#faintly pink lips on an otherwise black and white image

[queen-hospitality]

yes i am still whinging about this

let classic rock be grainy 2k23

[quimbionics]

oops

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Summary: Chase, blighted by insomnia, consoles a troubled Iris.

Word Count: 1,286

Warnings: none

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Harboring acute awareness, the small digital clock on the kitchen counter has long lost its purpose as Chase mindlessly sips away at the cup of black tea in his hands. His eyes are sunken, dark, and lifelessly opaque-- only half-regarding the sullen environment around him as he stares blankly at the moonlit terrace ahead. Meaningless thoughts come and go, forgotten in the haze; formulas of vague origin filling every crevice of his brain until all, inevitably, succumb to static. A unique breed of white noise, pure and condensed, weighing him down with impossible burden.

This habitual sleeplessness, much to his chagrin, had flawlessly integrated into the mission leader’s internal systems; the bitterness of his tea being the only thing keeping him at bay, as ironic a notion as that may be. A distant, definitely-bionic part of him knows this is an unhealthy practice, that the average teenager should receive approximately eight-to-ten hours of sleep for optimal performance-- and yet, it’s his own mind that impedes his progress, whirring and whirring and whirring away at completely, utterly, and absolutely nothing. The more eccentric parts of his mind twist and turn and loop in circles, recycling the same miscellaneous analytics that had robbed him from peace all nights prior-- and to contend with this massive hindrance, he’s learned to relinquish his bearings and express his discontent with an infallible expression. Blank and unreadable.

In the midst of his grievances, he almost misses the figure in the stairway.

Soft creaking of wood reverbs with a gunshot’s decibels, and Chase stiffens instantly. His body goes rigid with a sharpened guard, hazel hues casting a wary glower at the phantom-like shape at the bottom of the stairwell. His mouth opens to call out a warning, the base of his Laser Bo already beginning to materialize in a hidden palm behind his back-- only for his paranoia to dissolve completely as the figure creeps into focus.

“..Iris?” Her image is hard to make out, but Chase can faintly decipher the vague outline of his girlfriend. Unmistakeable curls frame her dark face as she inches closer, dim glimpses of a small blanket covering her body, the excess fabric dragging across the floor behind her.

She’s silent. Her glassy gaze is shifted to the side, vacant of emotion-- and it takes Chase a minute to realize the damp, shimmering moisture streaming down her cheeks. As she moves, her red, puffy eyes glint in the moonlight, painting a vivid picture that Chase only now grasps. The revelation clicks-- and sympathy blossoms, his features contorting to match the undertones of his distraught partner.

“Nightmare?” He solemnly infers, already having risen to his feet. His concern only deepens when Iris answers with a hollow nod, and he closes his eyes in silent empathy.

He waits for her to draw near, and once she does, he carefully wraps his arms around her shaky, blanketed frame. He calculates every movement with mindful precision, subtly letting her know that his intentions are not forceful, insidious, or derived from even the slightest malice-- and it works. She crumbles in his arms the moment they make contact, her expression twisting in a mixture of fear and distress as she mumbles something incohesive, broken by muffled sobs. Chase only places his chin on the top of her head-- and lifts it just moments after to plant a soft kiss on her temple, hoping to sway her anxieties even briefly. He rocks her slowly, gently, and without authority, allowing the silence to linger for however long the other desired.

Iris makes full use of this privilege, focusing on otherwise trivial things in attempts to gather her bearings; she zeroes in on the consistent rhythm of Chase’s breathing to steady her own, pulsing beats-- pinpoints his embrace to find leverage in the present. Once the haze begins to dwindle, she places a tentative nuzzle into his neck, treating herself to more of his consoling warmth. “You weren’t in your capsule,” She says, suddenly meek. Her voice slightly muted in the other’s hold, but the tone is disparaging; fearful. Chase feels a disturbance in his heart-- but says nothing. “I had another one-- p.. panic attack. Woke up with it. I tried to do what you said, to come find you the next time it happened, but your capsule, it.. It was empty. I got scared-- I thought you.. left.. I thought--”

“Shh, hey,” The mission leader simply brings a hand to her hair. Intertwining his fingers with frizzy locks, he quells her tension with tender, rhythmic strokes. “I’m right here, I. I’m not going anywhere.”

It takes some time, but after a surplus of forehead kisses and soothing words, Chase eventually feels the heroine settle in his arms-- a subtle act, but it’s true and genuine. She sets free a sharp exhale, even letting her body sway in sync with Chase’s with an almost airy bounce-- and when she pulls back, expression a weary content, ebony eyes meet a heavenly smile that strikes her heart with a familiar flutter.

She floats there for a time, suspended in the moment-- then seals the gap once more, resting her head against the center of his chest, listening passively to his heartbeat. “I want to stay here,” She whispers, poking a finger from her coverings to trace soft circles on his flannel. “With you. If, um.. that’s okay, obviously. I mean, it’s way past late, and your bionics..”

“Irey,” The endearing nickname seals her fate with a charming laugh, music pristine and pure; tints of the softest pinks color her cheeks, and she feels light. “Of course it’s okay. It’s more than okay. Besides,”

He halts, then. Draws his lips closer to whisper into her curls. “I think I need this, too.”

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

Repose. 

It’s serenity in its lightest colors, angelic rays descended from a higher plane-- and the moon seems to rejoice, offering the prettiest of beams to shine dimly on its subjects. A veil of calm rules over this kingdom of stillness, and there, on the couch, under the blanket-- are this moment’s populace, fingers entwined and frames embraced. They’ve resumed places similar to before, with Chase’s head resting atop Iris’s while Iris had curled in on his chest, close to his heart. A cloudy undertone is present in both of their visages, as though entranced by some unseen spell.

With a silence so lulling, even Chase’s prevalent insomnia begins to wane. But just as his eyes close, just as he starts to nod off-- a small shuffle in his arms. The tip of a nose, grazing his neck. Then a quiet, quiet whisper, one that his bionic hearing almost doesn’t pick up.

“I love you,” A gentle song in the breeze, yet roused an incredible reaction that shatters his clockwork-- warmth, raw and unbridled, blooming from his middle with an enthralling brew. “I love you so much.”

Emotions of all variants sway him with sensation, creeping up his spine to spread to the rest of him; and the tenderness, god, the tenderness in her tone-- it’s like a slit of sunlight slicing through the clouds, a wishful message of hope that fills him with a kind of euphoria only found in his dreams. He has to remind himself that this is real, that he has a girlfriend who’s feelings are not a myth-- that she harbors no ulterior motives. That she truly, truly loves him with all of her heart and more, that she would be with him until her last days.

And, god, does he feel the same way.

His answer is immediate; vulnerable. “I love you too.”

And as the sky pinkens, signifying the night’s ending-- sleep, Chase finds, has never come so easily.

[writer-and-artist27]

After Snow Comes Spring

Theme is here. Or here’s a piano alternative. The song’s what gave this oneshot thingie its name, really. 

This was originally written as a way to help better utilize my social anxiety in a productive manner, and now that it’s here, I’m going with it. Studying can suck, but it’s necessary and to be honest, I’d rather not sulk all day. So, writing. Here you go. Briefly inspired by Shell Game Chapter 25 from Lang and Silent Feathers Chapter 18 from Os.  

Very distant sequel to this thingie, I suppose. Everyone’s 18. It makes the post-writing embarrassment more bearable.

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

Crane would sometimes stop by the Nagareboshi Café and find himself peering past the veranda a bit longer than he should. Even if Crane couldn’t be his Uchiha self right now, he still kept that part of him around, as miniscule as it was when the mask was on, just for one person.

Someone would probably call this activity “stalking,” but to be honest, Crane couldn’t care less.

Especially when it came to her. 

The rain was cold and unbearable, but Hoshino Tomoko was still standing underneath the patio of Nagareboshi Café to stare up at the cloudy sky with darkened eyes. Even after half an hour of being alone, away from all the hubbub of her home, she hadn’t twitched aside from the usual heaves of her chest telling of breathing. Even when her café had already announced its closing time, she still stood there, watching the rain and barely moving from her spot near one of the windows.

In fact, even from his vantage point, Crane could see how her blue eyes were uncharacteristically dim to match the silence. The red hoodie on her black kimono dress helped with the cold, not to mention the veranda, but it still seemed like she was close to crying.

Something was screaming inside him as he continued to watch.

Tomoko continued to stay silent the entire time he sat there on his electric pole watching. Her eyebrows then furrowed as she gently brought her hands to her mouth, breathing warm air onto her whitened fingers. “Another day,” she exhaled softly, shaking her head. Her gaze was sad as she glanced back towards the dark clouds. “It’s been years.”

Years since what? 

“…What would you think of me now, Ty? Have I become ‘worthy’ in your eyes? Or am I still pathetic to you?” 

Crane froze.

A chilling, sad, and broken laugh reached his ears even through the rain. It was hard to believe that it was Tomoko’s voice. “Who am I to know? You’re gone. Yet why do I miss you?” She shook her head again, bitterly. “There’s no way to get an answer now. Not after so long.” Then there was a sniffle. Tomoko wiped at one of her eyes with her kimono sleeve, the black cloth coming back wet. “I’m horrible, huh, Ty?”

Crane’s fingers twitched through his armor.

“Crane,” the voice echoed forebodingly into his ear from his neckpiece. 

Crane paused, barely noticing his voice having deepened from the lack of breathing and the sudden surge of anger flowing through his veins until he spoke. “Yeah?”

“We have to go soon.”

Crane sighed, adjusting the volume of his voice with a turn of the dial around his choker. The mission. Right. “I know, Turtle, give me a minute.” His heart was pounding again, like his Uchiha self. The self that was yearning to be at Tomoko’s side, to hold her hand and hug her and tell her she wasn’t alone. “…She’s out in the cold again.”

“She’s what?” A pause. Turtle inhaled. “Again, huh?” A sigh then rang through his eardrums. “Star’s sads are horrible.” 

“K—Turtle. Can’t we do anything?” 

“Crane—”

“Listen to yourself, Crane.” Wolf’s voice this time crackled through his other ear. Jackass professional. “You know we don’t have time. As much as you want to, Hokage-sama’s orders are absolute. Dry up and get going.” 

“Do you even hear yourself?” Crane snapped, trying to hold back an exasperated huff to not alert anyone nearby of his presence. “It’s Star. She doesn’t stand out in the cold as fuck rain unless something’s wrong. And Moon’s on hospital shift today. For all that we know, Star’s alone.”

A pause followed again.

“She was talking about that guy again, Turtle,” Crane pleaded. “We have to do something.”

“…Wolf,” Turtle said finally, a tiny hitch in her voice, “I think we can spare a few minutes.”

There was a clicking of a tongue. “Five minutes,” Wolf acquiesced quietly, rustling over the line. “No more than that, Crane.”

“Thank you,” Crane huffed irritably, and his hands twitched while fumbling with his mask. Darn the rain for making everything slippery. “At least you’re not a total jackass.”

“I have my priorities straight,” Wolf interjected dryly, more rustling to signal a shake of his head. He paused, exhaling before admitting, “but you’re right. When the mission is done, we can all comfort Star if she needs it.”

“Good,” Turtle finished, a bit of pride leaking into her voice, “Crane, do your thing.”

The single crackle over his headset signaled the end of that conversation and Crane was left by himself on top of the electric pole again.

Tomoko sighed softly, closing her eyes and he took his chance. 

A single leap was all it took to stand in front of her, shielded from the rain by the awning, and years of chakra control training softened his step enough for her to not notice him. Instead, Tomoko kept her eyes closed as she pressed her hands together in front of her chest. 

“Mirror,” she sang quietly to herself, “tell me something. Tell me who’s the loneliest of them all.” 

The last bit of Crane’s reasoning finally snapped. 

He nearly threw off his mask when stepping forward, but he clasped onto whatever common sense was left inside to speak. “You’re not the loneliest of all.”

Tomoko’s eyes flew open and those soft pink lips opened to gape. Her big blue eyes were wide enough to reflect his image in the irises. “E-Eh?!” her voice shook, echoing in the quiet with that familiar high pitch of hers that spoke of her turbulent emotions. And indeed, there was no mistaking the hint of fear lacing her words. Of course. She hadn’t recognized him. “A-ANBU-san? When did you—” 

Crane shook his head, cutting her off while loosening the straps of his mask. “I’ve been here the entire time. And normally, I’d be Operative Crane, a ninja who can’t even talk with civilians. But I would’ve thought you’d know who it is behind the facade, considering you’re not running away.” 

Once the straps were off, he let the darn thing fall to the ground and Tomoko’s cheeks flushed pink from surprise. 

With Crane gone, Uchiha Obito grinned wryly in his place. “You make it really hard to go without worrying about you, Tomo-chan.”

“O-Obi?!” 

Obito couldn’t help himself. He only had five minutes after all. 

A single squeak was the last thing left between them as Obito lurched forward and captured Tomoko’s lips in a searing kiss. He didn’t even care that his armor was soaked through, that the wind was cold and that people could be staring. All that mattered was pushing that scum’s name out of his girlfriend’s mind, to erase whatever scars Tai left, even if it meant compromising his security. 

Obito had a promise to keep and he couldn’t do it as Crane. 

A moment passed and once the oxygen was running low, Obito gently nipped at Tomo-chan’s bottom lip in a quiet reprimand. It was enough to startle another, smaller squeak from her mouth as he pulled back. 

“O…Obito?” Tomo-chan inhaled shakily, cheeks flushed and lips now somewhat swollen from the kiss. Her red hoodie had long since fallen back to rest against her neck, probably from the force Obito used to push her back. Oops. He got too into it. “Don’t you have to go on a mission?” 

Awwww. Wait, no. 

She yelped once he leaned back in for a quick peck, her resolve wavering as fast as it came. “H-Hey!” 

Obito could faintly hear his headset crackle from microphone static in the back of his mind. Probably Turtle or Wolf. But that was Crane’s responsibility. Right now… 

“I do have to go, probably in the next minute or so,” he mumbled, a smile barely hanging onto his face. But Tomo-chan was still in his line of sight, looking up at him with those cute big blue eyes of hers, so Obito couldn’t help himself. He pressed a hand against the window to lean in, pressing a softer kiss to her forehead. “But don’t think you’re ever unworthy and horrible, Tomo-chan. You’re cute and I love you, so at least remember me before Tai.”

“Oh.” Tomoko’s eyes narrowed weakly at him in spite of the dark red staining her cheeks, her breath coming out in shaky puffs. “Y-You’re not going to bother remembering his name, are you?”

Obito grinned. “Nope!” He pressed one last lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you, Tomo-chan. Not him. He doesn’t deserve anything. And if you believe otherwise, I’ll come back and make sure you remember that.”

Tomoko could have easily resembled a tomato with how red she had turned in the span of a moment. She opened her mouth, letting out a funny noise akin to a small horse before nodding to herself and taking a breath. “G-Got it. Okay.” 

“Crane.” Wolf’s voice interrupted him through the intercom. “It’s time to go.”

Of course. Goddammit.

The moment Tomoko took to reorient herself was enough to give Obito time to take a step back to pick up his mask, snapping the straps back onto his head. Once he did, Tomoko raised her hand to gently wave at him. “I-I love you too, Mr. Crane.” Her smile was definitely exasperated but still all the more real. “Be safe.”

“The same to you, Ms. Star,” Crane said in Obito’s place, hiding his matching smile behind the white mask as he stepped out and back into the cold downpour. “Expect a visitor in the near future.”

A single leap and the pole was back underneath the soles of his sandals. Crane inhaled.

Obito could still feel his lips tingle from the moment.

“Mr. Crane?”

Crane paused. He swiveled his head back, and Tomoko was still smiling. “Do you and your guest like the piano?”

Crane tilted his head at her. “What do you think, Ms. Star?”

With that line said, he leapt away and the moment was over. It was time to get to work again.

By the time he reached the village gates where Wolf and Turtle were, Crane could’ve sworn he saw a twinkle in the sky. 

[ginkagewrites]

Intro

Awakening: Keith | Lance | Allura | Hunk | Pidge | Shiro

Convergence: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Reunion: 1 | 2 

Return

Soft, enveloping darkness. Quiet and all-encompassing.

It was that place that exists between dreams and deeper, healing sleep. Where pain ceased to exist and consciousness could float like a cloud across the sky.

There wasn’t a sense of time to stretch out the drifting of the mind, just that gentle wandering in what might be.

‘Shiro!’

Eyes opened in the dark, the name setting off a spark in the darkness; a flare of colored light almost like fireworks that burst and then faded. Was it imagination? Was it a trick of the mind in this blankness?

‘Shiro!’

Another spark, brighter this time and lingering longer, caught the eye and lit up the darkness in golden white tinged with teal. The colors couldn’t really be Shiro’s imagination. It was calling his name and he turned towards it in the dark field, looking up.

‘Takashi!’

Breath hitched in his throat as the spark exploded across the darkness directly over his head, stronger even than the last and carrying emotion with it. A soft, earnest feeling of love and need filtered down to his head as motes of light floated down around him. Shiro raised his left hand to catch one of them and felt the power tingle in the flesh of his palm.

‘Shiro!’

It wasn’t purely a spark anymore, it was mingled voices, familiar voices, that called to him. The bright white-gold light appeared at one end of his darkness, beckoning like an opening door. Wordless curiosity drew him towards it, becoming aware of his feet moving forward. The spark he’d caught in his hand sank into his palm and rimmed his figure in teal-edged white. It fascinated him even as he moved towards the comforting light.

‘Brother!’

One voice powered over the others briefly with the word, struck a chord that ran deep. His step picked up as the bright doorway drew closer and closer. It seemed to pull him to it, lightening the darkness around him as came to stand before it.

He had a brief thought that maybe this wasn’t a dream… that maybe something else had taken place that was more final. There had been so much that happened.

‘We’re here! Come! Please!’

The white light before him pulsed and thrummed with the fervent call, the voices resolving in his head with a jolt like snapping fingers. His team. His family. They were on the other side and they were calling him. The strength with which their call reached him brought the beginnings of tears to his eyes as he reached out for the doorway. In the distance he heard a roar… not one he was familiar with from the existing lions.

“How?” he murmured, hand brushing the glow in front of him and feeling its soft, cloud-like form cool against his fingertips. It tugged on his hand gently at first, then more insistently as he remained in place, and there was a burst of joy behind it as the pull seemed to have a serious amount of weight behind it.

“I’m coming, I’m coming... “ Shiro chuckled under his breath as he stepped into the light, “I hear you.”

The light enveloped him like a blanket and he couldn’t tell at first if he was falling or flying, the coolness gradually warming as he was pulled along. The white-gold-teal was all around him but it wasn’t too bright, more like looking through fog.

His feet found purchase first, but he found himself sinking to one knee with the feeling that he’d landed. As he did, a roar split the air nearby, close enough that it wiped out all other sounds for the moment. The white light around him began to fade and he found himself staring at fur.

White fur. Traced through with a soft orange circuitry and rimmed in faint teal. Covering a large, maned lion that reclined in front of him, regarding Shiro with deep golden eyes. His own slate-grey eyes widened at the sight, breath catching in his throat and words failing.

‘There you are, Takashi. We found you again.’ the lion rumbled at him, the voice familiar and yet not. He couldn’t immediately place it, but… wait…

“We?”

Blinking the last of the white from his eyes, Shiro looked away from the lion slowly, his eyes going up first given that its head had been above his. He took in the starfield above, the oscillating bands of familiar colors and nebulae. It reminded him of when he was stuck in the Black Lion and his face softened in a familiar sort of sadness.

There was a hitch of breath in the background that wasn’t his. It startled him into a wider awareness and tore his gaze away from the celestial display, sent him searching for the source. He was only vaguely aware as his head turned that he was glowing, white and teal and orange all oscillating soothingly in an edge along his armored shoulder.

The first pair of eyes to meet his were violet, framed by pale skin in a face with a familiar pink scar on the right cheek, long black hair brushing the neck of his armor. Keith. The Black Paladin’s mouth hung slightly open, sharing a look of disbelief with his predecessor, his brother, his friend.

Shiro’s gaze slid next to blue eyes in tan skin topped by short, darker brown hair. Lance’s eyes were already glimmering at the corners and a smile spreading across his face.

Allura was next, white curls framing her brown-skinned face; turquoise and purple eyes with glowing pink markings on her cheeks gazing back at him fondly with a note of triumphant accomplishment sparking in them.

Hunk had already started crying, tears trickling down his warm, tan cheeks from equally warm brown eyes. There was nothing but joy in his expression.

The grin plastered on Pidge’s face was infectious and lit up her honey-brown eyes like nothing else. He could swear she was practically fidgeting in place with excitement.

Then there were the lions in the circle, filling the space between the Paladins and rumbling in welcome.

“What? What’s going on? How?” the questions spilled out of Shiro’s mouth haltingly, the fingers of his right hand raising to comb through his white hair in confusion. “Where are we? What are you guys doing here?”

‘You’re home.’ came the rumbling answer from next to him, amused and fond, before the white lion leaned down and headbutted his left shoulder just hard enough to knock him over. Caught completely off-guard, Shiro gave an indignant squawk and toppled over onto his right side, just catching himself with his right arm.

There were multiple sets of laughter and then they were all there, each of the Paladins breaking their circle and practically lunging into the center to greet him. There was a pile of limbs and color and joyful voices and tears as they all piled on the former Black Paladin. The individual glow of each seemed to merge and blend at the edges where they touched, making a veritable rainbow of bleeding colors.

“This… what is this?” Shiro gasped out into the knot of his team, his family, more than a bit bewildered by everything. He registered that the arms around his waist were Pidge, her head tucking up under his left arm. Keith had his own left arm around Shiro’s shoulders from behind, on one knee with his chest coming up behind the white-haired head. Lance was at his right arm, one hand on his shoulder and the other resting on the floating lower half. Allura was on her knees right in front of him, leaning onto his left leg, and Hunk leaned on his right with a hand on his right shoulder.

“It’s okay, Shiro. You’re safe here, we all are.” Keith murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against his brother’s hair, his free hand gesturing around the starfield.. “Nothing’s wrong. We just felt you needed this as much as we did.”

“Yeah, you’ve been through as much as us, more really. Didn’t seem right to leave you on the outside while we were in here.” Lance knelt more comfortably, one knee tucked up to his chest, and smiled. “We know we’re hurt. We know you’re hurt. We all need a break.”

“Takashi, we know you wouldn’t rest until you found us all.” Allura said his name and he blinked rapidly at it coming out of her mouth. Her turquoise and purple eyes were soft and kind and her hand squeezed his knee gently. “You deserve that rest, dear friend.”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s been a long road to get here and we’re all tired. We don’t have to go anywhere for as long as we need to.” Hunk’s confidence was somehow reassuring given the Yellow Paladin’s self-admitted fears. “The lions said there’s no time here.”

“We missed you. It was too quiet without you here being Space Dad.” Pidge nearly whispered, nuzzling her cheek into his side before releasing him and outright crawling into his lap sideways. Once there, she reached out to touch his cheek around his otherwise stunned expression. “Nothing hurts here. No nightmares. No pain.”

‘Don’t leave me out of this, I only just got here and I’ve been waiting a long time for this.’ Came the rumbling behind him, the sound of it shifting a bit as the lion he’d appeared next to rose and circled around to come into his field of vision. The massive, white-maned lion settled down just behind Allura and gazed at him evenly. He had a half-breath to wonder why the voice sounded familiar, why there was a sudden ache in his chest that went with it.

‘I’m sorry, Takashi. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here when you came home.’

Keith’s arm tightened around Shiro’s shoulders as he felt the older man go still beneath him. The others gave half-smiles, looking from lion to erstwhile Paladin quietly, not interfering. Allura slid to the side until she was leaning against Lance, the Red Paladin wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

The lion padded into the open space and laid down, paws just barely touching his crossed legs, and looked evenly at him. Waiting.

Shiro thought his heart was going to crack in two. The way his name was said, the warm flavor to the voice, conjured the same image of brown skin, golden brown eyes behind glasses, and warm light brown hair that had been there when he fell asleep. It held a deeper, subtly more metallic and faintly echoing quality, but he knew the tones just the same.

“A-Adam? How?” the name whispered past his lips with a breath he barely realized he’d been holding. His hands, both real and prosthetic, rose to the lion’s head with a slight tremble. Once they met with the orange-streaked cheeks, fingers delved into the soft fur and the lion let out a deep rumble of contentment.

‘Yes… but not just me. We are Atlas. I’m not alone here, but now… neither are you.’ The lion pressed his head forward into Shiro’s hands, eyes half-slitted, rumbling deeply at him. ‘While you may not be a Paladin of Voltron anymore, you are Captain of the Atlas and just as important. As for how? These kids loved you enough to wake something new just for you.’

‘We are all here right now for you.’

Pidge reached up from Shiro’s lap and buried her fingers in Atlas’s chin-fur, scritching gently and smiling. There was a chuckling rumble from the lion that eased the ache in Shiro’s heart and, as he brought in a shaking breath, he realized his cheeks were wet. There was a little hard spot in his chest that was starting to uncurl as he sat there, fingers buried in the Lion’s (his Lion’s) fur, each breath getting a little easier. Eventually his posture relaxed so that he leaned against Keith behind him, smile easing onto his face around the tears.

“You all are just… impossibly amazing. I don’t deserve any of you.” His voice was calm, his words free of deflection or any attempt to brush off their presence. This was a gift and he wasn’t going to nay-say the efforts his family had put out to get to this point.

“Thank you.” Shiro said, putting all of the love he had for this ragtag, misfit team into his voice. He looked at each of them in turn, including craning his head back to smile fondly up at his brother. “I’m so glad to see you all safe here. I was so worried out there.”

“Atlas told us you were there for each of us. That you and Coran got us out of the Lions after we crashed.” Lance leaned in from his right with a more sober look, leaning his head to one side. “That Sam kinda told you to get your ass in a bed before you fell over. You’d not really stopped after you and Sendak went nine rounds on the top of his ship.”

Hunk’s hand tightened on his left shoulder. “Thank you for being there for my parents, man. Yellow told me that they were there when you showed up. That means so much.”

The looks of concern for him flashed around the little knot of young Paladins, each giving him their own variation of the ‘you did more than you had to’ look that they’d all given each other  and him at one point or another. Shiro found himself chuckling at being on the receiving end of the mother hen routine he often gave them.

“I couldn’t do any less for my team. My family. With all we’ve been through together, to do less wouldn’t have been right.” His head rested against Keith’s chestplate for a bit, the younger man brushing his white forelock away from his eyes with gentle fingers. “I was concerned because none of you had woken up yet. The fall did a number on each of you… but none of you woke up at any point when we found you. Now I know why.”

‘They’ll wake up soon enough, Takashi. They had to work through some of their pain here first.’ Atlas rumbled, resting his head against his paws lightly, eyes flicking to each of the Paladins as they nodded agreement. Then his eyes came to rest on his Shiro again and the glowing eyes dimmed slightly, the rumble settling into a soothing purr as it nosed his shin. ‘As do you. Oh, Takashi… I’m so sorry.’

Shiro had half a moment to wonder what Atlas was apologizing for before the feather-soft brush of the lion’s consciousness against his gave him all the reasons he needed. There wasn’t much point to walling off the new bond and so he let the amalgamation of his former partner and the new Garrison ship into the choppy, scarred landscape of his memories. He let his eyes close for the moment, feeling himself propped up and surrounded by his team, all the safety he needed just a breath away.

“It’s… been one hell of a ride.” he murmured, feeling the warm gentleness in his mind go over the year he spent in captivity under the Galra, his escape back to Earth only to be thrust back into the war with four more lives to be responsible for, the battles they fought, his death and eventual rebirth, and returning home once more to try and save humanity. All of it underlaid with varying levels of guilt and anger that had been left unresolved in all that time. Of course, one pearl of guilt stood out in the search, and Shiro’s breath caught in his throat, tears starting at the corner of his eyes before he could even react to stop them.

Adam’s face, his expression as he warned Shiro that he wouldn’t be there if the stubborn pilot went on the Kerberos mission. Followed immediately by the image of his fingers touching Adam’s plaque on the memorial wall in the Garrison. The guilt was palpable, enough that he felt one arm tighten about his chest, one small one against his cheek, others at his shoulder, hand, or knee. One weight lifted from his lap to be replaced by a different weight that purred deeply.

‘Takashi… look at me.’ The rumbling voice implored him so strongly that he opened watery grey eyes to look down into the head of his lion resting in his lap. Atlas gazed up at him with his own unflinching gold, blinked slowly, and the bond between them rippled with an equally golden flood of acceptance. ‘I forgive you. Love and worry make a person say many things that they regret later. I wish I could have seen you and your team return with my own eyes, but I’m here now.’

‘I forgive you. The others obviously forgive you.’ He heard the soft murmurs of assent ripple through the others gathered around him, variations of the phrase being said to him with love behind them. It was like a balm against all the doubt and pain that had taken root in his soul over time. The tears streamed down his face and his eyes slipped closed again, his flesh hand coming up to cover his eyes as the force of it all choked a sob out from behind his lips.

‘Now forgive yourself, even if you can only do a little bit right now. Forgive yourself.’ Something crumbled inside him, a wall came down that was one of the earliest he’d built, the one that repeatedly cursed him for failing those he felt responsible for. It wasn’t completely gone, but he found he had no interest in rebuilding it, and it let light into a part of him that had been dark for far too long. Atlas flowed through the bond into that space and made it glow, seemed to curl into the space and claim it, and he felt lighter.

It was quite a sight that anyone outside of Voltron would have been unable to comprehend. White-haired, black-and-white armored Shiro, cross-legged on the ground, his team, his family clustered as close to him as they could be with tears in their eyes, his glowing lion’s head firmly in his lap… and the rest of the lions having crept in to add their touches to the pile. Again, the colors that rimmed each individual form seemed to bleed together, mixing, melding, and brightening to an almost blinding white. It made them their own bright star in the vast starfield around them… and how brightly it burned.

[lostcybertronian]

Dance to the Silence

Darkstache, based on this post by @inkyroo and @colonel-william-protection-army, based on jazz, Damien, William, and dancing.

Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Also posted on my AO3.

Enjoy.

The City Hall was dark as William climbed the white marble steps, but as he glanced up he could see that one window on the second floor was still lit a pale yellow.

    That’s Damien, he thought to himself with a soft chuckle, the rapscallion must’ve lost track of time.

    It happened often: Damien, being the Mayor, would often stay at the office late, running the city, completely disregarding food and sleep, disappearing for days at a time sometimes.

So William, since being discharged from the Armed Forces, took it upon himself to bring his dearest friend food. That’s what he was doing now, at . . 1:55 AM, according to the silver pocket watch that Damien had given him as a gift.

The doors to the Hall were unlocked, allowing William to slip in easily. And as he padded down the corridors towards the stairs that led to Damien’s office, he was surprised to find that he could hear faint jazz music.

Is Damien playing music? It got louder the closer he got to Damien’s office, and as William reached it he eased open the door, poking his head in eagerly.

The grin fell from his face, however, when he saw his friend dancing.

Damien had always been graceful, elegant even, in the way he moved. But the way he danced left William breathless.

“Bully,” he murmured, unable to tear his eyes away.

It was at that moment Damien turned, spotting William, and gave an unmanly shriek, leaping nearly three feet in the air. “William!”

“Hello, old chap!” William flung open the door, “I say, I didn’t know you liked jazz!”

“It, ah . . . eases my mind.��� Damien’s eyes widened and he adjusted his suit. “What are you doing here?”

William, grinned and patted the satchel he was carrying, “I brought you some food. You must be famished!”

“What time is it?” Damien’s brows furrowed together as he moved toward the old record player sitting in one corner of his office. “It cannot be that late, surely . . .”

“It’s two in the morning,” William informed him, removing his satchel and setting it on Damien’s desk.

“Oh, dear. I must have lost track of time-” Damien yelped as William crept up behind him and snagged his hand just as he was about to stop the record player. “William!”

“Dance with me.” William dragged the man into a loose waltz, leading them around the messy piles of papers strewn about the floor, one hand coming to settle lightly on Damien’s waist, the other clasping his hand gently. His heart beat wildly against his rib cage and he was immensely grateful that the bright red blush flushing his cheeks was hidden by his fluffy black mustache.

For a moment Damien looked like he would protest, but the glance William sent him over the rims of his glasses obviously made him think better of it.

Instead, he sighed and leaned closer, free hand settling on William’s shoulder. “I admit, this is nice.”

“Mm. Not often you take a well-deserved break.” By now they were swaying to the music more than actual dancing, but William didn’t mind. His friend was clearly exhausted, head nodding as he tried to keep himself awake.

Damien smiled and listed even closer until their chests were pressed together, lips mere centimeters from William’s.

And then he kissed him.

It was quick, a mere moment, but it felt like a million.

William didn’t mind. Damien’s lips were soft and warm and gentle. And when his friend pulled away, William dove right back in, bringing his hands up to cup Damien’s face as he pressed their lips together.

    Damien was the one who broke away, finally, breathless and laughing. “You scoundrel!”

    “I must say, I didn’t expect you to make the first move.” William leaned in, kissing him again.

“Stop!” Damien pushed him away, adjusting his suit. He acted serious, but the smile on his face said otherwise. “I really should be getting back to work.”

“It's two in the morning, Dame!” William hooked his arm through Damien’s, deftly steering him away from his desk and the chaos that awaited him there. “We’re going home.”

“At least let me-” Damien wrestled away from him, chuckling, “at least let me retrieve my cane and shut off the record player, you scamp.”

William lifted an eyebrow, but it was sadly lost on Damien due to his hat and his thick black hair. He waited semi-patiently as his friend gathered up his cane, scooped up an armful of papers, and staggered over to the record player.

“Do you want your satchel?” He asked as he headed back over.

“You’ll forget to eat again tomorrow,” William said, hooking his arm through Damien’s once again. “Besides, Cook’s food is better when it’s hot.”

    Damien’s cheeks flushed red as he grinned, and together they left, out into the night.

    ---

Many, Many Years Later

    Dark was working in his office when soft jazz music reached his ears. It was achingly familiar, and brought memories of a long ago time, a happier time, bubbling to the surface.     He closed his eyes for a moment as his shell cracked, ringing rising to deafening pitch. For a moment the room shook, and then all was still. The dark entity had disappeared, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

    Wilford hummed along to the music contentedly, sitting on the floor, surrounded by cardboard boxes in various states of disarray. The record player he’d found while going through some of the old junk lying around was ancient, but it still worked perfectly. Out of the stack of dusty records he’d chosen one labelled “Damien’s favorite.”

He’d faintly recognized the name, and it unsettled him that he couldn’t remember more than the image of a cane and of a warm, loving smile, so he’d plopped it onto the turntable. The resulting jazz music had been strangely comforting.

“Wilford. What do you think you are doing?”

Wilford twisted, a grin spreading across his face as he saw Dark picking his way around boxes and piles of stuff.

The ego didn’t appear to be angry, but his shell crackled around him, seeping gray tendrils that accompanied him as he came to loom over Wilford.

“I found a record player!” Wilford told him proudly. “And it still works!”

Dark shifted his feet, red eyes shifting, left, right. If Wilford didn’t know any better he’d almost say Dark appeared to be uncomfortable. “Do you recognize the song?”

“No. Should I?”

Dark shook his head. “No. It just used to be one of my favorites, that’s all.”

Wilford hopped to his feet. “I didn’t know you liked jazz.” He paused for a moment, thinking, then held out a hand. “Dance with me.”

“What?” Dark looked like he’d been slapped, but after a fraction of a second regained his composure, any and all emotion wiped from his face, and Wilford almost thought he’d imagined it.

Dark adjusted his suit. “I don’t dance, Wilford.”

“C’mon,” the pink ego wheedled, “there’s no one here. No one’ll even know, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

Dark scowled, eyebrows furrowing together, but seemed to seriously consider Wilford’s request. Finally, he took Wilford’s hand. “Fine.”

Wilford yanked him close, their chests pressed together, one hand coming to hold Dark’s waist, the other squeezing his hand tight as they swayed back and forth in tune with the music.

Dark was stiff as a rod at first, but slowly he began to relax and his free hand came to rest lightly on Wilford’s shoulder.

They danced without a word, the only sound being the music, filling up the room and saying the things that neither of them could.

They danced to the silence, to what was and what wasn’t remembered, to what would never be again.

They danced for what they had, and what they had was enough.

[jngukie]

WIP Tag

i was tagged by @floofyeol! idk if this is a blessing or a curse let’s find out.

some of these fics have been in drafts for ages? so tbh i don’t even know if i will post them but hey we’ll see. (so assume for now that none of these will be posted—except when stated otherwise with an *)

the first couple will be ships. the later ones are reader-inserts. all are still protected by the Creative Commons license.

slide it up in here: chapter 10* pairing(s): jikook, namjin, yoonseok genre: humour, crack, drama, angst tags/warnings: texting, college au, slightly filthy, innuendoes, Awkward Jeon Jungkook™, slowburn, self-esteem issues, self-hatred, implied/referenced homophobia, everyone is a mess™

SUMMARY

gguki: [image attached] gguki: what should i do with it chimothy: um chimothy: dude idk if i’m entitled to give you suggestions but chimothy: i mean you could always just stick it in the ass???????

or jungkook accidentally sends a stranger a picture of his roommate’s brand new dildo

PREVIEW

the (9)7 wonders of the world

tol: ok here’s the plan dabs 24/7: yugyeom no offence but your plans kinda suck muscle pig: ^^ what bambam said muscle pig: i don’t trust you anymore tol: wow that hurt tol: but i promise you this one will be better dabs 24/7: don’t do it kook tol: it won’t backfire in any way

untilted vhope pairing(s): vhope, namjin genre: humour, fluff tags/warnings: college au, skype dates, profanity, neurobiology/pyschology major!namjoon, ra!jin, music major!yoongi (i think), some major!hoseok, and high schooler!tae, tbh idrk bc i haven’t finished writing it lmao

SUMMARY

When Jung Hoseok signed up for college, he didn’t think he’d end up on academic probation so soon. Hell, he’d never guess he’d have friends who would use him as a fucking lab rat for their atrocious experiments. He definitely did not expect to fall in love with his resident advisor’s little brother—and then proceed to sneak into said resident advisor’s room and hack his computer just to have one more Skype date with the little brother. Without getting caught by said resident advisor. Yeah—he’s a little stressed, to say the least.

→ a continuation of It’s Burning Up in Here.

PREVIEW

He didn’t sign up for this. He thought college would be a great idea—who would pass up the opportunity for ultimate freedom and youthful stupidity? No, he was ecstatic for college—but he definitely hadn’t signed up to be the fucking victim for his resident advisor’s boyfriend’s experiments.

“Hoseok-ssi, please stay still or otherwise this will hurt. A lot,” Namjoon begged as his friend Yoongi tried to hold him down on the fragile coffee table.

“That’s not what your needle’s saying! You said it was a harmless experiment! You said I’d be fine!”

“You will be! I just need practice drawing blood once—”

“You’ve never even done this before?” Hoseok shrieked, writhing some more. Yoongi growled in frustration and flung his entire weight onto Hoseok’s body—and thus effectively snapping the legs of the coffee table and sending them down towards the floor.

His advisor ran into the room then, eyes wide in alarm while holding a skillet filled with half-cooked meat, his creased white apron reading World’s Best Dad! in pretty cursive pink. “What the hell is going on here?”

untitled taekook* pairing(s): taekook, yoonjin genre: fluff, angst, humour, crack tags/warnings: restaurant au, running away, mentions of nudity, exhibitionism, does getting caught dancing naked in your room count as exhibitionism idek, mention of mpreg, but there’s no actual mpreg, i mean it’s the sims it’s not real, many many references to the male organ, but sorry folks no smut (A/N: this is literally what i have in my docs wow i’m such a nerd for preparing ao3 tags LMAO)

SUMMARY

The last thing Jungkook expected after running away to Seoul is to score a private live viewing of Naked_Neighbour_Dancing_In_His_Bedroom.mov—and then proceed to bump into him when he’s not-so-naked. And then also manage to greet him with a slap. It also probably doesn’t help that Nude Neighbour is his new boss. All in all, Jungkook just maybe kinda wants to die. (But of course Seokjin isn’t gonna allow him, so he’s just going to suffer—for now.)

PREVIEW

He sighs, turning his head to gaze out of the window, only to freeze when he realises his view isn’t exactly the most… decent.

Because across from his small studio apartment window is a perfect view of a larger apartment in the building across, and currently, the tenant (he hopes the boy’s the tenant) is enthusiastically dancing through his room completely naked, dinglehopper fully on display. He’s mouthing the words to some song, throwing a finger up in the air as he shuts his eyes and nods his head as though the music (Jungkook thinks there’s music) blasting in his room is speaking to him on a spiritual level.

Jungkook’s face is bright red when he finally breaks out of his trance, and he wishes he wasn’t so bad at reacting appropriately to inappropriate situations so he could at least have saved himself from adding a thirty-second clip of Nude Neighbour to his collection of non-digital memories. He rushes to the window and pulls the curtains close, fingers stiff as he tries to rid his brain of such scandalous images.

At least he was hot.

His face is redder now—if that’s even possible. “Fuck me,” he whispers, and then flushes even more. “Wait, no. Don’t fuck me. That’s not what—why am I even talking to myself. Agh.”

take these words out of my lungs (and set them free) pairing(s): vmin genre: angst, fluff tags/warnings: major character death, suicide attempt, depression, body image issues, depressed!jimin, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, ambiguous original character that appears for like five seconds, high school au

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

three pounds. that’s how much he’s gained since he last stepped on the scale, the dictator that rules over his life. he stares at the numbers again, frowning at the digits glaring up at him. perhaps there was a mistake; maybe the scale is rigged or jammed or simply broken. he couldn’t have possibly gained three pounds in a span of two days. hasn’t he been walking around his neighbourhood enough?

he sighs, stepping off the scale and turning around to flush the toilet before washing his hands. even the cold water burns his skin, and he wishes he could melt through the cracks on the floor. would he slim down then? would he finally be skinny enough?

“jimin!” he hears his mother call, and he forces his way from the sink, sneaking out his parent’s bathroom and into the living room outside. their apartment is small but cozy. jimin hates it.

untitled kim seokjin* pairing(s): platonic OT7 genre: fluff, angst tags/warnings: anxiety, depression, eating disorder, negative body image perception, lapslock (lower case)

SUMMARY

honestly, he can’t remember what it’s like to live anymore.

PREVIEW

breathe in. breathe out.

three lucky charms. four cereal pieces. seven bits down the drain.

he smiles, staring at the milk-stained sink as the spoon clatters against metal, bowl turned upside down. it’s ugly—white ink staining burnt grey like liquid cobwebs feeding on rust. it looks exactly as how he feels: dirty, wasted, trash. one-seventy-nine centimetres down the drain.

untitled kim taehyung pairing(s): Kim Taehyung/Reader genre: fluff, humour, probably angst bc knowing me tags/warnings: (sor far) nudity, profanity

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

Kim Taehyung has no regrets. Sure, he probably should’ve thought twice before he spent all of his money on BIGBANG merch just to show Jungkook that yes, he’s the bigger fanboy, and sure, he definitely should’ve listened to Jimin when he warned Taehyung that no, he shouldn’t eat three whole pizza pies by himself, but that doesn’t mean he regrets any of his decisions. Even though blowing all his earnings on people he’ll never meet did cause him to starve for a good or so month.

(Thank god for ramyeon.)

So, no, Jimin, he doesn’t regret running out of the shower butt naked when he heard her singing on her way to the second floor of their co-ed dorm, doesn’t regret shouting, “I love your voice!” before she screamed, “Oh my god, you’re naked!” And he definitely doesn’t regret yelling, “Oh, shit!” into Oblivion before sprinting back into the bathroom to resume the hot shower he abandoned.

“For fuck’s sake, Taehyung,” Jimin says to him once Taehyung’s finished recounting the story, the two of them lying side by side on Jimin’s bed. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“I should probably say hi,” Taehyung muses, blinking at the ceiling. “Do you think she remembers me?”

Jimin glances down, and snickers. “With how small your dick is, she probably does.”

untitled park jimin pairing(s): Park Jimin/Reader genre: fluff tags/warnings: (so far) blind!reader

SUMMARY

He is an angel; and she doesn’t need to see to believe. She fathoms his widespread wings as he gently picks her up, worriedly and urgently asking for her health, voice so soft it touches her skin like silk on smooth glass. His eyes must be crinkled in the corners, a smile stuttering through apologies, heart too warm for the human hand to touch. She imagines what he looks like, faintly deciding through his rapid Korean that he must be chesnut if not vanilla, not in skin but in connotation because he sounds and smells and feels like home.

Her pause is a millennia long, and she hears him repeat himself again, the sound of melting marshmallow oozing out of beautiful lips: “Are you alright?”

She produces a smile, feathery and light, eyes glassy and the world continues to remain black. “I’m fine,” she replies, and her voice is cracked from its lack of use; she hasn’t met anyone worth talking to in what feels like a century. Another smile reappears, much strained than what she’s used to, and she picks herself up from where the concrete lay, the dust falling from her voile skirt. “No damage done.”

untitled kim taehyung #2* pairing(s): Kim Taehyung/Reader, platonic OT7 genre: fluff, angst tags/warnings: i think it’s schizophrenia?, mental illnesses, depression

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

There is a moment when time stands still. It’s fleeting, escaping the moment your fingers curl around it and pull. But it is during this moment happiness enraptures you with its warm hug as your heart thunders against your chest—the steady thump, thump, thump of a snare drum awakening. It is during this moment pain ceases to exist.

But after, everything will come rushing back.

i have more but these are the ones that are decent, at the very least.

to pass the torch on, i’ll tag @minmelly @kinky-koreans @pasteljeonggukk @haneulismykoreanname @rnjmnster and anyone else who wants to do it! (if you don’t, no pressure. good luck to you and your writing!)