harsh wrinkles onto them to add depth. I resolved to remove them and add depth later through other means. I also reignited my hate for colouring, my grasp of colour theory shining through. Now, it didn’t look horrendous, but it wasn't pleasant. So, to make it stand out more than if it all looked ill, I left only their flower crown in colour, as I thought that I did a good job with it and I liked how it stood out, as if they had taken it from the earth itself and that it contrasted their angelic skin.

I then finished off my line work in black and white, and I am quite happy with how it came out. while I did use the mirror tool to make my life easier, it was also done to cut down on production time for when they came to me with what they wanted. I added hatching to add detailed depth and later applied a shadow to them using blue to give them a ghostly and holy appeal. I then finished it off with a border to make them stand out from the new background i made, a simplistic blue backdrop with triangles embedded in to break it up than leaving it a matte blue instead.

Sadly, but expected, they didn't want this piece to be used even when they liked it, as they finally complimented me with their plan. The name of the single was Gemini and they wanted something incorporating it and eyes with a galaxy / space motif. “So kind of a galaxy With an eye or something your free to do it how you want bit something to do with the Gemini galaxy would be good”

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crepitvs-a · 5 years ago

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my favorite deputy .

#no i will not take constructive criticism on the hc. art? yes #matt art.#drawing katsuki young . . hurts man #◜ 💥 visage → they call you little but your shadow says otherwise ◞

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armyhoned · 7 years ago

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I need to tell you something. It may come as a surprise. Doesn’t matter what happened in the past. My mother wanted you to know, she had a good life before passing away. She loved my father. And she loved me. We were very happy. ...Thank you for your time today. It was good to meet you.

#and then i start crying #DON'T REBLOG.#i'm making edits of mostly matt just hugging people to try out psds.#i think i'm liking this one the best so far.#00. ❛ MISC : PHOTOSHOP. / TAKE IT BEFORE I START HATING IT.#02. ❛ EGO : VISAGE. / HE'S GOT DRIFTWOOD EYES‚ GROWN IN THE DARK.#03. ❛ ID : SIMMONS‚ MI YOUNG. / I GOT HER BROWN EYES AND OPEN HEART.

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notsuchasecret · 2 years ago

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Trick or treat Narita and Mai

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus!

Trick So as usual, Ezzy and I have no chill, and may or may not have challenged each other to take a list of pretty, soft autumn prompts and use those for our tricks this year. At least, that’s what I heard, in between the sass and the frankly terrifying butter gifs… Anyway, this one's prompt is "walking past somewhere you heard is haunted."

They said the old house was haunted. They talked about it in whispers, glancing at it askance and shuffling past more quickly than the houses on either side. The neighborhood kids made up songs about it and dared each other to step across the threshold of the gate, though none of them ever did. The neighborhood moms laughed at their children’s antics, but they certainly never stepped closer, either. The neighborhood teenagers pretended not to care, to be too old for childish fears, but they too gave it nervous looks. The more superstitious would hold their breath as they passed by.

Kazuhito knew all of this, knew exactly why he shouldn’t be there the day he walked up the overgrown path to the big old house on the hill. But something about the place, its sad old visage and the way the trees creaked in warning and the skittering leaves across the path, something didn’t feel dangerous to him. It just felt lonely. When he reached the front steps, when he pressed his hand to the wood of the door, when he looked up at the peeling paint and the crooked shutters and the spot where there had once been a welcome mat but was now just a patch of evidence of what once was, that loneliness settled into his bones.

“Oh,” he breathed. “No one’s been here in a very long time, have they?”

He reached into his bag and pulled out what little he had, just a pair of incense sticks, a holder, and a lighter.

“It’s not much,” he said. “I honestly wasn’t expecting to come here today. I’ve been thinking abou tit, sure, but I hadn’t actually decided… Anyway. Like I said, it’s not much, but I hope it helps, just a little.” He bent to place the holder on the welcome matt’s outline, slipping the ends of the sticks inside. “I can come back sometime, maybe in a few days, and leave something else. Whatever you were, once, it’s not fair for you to be stuck here, avoided and forgotten.”

He lit the incense and lowered his head in prayer, just for a moment. Then, with a smile at the face of the old house, he stood and left.

She watched from the upper window, unseen and unnoticed, but she herself seeing and noticing everything. He would be back, she knew. She had a way of knowing these things, a sense for the game that humans played. She had done her research, after all, though such things were difficult when she was trapped within these walls.

Well, she thought, slipping through wood and concrete, between nails and stones, down to the front steps to mingle with the smoke, not for long. Soon she would have a new body, a strong young man’s body, to take her out into the town once more.

He would be back, and sooner than he thought. She already had her hooks in him.

Leaning back into the door and watching a pair of children race past on the sidewalk, she smiled. Only a matter of time, now.

#hq #Haikyuu!!#Wordly Stuff #NariMai #JT1M #JT1M Ficlets #Trick or Treat #I Really Need a Narita Tag #I Really Need a Mai tag #I'll be honest I had to actually look up Nametsu Mai #Like I knew (vaguely) who she was but I did not remember a thing about her lol #Anyway hope you enjoy!

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emeryfleming · 4 years ago

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@untamedgoodoleboys for Matt

#this reminds me of their time before #v; l.a. nights/poolside lines #v; take my hand #visage #face #mirror #dark hair #young Em #younger Em #Matt #lovers #loves

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ladyemberswrites · 5 years ago

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I’m Not Crazy, You’re Crazy!

Some ficlet stuff from my Redemption Universe!Au

Melenor x Alfor

Alfor never considered himself a very bitter person. Sure, he’s held grudges, but he never found himself embroiled in absolute bitterness. There may be a widening drift between him and Zarkon, but knows in it his heart that it’ll pass. Or so, he wishes to believe. But, the truth of the matter is that he never knew what it was like to feel unholy rage-

He found Melenor struggling to tip-toe around at the dawn of mid-night looking ragged and sickly pale as she slumped against the walls to keep herself steady, and hurdling to the floor. Her hair stuck to her face, and her legs wobbled, buckling, struggling to keep her weight.

“Melenor?”

Her body went rigid “Sire” she turns herself around, only for her knees to hit the floor.

“Melenor!” he rushes to her side “what are you doing out of bed?” he frantically glances over her noting that she had prespirated through her white, dress shirt. She felt cold, and clammy to the touch.

“I just-” she clenched her teeth, pressing a hand to her belly as her head fell to his chest “I need out of that room.” she murmurs “I can’t stand it. I’m a warrior, not a invalid” she mutters into his sternum, her breath hot on his throat.

“High General or not, you just gave birth. You should absolutely not be up and about” he slides his strong arms under her knees, and cradles her back. He lifts her with ease and carries her back to her private infirmary room careful not to justle her.

Allura’s still asleep when they return, she’s swaddled tightly with only her tiny face peeking out from her cocoon of warmth. He places Melenor back on the bed, her tight grimace and knitted brows betrays her feelings all too well, but given her paleness her discontent loses it’s intensity. He undoes her her high ponytail, allowing the cascade of her snowy lockes to fall about her face, she huffs out an air of annoyance as he places her down.

She hates having her hair down and shoves it harshly out her face. It aggravates her. It’s why he does it “I loathe this entire situation.”

“The hair or your condition?” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

“Both. but, mostly you.” he gawks at her with wide eyes.

“What did I do?”

“For starters stop looking at me like that” he blinks.

“Look at you like what?”

“Am I that pitiful to you that you have to look at me with contempt” her voice nearly cracks, her golden eyes turn from him in that moment.

Alfor sighs “You sound just like Zarkon” Melenor snorts.

“At least I can take pride in the fact that I’m still sane”

“Mel.”

She snaps back towards him her frecious amber eyes boring the cool blue that is his “You know as well as I, that man has clearly gone off the deep end. The rift did something to him, and you know it. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps completely"

“He just needs time.” he says, not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or her, but at this point did it matter “He’ll see my side of things”

“And if he doesn’t? Then what?"

Alfor doesn't answer and he's not sure why. Because she's right? Or because he's afraid of jinxing himself. It's one or the other, but he's for certain that Zarkon losing the final thread of his sanity isn't something he wants to image, or see be a reality. Clasping his hands together he stares off into the distance and out the window watching the autumn leaves fall.

"I'm sorry…"

"What?" His ears perk up, his head turns to find Melenor's casted away from him.

"I apologize." Her chest rises "I didn't mean to rub salt in the wound, I know how much he means to you." She murmurs, a rare tinge of red colors her pale cheeks and he couldn't help the slight smile that tugs at his lips..

"You're blushing" he runs his knuckles lightly over her cheek.

"I am not. A warrior doesn't blush as you say"

He laughs in good humor "Ah, but I've seen you blush before, haven't I? Remember, when we made love under the juniberry trees, I saw"

She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat, shoving his hand away "It was a trick of the light, fool. I do not blush." She mutters into her pillow. He laughs again but with more heart.

"Will you hush, you'll wake the princess"

"You mean our daughter"

"Your daughter" she corrects shortly. The good humor in the air dissipates, shattered by the cold reality before him.

"Melenor"

"I cannot be that child's mother."

"Biologically, speaking she is you're daughter" he argues.

"Our laws do not allow it. You know that better than anyone. I cannot be queen, and cannot be Allura's mother. It is simply not allowed"

"Laws aren't always right-I can-"

"Laws must be unhold. What's the point of them if we break those that we do not like? What then? What example, you as King, would you be setting for your people? Laws are set for a reason, whether we like them or not." Alfor swallowed, he kept his visage passive and unresponsive.

"We've taken enough liberties. We can't take anymore than the ones we've stole"

"We didn't steal anything"

"You should have taken a rightful queen instead-instead I distracted you, I kept you from your duties."

"You kept me from nothing. I chose not to marry."

"Because of me"

"Yes. But, even if I didn't love you as I do now, I still wouldn't have taken Orla for my wife."

"She's nobility"

"She's awful. I would rather be manually castrated than ever bed that woman." He muttered.

Melenor eyed him, her hardened expression softened at the sight of his grimace. It's childish, the twitch of his lip. To her, he looks boyish and young, but he's right, nobility or not Orla's a repugnant woman. She would never wish her on him, not even her worst enemy.

"You're right. I loathe her entirely"

Keith discovers two disturbing truths in one night

There's a muffled noise from behind the command center's door. He had assumed Kolivan would be alone. Perhaps, not as his sensitive hearing heard soft whispers. He really wasn't paying much attention to what was being said only that he had a message to deliver from Ulaz to Kolivan and be on his merry way for the night.

He took another bite from his apple, chewing and savouring the sweet flesh as he punched in the access code. The little lights lit up, beeping, the mechanic locks twisting and unlocking with a pop, the door slides with a hiss and with one step, and another bite he enters the room without a second thought.

He finds Kolivan, or more like he finds his back turned to him.

"Koli-" he freezes mid-bite, he sees two legs that don't belong to the hulk of muscle and alien that is Kolivan. They're smaller, slimmer and dangling around his waist. His lips snap shut as the face that peeks over his shoulder is the last person he'd ever thought he'd see or want to see. The flushed, wide-eyed face of his mother staring back at him startled. Shoulders raised to her ears which slowly fall back as her lilac visage pales under the command center's dim lights.

There's a chill. Something beeps in his ears, and he isn't sure whether the coldness is due to the frigid tension or his body heat just dropped like a sack of iron hammers. The juice of his apple taste bitter on his tongue, dribbling down his chin, and onto his suit. Like his mother's his ears fall back, and his mouth clamps so hard that his fangs dig into his gums until he can taste iron on his tongue.

He steps back out the threshold hold and watches the door slide shut and leaves the Mamora's base ship and back to his room onboard the castle of lions with Kolivan's rigid backside burned behind his eyelids. The only thing that makes the night even worse than the lsd-induced nightmare he's living is accidentally overhearing a bizarre conversation between Allura and Prince Lotor-

"-dreadful"

"I know, but it'll help" he heard the prince grumble in the back of his throat.

"Why does your advisor have a whole barrage of fertility teas in the first place" Keith stopped dead in his tracks and blinked.

...fertility teas? As in conception?

"They're leftovers"

"From what?"

"Well, Coran had always dreamed of having a family of his own, hence the teas, but due to an injury he was rendered-uh impotent."

"I see" he said after a moment.

"It was a devastating blow, poor thing, it's probably why he treats me as if I were his own"

"Still doesn't explain why he kept all this"

"Nostalgia" she said lamely "I suppose"

"It's creepy"

"I know your not one to talk, Mr. Pervert"

"Drink your tea, Allura"

"You can't even deny it, can you?"

"Drink your tea, mommy" Keith almost swallowed his own tongue.

"I'm not a mommy, yet-" he couldn't listen anymore, he left before his ears were assaulted again. He couldn't finish his apple, his appetite had been vaporized to kingdom come. First his mother, than Lotor and Allura- a shudder crawled down his spine, his mind kept making a flushing sound in the back of his head. He heard white noise, he could practically taste the static as he entered the lounge room with its bright, blaring screen and Hunk, Pidge, Matt and Lance's beet-red eyes glued to television set. Mario Party 6's theme song blaring in his ears like some sort of sick joke.

#Voltron: Defender of the Universe #voltron: legendary defender #Vld #queen melenor #king alfor #lotura #lollura #krolivan #vld keith #krolia #kolivan

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youngbradford · 5 years ago

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Xmas Message For 2019

And here we go, my 19th annual year-end love letter online …Georgi Balinov and I rang in the new year at a giant party in Bangkok, halfway around the world. That foreign location, its beauty and tastes, set the tone for my 2019, a year of seeing the world, while stabilizing my life. Though often in flux or movement, 2019 was a year many things normalized over the year.

In January, almost immediately after arriving stateside, I crossed the pond and saw Michelle Visage perform in the West End with Peter Wish. Afterward, I played with her wigs backstage and walked her towards the queer kids lining up for selfies and autographs. I am very lucky to have Peter and Michelle in my life, kindred spirits both. One reminding me that fame, fortune, ebb, and flow, but that being real is what matters most. The other, a reminder to stay forever young. I visited Berlin yet again and did the usual, working, and playing, hard.

February appeared and I traveled to Philadelphia with Sandra Hansel, Georgi, George Sapio, and Anthony DeFilippis. We toured Lisa Roberts’ house, saw a Dieter Rams exhibit, dined with George Alley. In Lambertville, that Sunday, I bought vinyl and vintage hats. Later that month, I got a swallow tattooed on my hand, a symbol of flight and travel, and Warhol’s knives, blackened into my shin. An Eames exhibit in Oakland was a sweet way to end the month.

In March with my crew, Georgi, Khadyon Reid, Luis Urribarri, Anthony, and George, descended upon Salvador for Carnival. It was insane! I watched Anitta live, and danced in a sea of pushing, fighting, kissing Brazilians for days upon days. I felt unsafe and alive, threatened and excited. It was intense. Back home I got my other hand tattooed, again honoring my love of seeing the world. I traveled to Portland, came back to NYC at the end of the month, finally moving into our apartment, the one we bought 1.5 years before, that I designed, and had renovated head to toe. Finally, we had our dream home. The weekend we moved in, the place was still not ready, but we were sick of living without our things and in other people’s beds. Peg Kendall and Georgi’s mom came, and we worked our asses off unpacking and starting to make the 2800 square foot loft on west 13th street a home. We’d lived in Airbnbs and friends’ places for 19 months and it was tiring not having a home, not having most of our things. My art! My toys! My shoes!. Those months taught me how important a home, a safe place, and the oasis of my collections is to my mental health. From March on I felt more on solid ground and dedicated more energy to my career and friendships as a result.

In April we went to Coachella, seeing Ian and Jose Seronni, JJ and Andrey Lunin, and dancing in the desert of California. Multiple trips to San Francisco, catching glimpse of old friends, scaling my team at work, as I took on more and more responsibility.

In May, George Sapio and I celebrated (me a little early) a shared, fun birthday weekend at Soho Farmhouse. Joined by Matthew Kelleher, Mark Silver, Jaime Tanner, Matt Lynch, and others, we went shooting and feasted on pheasant in the English countryside.June was really busy, insanely so.

For my 43rd in early June, I had a 30-person dinner party in our new place! We ended up at Club Cumming after, but before friends, new, and old, showered me with a vinyl record, the admission fee I’d set for my party. Lauren Foster, who has shared her home with us, was, appropriately, our first overnight guest. London, again, Berlin, too. Then home for Pride. Willam Ralphie hosted Bingo at eBay, Zach Augustine, David Mason Chlopecki, other loves attended. That weekend danced to both Madonna and Grace Jones on the pier and danced with 15K others at Javitz, where my favorite singer, Cyndi Lauper, belted “I Drove All Night,” her best song, at midnight. I stayed until the sun came up. NYC was electric that weekend. Parties, icons, friends from the world over … the city has an energy you could literally see and taste. I caught a few moments of the parade, overtaking lower Manhattan, and I smiled really big. God, it can feel good being gay! God, the world has improved for gay people (and yes, I know, we still have ways to go, especially for more marginalized LGBTQ groups). But I still took a moment to acknowledge the things that are better, that I have seen in my very gay lifetime. NYC that weekend was the ultimate place to reflect.

July 4th I went to Hamptons, with Ricardo, Brian, Felipe L. Mollica, others, guests of Anthony. Hosted Fab.com reunion, walked the Brooklyn Bridge, and took my team to Korea (where I shared a traditional Korean meal with Jae Hah), China (where I ate bird’s nests, jellyfish, sea snails, saw a Yves Klein show with Adnan Abbasi, and danced to 90s pop in a packed gay club), and Moscow (where I was amazed at how clean the city was and where I went to a traditional sauna and was whipped, naked, with tree leaves in front of dozens of Russian dudes in the nude). While in Russia a protest erupted, literally below the rooftop bar I dined in. Russia seemed freer than I’d expected, way more Western, up until this moment. I ended the weekend at a club at 3 AM, Russian women in high, high heels, dancing on the bar, vodka flowing like water. 2020 saw me traveling to places I romanticized as a child. Russia, one such place. I thoroughly enjoyed the friendships formed in Moscow, the food, and history. I want to return.

August, I was back in San Jose and Portland for work, then off again to Europe for vacation. We started our trip in Croatia, where Georgi and I kayaked around Dbruvnik’s harbor. Croatia’s cliffs and turquoise water did not disappoint, as we boated to islands and swam in caves. Driving south into Montenegro, the architecture reminded me more of Polish, Bulgarian trips, the water, greener. At the Amman we laid out next to The Beckhams, watching David kick a soccer ball with workers of the hotel, and watching Victoria read a book. Georgi and I then ventured to Mykonos, sunning til sunset and dancing til sunrise. A weekend trip upstate with our besties (including a guest appearance by Eric Lee, riding rides at the Colombia County fair, cooking pies, and grilling meats, ended our summer.

In September I went to Berlin and did Folsom and a speaking gig in front of 1K eBay sellers. I went again to Tel Aviv, meeting gay Israeli technology workers and a bevy fo Israeli start-ups. In Jerusalem, I returned to the wonderful Machneyuda with Gilad Ayalon, where they remembered me from my birthday the year before.

October saw us hosting my mother and my niece for a visit. We fell in love with Company XVI, a dance/burlesque/performance art troupe in Brooklyn. I took my mother to see Madonna, a night I will cherish forever. And we saw Dear Evan Hanson. A weekend in Miami with Lauren Foster and K was needed warmth. I took Georgi to see both acts of The Inheritance (so good!). Then off to Berlin, again, and Paris, where I looked at art and went shopping for fall clothes. Halloween, in NYC, was brilliant and over the top; I went as white Pierrot clown. In Brooklyn, to Honey Dijon, we danced all night. Ralph Rucci, the American couturier reposted our photo on Instagram, calling it high-fashion, however, it was Georgi who won the night as Spock.

November I was in NYC early on, shopping with Thomas Cawson (who hooked me up with pink denim Helmut Lang), eating Christmas cookies, and being interviewed by Buzzfeed, a segment on 90s toys. I imitated a Furby. Then a week in Portland (I glow-in-the-dark-miniature-golfed), and off to Helsinki, catching up with former friends from Fab, One Nordic, Hem. Then to Lapland, with Georgi, George, and Anthony, lapping up wine, winter wonderlands, and dining on reindeer and elk. Dog sledding, snowmobiling, Northen lights! Another childhood desire checked from the list. Dinner with Michelle Case in London closed the month.

In December I went back to Berlin (my second home) and hosted a fundraiser for Single Step in our home. In one night Georgi and I helped raise $50K to help build Bulgaria’s first LGBTI center. It was also an impromptu holiday party: so many old friends together again in one room. And now Georgi and I sit in an airport lounge, awaiting our flight to Baltra, in the Galapagos. Once we land, we’ll board a 7-day cruise on a mega-yacht/small cruise ship. This, I feel, I have been waiting my entire life for.

I often write about how I was lonely as a kid. I was gay, I had a drug-addicted father, I grew up very poor. I oftentimes say music saved my life. But, I don’t write enough about the joy animals gave me too. I had so many pets: newts, turtles, tortoises, tree frogs, geckos, crabs, salamanders, etc. Caring for them, feeding them, gave me peace and allowed me to love. One turtle I had had a cracked shell. He lived in my room for many, many years. I always preferred him, with his defects, to the others. I think I feel the same about people.

As a child, I became obsessed with the Galapagos Islands, and mostly the tortoises. I would read about them in encyclopedias and race to see them at zoos. I always felt connected to turtles. They were my spirit animal. Later in life, I’d bloom, my feathers growing, my pride, alive. I’d no longer consider myself a turtle, my spirit animal changed. I told this story to my colleague Eben Sermon, who runs eBay’s German business: I always wanted to be a turtle. But I ended up a cockatoo. Eben brought this up last week in Berlin and it made me think a bit more about affinities for animals and how I have not had that connection as often as I probably should.

So this week, before we ring in New Years in Rio, I will honor the old me, the kid, the quieter Bradford, the sadder Bradford, by visiting those turtles, finally.

And I’ll marvel at the wonder of nature and evolution, both the evolution of animals and this world, and also the very real and dramatic evolution of my spirit and happiness.

Happy Holidays, Peace & Big Love

#writings

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e350tb · 5 years ago

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Todesreich - Chapter I: The Halls of Power

Washington DC, 1962

“General Clay just called, sir. He’s reached the embassy.”

The President exhaled; he seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“Thank Christ,” he muttered.

Blue rubbed her hand slightly as he rubbed his temple, gazing down at his oak deck. He wiped a band of sweat from his forehead and straightened his tie. His beady eyes scanned the room and briefly met hers - in them, she could see conflict. Here he was, sending an envoy to the greatest enemy America had ever faced to create a lasting peace. In some ways, setting a table for Hitler was a betrayal, and both knew it.

“Mr. President?”

She’d only been a baby, and he’d been in the South Pacific, that autumn day in 1943, when America had learned of it’s greatest military disaster. Thirty thousand men lay dead on a beach in southern Italy, with the loss of fifteen warships - the mournful words of General Eisenhower, taking full responsibility for the failure, echoed on every radio in America. Yet for both of them it had changed everything. She grew up in a world terrified of fascism hiding behind every curtain, and he’d built a career on it. Yet now, they were here to make peace.

The press were already repeating the wry comment; ‘only Nixon could go to Berlin.’

Richard M. Nixon, President of the United States, arch grey-baiter and cold warrior, reached for the telephone. He dialed the number of the American Embassy in Berlin, before turning back to his staff.

“I’d like to be alone for this,” he said.

Slowly, the men in grey suits began to file out. Blue followed, stepping out into the hallway and taking a deep breath. It almost felt like she’d emerged from underwater.

She knew they needed to do this, but she couldn’t help but feel sick. The idea of offering the olive branch to the Nazis, considering what their thugs would do to someone like her if she lived in Germany… it just felt wrong. It made her skin crawl.

Yet, she supposed, this was politics. She’d expected as much when she took this job, and seen just how low it went. She’d seen Joe Kennedy’s campaigns; how he’d tried to smear one of Vice-President Rockefeller’s aides as a homosexual (and it wounded her that people thought that was wrong.) You had to swim in the muck to make it. And maybe they could change things in Germany. Maybe they could make it freer.

Maybe she was being too optimistic.

----

Berlin, 1962

Lance McClain hated Berlin, and he’d only been here a day.

The marine sighed as he stood in the guard tower, his heavy rifle leaning against the wall and his helmet removed. Sentry duty was a boring and lonely job on its own, and he was already over it before he’d even reached his post.

But then, the real kicker—he learned that guard duty was not fated to be a thankless job, and he would have a partner. That effectively lifted his spirits, and then dropped them with twenty times more disappointment when he spotted a familiar, dark-haired mullet approach the spot during the same shift change.

How’d Hunk get out of this?

If he was up with Hunk, it’d be fine - they could at least talk. But Keith Kogane? This guy. The stick up his ass had a stick up its ass. He just stood there, quietly watching the deserted streets around them, his face set into a frown. God, his whole aura just radiated with that smug undertone of I’m-better-than-you, so much so that on top of that there was an added layer of I’m-too-good-to-talk-to-you-because-I’m-so-much-better-than-you.

Lance sighed heavily and pursed his lips together. He blew against them, making a popping noise - pop!

Keith’s hands seemed to grip his rifle ever-so-slightly tighter. Lance noticed. He tucked his hands behind his back, like an officer inspecting his troops, and gazed off into the distance. For a few seconds, all was silent.

Pop!

Keith’s shoulders visibly raised, but his focus remained purposefully forward, on the streets. His breathing seemed to become more laboured, his brow furrowing-

Pop!

His breathing was definitely louder now, and Lance could hear his teeth grinding against each other. Smirk widening, he leaned in close to Keith’s ear, as if he was about to share a deep, dark secret. His face was set into the single most trollish expression he could possibly manage.

…

Pop!

Keith’s rifle shot back, the butt slamming right into Lance’s most prized possessions. He winced and cried out, collapsing to the floor and clutching his privates, wheezing and moaning. He spluttered in a raspy voice; “Man down! Man down!”

“You gentlemen wanna explain what you’re doing?”

Lance glanced down. Through his swimming vision he could see the gruff visage of Colonel Iverson, his arms crossed and his lips thin.

“I’ve been viciously assaulted, sir!”

“Sir, Private McClain was deliberately trying to annoy me, sir.”

“I was not! I was just making noises!”

“Shut up!”

Iverson pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Private Kogane,” he said. “Don’t react. It’s what he wants you to do. You’re a marine, you need to be a professional, you understand?”

“Yes sir!” Keith salutes.

“Private McClain?”

“Yes sir?”

“You’re an asshole.”

He sighed heavily and walked away.

Lance climbed to his feet and leaned against the wall, sweating. Keith rolled his eyes as the marine dry-heaved over the side, still squatting from the sudden and unexpected attack on his nether regions.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” he grunted.

“I may never have children,” Lance cried melodramatically.

He glanced down, watching as another two marines opened the gate. The Ambassador’s car - a hot-pink Chevrolet limousine, chosen as a symbol of American wealth, drove out onto the street and off towards the government quarter.

“Hey Keith, ever wonder why we can’t have cars like that?”

“Hey Lance, ever wonder what it’s like to be hit in the nuts twice in five minutes?”

“Fine, shutting up…”

-----

The Volkshalle was a breathtaking monument to hideous waste.

Shiro glanced up at the cavernous roof above the enormous assembly room, covered in gold regalia of Germany and the Nazis. Everything about it was built on a massive scale - the paintings, the sculptures, the truly enormous marble statue of Adolf Hitler at the end of the room. Yet if one looked closely, between the lines in the concrete, one could see the mold building in the cracks. You could smell a strange dampness in the air, leaving a chill in its wake that crept far lower than bone-deep.

“It’s almost symbolic,” Matt whispered, and Shiro was rather inclined to agree.

They were walking to a meeting room, Ambassador Clay deep in conversation with their tall, wiry technocrat of a host. Albert Speer was grey and balding, but time hadn’t diminished his passion for architecture. He was pointing at every aspect of the Volkshalle he found interesting and describing it in detail - and Clay was nodding politely and making a heroic effort not to appear as bored as he surely was. Speer wore a leather coat over his traditional brown party uniform, and part of Shiro thought he looked like a Nazi biker.

Next to them was John Profumo, British Ambassador - an up-and-coming Tory with an eye on the Prime Minister’s seat. He’d been forced to spend the morning looking at Speer’s models for grand new buildings, but it was an open secret in political circles that Profumo had an interest in models of a very different kind; specifically of a young and curvaceous kind. Yet he was also a professional and well-regarded, to the point where it was suspected that Prime Minister Butler had dispatched him to Berlin to prevent him from taking his job.

Before long they had left the grand atrium and were walking down a corridor, heading to the big wooden doors that led to one of the Nazi Party meeting rooms. On either side of the door was a guard - a member of the Führerbegleitkommando. These men, who these days were clad in the same tan-brown party uniforms and peaked caps as a party officer, were technically under control of the SS, but in actuality they answered directly to Hitler (or at least the minions who claimed to speak for him.) Shiro locked eyes with one of them - a grizzled, scarred veteran of a thousand nightmares in the East, by the look of him - and fought the urge to shudder.

They saluted, but Speer paid them no heed as he pushed open the door. He led the party inside, snapped to attention, and raised his arm.

“Heil Hitler!”

“Heil Hitler.”

The room was grandly furnished with red carpet and drapes; a massive painting of a caped Hitler, surveying a map of his European conquests like a Roman emperor, covered the opposite wall, and swastikas adorned every pillar. Below the painting of the Fuhrer sat three men, none of whom looked particularly excited about their company. Shiro thought back to his briefings on these men back in Washington.

To the left, Martin Bormann - short, portly, round-faced, his constant expression stern and slightly bewildered. There were few frills on his uniform - just the standard party badge over his breast. On paper, Bormann was little more than Hitler’s secretary, yet this position offered power. He could and did control who could see the Fuhrer and when. Furthermore, as head of the Chancellory, he had official control of the Nazi Party itself, and while it was difficult to call Nazis a unified entity these days, it still counted for something when dealing with an errant clerk or rogue governor.

In the middle, Herman Goering, the portly, flamboyant head of the Luftwaffe - which, under Goering’s personal insistence, had expanded to include not only planes but considerable ground troops. The once black-haired Goering had gone bald at some point in the late 1950s, something that clearly irritated him given his insistence on wearing grand, gold-braided hats indoors. Some thought him a drug-addled joke; yet he held the feared Gestapo under his belt, having wrestled it from the SS in the fifties, and under his boisterous, charming mask was a cruel streak a mile wide.

To the right was a hunched, gaunt man, his face almost resembling a skull. This was Joseph Goebbels, the Minister for Propaganda, who had expanded his fief to include the Berlin Police, the city’s garrison, the Hitler Youth and the brand new television stations. It was Goebbels who had flooded the European airwaves with crude, anti-Semitic caricatures and pulpy, one-dimensional tales of martial derring do. It was he who controlled what was known and what wasn’t known. It was he who ensured the dark rumours of what was happening in the East remained merely that - rumours.

These were the so-called ‘moderates’ - a tentative, creaking faction defined only by a mutual opposition to Heinrich Himmler and the SS, and a determination to avoid the collapse of the Reich.

The others took their seats, but Shiro made sure to stand, as inconspicuous as possible, by the door.

“Ambassador Clay! Ambassador Profumo!” Goering extended his arms, beaming. “I trust you’ve enjoyed Berlin?”

“Yes, it has been a delight,” Clay lied smoothly.

“Indeed,” said Profumo. “But we really ought to get down to business, Herr Reichsmarschall. Her Majesty’s Government is keen to get this trade deal sorted.”

“You were a general under Eisenhower, were you not?” asked Goering, smiling plainly at Clay. “I always felt he was cruelly treated by the American government, you know? I-”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Goering,” said Clay. “President Nixon has a few preconditions to opening trade with your nation, which I’ve taken the liberty of writing down.”

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a scrap of paper.

“Uh, Herr Ambassador, surely we should start by telling you what we want out of-” Speer began.

Clay raised his brow.

“Mr. Speer, let me be frank,” he said. “Germany’s credit rating is atrocious. One American dollar buys ten Reichsmarks. You have no international market for any of your products. Americans don’t want Fanta and Volkswagens, they want Coca-Cola and Fords. Your bargaining power is nearly nonexistent. Depending on what we negotiate, all that might change, but let me make this entirely clear, gentlemen; you are not in a position of power right now.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. Speer seemed to pale slightly, and Bormann sank in his chair. Goebbels didn’t initially seem to move, but Shiro could just about see his hands shaking. Goering still smiled, but it seemed decidedly pained.

He took a deep breath. “Right,” he said, his voice laboured. “Of course. Please, Herr Clay, your proposal.”

Clay leaned forward.

“Caucasus oil. Ruhr coal. Steel. Rubber. Maize from the Ukraine. These are the things America wants, not your dinky little Beetles.”

“Please, the Fuhrer doesn’t like the term Bee-” interrupted Bormann.

Clay raised his hand to shut him up.

“Most of all,” continued Clay. “We want uranium. We know there are deposits in the former Soviet Union. We want it; we want to survey for it, we want to build mines, we want uranium from the existing mines.”

He slipped the paper over to Goering.

“Here’s our offer.”

Goering picked up the paper, scrutinising it carefully. His face blanched, and he handed it over to Goebbels, shaking his head.

“The offer is… I’m going to be quite honest, Herr Clay, we expected-”

“That is the President’s proposal, Mr. Goering,” Clay replied simply.

“But… but the prices…” Goering blinked, slowly and deliberately. “And… the American market…”

“Once we have traded for a few years, we can talk about selling German products on American markets,” said Clay.

“I…”

“This is robbery!” Goebbels sprung to his feet, shaking with rage as he pointed at Clay. “This is banditry! You would drain Germany dry for a third of the market price, and we would gain nothing!”

“We would jumpstart your economy,” said Clay.

“You would hold us hostage!” screeched Goebbels, slamming his fist on the table. “You thieves! You Shylocks! No self-respecting nation would ever sign such a deal!”

“You asked a deal like this of the French,” muttered Holt.

Goebbels turned on him, and it was as if his eyes were orbs of fire.

“We conquered the French!” he bellowed. “They were crushed under the Fuhrer’s mighty heel! Where are your tanks? Where is your boot! We are not conquered? We are not cowed! We are German!”

“Now, now,” said Profumo, “we are not here to denigrate Germany or Mr. Hitler, we are simply offering a realistic-”

Goebbels now turned on the British ambassador, his fist again crashing against the oak table.

“You!” he bellowed. “Will address him as! The! FUHRER!”

He punched the table one last time and stormed towards the door.

“Mr. Goebbels, please!” exclaimed Clay. “President Nixon has only-”

“To hell with President Nixon!” spat Goebbels.

He slammed the door behind him.

Speer took a long, deep breath, cradling his temples.

“Well,” he said, “that went well.”

Goering bit his lip.

“Gentlemen, perhaps we can reconvene later, when Herr Goebbels has… calmed down,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt at Goebbels’ name.

“That would probably be for the best,” nodded Clay.

There were no further pleasantries - instead the group walked out in awkward, deafening silence.

#todesreich #voltron #steven universe #nazis #blue pearl #lance mcclain #keith kogane #shiro #sam holt #matt holt #richard nixon #albert speer #martin bormann #hermann göring #joseph goebbels

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bleakfated · 2 years ago

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INTERACTIONS. HEADCANONS. VISAGE. IISMS. WISHLIST. OPENS. SC.

STATISTICS

BASICS: name: sidney ethan carmichael age: 20s-30s gender & pronouns: male, he/him sexuality: closeted bisexual faceclaim: joe manganiello occupation: hunter location: all over for hunting, home is whitefish, montana

PERSONALITY: positive traits: resourceful, determined, loyal, impassioned negative traits: assertive, rash, secretive, unapproachable

APPEARANCE: scars: claw marks on back from kitsune, small scattered others from hunting tattoos: antipossession on chest, skull on arm piercings: none

VERSES

BIOGRAPHY

TL;DR

Sidney Carmichael is the second oldest of the Carmichael siblings, born to lifetime hunters Matthew and adoptive mom Grace. All of the children in the family were unaware of the supernatural until they were 13, where they learned about monsters, how to protect themselves, and eventually hunting if they were interested. Sidney was home with Teegan when Matt was killed on a hunt with Grace and his older sister Roxie. After his father's death, Sidney threw himself headfirst into hunting, but makes sure to spend time with his mom. He often hunts alone because his sisters can't take his overprotective nature.

FULL BIO

Sidney Carmichael was born to hunter parents Matt and Grace Carmichael on April 6, 1982. Unbeknownst to Sidney, his siblings, and his father, they are legacies of the American Men of Letters because Matt's father Gavin Carmichael was a member who was assumed to have abandoned his family after being murdered by Abaddon. When Roxie was born, Matt and Grace had a lot of talks about what they planned to do. Both of them had been hunting by their teens, but Grace wasn't sure that she wanted her daughter to be exposed to the supernatural while Matt didn't see another outcome. After a rather heinous fight over it, Matt left for almost two weeks. He had slept with a woman the night he left and this came to bite him in the ass when the police showed up at their home in Montana with a baby in tow, Matt's baby, Sidney.

Matt had told Grace of his infidelity, but he had failed to mention that the woman he had slept with had been a friend. Someone from high school he had sporadically kept in touch with after saving her from a vampire nest. When Miranda had gone missing without a trace, her parents insisted that three month-old Sidney went to Matt because they couldn't take care of him. This revelation nearly ended Matt and Grace's marriage, but she found out she was already pregnant with a third child. After a lot of heated discussions and groveling on Matt's part, the couple ultimately decided to try to make it work. The kids would be carefully taught self-defense and combat skills and they wouldn't know about monsters until they were thirteen and they would not hunt under any circumstances until they were sixteen. Sidney was adopted by Grace legally and the decision was made to keep the affair and adoption a secret from all three kids to try to protect Sidney from the emotional turmoil the truth would bring.

Since both Grace and Matt had been hunting most of their lives, they took equal responsibility in raising the three children. While the kids were young, the couple would actively search for hunts and would take turns working the cases while the other stayed home. Usually, they would call in another hunter contact for backup and meet them at whatever town was under siege from the monster of the week. The parent that stayed home would help run a small coffee shop that was owned by one of Grace's old friends. On rare occasions, especially when they were a little older, they would be left with the owners of the coffee shop so their parents could hunt together. Meanwhile, all three of the kids were taken on animal hunting trips on a regular basis as well as enrolled in different defense courses throughout their upbringing.

When their children reached thirteen, Matt and Grace would sit down and have a talk with them about the supernatural. They were then allowed to read the books and journals they had regarding what monsters were and how they were killed. It was made abundantly clear afterward that they were able to have a normal life if they wished to, but this was what Mom or Dad did when they were away on 'business'. In the end, all three children chose that they couldn't kick back and have a normal life. They wanted to help people like their parents did, because if they didn't, who would? Of course, the Carmichaels were very protective of their children and it took a long while of training before they let them come along on anything, even a low risk salt-and-burn.

Once they were old enough, the Carmichaels would leave their kids at home for small trips to hunt side by side again. Sidney grew very protective of his sisters, which annoyed Roxanne to no end, since everything he learned or started to do she had already been doing for almost two years. With his heart set on hunting, he couldn't wait to be out there helping his parents and his sister. During this time, Sidney was either training himself in combat or reading up on the lore of all of the monsters his parents knew about, memorizing it. He also got a part time job and worked as much as he could to save up money while he still had to be rather stationary because he knew that in the end it would mean less hustling and credit card fraud in the future, though his parents were nearly out of debt and still bringing in a decent amount of money from the cafe.

Of course, no hunters ever went through life unscathed by tragedy. Just a month before Sidney's high school graduation, Matt was killed during a hunt with Roxie and their mother. Sidney drove himself and Teegan across the country all night long to get to where they were so they could have a proper hunter's funeral for him. He missed a couple of finals and was barely able to pull his grades up to be able to graduate, but always ambitious and charming, Sidney was able to get his GPA up enough to get his diploma. Grace fell into a severe depression and has only gotten the itch to hunt from time to time, channeling most of her time into the coffee shop. While Roxie stayed with her mom to help her through the sudden, terrible loss and Teegan had a year of high school left, Sidney took to the road to let out his grief and anger against monsters. While Grace didn't appreciate this and worried about him, he made sure to check in every night with his family.

When Roxie was ready, she joined Sidney in his hunting endeavors. After some hesitancy, Teegan joined her siblings a few months after her graduation, largely because she felt that if she knew about monsters she needed to be out there helping others from falling prey to them. The three siblings hunted as a trio for a few months, though Sidney's overbearing protective instincts for his sisters in both the hunting and romance departments started to cause conflict between them. Sidney soon found himself hunting solo once more, which he didn't mind apart from worrying about his sisters. He got especially tense when they would take hunts on their own rather than together. Some of his worst fears became a reality when he got a panicked call from Roxie a few weeks after Teegan's twenty-third birthday.

Apparently while on a hunt, Teegan had somehow shocked a rawhead to death with her bare hand in an effort to save Roxie. They looked for her for months with no luck, though Roxie was able to overhear that Ash at Harvelle's Roadhouse was looking into twenty-three year-olds that had a housefire in their infancy that were now experiencing some sort of powers. Not long after that, they both heard Gordon Walker's spirited rantings about how people like Sam Winchester were about to bring on the end of times with a demon war. A few weeks later, Teegan returned to the Carmichael home and stated she felt she had her new powers under enough control, though she didn't allow anyone to come within a few feet of her as a precaution. The Carmichael siblings kept close and kept the youngest's powers and apparent involvement in whatever was about to happen to themselves.

Unfortunately, not long after she had reappeared, Teegan disappeared from her motel room overnight. Sidney agreed with Roxie that it hadn't been of her own volition this time. Desperate, the pair drove to a supernatural occult shop that Sidney had heard sporadic rumors of the owner being a witch. Regardless, she might have something that would help them. When they arrived, Sidney was able to subdue the woman and put her in iron cuffs. To his surprise, she wasn't simply a woman capitalizing on the desperation of hunters and was indeed a witch. A few select threats later and the witch, Madeline Cardelle agreed to help them find Teegan. When they arrived in the desolate area that Teegan was tracked to, Sidney was gutted to find that they found her body among many others.

Despite Madeline's fear because they knew about her and her aggravation that she had been forced to help them in the first place, she admired their tenacity in protecting their family. Sidney could tell she had some regrets in her own life, but she didn't specify what. In exchange for their sworn secrecy for what she was and the threat of all of their lives looming over their head if they broke Madeline's trust, she resurrected Teegan. After getting their sister back, it was rare that she was let out of Sidney or Roxie's sight. Sidney sometimes hunts with his sister, though she is almost exclusively hunting with Roxie or staying at home with their mother. Though they aren't always able to see each other in person, Sidney is often checking up on his sisters, sometimes multiple times per day.

Only a few years after getting Teegan back, catastrophe struck in the Carmichael family once more. A demon nearly killed Sidney and he was hospitalized for almost two weeks, requiring multiple blood transfusions. Roxie and Teegan met him at the hospital and they decided to take a few weeks off to be with him while he recuperated at home with Grace in Montana. At some point, Sidney made an offhand comment about how he finally new his blood type, AB. Teegan had paid attention in science class and said that didn't make any sense because she knew that Grace was type O. Grace had kept the secret all these years, because she didn't want her children to think any less of their father and she felt that it had been too long to be honest without losing the trust and respect of her children. However, Roxie didn't have to do much digging to find out the truth.

All three of the Carmichael siblings struggled with their feelings of their parents on the matter, but they could see Grace's regrets when they approached her about it. Sidney's sisters assured him that he would always be their brother, no matter what and after a few months of using excessive hunting as a coping mechanism, Sidney assured his mom that she was his mom no matter what. He didn't have to agree with her decision, but he could see her reasons behind the decision. Grace let him know that Matt had continued to search for answers on his birth mother's disappearance and she had been found nearly ten years later... the state of her body consistent with the forced ejection of a demonic possession.

While it is hard for Sidney to trust others, he does have a few hunter contacts that he is able to contact if he knows that a case he is working is a two person job. He can be very wary of new people, coming off a bit grisly, but he won't kick anyone out of town when he's working on a case. Once you are in Sidney's good graces, you're stuck there and he is very loyal to those that show him the same courtesy. Very sporadically his mother will get the itch to help out, but for the most part she is satiated by getting the occasional call to help with research. Sidney always gives people her number if they ask about his FBI credentials and he will never miss a holiday or his father's birthday to go spend time with his family.

#╰––– » 「 ⛦ 」 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁. ┊ sidney carmichael

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saulot · 6 years ago

Text

January 4th, 1994

“--just didn’t get it. I still don’t get it.”

A strained voice funnels through the color TV’s speakers. The sound quality is gainy, static fuzz licking across the screen. A young man is slumped on a chair, the studio around him lit only dimly. He slouches forward, elbows digging into his knees.

“He never touched anything. Sober as long as I knew him. Why would he...” His head drops and drapes bleached hair over his eyes. Shoulders trembling, he shakes his head. “Why.”

Off-screen, the interviewer hums sympathetically and offers him a tissue box. The man accepts it with a wet sniff, swiping across his nose with a wrist, and then sets the box down upon a circular table between them. Beside it sits a framed photo of another man, dressed in a graphic t-shirt and smiling widely. The lighting from a fixture above glares against the glass and eclipses the rest of his face.

“I knew something was different in that phone call. But I -- I mean, it just sounded like he was tired. None of us thought he was using.”

The interviewer calls for the program finale, and the screen fades to black only for another image to materialize over the cue of a melancholic score. The same image on the table is blown to fit the television, displaying a head of brightly-saturated pink hair. His handsome visage squints with genuine delight, caught mid-laugh. He is young and frozen in the captured moment.

It too eventually fades, replaced with narrative voice as the credits begin to crawl up from the bottom of the screen.

Two were killed in the collision on I-16, including crew member Matt Harding, along with Mercer. Debris injured another two, but off camera guitarist Nathan Cho revealed that their deaths weren’t reported until days later, claiming that the mortuary offices struggled to make post-mortem identifications of the singer. A year after their deaths, we at Boston Underground remember these losses in the music world, and our hearts.

#writing #luke mercer

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potentiala · 7 years ago

Text

Don’t Let Go (Of Me)

@shidgevalentinesexchange for @adeerli !

Nice to meet you! This was really challenging for me to write, but I hope you enjoy all the work I’ve put into this and help spread some of that quality Shidge all around.

As you might be able to tell, this fic was heavily inspired by James Arthur’s song ‘Say You Won’t Let Go’

I will also cross-post this on my AO3, so make sure to check it out over there! <3

“I met you in the dark, you lit me up”

They met on orientation day.

Not her orientation day, mind you, but her brother’s. And freshly graduated Garrison Officer Takashi Shirogane couldn’t help but notice them.

He introduced himself to Matt first.

Immediately taking a liking to the bright young man with the mischievous eyes. He answered his questions and helped quell some of his parents’ worries.

Then he saw her.

“You made me feel as though I was enough”

A quiet, small little thing with long hair and a brand-new dress. Looking half in envy and half in worry at the state-of-the-art facilities all around them. Then she caught his eyes looking her way.

Her’s were gold.

Bright and burning and not unlike a punch to the gut. Somehow, Shiro managed to send a smile her way before he was whisked away by their father, a Commander Shiro had nothing but respect for.

But the look of her and those intense eyes never left him.

===

He was here.

Of course Katie knew him, Matt never shut up about him in his letters. The Garrison golden boy that everyone seemed half in love with, Takashi Shirogane. And Katie definitely couldn’t understand the allure. Absolutely. No way. Not at all. Pffft!

That’s ridiculous!

“We danced the night away…”

Who was she kidding? Katie has faced a lot of problems in her 14 years of life, but this was, by far, the worst one. Katherine Annalise Holt had a crush.

And she had it bad.

“We drank too much.”

So bad that the young girl couldn’t help but wring the hem of her dress in her hands. The Holt family had traveled back to the Garrison after an entire year to celebrate Matt graduating from Cadet to Cadet Corporal at the youngest age of 17. Pride warming away every one of Katie’s frazzled nerves at the sight of her brother standing at attention in a brand new uniform.

Iverson continuing to drone on.

“…as acting Drill Sergeant of this year’s class I have had, not only the honor of watching these young men and women mature and grow, but to collaborate with one of the Garrison’s brightest alumni, Takashi Shirogone.” Iverson’s constantly shrill voice paused to allow the room to fill with applause.

For him.

Katie’s stomach flip-flopped as she clapped along with the crowd. Everyone’s eyes on Takashi. Who looked illegally handsome in his Officer’s uniform. Fit to his figure, it showed off a great deal of his excellent build.

Much to Katie’s destress.

“A few words Shirogone?” Iverson called out, Shiro clearly caught off-guard but accepting the offer graciously nonetheless. Flashing a smile so bright, Katie’s brain had to reboot for a solid minute. He turned toward the graduating cadets, Matt being one of the smallest among them. Dark grey eyes alit with warmth and pride.

“As my first year teaching, I must say that it’s been an eventful one.” Laughter titered amongst her brother’s class, in inside jokes Katie longed to know. The young girl wishing, not for the first time, that the age requirements for apply to the Garrison weren’t so high.

“But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” At this, he looked back to the crowd. That warm gaze sweeping over everyone like dawn’s first rays of sunlight. Katie barely fought back a blush as Shiro’s eyes seemed to settle in her direction. But, to her surprise, Shiro suddenly seemed so nervous.

Those warm eyes lowering.

“I-um…I’m really humbled by this experience. Teaching the next generation like this…has been amazing a-and a tremendous honor. So, thank you all for sticking with me for so long.” There was something incredibly endearing about the way Shiro seemed so bashful in that moment. Something so sweet that Katie could help the bright, brilliant smile gracing her young features.

“I held your hair back when you were throwing up.”

Then his eyes were on her.

Not on the crowd. Not on her brother’s class. But on her. Katie knew it, she felt it. That soft gaze nearly gave her a heart attack, sure, but she did her best to smile encouragingly at him.

And, to Katie’s surprise, it seemed to work.

“Then you smiled over your shoulder…”

“I look forward to seeing all the boundaries you all willbreak. And I know that each and every one of you are capable of incredible greatness. But I must admit…” Her heart leapt to her throat. But what? What did he-Shiro’s gaze on her warmed, a bright smile tugging at his lips as he looked at her.

“And for a minute…”

“I eagerly await the conquests of the newest generation of graduates, I…have a feeling they’re going to do so some pretty amazing things. Thank you.” Katie couldn’t even hear the applause, she was still glued to her seat. Heart slamming against her windpipe. The image of Shiro’s encouraging half-smile and soft eyes imprinting onto her mind. Cementing itself amongst all the other theories and equations that made way more sense to her than her own feelings for Shiro.

“I was stone-cold sober.”

===

Don’t think of her.

Don’t picture her. Don’t try to remember her voice. Don’t try to remember how her eyes shone. Don’t bring her visage to place like this. Don’t say her name.

Don’t you dare bring her memory here.

“I pulled you closer to my chest.”

Who knows how long Shiro had been in this place. Purple fluorescent lights and alien, animal faces blurred together in his mind. Or in what little cognitive function he had left. Everything seemed to be an endless cycle of blood and bone and screaming.

Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill. Lunge. Cut. Fight. Kill.

Katie.

“And you asked me to stay over…”

God, but then there were moments, too many for Shiro to count, where he’d think back to all the people he’s failed. Matt, who was God knows where. Commander Holt, who Shiro hoped and prayed was still alive, despite all the horror of their situation. And…no, he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. Shiro can’t think of-

Katie.

“I said, ‘I already told ya-‘ ”

Out of everyone, Shiro had failed her the most. He remembered how proud she looked on launch day. How those golden eyes turned molten with joy as she and her mother sent the three of them off. How she jokingly made him promise to keep her family safe.

So lovely he couldn’t breathe.

He still couldn’t breathe as he, guiltily remembered memories of the brilliant younger Holt in a place like this. A place so messed up and violent that it should never tarnish her memory, no matter how secondhand it was.

But Shiro didn’t have long to think.

Two more purplish aliens cornered him in his cell. Shiro couldn’t even muster the spirit to fight them. The former pilot roughly shoved into the wall and muzzled. Bound in strange, glowing chains until it was time to release him.

Out of the fire and into the frying pan in the worst way.

But even as Shiro was pushed and shoved towards the slaughter fest that was the Arena.

His thoughts were of her.

“ ‘I think that you should get some rest…’ ”

===

She saw him again.

Part of her knew she would, eventually. But this time the sight of him did nothing to her. Gone we’re the blushing cheeks and fluttering heart. She wasn’t that crushing young girl anymore.

She wasn’t Katie anymore either.

Nothing like love twisted her heart at the sight of him, seemingly deranged and pleading on that hospital cot. Katie, now Pidge, only felt one thing as she looked at him. Felt something ugly and hideous coil in her stomach.

How dare he?

How dare he be here instead of Matt and her father? How dare he be the only one who came back? How dare…how dare he just show up?

Crashing back, quite literally, into her life.

“I knew I loved you then.”

She had spent so long killing whatever she had felt for him. Exhausting herself with the search to find her family to avoid thinking about him. But it never worked.

Not really.

And now here he was, screaming, pleading for anyone to stop and listen to him. That they were all going to die. That there were Galra just outside-

Pidge couldn’t take it.

She had had enough. Enough with the lies. Enough with the hurt. Enough with the constant dull ache in her chest. She had to end this the only way she knew how.

She had to save him.

“But you’d never know…”

===

She can’t leave, was his first thought.

But Shiro looked at her face, at those burning gold eyes and that furious glare, and couldn’t find it within himself to stop her.

He failed her.

“'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go.”

Shiro a had failed to protect her family, of course she wanted to leave them and find them herself. Of course she’d want nothing more to do with him. Shiro knew all that.

But it still hurt.

“I know I needed you…”

It still hurt seeing how little she seemed to care about him. How much she wanted to get away from him. It cut him worse than the Galra ever had.

But he’d let her go.

“But I never showed.”

It’d kill him, but he owed her so much. So, for the rest of the night, Shiro kept outside. So no one could see how much he was hurting. He liked her.

He really liked her.

Which was horrible because she was only 15. Which was awful because he had left Matt and her father in the hands of the Galra. Which was just wrong because-

“But I wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old…”

“Shiro? Can we talk?” Trying to tell himself that his heart didn’t skip a beat at her voice would’ve just added insult to his many injuries. Shiro took a few moments to school his expression before turning to her.

And how much she’d changed.

“Just say you won’t let go…”

The last time he saw her everything was different. Everything was simpler. Her cheeks were flushed with cold, but Katie’s smile was so electric that she seemed completely immune to it. She was so small then, so delicate.

Not anymore.

“Just say you won’t let go…”

Seemingly everything about Katie had hardened, sharped to a deadly point. She was force to be reckoned with. A young girl becoming a woman in war. And Shiro couldn’t help but morn the fact. Especially like this, when she was standing just to his left in her armor. All its sharp angles and thick plating doing nothing to help Shiro’s guilt.

Doing nothing to stop his heart breaking.

===

“I’ll wake you up with some breakfast in bed.”

He’d get nightmares sometimes.

After the first couple instances and the deep, dark bags under his eyes, Pidge had decided enough was enough. She, despite her best efforts, had begun feeling something for the Black Paladin again. Something gentle and flickering in her chest that warmed her when this war chilled her.

Thus began their unique sleeping arrangement.

“I’ll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head…”

They’d head for his room at about the Earth equivalent of 10 o’clock, and, while Shiro would usually knock right out, Pidge would just slip in beside him and continue working until she was either done with her project or passed out from exhaustion.

But it was usually the latter.

“And I’ll take the kids to school…”

Still, for reasons Pidge refused to think about, Shiro seemed to sleep better with her there. Even when she wasn’t under the blanket with him, Shiro would still rest surprisingly peacefully. And for that, Pidge was immensely thankful.

Even if mornings were a little awkward.

“Wave them goodbye.”

Shiro, for the most part, would wake up before her. But the 6-foot-something guy had no chance of leaving the small, twin sized bed without disturbing her awake in some way. Neither would really talk about it, seeing it was a habit the two just sort of…picked up.

Shiro would leave.

Leave Pidge alone in a suddenly too-big bed in a room that smelled just like him. The young girl having to tell herself over and over that this was bigger than her resurfacing feelings for Shiro. This was for his sake and sanity.

She couldn’t take advantage of that.

So every morning Pidge had to stumble back to her own room, alone. Then go to breakfast and act like the whole arrangement never even existed. Like Pidge never knew how much younger Shiro looked when he slept. Or that sometimes his hand would fall to her waist and sleep would suddenly be the furthest thing from her mind. Yeah.

It’s sucked.

“And I’ll thank my lucky stars for that night…”

But there were bigger things than the aching hurt in her chest to deal with, so Pidge just fought it down and threw herself into everything she did even more. Hoping that, one day, things could be normal again.

That she could be honest with Shiro.

===

Years passed.

Everyone grew harder, tougher. The war still raged on, but now they were fighting fire with fire. The Coalition was growing everyday and people were shedding their fear of the Empire like a second skin. Everything was looking up.

But Shiro didn’t feel that way.

“When you looked over your shoulder-“

They found Matt. And for the first time, in a long, long time, he saw Pidge truly and purely happy. Pidge, now 17, had finally gotten a piece of her family back. Not as battle scarred or traumatized as him, Matt fit in right away with their crew.

Falling back in place with Shiro.

The two rekindling their friendship and trust. But one thing, one very important thing was different now.

Katie.

Pidge.

Before the younger Holt had been a witty, brilliant young girl who Shiro liked to joke with. Now? Now things were different.

Now she was different.

“For a minute, I forget that I’m older.”

She was still as burning and brilliant as those gold eyes, but there was so much more to her now. She was a woman on the war front. Battle-scarred and formidable in every sense. Pidge was someone he’d trust his life with. The only problem?

He wanted her to have his heart to.

“I wanna dance with you right now…”

Pidge had indeed grown lovelier over the years and to say that Shiro had never imagined the two as couple would be false in every sense. As beautiful as she was smart, those golden eyes seemed to spell ruin for suitors who weren’t careful.

And Shiro was one of them.

“Oh! And you look as beautiful as ever!”

Matt had found out embarrassingly easily. But the older Holt never ridiculed Shiro. No. Matt did something much worse.

He encouraged it.

“And I swear that everyday you’ll get better.”

Saying that the two were perfect for each other and that she definitely thought of him the same way. Which, naturally, Shiro knew better to believe.

But a part of him hoped.

Hoped that Matt was right every time her smile seemed to linger on him. Everytime he’d find himself lulled to rest by her focused face illuminated by her computer within his room. Everytime she’d pull him back from the nightmares and visions and into her brilliance. A dear, dangerous part of him hoped for such things.

And maybe, one day, he’d tell her all that.

“You make me feel this way somehow…”

But war was never kind to such sentiments. Such sentiments already begged to be proven wrong.

And they were.

===

Oh God.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. This couldn’t be happening. No. No! This wasn’t real! This is just a dream.

Just a nightmare.

“I’m so in love with you…”

“SHIRO!” Her throat hurt, but Pidge couldn’t care. All she cared about was getting down this damn hill and rush to his side. What was he even thinking?

Taking that bullet for her.

Oh God, there was blood everywhere. A usually orthodox sight made horrifically new when she saw who caused it.

Shiro.

Was he even breathing? Oh God please be breathing. Don’t stop breathing. Don’t leave me again. Don’t go until I-

“K-Katie?”

“And I hope you know.”

“I’m here, I’m right here Shiro. Stay with me. Stay with me please.” When did she start sobbing? When had her tears began to choke her?

She grabbed his hand.

Slick with blood, the metal was cooling in her hands. Hunk quickly rushed in, med kit in tow while Pidge tried to keep Shiro awake.

Alive.

“Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in…”

“Shiro! Shiro, look at me! Eyes on me, c’mon. Please!” Dark, blood soaked lashes fluttered up to her. Shiro’s bloodied head in her lap as Hunk tried to stanch the massive amount of blood leaving his body. But his eyes, warm and gray and heartbreaking, still cling to her so dearly.

So preciously.

“Gold…” He murmured weakly as she gazed up at her. Pidge’s tears falling onto his soiled face. Creating clear tracts in the dirt and gore. But, despite all that, the sight of such a soft look on Shiro face made Pidge smile.

And tears fall harder.

“We’ve come so far my dear…”

“Stay with me ok big guy? Well get you patched up s-”

Shiro coughed.

Blood splattering against his lips as the man sounded as if he was trying to retch out his lungs. Pidge cupped his face, trying to bring him back to her. Trying her best to ignore the warmth of his blood against her palms.

“Shiro? Shiro please stay with me…” She hated the whine in her voice, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. The pain in her chest damn near killing her. No…No, I couldn’t end like this.

Not like this.

“Look how we’ve grown.”

Not after everything they’ve been through. Not after how long she’s loved him. He can’t die. She wouldn’t let him.

She couldn’t let him.

“And I wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old.”

“Katie…Katie I-” Pidge saw it then. Saw it in the way he looked at her, halfway dead and broken beyond measure, but still gazing up at her like he’d do it all again for her. She saw it in those gray eyes and how they shone with unsaid words and unshed tears. She saw it in the way his bloody, bruised hands held onto her arms so reverently. Pidge saw it then.

And cursed herself for not seeing it sooner.

“Just say you won’t let go…”

“I know…I know…” She soothed, gazing back at him. Pidge’s face a near mirror of his own. Vision blurring with tears as she leaned down.

And kissed him.

“Just say you won’t let go…”

===

Kissing her was all Shiro wanted to do.

Pidge made a soft noise in the back of her throat as she pulled him closer and out of his thoughts. The air between them, in his room suddenly too hot. Too stifling unless every inch of her was pressed against every inch of him.

“I wanna live with you…”

Shiro’s mechanical hand slid under her shirt. Reveling in the smooth curve of her hips and waist. Against his throat, Pidge sighed contently and sent Shiro’s heart fluttering.

He kissed her again.

“Even when we’re ghosts.”

Kissing Pidge was like nothing he’d ever imagine it to be. Kissing Pidge was all bursting citrus and warmth and freckles against his hands. Kissing Pidge was the best thing in the world, and Shiro didn’t know if he could ever give it up.

Her arms wrapped around his neck.

Pulling him even closer, if that was possible, as Shiro rubbed his hand along the gentle curve of her bare back. He parted away from her, if only slightly. Just to look at her.

And those gold eyes.

Made a little darker from their kissing, but shining in the lowlight of his room nonetheless. Pidge was older now, her features more prominent, and fondness sang so loudly in Shiro’s heart, he couldn’t help but feel weak.

“'Cause you were always there for me…”

“I love you.” He breathed, the declaration coming out half scared and half infatuated. Watching the spark in Pidge’s eyes light up and a bright smile stretch along her face.

“When I needed you most.”

Her palm on either side of his head.

Seeming to memorize all his features with her calloused, thin fingers. Trailing along his jaw and over his temple. Across his eyebrows.

Fluttering over his scars.

“I love you to.”

===

“I’m gonna love you till my lungs give out.”

The war was over.

The greater evil had been defeated. The universe could finally breathe a breath of freedom after so long a time spent suffering.

Especially for the Paladins.

“I promise till death we part…”

Hunk chose to stay with Shay and help her fellow Balmerans discover what it meant to be free. Though, judging by their entwined hands as they waved the Castle off, that wasn’t exactly the only reason.

Allura and Matt had a lot of work ahead of them.

The rebel fighter and the Princess had grown close over the course of the war. Matt every bit a gushing, loving boyfriend that never failed to make Allura laugh. Coran watching the two carefully all the while. Allura’s diplomacy plus Matt’s strategy proving to be an incredible combination for the Coalition.

And, naturally, Lance and Keith went back to Earth.

“Like in our vows.”

Lance, apparently, having promised the Red Paladin an introduction to the entirety of Lance’s family. The sight of their entwined hands and bright red cheeks never failing to bring a smile to Pidge’s face.

Which left only two.

“So I wrote this song for you…”

What was next for her? For Shiro? Well, with the Empire out of the way, someone need to take charge of the noncombatant Galra and establish the Blades of Marmora as pillars of stability. And who better to do it?

Than the Champion himself.

“Now everybody knows!”

He was hesitant about it. She could see it in his eyes and the way his human hand wrapped around his metal one. Pidge knew that the thought of overseeing the entire race of creatures that harmed him would be painful.

But that’s why she was there.

“ ‘Cuase now its just you and me…”

Whatever the challenge, whatever the curse. Pidge would help him bear it. So, come the day Kolivan and the Blade came to take them away to rebuild their enemies, they just held each other.

Steadied each other.

“Till we’re grey and old.”

Shiro looked to her then, concern pinching the worn planes of his face in such a way that he seemed to ask her, “are you sure?”, all over again. He looked older now. Older in ways Pidge couldn’t even describe. But he was hers.

And she was his.

“Just say you won’t let go…”

So while she knew this new adventure would test them, as long as they had each other, Pidge knew that they’d be fine. They’ve gone through too much to just back down now. Squeezing his hand in hers, Pidge took the first step toward leading a new legion of Galra. With her hand in his, Shiro walked right beside her.

“Just say you won’t let go…”

Side by side.

Toward a new future, together.

“Just say you won’t let go…”

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