#cause he was used to dark hallways and rooms of galran ships

[im-smart-i-swear]

look at my boy. look at him. 

this is Pal(its a placeholder name)! hes 17. he wears socks&sandals. he knows a lot of random shit but has no opinions. also his spine is a bit fucked(beacuse his prosthetic is too fucking heavy for him)

hes a nervous guy and he finds comfort in having an authority figure to listen to, relying on others to tell him what is right(most of the time that person is either Tashi or Eenek). he tries very hard to appease everyone, but hes also not great at reading people....

ughh i have a shit ton of thoughts on this fella but i just cant put it all into words right now wnich sucks!!

[delaneytveit]

Satellites part 4

Lol so apparently I never uploaded ch 4 and 5 on here. (5 &6 on ao3) MY BAD GUYS, THAT AS ON ME. but um, here is Satellites ch 4! Hop you like it!

Also classes have been going on for like 2???3??? weeks and I'm already behind. which, like what else is new. But my birthday is on Tuesday so I've got that going for me. Anyways, back to our poorly scheduled program.... *  ( part 3) (Satellites Master Post) (Part 5)

Lance awoke again, chained to a bed in the all too familiar lab. Knowing all too well where he was.

He knew what he would see if he were to allow his eyes to follow where the IV in his arm led to. He knew the exact layout of the lab he was in. Knew which tools were out and which ones they would likely use. Knew the feeling of his limbs. heavy with whatever drugs they were pumping him with, being strapped down just in case. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fight back, they knew it too. But if these experiments they had been doing taught them anything, it was that these so called scientists knew absolutely nothing about human biology.

They didn’t think he would fight back at all, or maybe they did. He didn’t really know. He knew he didn’t look like he would, he had always been a person of words rather than actions, talking himself out of or through situations. Situations in which his words were all that was left. But here, words meant death.

Not for him, no, he wasn’t afraid of death. Not anymore. This was war, he was fighting in a war. And people die in war. He’d seen it. More importantly, for many, he had caused it. And he refused to be the cause of the deaths of his friends.

He didn’t like to dwell on that, he’d just spiral again, but he had to acknowledge the fact that he had done some royally fucked up things. Things he’d rather no one, not even his team know. Coran knew.  He'd been the one to fully recruit Lance, side missions that in some cases were more important than the battles themselves. Allura knew the political half, the diplomatic half of the missions, but Coran and Lance took care of the less desirable half. The half that left whoever was in the way of the Coalition with a bullet between their eyes.

He remembered all of them. Every single mission, every shot, every confirmed kill. They were etched into his mind with such vivid horror that they haunted his dreams every night. God, if his mamá knew what he was doing up here. If his mamá knew that he was currently strapped to a table, drugged out of his mind, bruised and beaten and bloody. Experimented on and tortured for information.

Before he could think anymore, the door opened. He had quelled his hope long ago that his friends would be the ones on the other side, that they would be the ones storming in to save him. Instead, like every other time, a druid made their way into the room.

“Awake now, are we?” they asked, he could hear the snarl in their voice. How he wanted to tell them off, to just keep talking until he had run out of words, he needed to. But talking meant death for his friends, he could slip up, and any information was still information. No matter how minuscule it could seem, it could still be used to bring down his friends. So he kept his mouth shut.

They laughed at that as they moved along the room, picking up different tools. It was all an act, Lance knew that much. He knew that whoever this was, they would have had their preferred method already decided before they even walked through the door. He just hoped he would black out soon.

+

It took almost no time getting onto the ship, and by the sound of the comms, it seemed that Keith and Hunk were doing just fine distracting the ship. So good in fact, that it was eerily empty when Shiro and Pidge made their way on board.

Pidge pulled out her tablet and after a few seconds of typing looked up to Shiro. “I’ve got him!”

They followed the map on the tablet, down countless hallways, winding and turning, they were sure that without the DNA tracker, they would have gotten lost hallways ago.

They were just about to round the last corner when something caught Shiro’s eye, and he quickly pulled the small girl back before she would walk any farther.

“Shiro, what the h-” He cut her off by covering her mouth with his palm. He motioned with his other hand to stay quiet, and only removed his hand when she nodded in acknowledgement.

There at the door to what Shiro guessed was Lance’s cell, stood two Galran guards, alert and ready. The more he looked at where they stood, and the hallway around him the more he had doubts about where they actually were.

“Pidge, where are we on the map?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

The small paladin looked up at him in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Lance is a prisoner, meaning he’d be held in a cell right?” he asked, earning a nod from the green paladin. He took one more survey of where they stood before shaking his head. “This doesn’t look like a prison.”

“Shiro, any luck? We’re kind of not doing so hot out here!” Hunk boomed over the coms, startling Pidge so much that she jumped, banging her elbow on the metal wall she was standing against.

The sound reverberated through the hallway, earning the attention of the Galran guards.

“Who’s there?” one of them bellowed, walking towards where the sound came from.

“I hope you have a plan,” Pidge whispered to Shiro as he pushed her behind him, simultaneously taking step forward, leaning his back on the wall.

“Always. Whether it will work or not is a different matter.” He waited until the Galra ran to the corner he was hiding behind before shooting his hand out to grab the guard by the neck, slamming him into the wall. The first guard went down quickly, it was the second one that he had trouble with, as he began shooting the moment he turned the corner. Pidge used her bayard to loosen his hold on the gun before Shiro was able to knock the guy out with one punch.

“Well, now that that part is done…” Hurriedly they ran over to the room, now no longer protected. Using Shiro’s Galra arm on the pad, they easily opened the door.

“We’re in guys!” Pidge informed over the comms.

“Get him and get out, they’re calling reinforcements in too quickly!” Keith called, out of breath as more shots were heard over the com.

Shiro stepped into the room first, taking quick note that he was in fact right. This was no holding cell. The table in front of him housing restraints for each appendage, the cart that held bloodied devices that only made his stomach want to rise up his throat. This room was definitely not a holding cell. It was a torture chamber. And by the mass of dark red blood on the ground, it was used quite often.

“He’s not here.” Pidge whispered in horror as Shiro continued to scan the room for any signs of their missing paladin.

“The fuck do you mean he’s not there? I thought you said you were tracking him. Look harder.” Keith yelled, making Pidge flinch in response.

“Cool it Keith, she’s right. He’s not here. Pidge, you got anything?”

The Green Paladin shook her head, studying the holographic map on her wrist. “The DNA tracker says that he’s here. He should be here.”

Shiro turned his head to look at the puddle of drying blood on the floor. He was here, Lance had been there, and the amount of blood he had lost was enough for the scanner to consider it his person.

In that moment, Shiro had never been more terrified. Because if Lance had lost that much blood, was there any way he could have survived? He didn’t know how much blood loss was too much, but he had a sinking feeling that it was much less than what was spilled on the floor.

“Shiro? What’s the plan?”

[roundab00t]

for the prompt batch thing, maybe number 4?

#43. “I don’t recommend making any friends while you’re here”

Matt Holt | 1,025 | Gen

—-

The rebel mess hall is small and cramped, packed tight with noise and bodies. The tables are long and narrow and mismatched, pressed up against metal walls with all manner of people in all manner of drab, worn dress hunched around the perimeter. Matt elbows his way into the room after Anika, fingers reaching out to twist in the well-worn synthetic material of her cape in an attempt to slow her long strides. He feels nervous and awkward and ungainly, tucked close to her heels in his borrowed clothing and too-tight boots.

“This is where you’ll take your meals,” Anika tells him over her shoulder, voice raised over the din. “It’s not usually this crowded, but a crew just came back from a successful hit and run on a mining colony along the Ridge.”

There is a roaring cheer somewhere to the left as they sidestep a broad-backed grey-skinned humanoid. His two mouths are pulled wide in a fierce grin, exposing rows of sharp black teeth as bottom set of hands come down hard on the table. His top set is moving rapidly through the air, all twelve fingers coiling and uncoiling, tapping his mouth, chest, elbows while two small light-furred creatures shriek with what Matt assumes to be laughter.

“They’re the first group to successfully hit the target, raid, and return in one piece.” Anika’s tone is dry as they slip through to the back of the room where the food processing unit sits. “They’re a bit excited about it.”

A chipped, ceramic plate is pressed into Matt’s palms, piled high with a semi-transparent blue gelatinous mass. It jiggles when Matt pokes with the tip of his finger and emits a spicy-sweet odor.

“Just a bit?” Matt asks. He grits his teeth, curving his shoulders down to protect the plate as he grabs a bent spoon from the pile beside the processor. He’s jostled a little by a short individual with eight arms reaching to pull down the nutrition hose.

Anika presses one broad palm over the expanse of Matt’s shoulders, other hand holding her plate above both of their heads, and herds him to an empty pocket of stools in the far corner. Her large body acts as a buffer between Matt and the other rebels, clearing a path through the din. She sits with her back to the group. Matt slides into his seat sideways. His shoulder blades press against the cool metal wall panels as he scans the room.

“Understandably so,” she tells him, picking up the thread of conversation as they settle in to pick at their food, “the last group who tried were torn apart by sentry bots when they tried boarding a transport vessel.”

The food goop is rubbery and tasteless on Matt’s tongue. He struggles to swallow, presses long fingers against thin thigh bones, digs in his nails. He shovels another spoonful into his mouth and drops his gaze to focus on the unfamiliar texture and shine of his trousers.

There is a beat of quiet between them before Anika speaks again. “While I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept, considering the manner in which you found yourself among us, I recommend evaluating the risks before you fully commit yourself to our cause. You’re correct, it is the right thing to do, but it is not always easy. There is still time to go with the others rescued with you. We can still set you up with a new life on the outskirts.”

Her dark, stubby fingers tap an unsteady rhythm against the worn tabletop as she talks. The roar of the room blends into the rush of blood in Matt’s ears as he inhales slow. His chest expands as he tastes ozone and old sweat and space dust on the back of his tongue.

Matt thinks about Shiro, with his sharp fists and the set of his jaw and the wide, terrified set of his eyes. He thinks of his father, with his steady hands and the bow of his head and the fragile curve of his thin wrists in Galran shackles. Thinks about his sister and mother, and tucks their bright eyes and easy smiles back into the locked-away memories of Before. His exhale is explosive, all at once.

“I know,” he tells her, nails digging into the meat of his thigh, “but I want to help. I need to help.”

When Anika smiles, thin lips curving up at the corners, there is no joy in her expression. “Then I will bring you to speak with Te-osh when we are finished here. She will help place you where you will be the most useful before she ships out.”

The fingers curled against Matt’s thigh relax. He forces another spoonful of goop down his throat. “Thank you,” he says eventually.

Anika’s brow ridge ripples as she tips her neck to the left and right, large ears touching each shoulder. “We have lost fifty-nine rebels over the last phoeb,” she tells him. “Perhaps I should be thanking you.”

Matt bites down on his tongue, appetite gone. He stands, suddenly restless, and Anika rises to match. They leave their trays where they sit and make their way to the door. The air in the hallway is drier, quieter. Anika stops Matt with one massive hand on his shoulder when he moves to retrace their path to the main hangar.

“Fifty-nine rebels,” she repeats. Her brow ridge smoothes and the mouth twists down and her palm weighs hot and heavy through Matt’s thick shirt. “If I can offer you one piece of advice, human: choose your friends wisely. The Maker only knows who will live to see the next movement.”

Her hand slides off, and she turns on her heel. Anika sets down the corridor at a steady pace and does not look back. Matt watches her for a moment, the dull roar of the mess hall blending with the dull roar of the arena in his mind, and sets off behind her.

[ridleytheknight]

Steal My Body; I’ll Steal Your Empathy (Langst One-Shot)

Please enjoy! What to expect in this fic!

Galran Controlled Earth

Selective Mute Lance

Bullying

Dehydration and Malnutrition

Kidnapping

Galran! Keith (Like cannon but he feels more of his instincts and is aware of them) 

Shklance with focus of Keith and Lance (Only mentions of Shiro)

—

           The night was so quiet, the stars were out and shining. The only light in the room came from the open window of his room. Where the moon’s rays wormed their way into his room. It was the least liked dorm of the place. Seeing as many saw the window as drafty. Cooling the room to a low temperature, but Lance didn’t mind. The moon reminded him of the nightly tides on his home’s beach. The cool of the overworked air conditioner in his home of Cuba. Where the sun demanded the A/C to be turned on to artic temperatures to avoid heat stroke. In turn making Lance quite numb to most readings of hot and cold.

           Lance didn’t mind the drafty room at all. He loved it. It was his safe place.

           Out there in the hallways is where the danger was. Nothing could touch him here though, in here he could be safe. He could sing his songs from home. Talk to Saria’s photo. He could smile and he could draw. He always had his sketchbook in his bag, but he never dared to take it out in front of people.

           Those were drawings of his family, the only thing he had left of them after the war had torn his country and family apart. If anything were to happen to them he’d be devastated. They couldn’t be his models anymore. They could laugh as he demand they sit still or giggle when he would get frustrated at not being able to draw their noses. He wouldn’t get to smile and feel them hold him tightly and coo at the drawings he made them.

           His big sister was gone. His mama was gone. His papa was gone.

           And they weren’t coming back.

           Lance gave a small smile, the moon light lapping against his skin soothingly as he nuzzled closer into his pillow. His blue eyes slipping shut as he gave a small smile. It was sad that they were gone. But they were too good for this world, so they had to leave it. Lance could understand.

           Didn’t mean that sometimes, in the quiet, he would wish that he’d gone with them.

           But that was the past, this was the present. He had to live for them now.

           No matter how hard.

           The quiet of that night didn’t last long however, because next thing Lance knew there was the screaming of sirens in his ears. Forcing his eyes open to see red light. Dim and glowing, bathing his room instead of the moon’s silver and comforting glow. Lance’s heart hammered uncomfortably in his chest as he grabbed his back pack that held his sketchbook and pictures close to his chest. Using it as his safety blanket as he hooked the bag around his shoulders. Tightening his jacket around him and venturing out of his dorm.

           Everywhere the lights and sounds were screaming, people were wandering out of their dorms, and some were running straight for the teacher’s wing. Others for the training rooms, probably hoping to get their hands on a weapon just in case. Lance knew that it would be useless for him to try and do either. He got shoved around enough as it was. So, Lance stayed put. Planting himself against the wall and waiting for the announcements that were sure to come on the hallway loud speaker. Until gunshots down the hall froze Lance. Making his heart hammer with terror in his chest. Some of the other students in his hallway screamed, all of them huddling together for protection as Lance stayed a good couple feet away. He knew they wouldn’t let him join. Besides, maybe that was a good thing.

           Didn’t gun men go for groups? It was a morbid thought, but Lance thought it might be a little reassuring. It wasn’t. It just made him feel guilty. Only the thought that him being the vulnerable one and possibly taken hostage made him feel better. It was an equal chance for everyone. Only different being no one would care if he got hurt. A voice echoed down the hall, interrupting his thoughts.

           “All of you students, please, follow down this hall. If you run, you will be shot. If you call for help, whoever shows up will be taken hostage as well. And your punishment will be severe while you are in our care.” A hand went on his shoulder and there was a voice near his ear, the voice that had just been down the hall. Lance mused. He was the farthest away, probably looked like he was going to run. Lance really had no plans for that, but he could understand the concern. “Do I make myself clear?”

           Lance nodded quietly, lowering his head in submission as he heard quiet sobs and curses echo from his classmates. The hand on his shoulder gave a small squeeze before gently pressing him forward. Which Lance appreciated. Usually he was shoved. A gentle hand was very welcome and not to be questioned as he shuffled his feet to follow the now moving huddle. His sneakers echoing in the corridor amongst the shrieking of siren’s and red lights. Lance looked up and felt his eyes burn in the bright light. Lance frowned.

           He missed the plain moon light already.

           Lance wasn’t sure what he was expecting to be led to honestly, however, the giant space ship in the middle of their desert locked academy isn’t something that would have been Lance’s first guess. It was something that made him pause, leading the cloaked and armed figure in front of him to press a hand on his upper back again. Not shoving, nor pushing. Just lingering. As if to remind Lance that it, no, she. The nails were long and narrow, fingers dainty and soft, it was a she. She was still there. Though, she wasn’t even showing any real hostility. As if she noticed Lance was just star stuck by the appearance of the ship, rather than disobedient. Lance dropped his head, back to his submissive position and continued to move forward, carefully avoiding getting too close to his classmates.

           Emergency or not, he did not expect their compassion or mercy.

           The ship was massive, and bright. It wasn’t like the stereotypical hostage ship that was dark and scary. This was rather, bright, and homey. Lance felt comfort almost cover him in waves, like a blanket with hot cocoa around a fire. Lance smiled a small bit, but erased the smile as they students were lined up, counted and questioned. Lance squirmed uncomfortably as he was placed at the end. Listening as the students either yelled and cursed, or stuttered their names and answered quietly.

           His hands twitched at his sides, he didn’t notice the woman looking at his twitching fingers or nervous grin. Until she pulled closer. Making his heart almost stop as her lips were at his ear. Until she spoke quietly. Only to him.

           “Stay calm, everything is alright. The Garrison will pay for your safe return, and you will not be harmed while you are in our care. You can relax.” Lance didn’t realize how much those words were what he needed to here until she said them. Lance immediately felt the tension in his shoulders relax and his hands go quiet. Earning him a smile from the woman.

           “That’s better.” She removed the hood of her cloak, revealing white hair and a gentle smile. As well as an unearthly appearance. Heightening Lance curiosity and anxiousness that was quelled again by the careful hand on his shoulder. “Can you tell me your name?” Oh, speaking. Lance got nervous again, his heel tapping and his body shifting underneath the prying gaze. Until the girl next to him snarked. Obviously being one of the ones that was more angry than scared.

           “He’s not going to answer you bitch, he’s mute and stupid. You should just let us go and skip this whole ‘let’s get to know our hostages!’ It’s stupid and my father will have your heads once he gets a hold of you.” The woman’s eyes immediately turned hard. The butterflies erupted and his stomach twisted nervously, even though the hand on his shoulder remained relaxed and comforting in its warmth.

           “And explain to me how your father will know your missing if we have no name to give him? Or would you rather be an unnamed prisoner sold off to a slave trade? I could make that happen no matter how opposed to it I might be? Are you silent now? Good. Stay out of business that is not your own.” The woman turned back to Lance with softer eyes.

           “Now that that is resolved, thank you for being patient with me. I did not know that you were incapable of speech. That was insensitive of me. Can you write on this for me?” Lance looked down, seeing a notebook being procured into her hands along with an odd, pen like thing. Lance gave her a reassuring smile.

           ‘Yes, thank you.’ The woman smiled.

           “Perfect, my name’s Allura. May I have your name?”

           ‘My name is Lance. Lance McClain ma’am.’ Allura gave a small smile.

           “Ah, no need for formalities. Now, how old are you and where are you from?”

           ‘I’m sixteen, and I was born in Cuba.’ Allura smiled again.

           “Wonderful. Now, we’re going to be escorting you into a cell near the piloting room. The walls will be clear, but very strong. Please do not cause trouble and if you have an emergency medical or otherwise, tap twice on the glass and one of us will be there to help. Please do not abuse this privilege okay?” Lance gave a slow nod, bowing his head as if he were agreeing.

           “Good, Keith and Shiro will be leading you to the cell, may I have your bag?” Lance hesitated. “I’m sorry, but I need to know what’s in it and keep it.” Lance’s shoulders fell and he handed the bag over, scribbling a quick note onto the notepad before he handed that over too.

           ‘My family’s photos and drawings are in there. And my only things left of home. I hate to be difficult. But please be careful with them. That’s all I have left from Verando Beach…’ Allura gave him a smile. She understood the value of family and missing home.

           “I’ll take good care of your family and your things. They will be returned to you swiftly when you are safely returned. Thank you for your cooperation Lance.” Lance gave a soft smile before he noticed the group beginning to trudge away, Lance following at the tail of the line. Allura frowned as she watched him walk away, head still bowed in a vulnerable position. She clutched his bag tighter.

           There was something about that boy that was off. As well as drawing. She never acted like that with the hostages they took from the Galran controlled empires. It was like something was telling her to show compassion to the lanky boy with blue eyes. Allura clutched the bag tighter to her chest frowning as she looked at it.

           Maybe it was the small way that he seemed to acknowledge everyone? Or the fact that he was homesick too. Missing home just like she missed hers? No, she found that out because she showed compassion. Allura walked to the table and placed the bag in her arms on the table. He was the only one with a bag. So, it made her job collecting their things easier. Maybe, if she looked through his things she would be able to piece it together.

           She opened the bag and pulled different items, becoming puzzled at the seemingly random items, and also marveling at them. The first thing she pulled out was a little wooden embroidered box with little sea shells and engravings. Marveling as she opened it and saw little trinkets and pieces of jewelry. Like necklaces with little jars filled with sand and mini shells. Or shiny dangly earings with smooth and polished stones.

           She’d have to ask the Hispanic boy if she could borrow some of these earrings later on. Were they his? Or one of his family member’s? She didn’t notice whether he had earrings or piercing holes or not. Allura made a small note to check later on as she moved on. Finding a small booklet that made her smile as she flipped through it. It was all photos of what seemed to be Lance and his family. Playing on the beach and smiling. Allura’s favorite photo so far was with Lance and a girl with pastel green hair. The girl was grinning and holding a maybe eight year old Lance upside down. The boy’s long hair was waving down as his face was red, eyes closed at the photo captured boy was giggling madly. It made Allura smile as well. It reminded her of when her father would do the same thing after tickling her. The shrieking laughter of her younger self and deep chuckles of her father. Allura smiled and moved on before she could get too lost in her sentiments.

           Next thing she uncovered was curiously enough a case filled with pencils and other art supplies, which didn’t make sense until she found the thick sketch pad after that. Allura marveling at the realistic and beautiful artwork inside, smiling at the familiar faces of Lance’s family scattered within the side of the sketchbook. The rest of what was in the bag were just random little things and a random tissue package. And oddly enough a jacket. With darker camo colors and structured build. It was old and worn. Must have been a favorite compared to the plain black hoodie he was wearing now. Allura packed the bag away again. Until something caught her eye.

           A little hand made plush in a hidden pocket of the bag. A little tug made the soft animal come out. Allura gasped as she saw it. It was a little blue kitten plushie. It reminded her of one of those homemade button dolls. And based on the needle and thread she found beneath it in the same pocket, it was home made. Allura cooed at the cute thing before putting it away. Her thoughts escaped her, and she frowned. Before shaking her head with a small smile.

           No, that was just coincidence. There were a lot of plush feline dolls out there. Probably a few are blue. The chance of that being the truth was ridiculous. It was just a little doll for a sweet human boy that missed his home…

Right?

—

           It was decently warm in the cell, the other students were shivering together as Lance stayed at the edge of their huddle. Welcomed only because of the fact it was ‘cold’. Lance couldn’t tell. His jacket was still around his shoulders, but Lance could probably take it off no problem. If Lance close his eyes, the room would almost feel like his dorm. Excusing the bright lights in the room and the soft glow of the clear barrier. Keeping them from the people on the other side who were piloting the ship they were on, murmuring softly. Not even Lance with his not terribly bad hearing could hear the words. Nor could he read their lips.

           Though, the fact that he was staring at a few of the pirates’ lips without actually trying to read them was extremely concerning to him. Was he so touch starved that a little kindness was making him almost prefer the company of his kidnappers? They weren’t even the woman that was nice to him. They were just two men. One with red armor and other with black armor. Though, Lance found a little fun in watching the one that strolled in with strange face markings and a cool mustache. Lance smiled. It reminded him of his uncle Mateus’ mustache. He was jolted out of his thoughts by an elbow to his side.

           “What are you doing?” The harsh whisper was in his ear, he felt a shiver go down his spine as he curled his head onto his knees further. Mouth opening to try and explain himself, but all that came out was a weird voice cracking sound. Lance felt like he couldn’t breathe, his face flushed red in embarrassment and he bowed his head in a silent apology. Unable to say a word.

           He was too nervous to speak.

           Then again, when was he able to talk anymore?

           The voice sighed, “We’re going to get nowhere with you being a nervous mess like usual, so take a breath and just listen. But we need to get out of here!” Lance raised an eyebrow and looked outside their ‘prison cell’ The familiar view of space outside the window was almost surreal, and cool. But it also was a reminder that they were not on the ground.

           How good were students without suits or a ship in space? Not to mention all of the people aboard this ship were holding some kind of weapon. Excusing the strange girl/guy that was ducking in and out of rooms. Holding various metal parts. Though, they could probably use those metal parts to cause quite a bit of damage if they were really feeling in the mood.

           Lance did not want to be on the receiving end of any fist anytime soon. And if he had to pick between his classmates hitting him or scolding him for not cooperating, and the rebels that probably could break Lance like a twig. Lance would take his classmates any day. It wasn’t like it’d be the first time anyway. One of the students caught his gaze as he looked into her eyes and back out the window repeatedly. She grimaced.

           “Yeah, I’ll admit, you’re kinda right. Strong kidnappers in a space ship god knows how far away from earth isn’t exactly the best circumstances. Should we just wait? They said they were going to contact the Garrison for hostage negotiations. My father would help pay if the Garrison needed it!” Another girl, one of the more hysterical ones sniffled.

           “My mom can’t afford this, if they want money and the Garrison need our parent’s to pay, my mom can’t afford it. We’d lose our apartment.” The girl sneezed and shivered as she sniffled. Catching Lance’s eye. Lance scooted over to her, ignoring the wary looks and small glares he got as he finally sat next to her, shedding his jacket and adjusting it over her form. Her skin was as cold as ice compared to Lance’s warm skin. The girl smiled gratefully while another student scoffed. Calling him a pervert and a Casanova. Lance bowed his head and immediately backed away from the huddle again. The warmth of human contact fading away into the back of his mind, forgotten as they turned their backs again. Whispering their ideas for escape. Lance ignored them and scooted a little further away not minding the slight chill he felt without his jacket as he laid his head on a little junction between his knees and the wall. Closing his eyes.

           Things would probably be back to normal soon. Soon he’d be in his old dorm room with his things. Drawing in his free time. Going to classes. He’d be back to the daily grin again. The silence creeped closer and Lance closed his eyes tighter. The day to day. Where he was too busy to notice the quiet and dark thoughts. He didn’t like this much nothingness. Lance ignored that thought as soon as it came.

           He was fine. Just fine. He’d be back soon. It didn’t matter that it was a little too quiet. A little too cold. It was fine. He’d be back in his classes soon. Teachers and students… Lance bit his lip.

           Was it bad he didn’t want to be there? He didn’t miss his classes that much. Though, he’d barely been gone yet. Maybe it was shock mudding up his feelings and thoughts… still. Lance wasn’t sure how to feel. He burrowed his head further into his knees.

           He wanted warmth and safety. That’s all he wanted really.

           Was he selfish for wanting that?

           Probably as he laid his head on his knees. His arms starting to cool from their normal warmth without his ever present jackets to cover his tan skin. Lance rubbed at his upper arms for a little friction. Carefully avoiding a nasty almost black bruise that circled his upper arm, just beneath his shoulder blade. Lance ignored the memory of one of the upper classman grabbing him roughly and locking him in a storage closet. Choosing to think about the tides instead. How they would pull in and out. Urging him to surf and swim. Bright warm waves. Securing him with their depths like a giant hug. Coddling him like a child.

           Lance fell asleep to the thoughts of the ocean. Not noticing the few glances shot his way from students and rebels alike. Or the heated glares directed straight at the very obvious bruise on his arm.

—

           Turns out, hostage negotiation was not as quick and painless as Lance had might have thought. A few people had come in to give them food and water, Lance was happy when they seemed to pay him a little attention, he was even happier when he got a peach with a little note. Allura. She was telling him to hang on, that he could go home soon. Peaches were his favorite, and the only food item he hadn’t given to the other students. It made Lance’s stomach grumble and his mind swirl. He should have gave it away, they said he was fat and didn’t need the food like they did. But. He really like peaches.

Being selfish… maybe for once wouldn’t hurt him. All Lance knew was that he was cold and gnawingly hungry. The peach, had made him feel just a little bit better. And it made Lance a little guilty to say he felt a lot less light headed after he ate it. Lance was grateful that even if he couldn’t see her, she was still being nice to him. Though he would admit it was very confusing. Even the other people were friendly to him. And as weird as it was, the kidnappers were good to them as a whole. They got medicine to the girl who caught a cold from stress and made sure that they were all okay, even when some students treated them so rudely. Lance frowned. He never liked yelling, but it was even worse now that he had a headache.

Lance grinned a little bit into his hands, it also wasn’t really that boring here. The person that always carried metal equipment, Pidge, actually turned out to be really good at chess. They’d seemed to have caught him oogling the chess board and now they played every night while the other students and rebels slept on. Sometimes getting caught by the man with the mustache, Coran, who just smiled and let them play. Pidge was happy to play in the silence, and just seemed happy to have what they called ‘a worthy opponent’. Not even mentioning the fact Lance couldn’t utter a single word to her besides hums of agreement or confusion. All in all, staying here. Though he was hungry and cold (It was okay, all the other students were fine, so why should he complain? He could tough it out. Even if he was feeling a little off) It was kinda nice here.

The only thing that through him off were the occasional lions that walked around the ship. Lance had to admit, it was a little terrifying at first, even with a wall between him and them. Lance had almost been convinced that he was hallucinating from dehydration, like a fever dream, or that he was dreaming. Until it kept happening and the other students talked about seeing them too. They were pretty docile, there was only one lion that seemed to pay them any mind. And that was the blue one.

Lance didn’t know why, but whenever the blue one strolled by and stopped next to the clear barrier It brought up a jumble of emotions in Lance. It terrified and drew him in, making Lance even more confused and unsure than he’d ever been. So, he hid from the searching cat eyes. None of the students commented when he would scoot behind their huddle. Away from the searching gaze.

It felt like the lioness was looking for him, trying to pull him in to come to her. But Lance ignored that call. He was too scared. He didn’t want to get hurt. He didn’t want to tempt fate to screw him over again. He’d keep the peace. Though, the blue lion wasn’t the only one that looked like she was hunting him. The rebel with the red jacket too. Keith. Lance wasn’t sure if it was just him being stupid and over thinking it, but Lance couldn’t help but notice the eyes following him as he would lean back. Violet eyes that seemed to glare into him, as if trying to dig him up and expose his soft, vulnerable soul to his gaze. Even the way his eyes would flash gold, revealing the Galran heritage that Lance could already see in his body language. It shook Lance up and made him nervous, even if every time the red one entered the room with the black one to give out food rations he’d also be gentle with Lance, never pushing Lance. Staying a healthy distance away while the black one, Shiro, would gently hand him a water bottle and a little food. Shiro’s eyes were nice too. But they were calm, only making Lance feel comfortable. Keith’s eyes. Those eyes scared him and enticed him.

Lance finally knew what he was.

A bundle of contradictory and fucked up emotions. Lance sneezed.

Weak immune system too. If the sluggish and warm feeling invading Lance was anything to go by. Lance cursed quietly. No, he wasn’t getting sick. He was just tired and had allergies. Though, he wouldn’t deny that he missed his jacket quite a bit. Lance shivered at the thought and immediately felt eyes fasten onto him. He froze. Lance gripping his knees a little tighter.

Don’t show weakness. The students and teachers comments always got a little meaner, a little colder when they noticed it was getting to Lance. Lance had eventually learned to just stay silent. Not say when something was bugging him. Not say anything at all. Just stand strong and smile.

The rain never lasted forever, this wouldn’t last forever too.

Didn’t stop the ice water being dumped into his veins like adrenaline when the Galran rebel stalked closer. Passing the huddle that glared fiercely at the ‘Galran traitor’ as he walked straight toward Lance. Lance closed his eyes, expecting the blossoming of pain on his jaw any moment now. But his eyes shot open in surprise as nothing came to hit him. Rather a blanket, with warm soft fleece the color of dark crimson was draped across his shoulders. The scent of spice and warm sand sinking into his skin. Lance looked up at the rebel curiously, eyes wide in shock as the male gave him a toothy smile. Knuckles brushing Lance’s cheek in what was technically as Galran gesture of soft affection. It made Lance feel warm in more than just the fever way. Making his tan cheek flush a light red and the one in front of him give a small laughing sound before walking away. Still sending Lance glances every now and again as Lance stayed put, a small smile as he cuddled the blanket.

Keith almost felt ecstatic. It was no secret, Galrans had a little quirk, they had a need to take care of anyone that gained their interest in favor. It was a primal way of enticing mates, showing you could be a provider. Keith had never felt the need to do so before, Shiro had been the one to court Keith after all.

Then there was a sad looking tan boy with the most gorgeous blue eyes, and suddenly, Keith wanted to give someone the world. Shiro said that was because Keith’s dominant side as a male Galran had found its outlet. He’d felt guilty at first, until he saw the way Shiro was eyeing the young adult too. Giving the boy food rations personally, watching the little chess games between the two young ones late into the night with fondness. They’d both decided it was an idea, something that they wanted to pursue.

It didn’t change Keith’s nerves about being rejected. The itch in his chest and pang at the thought of the tan boy, Lance, refusing his advances. Luckily, he hadn’t… well, at first. Keith felt a white hot flame of fury and hurt go through his as he looked back up to the boy, seeing him cheek flush with a slight fever and shivering again.

No blanket. Just tan skin that begged to be pampered, warmed, and healed of those anger inducing bruises. Keith looked around, noticing the blanket now being shared by a couple of the ruder students they had taken for leverage. Their backs still turned from Lance. Keith cursed loudly in his mind.

Lance, lovely, beautiful Lance. Why was he so fucking selfless? Why the fuck! Would he not let Keith take care of him? Keith could feel his inner Galra preen in anguish and anger. Why did Lance not notice the intent was for him to keep the blanket? Shiro had noticed the slight decline in the tan boy’s health and here was Keith, hearing and trying to help. For Lance to give away the blanket! Keith paused quietly, as if mulling something over. Unless. Lance didn’t give it away.

Unless it was taken from him.

Keith growled softly under his breath, that was it. Negotiations were taking forever with the Garrison. It was going to be weeks until they could get their allies back from the Garrison’s hold and it would probably take longer for the trade to take place. And he was his potential mate, cold and getting sick, shunned from his peers. He would not stand for this. He’d just explain to Shiro and Allura why there was a Cuban boy in one of the guest rooms under his supervision later. He was sure Shiro would understand, Allura too as she even seemed to have a strange unexplained soft spot for the boy. She’d expressed her confusion over it too. Pidge had hypothesized that it was because he was more soft spoken and gentle, human nature reaching out for compassion. Allura had taken the explanation easily. Though, she was having her plate full already, the lions were extremely agitated. They were in their organic forms quite a bit of the time mostly, they liked to interact and it was hard for a large metal lion to get around the ship without breaking things. Now it was like they were constantly in organic form wandering around, what surprise Allura and all the paladins the most was which lion was causing the most tension. The blue lion.

Normally Blue was very calm, she was the lioness that would often calm down the other lions. Groom them and cuddle until everyone, even paladins were calm and happy. But now it was like she was a taunt string. Her tail constantly swishing and eyes searching. Allura had translated for the lions, saying that Blue felt her paladin somewhere nearby, but couldn’t find them and it was putting stress on her. Which in turn cause stress on the lions. Everyone was ecstatic, the blue paladin was exactly what they were looking for…

But where were they if they were nearby? Nor could they look for the paladin in the middle of negotiating human lives. The paladins would simply have to do their best to soothe their lions as they bid their time.

Keith was getting off topic, shaking his head as he stood up. Walking straight to the holding room. Not missing the way Lance flinched as his sudden movements. He internally winced. His inner galra whining, saddened by the fact one of their mates, the littlest one, was frightened of them. Something in Keith’s chest hummed with energy, urging him to reach out and comfort the lanky boy, but not yet as Keith glared at the ones in possession of his mate’s gift, before he ignored them. He did not want to seem cruel in front of his mate. He would simply get another one of him and Shiro’s blankets to smother Lance in. Keith almost purred at the thought of the young male having their scent attached to him. Keith shoved the thoughts away immediately.

It was getting hard to fight his Galran side when his instincts tried to take control, it was probably everything mixing together and happening at once that Keith’s Galran side was almost winning the fight of control over Keith’s human side. Keith grabbed Lance’s hand, noticing immediately the way his Galran side waded away, letting him personally interact with his courting mate. Keith gave a half smile for a brief second before making his face unreadable as he tugged on the male’s hand. Urging him to stand up. Which Keith noticed the boy did with hesitation and nervousness. Stumbling on shaky legs which Keith immediately compensated for. Grabbing the boy and throwing him over his shoulder. (Lance would deny it for the rest of his life, but the view of Keith’s strong back and shoulders was something that Lance would burn into his memory as if it were a gospel.) The other students gave weak protests, but quieted. It wasn’t them being dragged away. Maybe if they stayed quiet they could avoid being snatched away too.

Keith sneered internally. A classmate was an ally. You were supposed to be loyal to them and fight to keep them safe. Have their back. No one had taught these students that yet had they? Keith internally grimaced as Lance’s ribs dug into his shoulder. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat with the male swung over his shoulder. He was lighter than a sack of potatoes. Keith immediately vowed to shovel as much calorie packed food as he could into the tan boy.

The clicking of a lion’s claws down the hall made Keith break out of his thoughts, looking over his shoulder and being surprised. Blue. She was strolling down the hall, staring intently at the boy who was quietly and tensely laying on Keith’s shoulder. But not attempting anything. Staying a healthy distance away. But much calmer than Keith had seen any of the lions all week. She must sense his Lance’s distress and confusion and trying not to make it worse. Keith gave a silent nod to the lion and ducked into the guest room, plopping Lance down onto the bed.

Lance’s head spun like a top, his small headache was matched with a severe dizziness. Disorientating him along with the swirling thoughts in his head. Why had the strange rebel taken him? Where was the Black Rebel that always accompanied the Red Rebel, Shiro? Where was Lance even? Why was the man staring at him like he was some kind of treasure?

It was confusing. He was just a mute. Just a boy from Cuba.

So why was this man staring at him as if he were something special?

The toned and dark haired male knelt in front of Lance, grabbing Lance’s hands in his own gloved hands. It made Lance tense up at the male smiled at Lance. Causing a small flush to reach out onto Lance’s cheeks and his heart rate to pick up.

Wasn’t it bad to think like this about someone that kidnapped you? Yes, it was really bad. This line of thought needed to stop now. Now. Stop. But, why were the man’s lips on his own the only thing that he could think about? Lance’s head drop in slight shame, but he listened intently at the man spoke.

“I’m going to leave and get a few things, and I’m going to lock the door. So don’t be alarmed, I’ll be right back. You’re not in trouble. Just, stay put please?” Lance’s eyesight swooned and his head banged, but he still nodded carefully. The man let go of his hands to place a hand on Lance’s forehead. “I’ll grab you some medication too while I’m out. I think you caught a bug from the other students.” The man smiled at Lance as his hand slid down to cup Lance’s cheek adoringly. Making Lance’s heart go into overdrive, his cheeks burning almost impossibly hotter. The man gave a sly smile as if he noticed Lance’s embarrassment. Pulling away and walking out the door quickly and with a small reassuring smile.

Lance’s lips tugged into a confused frown once he left, his hand reaching up to touch his cheek, the warmth was already fading. Leaving Lance colder than he already had been with his slight fever. Lance looked up.

No one had ever looked at him like that. No one that wasn’t in his family. Never looked at him as if he were important. His sister had always looked at him like that. And that gaze both gave him a stab of sadness and familiarity, but it also drew him in with curiosity and longing. He shouldn’t want this. He was technically his kidnapper. But, Lance was so tired to standing alone. He wanted to carry him for a small while, or even just let him lean a little bit of the weight off him.

Was it bad to want that? To want someone to care?

Lance didn’t know anymore.

The door clicked and slid open with a barely there ‘whooshing’ sound. Gaining Lance’s attention as the man, Keith. Shuffled in. In his hands was a small collection of various things, Lance stayed still and let the man come closer, place the items on the bed.

A bottle of what looked to be Tylenol or Nyquil, there was a water bottle and a thing of saltine crackers, a blanket and a note pad Lance recognized as Allura’s. It was the same color and Lance could see the blue gel print of his hand writing peeking out from the disheveled cover. Lance looked up at Keith in confusion, but the man didn’t seem to notice as he concentrated. First draping another blanket that smelled exactly like the first one he’d given Lance. Lance guessed it was his own personal blankets. They smelled like the cologne on the man, though, there was another (Really appealing but Lance would never say that) smell that Lance felt like he knew, but wasn’t sure how to place it.

A bottle with a straw was then placed at his lips, Lance was startled, trying to pull away until Keith gave him a glare that made him freeze. “I know you were sharing your portions, medication isn’t good on an empty stomach, so you’re going to drink this water bottle and eat at least a few of these crackers. No arguments.” Lance found himself meekly nodding, not trying to grab the water bottle and just letting the man press the drink to his lips, which seemed to make Keith pretty happy. Lance could swear that if Keith had a tail it would be wagging in delight.

It was a weird feeling. Making someone happy just by letting them do something for him. It gave Lance a really strange feeling that both made Lance want to bask in the attention or run away and hide.

When the bottle was almost empty it was pulled away from Lance, almost making him whine. He didn’t realize how much better it felt to drink until he did. But Lance’s complaint died in his throat before he could make any embarrassing noise as Keith’s hand brushed his cheek again.

“Don’t worry, I’m just saving this for after you eat a few crackers so you can take the medication. Then I can refill the water bottle.” Keith grabbed the crackers, they were small, bite sized. Lance thought he should probably expect it, but it still made him feel shy as Keith attempted to feed him again. This time he tried to grab the cracker himself but Keith intervened with a small frown.

“Please. I want to make sure you eat.” Lance’s hand hesitated, before he put it back down into his lap and tucked his arms into the blanket. Keith gave a bright grin, which made Lance blush worse before he reluctantly opened his mouth. Letting himself being fed. It was embarrassing, but Lance had to admit, the more water and food he got the less the headache seemed to bother him and less nauseous he felt. His fever was still there, but after Lance finished a few crackers and Keith gave him the medication Lance felt like he was feeling a bit closer to normal. Even a little better than normal. There was a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest that both unnerved him and relaxed him. Letting him stay completely compliant. Even as Keith put away the water bottle and crackers to the small night stand pulled Lance down to lay his head on his lap. With his eyes drooping and his muscles weak with exhaustion and illness Lance really didn’t fight it and instead let the man do what he wanted. Everything he was doing was pleasant. Including the hand carding gently through his hair. Keith looked at Lance with soft, gently eyes.

“Why did you do this to yourself люблю? You didn’t have to give away your water. You could’ve just told us. We would have given more if you had needed it.” Lance squirmed a little bit underneath the searching gaze. Lance hands reached out and grabbed the notebook, quickly scribbling a little note.

           ‘They needed it, I don’t eat that much anyway.’ Keith gave a scoff.

           “Tell that to the pack of crackers you practically demolished. Rightfully so. You need food for energy and staying healthy. Water too. If you don’t eat and drink you’re hurting yourself. Don’t do that anymore. Okay?” Keith’s hand tightened in his hair and his eyes looked like he was almost in physical pain at the thought of Lance neglecting himself. It made another burst of warmth go off in his chest. Making Lance nod and look away bashfully. Not missing the way Keith relaxed with a small smile. Lance’s eyes starting to close without his consent soon after they fell into silence. Making Keith chuckle softly as he saw Lance’s small struggle. Brushing Lance’s hair off his cheeks. It only served to make Lance drowsier with its soft and repetitive moments as Keith’s lips were soon next to his ear.

           “Sleep, we’ll be here in the morning when you wake up.” Lance’s eyes flutter shut finally, Lance barely noticing as Keith moved the notepad out of his hands and Lance’s head to the pillow. Covering him more fully with the blanket. As Lance felt the sensation of fleeting lips on his temple before they retreated again quickly. The door sliding shut with a locking click and the lights going out soon after. Leaving Lance to notice the window of the room and the soft glow on the moon to gently brush his skin.

           Lance gave a sigh of comfort, maybe. Just maybe. It was okay to succumb and let himself want something. Want to be cared about. Even if it was only temporary and he was going to be hurt again. He was willing to try. And by the way the moon seemed to almost smile down on him. He thought his family out there was agreeing with him.

           The Cuban boy fell asleep with a smile on his face. Waiting in silent anticipation.

           Of what was to come, or who he was going to see. Lance didn’t know.

           Lance didn’t really mind not knowing either. It was probably both.

           Both was good anyway.

[mileean]

I'm staying anon I'm case there's hate. But I'd love to see you write something in Keith and Allura bonding? Just for the sake of strengthening their friendship. Maybe even Shallura in another small fic. And... Let's say Keith having a nightmare and waking up. So three requests. :3

Wow, anon! You kept me busy! Thank you so much. I divided them into three prompts. And maaaybe went a bit longer than I first anticipated. (S2 spoilers.)

Prompt 1: Bonding [Keith can’t sleep. Apparently, neither can Allura.]

The Castle-Ship was colossal. The sheer size of it made itentirely clear that it was not meant for such a small crew. It was impossibleto catalog all of the long empty hallways filled with unopened doors, twistingstaircases, and large viewports into empty space, but Keith had tried. Mostlybecause after Shiro’s disappearance, he hadn’t been able to sleep.

Keith was always alone on his walks through theisolating ship, so he never expected to open a door one night and find someone elsealready there. His eyes widened as he saw the princess, so out of place in thelarge, empty room in the middle of the night.

“Princess? What are you doing here in the middle of thenight?” Allura apparently didn’t expect to see him either, because she jumped.The action was quickly covered up by a tilt of her chin, and a quiet cough.

“I could ask you the same,” Allura dodged the questioneasily enough as she straightened her posture and regained a sense of regalpoise.  Keith had a momentary sensationof déjà vu, only this time he hadn’t brought all of his belongings.

“I was…” he dropped his eyes to the floor. “I couldn’tsleep. I haven’t been able to for a while.”

Allura let her arms fall to her sides. “You need your rest,”Allura chided, but it lacked her usual authority.

“So do you,” Keith frowned as he raised his eyes to meethers almost stubbornly. They hadn’t talked at all since their last fight with Zarkon,and so much had happened.

His eyes fell on the large pedestal behind her, pieces of itchipped and splintered where it once should have held something. And herecognized the room as the A.I. station that had formerly held her father’smemories. The room was mostly dark now, with the A.I. of King Alfor gone. 

“My father would know what to do to bond the team together onceagain,” Allura spoke quietly and looked away from him, but Keith could hear the vulnerability inher voice. It was so unexpected, Keith wasn’t sure how to react. “He neverfaltered in his duties to his people, his family, or his team.” The wordsAllura left unsaid spanned the empty room, heavy and oppressive in the air between them.

“For what it’s worth…” Keith found his voice after a minuteas he picked up on the subtle insecurities he was unused to hearing fromAllura. She was normally so confident, unwavering in her actions. He was terrible at comforting people, and he had no idea how to comforta princess. “We never would have made it this far without you. I think you’ve learnedmore from him than you even know.”

He wasn’t sure how to explain the look Allura gave him. Her eyeswere wide for a fraction of a second, her mouth down turned into a small frown.But she didn’t look angry exactly, so he supposed that was an improvement.

“Well then, perhaps you will listen to me as your princess whenI tell you to get some sleep. I have a full day of training prepared for themorning,” Allura crossed her arms loosely over her chest. She looked taller,lighter, even if just marginally. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, butKeith believed she looked more like her old self.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Keith shrugged. But he gave her a tiredsmile, and he saw the faintest quirk of her lips in return.

(This could easily be much longer, they have so much to talkover and the show won’t do it.)

 Prompt 2: Shallura [The team finds Shiro]

When they finally pinpointed Shiro’s whereabouts in theastral plane, the rescue mission easily became their most dangerous yet. Allurahad insisted that she come along, and any attempts to quash that decision werepromptly defeated.

She knew the most of the astral plane out of any of them,despite the fact she had never actually been there. It was a surreal experience,like moving through a dream. Heavy and expansive, and easily overwhelming.

Allura looked down at her hands and tested the weight of herstaff. It was difficult to move at first, and their first few fights with thestrange, monstrous creatures of the astral plane were not without injury. The long-time residents moved almost quicker than their eyes could follow, and it took several difficult battles to acclimate to the different atmosphere. And to imagine, Shiro was here alone.

Theair settled heavy in Allura’s lungs, but she continued to lead the group forwardwith determined, hurried steps.

When they finally found Shiro, Allura froze in place. Hisquintessence had been nearly depleted, his paladin suit ripped, body scarred,and badly damaged. His life force was dangerously low, the last flickers of afire about to sputter out.

Shiro breathed low and shallow, and his eyes barelyregistered they were there. It took him a moment, but eventually he tried tospeak.

“H-hey…” Shiro’s voice was quiet, unused and rough like it hadn’t been used for some time. “Neverthought… I’d see you again,” He managed a small smile. The sounds of relief andlaughter came all at once from the paladins behind her.

Allura stepped forward with purpose. She dropped her staff,and knelt down in front of Shiro. Without a word she raised her hands and gentlylifted his head until they were eye-to-eye.

“I’m taking you home,” Allura whispered.

 (I love this pairing. Also Allura rescuing Shiro? This needs to happen.)

Prompt 3: Nightmare

Keith couldn’t move. He stood in front of the same pair ofmassive doors that he did every night, too tall to see the top, wider than thespan of his arms. The entire room was dark, the only light came from the crackbetween the doors in front of him. But he was frozen in place, unable to move hisarms or legs.

Somehow he felt that behind the door was something dangerousand powerful, something he didn’t want to face. His heart beat so fast hethought he might get sick, his hands and arms prickled, and the adrenaline thatcoursed through him caused his brain to scream at him to run.

But he couldn’t run. All he could do was stand and stare asthe doors opened further, and further. The sound of old wood creaking filledthe vast, empty space and did nothing for his nerves. He tried to turn his head away.He tried to shout or close his eyes.

His hands clenched at his sides, and that’s when he realizedhe had his blade. The hilt felt heavy and comfortable in his hand. It wasn’tquite his Bayard, but it would do. He thrust forward towards the door, analmost feral shout ripped from his throat.

The blade met resistance, the sound unmistakable. It didn’tsquish exactly, the sound too quiet. He had plunged it deep into someone,between plates of armor. It was a Galran soldier, but not one of the droids.The feeling of hard resistance against his blade sickened him, and as the helmeted figure turnedto look at him Keith saw his reflection. There was blood on his face, and avicious look in his eyes that he didn’t recognize.

He pulled back and let the weapon fall with the soldier ashe staggered to the ground. Keith’s whole body shook.

He woke to the sound of his own screaming. He didn’t even realize that could happen. It took him along moment to come to terms with the fact he wasn’t in a dark room, but in his own room back onthe ship. He was on his back, sheets tangled around his legs, hands grippingthe mattress, pillow on the floor. He was freezing. His body was covered in alight sweat, hair lightly plastered to his face and neck.

When he finally unclenched his fists, his hands actuallyhurt. He pushed his hair back from his face, and blinked several more times tomake sure he was really awake. The dark room with the door did not reappear. Neither did the soldier he killed.

He disentangled himself from the sheets and madehis way to the bathroom. He didn’t bother with the lights, he was used to thisby now. Instead he splashed cold water on his face, pushed it through his hair,and breathed into the palms of his hands.

And then he counted backwards from twenty until his heartrate returned to normal. “Just a dream,” he said, “Just a dream.”

[ridleytheknight]

It’s Over, Isn’t It? (Langst Song-fic)

Here it is! An Altean Lance songfic! The song in this fic is it’s over isn’t it from the Steven Universe fandom! The verison I listen to varies between NWTB and another youtuber who I can’t find in anything but AMVs! Either way! Thank you to @angielmao-blog for being my beta on this little one-shot and I hope you all enjoy! Warnings this fic include.

Corruption

Murder

Treason

Emotional Dependence

Child Neglect

Experimentation

Non-con Body Modifications

Please Enjoy!!!

---

I was fine, with the men

Who would come into her life now and again

He watched with calm eyes as Zarkon walked out of his mother’s room once again, adjusting his military outfit with hearts in his eyes. Lance blinked with his owlish eyes and looked away, the orange marks on his cheeks and his arms flaring and glowing a little more brightly before Lance calmed the flare of magic with deep breathes. Clenching his small childish fists as if the pressure and slight pain of the tight grip would help. Lance bit his lip and ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach.

            He always knew his mother was beautiful, that she’d find a man other than his father. He was fine with it too. She deserved to have someone, but there was something that itched at Lance, like a bad itch that you couldn’t figure out where it was or why. Something bothered him about Zarkon. Something in his soul tugged at Lance’s magic, the quintessence manipulation of water. An element that often offer shields and protection, as well as projected a dangerous drowning wave or shots of ice that could pierce the hardest shield and leave nothing behind.

Lance pushed the feeling back as his mother came out of her room, bun in perfect place, a smile directed right at him as she approached where he sat, playing with his sketchbook and the magic in his hands. Looking up and letting his mother grab him and hoist him onto her hip. Their beloved family cat traipsing at the heels of the mother and son. The brown haired Altean closed his orange-gold eyes relaxed.

Trust, he trusted her. He loved her. So he’d let her be happy and not say a word.

After all, he knew that she would always be his no matter what.

And that’s all the mattered, isn’t it?

I was fine, because I knew;

 that it didn’t really matter until you

Lance was never a jealous person per say. However, when his mother got pregnant with another child, Zarkon’s child, His new step-father's child. Lance could not help the sinking feeling in his stomach. The turning of the tides in his body, warning him that everything was going to change, and maybe not for the better. Jealousy and envy flooded his veins like a poison. But Lance fought back against it.

He loved her. He loved his mother. She was his, and he was hers.

And that’s all the mattered isn’t it?

I was fine, when you came;

And we fought like it was all some silly game

Smiling and laughing, begging to hold his new baby brother. Being met with a motherly smile as he got to hold his baby brother, Lotor, for the first time. Lance decided then that he was going to be a good big brother, lead and show his sibling the way.

 The brown haired boy still clung to that thought years later as Lotor waddled from him to his mother with a wide smile and running to his mother. Who grinned at the sight of the toddler, lifting him into her arms and nuzzling his hair like she’d done to Lance once upon a time. Causing that burning feeling to rise up and threaten to eat and chew at his morals and personality again. Chewing as if it were trying to turn him into the monster it was, but he pressed it back again. Smiling with burning eyes as his mother barely blinked at him, preoccupied with Lotor who demanded the all attention his three year old body could muster.

She was happy.

And that’s all that mattered, isn’t it?

Over her, who’d she choose;

After all those years I never thought I’d lose.

Lance watched with misty eyes from a distance as his mother showed his baby brother around the empire, to the lions and the labs, showing him all that would be under his watchful eye one day. He was her pick for filling in her spot. He was her favorite.

It wasn't Lance. Not anymore.

Closing his eyes, memories of when his mother smiled at him like that washed over him. Her proud eyes and bright smile, gentle hands cradling him close, cuddling him. The happiness in her eyes when she looked at him.

Now, she still smiled, still kissed his head, but her eyes were on Lotor the whole time. As if she pictured showing affection to his brother rather than him. His brother basking in the attention with a smug smile. Showing that he would always be the favorite of both their ‘parents’. That he was no one’s favorite. He was no longer the perfect son. He wasn’t the idol big brother now. He wasn’t anything in the eyes of King Alfor. He wasn’t anything to anyone.

Not even his own father had wanted him. He left Lance.

But, she was happy, smiling with a new husband and a better son. One that didn’t remind her of what she’d lost. Grinning as she showed him the beautiful sights that she and Lance had once shared. They were probably still beautiful to her, but now as Lance walked to thise same sights, alone, going to draw them with his sketchbook. They only looked dull and dead.

Was this life without her?

Oh well, she was in love. She was happy.

Lance wasn’t happy, but the embrace of loneliness and depression kept him company.

She was happy.

And that’s all that mattered, isn’t it?

It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

Isn’t it, over?

The memories of family dinners and happiness washed over Lance as he now sat at the age of twelve, In a dim dark hallway of a ship. Dark black and grey with harsh purple lighting, not like the warm and light of his home.

Altea was gone. Dead. His step-father had destroyed it as he watched. Able to help, but doing nothing. As helpless as a child as he watched everything he had ever known and loved get blown to dust and die. Everything he had ever seen.

The dull but familiar sights. His house on the corner.

What did it matter anymore?

You won, and she chose you;

And she loved you, now she’s gone.

Now she was gone. His mother. Replaced with a husk that Lance couldn’t even recognize, he didn’t even know her anymore. Not after what Zarkon had done to keep her alive. Now her hair hung in white shambles, her marks running down her face like blood red tears. It made Lance’s own marks glow in slight pain. Those marks that used to match his were now only a show of her suffering. His heart ached and the storm of the ocean raged in him. She disregarded him. She still favored Lotor and the man who ruined her.

Gone. His mother was truly gone. Not happy. Gone.

He didn’t know how to feel, because now he was truly and completely alone.

It made suffering so much worse.

What did any of this matter anymore?

War and Glory,

Reinvention,

The war raged on for years, thousands of them. And yet, Lance never grew old. His mother had changed and was gone, but there was some part of her that still held on. He guessed. Why else would he wake up strapped to a metal table so often, Pure quintessence shot up, burning and eating him alive like the jealousy of so long ago. The only difference being this pain was real and his mother listened to him scream with a sick grin and a gleam in her eyes.

Not a flash of the woman she had once been.

The woman he’d loved fiercely.

            Now, was his fear.

            Yet, he still loved her.

 Lance couldn’t talk much, he guessed, he’d changed as well. His marks were dull against his skin, the magic in his veins was heavy, but he refused to use it. He grew quiet and cynical. No longer the one to joke, smile, and be happy. The only way that Lance recognized himself was in old photographs and the sketches he would make of planets before Zarkon and his mother would leave them in ruin.

 Blood strew over the grounds that Lance would walk, Glory of the Galran empire to every planet. He received the glares of pity, curiousity, or disgust as he’d walk without blinking at the gore. He’d seen to much of it to care. He was the only Altean left that was not a druid. He was the one they blamed. A traitor to the people he loved. Defecting to the people who killed his planet.

They didn’t understand who he was.

They didn’t care.

No one did. Not even himself anymore.

He was a husk now too.

Nothing mattered.

Fusion, Freedom

Her attention.

            Soon, Lance started welcoming the pain of the metal table. His mind twisting the pain to pleasure. After all, when he was being cut open, stabbed and prodded, he had her attention at last. Even as his body convulsed and screamed in pain. When his vision would swim and his marks would flash colors that were not his own to the curiosity and amusement of the witch that had once been his mother.

            Finally, he felt free of the confusion. He knew who he was now. He was her son again.

The pain did not matter.

She was pleased with him.

            And that’s all the mattered, isn’t it?

Out in daylight, my potential

Bold; Precise. Experimental.

He was her experiment now, was that close to be a son? Lance didn’t know anymore, he didn’t recognize anything anymore. The honey gold and orange of his eyes and marks replaced with a glaring red that bled into purples and indigos, turning fully black at times. The gentle waves and tides of the sea in his being turned from the moods of the ocean to a poison filled lake. Burning acidic toxin flooding his vein. Burning away any feeling of guilty of sick turning of his stomach as his magic would shoot down so many locals. Sins splayed out in the plain day light as his magic boldly shoot from his skin. Contrasting his tan skin and scars. Precise edges and lifts to his magic. Shots of quintessence.

Now his magic was not water, it was heavy like liquid metal in his veins. Dark black. Forming harsh edges that cut and stabbed through beauty without hesitation. 

Dark. Dirty. Heavy. Angry. Black. Hatred. 

The magic rejected its new form. Spilling out of control. It wasn’t his magic. This wasn’t him. He knew this. His mind tried to steer him to her, but his heart knew this was not the ocean. He had failed.

Shocking hands and electric currents as an experiment failed. Losing control and killing so many people out of his mind. Up. Down. Left. Right. Who was he? Who was he? Where was Lance? The magic burned. He screamed. It was pain. Who was he? Where was the boy who was Honerva’s son? Where was the Altean boy he once was? Where was the calming ocean that once surrounded his broken soul with comfort?

            What could the ocean do for his heavy dirty soul now?

He was only Haggar’s experiment now.

That’s all he mattered to her.

Even as she forced him to take a human form, hiding his marks, his ears, telling him to gain information. Infiltrate into the planet, and abandoning him on the planet’s surface. No way to call home. He was useless to her, a failed experiment now that his magic was so frazzled with confusion and sick thoughts, tainted and unyielding. Out of control.

He was alone again. No attention. No love.

Who am I now in this world without her?

Petty and dull, with the nerve to doubt her.

Had he ever been meant to report information back to her? Or had this been a set up? Had she just abandoned him? Her useless experiment. A failure that she didn’t think was worthy of her time to even kill. What was he anymore? Who was he?

The thoughts felt sick in his mind. Was this who he was anymore? Without his original mother. 

Petty. Angry. Negative. Cynical. 

With the gall to doubt her, his mother, the one that had been his idol. He was supposed to always love her. He was supposed to never leave her. He was supposed to not be like his father. Now, she was the one who left.

Why him?

Why does it matter?

What does it matter? It’s already done.

Now I’ve got to be there, for her son.

That question entered his mind a lot now, as he sat alone on an Earthen beach. The waves lapped at his ankles of his new ‘home’ the earthen family happy to take him in. It had surprised him. That the humans were so warm. So eager to take him in. So loving to a person they had never met.

It made Lance feel sick. He was a shitty excuse for a son. He was worthless. Yet this family. They wanted to call him their son. They wanted to give him their family name, and to show him love. The love that the old version of him, the one that still hid from the poison, craved. Lance felt weak to it. Too weak to fight it, too done.

            Accepting it felt so much better. Sitting in the love of a family. In the ocean tides. Lance was surprised as his eyes finally faded from purple when he experimentally released the lock on his magic. No. His eyes were not the honey gold color anymore. They were blue instead. Like the earth’s ocean, and Lance could feel the sea of his home roaring in his veins once again. Love attacking the sickness in him. The poison bleeding out like blood and killing the evil person within.

Honerva’s son was back. 

Honerva was gone now. Ruined and changed by hatred. No matter what Lance’s old illusions had been. She was gone. Now, he had to be strong for her memory. He had to be there for himself. He had to be the son she loved when she still lived.

He had to be Lance.

Loving. Caring. Child of the sea.

            And that’s what mattered now.

It’s over, isn’t it?

Why can’t I move on?

Accepting it was easy on earth. But now that he’d left those safe ocean waves. Lance feared. Feared being corrupted by quintessence once more without the earth to ground him. Feared that his family would change their minds about him in his absence. Yet, the other humans aboard the ship always soothed him. Lance, he smiled with Hunk, joked with Pidge, fought with Keith, stood proud for Shiro, and spoke with Coran. Yet, Lance hid from Allura. Hid who he was once he found out they were fighting the people he’d once been a part of. The experiment of. This was both his redemption and his hell. Lance didn’t know what he’d do if he were faced with the choice.

His mother. Or his family.

Why would the universe make him choose?

He was just a boy. Just an Altean boy. He wasn’t anything special.

That’s why the ocean in him stirred in this battle. The feeling of a foreboding doom rushing over him in waves. His magic was restrained, he refused to show or use it with his friends. They could not know. They could not fear him. He vowed to protect the planet that had returned the sea to him. Protect the family that returned him to himself.

But here he was now. She loomed in front of them, and he was the only one even slightly coherent. Standing with a gun to her. Perfect for vengeance. For Shiro. For his team. For his planet. More selfishly.

For abandoning him. For hurting him. For using him.

Yet, He still loved her.

That’s why, he couldn’t pull the trigger. That's why he only stood still frozen in shock as his teammates screamed at him to duck. That's why he only stood still as his magic pierced through him. Ocean waves rolling in anguish. His magic was to protect and to harm whatever threatened him or his loved ones.

But now, the one woman he loved. Was going to kill him.

The ocean could do nothing but grieve.

It was so fast. Her magic shot through him. A hole through his abdomen, and he stumbled. Her magic shot to try and grab Shiro, who was running to Lance’s fallen form. And his magic exploded, reacted immediately. Without permission. Bursting from him with a shot. Stabbing icicles. And she screamed. Falling to the floor with a wail as Lance himself was tackled, too late, to the floor by Shiro. Shiro immediately hovering over him in shock as Lance’s form settled in its natural skin. He felt the tingling of his glowing marks.

Shiro called out to him. Shouted his name, pressed a hand on the wound his magic was already working to clot and restore. Whispering reassurances as the team ran, either to support him, or to get a med pod ready. Allura standing over him, a hand over her mouth as she stared at him in shock. Lance caught a glimpse of himself in Shiro’s visor and stared for a second in shock.

Right there, was Honerva’s son. Honey gold eyes, orange and gold like the sun. Markings and tan skin glowing with pride, magic, potential, and happiness. Lance gave a wobbly grin and his eyes started streaming tears. He recognized himself again, but at what price, the grief of killing his mother? The blood on his hands?

Lance closed his eyes, his happy tears turning into tears of grief as the pain of both his injury and the death of his mother, and the realization that Allura now knew. Orange marking were rare. She knew who he was. She knew what he had done.

But he was not Haggar’s son.

He was Honerva’s son. Haggar killed Honerva. Now he killed Haggar.

It was over. Wasn’t it?

Isn’t it over finally?

Yet, the memories don’t stop. Lance still misses home. Lance still had a new home. Lance was Lance again. He was her son. And she was alive in him again. And yet the pain of a once closed wound was open again with the death of her body ripping open the closure he’d fought so hard for the first time she died of soul.

It hurt, but that didn’t matter.

He was cradled in the arms of his family. Any scorn they could throw at him. He could take with the memory of their warmth. Her warmth. Their rejection and hers was something he’d never accept, but they weren’t rejecting him. They were holding him. Begging for him to hold on.

She rejected him. She didn’t love him. Not like Honerva. Because she wasn’t her.

Why does it still hurt?

It’s over, isn’t it?

Why can’t I move on?