#i actually have some thoughts about lance finally finding peace with himself and the world around him and like

[dragonplated]

//smacking my hands on the table over the dash game post

i have a lot of thoughts about it but i need to eat lunch so i'm letting it percolate but LATER

[coeluvr]

As much as I would love for Alistair to be alive, I've honestly started wondering if it would actually be better that he did die. Both for his and Mc's sake. I know its sad, but otherwise I could see him and mc facing a lot of heartbreak over it.

And its been 10 years, a whole decade. Mc may have had a hard life, but they didn't have to worry about survival/money etc. They lived in relative peace and safety. (Though I'm sure mc got food poisoning at least once..) And they did have people that tried to be there for them. Even mc's that discounted Lance and Hunter's company, they still had Fadiya and Neima. And some mc's are still super messed up. Who knows what Alistair would have had to go through. And how would that have shape him. And the agony of having his twin kidnapped and married off to the same man that killed his family.

So supposing he did survive. Its possible he's off living a relatively peaceful life, albeit still with the trama of losing his familly and nearly dieing. And he would probably be working hard to find a way to rescue Mc. Training and studying and whatnot. Best case scenario, his personality has dulled but still retained a bit of sunshine. Mellowed but still hopeful. Still a recognizable older version of himself, even if sadder overall. I think that would definitely hinge on him being rescued and taken in by a kind and loving person/family and got properly cared for emotionally and all. And I feel that is unfortunately not going to be the case if he lived. (Because of course you wouldn't let something so nice happen 😒)

Otherwise, what would have happened? Who would it have been to save him then? Would he have just layed low, gotten a lowkey job, had to steal to survive? Would he have joined some rebel/mercenary group? I feel like some groups would have seen a good oportunity for a royal in their fold. Would the people around him be kind and nurturing, or not? Would he retain his current personality?

Maybe he'd be colder, cinical. Would he have seen and lived the harsh reality of the world and turned into a bitter, cruel, and merciless version of himself, intent on revenge?

What happens when he and Mc finally reunite? Would it be the joyful occasion everyone expects? If the first case, then yes. He and Mc finally get to have a happy life together. The End. Well…maybe. Even if Alistair is still the same as Mc remembers, what about the Mc? What if they've change so drastically, caught up in their hatred and revenge, so unwilling to back down even if it destroys everyone around them? Would they still be someone Alistair could love?

But if he and Mc want revenge just as much, maybe things would work out. Would mc be able to see the change in him reflected back on them and regret what they've both turned into? What if Mc didn't want revenge. Would he aquiesce to mc's wishes or not? Would mc be horrified to see what he had become? The image they once had of him be ruined by this new version.

And past that, how would mc feel about the news of his survival being kept from them?

His body should have been missing, right? Luceris would have know if he had lived in that case, or at least suspected it, and by extention so would Lancelot. I don't know if Helios or Hunter would have know. However, even if they didn't, mc still might think that they both knew and just didn't tell them. Afterall, its not the first time things have been kept from them.

So would mc be able to forgive them, especially one who was close to them. Or would that permanently destroy any trust and friendship they had with them.

- Sorry if this was too much of a ramble. 😂 Just got to thinking a bit to much about what-ifs and all. 💕

This was very interesting, thank you for sharing your thoughts! 🫡

I think when people say they wish for Alistair to be alive, they never consider what being alive could've looked like for him. Nor the fact he could have changed and become someone who is a stranger to MC.

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 1, updated)

After uploading the first part of my plance fic here, I ended up writing more on that same period of time. It’s not much, but I thought I would add it anyway.

This fic is based on the “Someone you like” animatic by honestlyprettychill. Their work is super bomb, so I ask you guys to go check it out and give the artist some love. With this update, I’m hoping to have wrapped up on the pre-Garrison time period, and I have already started writing Pidge’s pov of their time as students, so you’ll have that to look foward to, if you end up enjoying this fic. My other post has more disclaimers, so you can find it here. This story is also available on AO3.

The part I added comes after the -- that I used as a page break.

Thanks to everyone who has liked and reblogged this verse. Feel free to add comments in the tags or to straight up come talk to me. I love feedback.

Spanish to English translations at the end.

14 and 12 years old

The truth was that Lance went to Space Camp because Veronica could be a little pest. She knew their parents wouldn’t let her go alone and so had enticed her younger brother with the promise of travel and foreign girls and no parental supervision.

Veronica had obviously left out the fact that they were essentially going to school on steroids for a month, smack in the middle of their summer break. Cool as Miami might seem, Lance wasn’t exactly excited for all the extra work the camp would entail.

“No es un acampamiento,” his sister repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. He wasn’t listening anymore. “Tú sabes que el campo de explotación espacial no está muy desenvuelto en Cuba. Si realmente quieres trabajar con eso, entonces simplemente cállate y no insultes a nadie.”

“¿Cuando he insultado a alguien?” he shot back, defensive. Veronica didn’t dignify that with an answer.

As much as Lance might like to think himself very smooth, there were still times when he stumbled over his words, especially in English. More than once he’d meant to pay someone a compliment and had accidentally started an argument of some kind.

Veronica looked impatiently at her watch. “Mira, tengo una reunión con mi orientador. Y tú tienes por lo menos dos artículos para leer para las clases de mañana, ¿por qué no vas a la biblioteca para trabajar un poco? Prometo comprarte una hamburguesa después.”

Lance pouted at her, arms crossed over his chest. “Me debes más que una hamburguesa y lo sabes, Ronie.”

His sister snickered, but it was as much of an acknowledgement as he was going to get. Veronica pressed a quick kiss to his hair, already turning to go into the main building.

“¡Gracias, hermanito! ¡No te arrepentirás!”

In all honesty, Lance wasn’t as irritated as he made Veronica believe. He knew that a summer program in Miami was a really good opportunity, especially if he wanted to get into the Garrison in the following years. It was just difficult.

He was diligent and studious, but not as naturally gifted as some of the other kids. Besides, he hadn’t been to the US in a couple years, since his parents had mostly settled down in the family farm, which meant he still had to fall back into his English, a task made even more frustrating by the xenophobic comments from one of the boys in his AP geometry class.

The teacher had put an end to it right away, but the words stuck with Lance, for some reason.

With how much humanity had progressed in terms of technology, one would think they would be able to get past petty rivalry between nationalities and usually that was true, but the influx of foreigners following the establishment of the Galaxy Garrison in the US desert still annoyed some people, despite its existence as a multinational center for space exploration. It irritated Lance to no end, especially when so many of these scientific advances came from international collaboration.

If only he could shrug off the inadequacy that now grew in his chest.

Straight ahead, there was a path that led to a green area in the middle of the campus. The other students had taken to calling it the Woods, though it was more of a middle-sized park, with benches and picnic tables where anyone from the Institute could go to relax. That’s where Lance went, mind too full to really focus on homework.

He wondered if people would react that same way if he ever made it into the Garrison. He didn’t know how Veronica dealt with it all, especially when she was alone in Arizona most of the time. Barely a week had passed and Lance already missed his parents, the tenderness of home-cooked food and well-intended lectures.

No, he had to believe that Billy Underwood was an exception. The other kids hadn’t joined in on his taunts, even if no one had moved to defend Lance. It was still too early to make conclusions on his colleagues, especially when everyone had seemed so charmed by him before then.

Lance was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize he had been standing in front of one of the benches until a new voice broke through the peace of the park.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

The words were somewhat harsh, but when Lance lowered his eyes to their source the girl winced, grimacing. She seemed to have spoken impulsively.

“Hmm, yeah.” Lance blinked at her for a moment, before finally sitting down on the bench. He made sure to leave space between him and the girl, not wanting to make the situation even more awkward.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” the girl said after a moment of silence. She looked at him sideways and her brown eyes seemed almost golden in the sunlight. There were freckles spread across the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks, and the green ribbon in her hair swayed in the wind. It was a soft sight, a contrast to the steeliness of her posture and gaze.

“It’s fine,” Lance hurried to assure her. She looked young, but so did he, and talking to complete strangers never failed to make him nervous. “Nothing like a little girl yelling at me to bring me back to earth.”

He gave her his best grin, the one reserved for first impressions and fancy parties. It was supposed to project confidence and kindness, even though Luis said he ended up looking a bit smug.

“I didn’t yell,” the girl pointed out with a light frown. Then her eyes shifted into a more calculating look. “You’re a bit of a goofball, aren’t you?”

“I prefer the term good-humored,” he replied jokingly.

She continued to stare. Lance got the feeling that the girl did this a lot. She had an untamed intelligence to her that Lance couldn’t completely understand. It was the sort of air that teachers sometimes carried, as if they could see something deeper in you if they looked long enough.

“It didn’t seem like you were feeling all that good-humored just now.” She tilted her head to the side, letting the words hang between them.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Lance found himself saying.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” She looked so doubtful that it almost made Lance laugh. The feeling, however, was overcome by the relief of finally having someone who would listen.

He had spent the week trying and failing to explain to Veronica what was truly making him feel down. She was too busy or too happy for Lance to tell her the truth, especially when it left him so vulnerable. After all, Veronica had taken to her work on the Institute like a fish to water. Lance was supposed to be more adaptable than this.

With the rest of his family away in Cuba, he felt unbearably lonely.

“Yes! Thank you!” Lance shifted in the bench to face the girl. She was taken aback by his enthusiasm, but didn’t move away. “There’s this cabrón in my class, who thought it was a good idea to mess with me, just ‘cause I said fábrica instead of factory in our first day here. He hasn’t really left me alone since…” he whined. “I speak two languages but somehow I’m the uneducated ass here!”

The girl nodded, eyes downcast. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?” He eyed the fairness of her skin and the almost ginger of her hair. “Sorry, but you look white.”

Lance’s comment must have taken her by surprise, because she actually laughed.

“I am white. I’m also Italian.” She rolled her eyes, but there was amusement in the tug of her lips. “I can be both.”

“That’s true.” Lance grinned sheepishly. It was good that she wasn’t offended by his lack of filter. “You don’t have much of an accent, though.”

“Neither do you,” the girl bit back, no real animosity in her tone.

He shrugged. “My family spent a lot of time in the US when I was younger. It used to be second nature to me. Now, I keep feeling like I have to hold back the instinct to roll my R’s.”

“I get that. My parents moved here right after I was born, but we used to speak Italian in the house.” There was a pause here, something that she couldn’t bring herself to say. “I think it’s cool that you can speak Spanish. It’s useful.”

“Yeah?” Lance sat up straight, feeling suddenly boastful.

“Sure!” she continued, encouraged by his interest. “The Bouman Aeronautics Research Institute really values multiculturalism! It is a hob of different nationalities and perspectives, created to foster new minds from around the world! Or that’s what my brother says, at least, and he is rarely wrong.” She gave him a smirk that quickly shifted into a grimace. “Don’t tell him I said that or he will never let me forget it.”

“Older brother?” At her nod, Lance smiled. “I got older siblings too. Sort of the reason I’m here in the first place, actually. One of them was accepted as a researcher and she tricked me into applying too.”

“Same, actually.” She seemed startled for a moment, pulling out her cellphone. “Freak, I have to go! I completely lost track of time while reading.” She got up to go, collecting the book she’d apparently put down to talk to him. It was a thick volume with numbers on the cover, but it didn’t look like math.

Another green ribbon fluttered to the ground, having escaped the pages of the book. Lance bent down to pick it up.

“Here.” He stretched it out to the girl. “Wouldn’t want to lose its pair,” he said with a wink.

“Thanks for reminding me!” She grabbed the ribbon hurriedly, then paused, turning back to Lance. “And for the conversation, I guess.”

Lance grinned at her. She was a little awkward but in an endearing way, like she wasn’t used to having the attention of others on her. Given she empathized with his circumstances in the Institute, it wasn’t that big of a leap to assume that she had trouble making friends.

“Bye bye, Italian girl.” He waved, glad that he could spend these few minutes with her.

“Farewell, Spanish boy.”

Lance meant to correct her about his nationality, but she took out running, clearly late for something. He laughed at the way she stumbled across the uneven ground, careless like a little kid. It was a strange juxtaposition: the thoughtfulness of her earlier words and the childishness of her smile now.

He settled back into the bench, feeling much more content than he’d been earlier. It was nice to talk to people outside of class, for a change.

And, well, Italian girl was pretty. A bit young-looking for him, but he thought guys her age should be tripping over their feet for a chance to talk to her.

“Hey, you’re Lance, right?” A boy had approached while Lance observed the girl disappear from sight. He was tall and robust, with shortly cropped hair, but his expression was friendly. “You’re in my Analytics class.”

It took Lance a second to place him. Analytics was one of the classes Lance struggled with the most, so he hadn’t had as much opportunity to joke around there.

“And you’re Hunk!” Lance snapped his fingers, smiling. “Sit down, man! What can I do for ya?”

--

“No, I promise you, she’s a cutie!” Lance exclaimed, hands waving around in the air. Hunk chuckled at his exuberance.

“I believe you, Lance.” His friend’s tone was fond and amused, which brought a smile to Lance’s face. “You’ve told me about Italian girl a hundred times already. Why don’t you just approach her again? You said you saw her on campus.”

It was true, he had seen her: running across the woods with her arms full of books; sitting by the big windows in the cafeteria, papers spread across the nearby seats; standing under an oak tree with her face turned towards the wind, her long hair escaping from where she’d tied it back.

Lance pouted at Hunk. “She hasn’t spoken to me since…” he mumbled.

“Well,” Hunk scrunched up his brows in thought, “you did say she seemed younger than us. She’s probably just embarrassed about venting to a stranger out of nowhere.”

Lance threw himself onto his bed so that Hunk wouldn’t see his face contort in a grimace. He hadn’t meant to twist the story so badly, but he had already started talking about Italian girl before he realized he didn’t want to share his insecurities with the other boy. Hunk was almost excessively easy to talk to, but they’d known each other for too short a time.

“She didn’t seem like the shy type,” he retorted, arms spread over his head. “Too snipy.”

Hunk had gotten up from his place at the desk and moved to sit on the bed, shaking his head at Lance. He had kind eyes, something that Lance hadn’t really noticed on that first week in the Institute. Some things just got lost amid the noise, he reasoned.

“For someone who feels no shame hitting on random girls, you sure are hung up on this one.” Hunk poked him on the ribs and Lance recoiled, twisting away.

“It’s not like that!” Even as he said it, Lance could feel his neck grow warm. He wasn’t really attracted to the girl, but there was something pleasant about her that did leave him faltering. “Seriously, dude, she’s probably the same age as my little sister!”

Hunk hummed in acceptance. “If you say that’s not it, then I believe you. You just talk about her a lot for someone who you only met once.”

Lance sat up to look Hunk in the eyes. It was true that his mind kept drifting back towards that girl, but he didn’t think the emotion she awakened in him was romantic.

“I’ve just never clicked with anyone like that,” he confessed, bringing his knees up to his chest. “And maybe that’s also why I haven’t talked to her again. ‘Cause what if it was a hoax?”

“So you don’t want to ruin the memory of it?” Hunk put a finger to his chin in a considering motion. “That’s fair.”

There was more to it, but Lance didn’t feel like explaining himself further. Several times he had gone by Italian girl in the library, even stopped to look at her, considering, but whenever she raised those amber eyes to meet his, Lance froze. He blushed and blustered and eventually left.

It was nice to see her smiling, though, even if it was at his expense. She was always alone when Lance saw her and it reminded him of how isolated he’d felt before befriending Hunk.

Italian girl was clearly smart, probably smarter than almost anyone in the institute, given how fast she went through those complicated-looking books. She also spent a lot of time in the library, because it was where Lance most ran into her. It was always her and her astronomy books and her ribbons.

Maybe he was projecting. Luis said he did this a lot.

“I just hope she found a friend here,” he said, more to himself than to Hunk, “someone who will also end up a little late just because they want to hear her out.”

Hunk studied his face, making Lance shift his position in discomfort.

“Who could have known?” the boy started teasingly. “You’re actually a good guy behind all that arrogance.”

Lance used his elbow to push Hunk off the bed, complaining more dramatically than was truly warranted. His friend laughed as he got up, only to throw himself back onto Lance to mess up his hair.

“What the hell, dude? Going for my hairdo?” He tried to free himself from Hunk’s arm around his neck. “Friendship over! We are no longer rooming when we get to the Garrison!”

Hunk didn’t let up and the two continued to laugh well into the afternoon.

Their time in the Institute would end in a little over a week, and Italian girl would drift to the back of Lance’s mind to become a lovely memory, just the afterimage of someone who could have meant more to him.

Translations:

“No es un acampamiento.Tú sabes que el campo de explotación espacial no está muy desenvuelto en Cuba. Si realmente quieres trabajar con eso, entonces simplemente cállate y no insultes a nadie.” - “It’s not a camp. You know that the field of space exploration is not very well developped in Cuba. If you really do want to work in this area, then simply shut up and don’t insult anyone.”

“¿Cuando he insultado a alguien?” - “When have I insulted anyone?”

“Mira, tengo una reunión con mi orientador. Y tú tienes por lo menos dos artículos para leer para las clases de mañana, ¿por qué no vas a la biblioteca para trabajar un poco? Prometo comprarte una hamburguesa después.” - “Look, I have a meeting with my coordinator. And you have at least two articles to read for tomorrow’s classes. Why don’t you go work for a bit in the library? I promise to buy you a burger later.”

“Me debes más que una hamburguesa y lo sabes, Ronie.” - “You owe me more than a burger and you know it, Ronie.”

“¡Gracias, hermanito! ¡No te arrepentirás!” - “Thank you, little brother! You won’t regret it!”

Cabrón - Bastard

[singledarkshade]

Days Like This

Summary: Gideon's new circumstances are sinking in, but the doctor coming to see her may help. Sequel to Can I Return This Gift Author’s Notes: Second part of my Chuck AU – more will be written but doubtfully in any order.                                ********************************************* Gideon Ryder lay on her bed listening to her brothers in the other room making breakfast and talking over the news, trying to force herself to get up and face the day because two days ago, everything in her world had changed.

Her former best friend, Miranda Coburn, turned out to have been a rogue Argus agent who sent Gideon an email filled with secrets that were downloaded into her brain when she looked at the computer screen.

Now Gideon not only had the information appearing at random times, she had two Argus agents watching over her at all times. One of which had been very fixated on killing Gideon not that long ago.

“You know you start work in less than an hour,” Gilbert called through the door, “Hurry up or you’ll be late.”

Sighing Gideon fell out of bed and headed for a shower before sliding on her uniform, it was time to face the day.

Stepping into Palmer Tech, Gideon winced to hear Ray call to her. He was the nicest manager anyone could ever have but he also left the team to their own devices a lot so he could work on his projects. But if he talked to you then he usually wanted something.

“Good morning, Ray,” she turned to him with a smile, hoping he wasn’t upset she was late.

“Hi, Gideon,” he nodded, “We have a new member of staff and although they’re not for the crew, I know you’re the best person to train her.”

Turning Gideon froze to see Sara Lance, Argus Special Ops, standing there, dressed in the black trousers and red t-shirt that the Palmer Tech sales team wore.

“Meet Sara Lance,” Ray introduced them, not noticing the look of astonishment on Gideon’s face, “Sara, Gideon knows the store better than anyone so I will leave you in her capable hands.”

With that said he disappeared into the manager’s office.

“Well,” Gideon started, trailing off as Sara frowned at her.

Sara motioned her to walk and Gideon reluctantly followed the other woman towards the empty AI Crew desk.

“Here’s the deal,” Sara got straight to the point, “Rip and I are here to protect you until we work out a way to get all our secrets out of that head of yours.”

Gideon nodded, “Okay.”

“So, I am stuck here in this…” she grimaced in disgust, “Pathetic sales job while Rip will be playing your boyfriend.”

Feeling her eyebrows raise into her hair, Gideon squeaked, “Boyfriend?”

“Well, your friend already saw you two go on a date,” Sara rolled her eyes, “So it won’t be such a stretch. This means you do as we say, when we say it and any time you have a flash, you tell one of us.” When Gideon said nothing, Sara demanded, “Understand?”

Gideon nodded.

“Good,” Sara replied, “Who do I get around here to do my work for me?”

Shrugging Gideon noted, “Probably Nate.”

Sara nodded, “Great. Oh, and one more thing,” she gave Gideon a dark look, “Make sure you follow the rules, don’t make me regret being nice.”

With that said, Sara disappeared to join the other red shirts leaving Gideon watching her back.

 Lunch finally came and Gideon headed out to the café across from the shop to get something to eat. Grabbing a chicken salad, Gideon headed out surprised to see Rip standing waiting for her. He was wearing dark jeans and a grey t-shirt under a brown leather jacket with sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Hi,” Gideon smiled despite herself, “What are you doing here?”

“I thought we could have lunch together while we go over our story,” Rip explained.

Gideon nodded, “Okay.”

Resting his arm around her shoulders, Rip drew her to the picnic tables on the edge of the park just behind the shop. Taking a seat Gideon smiled when he placed a soda next to her, her favourite kind. He placed one for him before he pulled out a sandwich for himself.

“I’m assuming Sara has already spoken to you,” Rip noted, “And I understand that it might be a little uncomfortable for you, but I promise there will be nothing untoward.”

“Rip, you have to understand I have not been in a relationship for a long time,” Gideon told him, “My brothers will be all over me to find out about you, they’ll demand to meet you and will try to intimidate you.”

“I’m not easily intimidated,” he gave a small amused smile.

Gideon chuckled.

“We have a doctor coming tonight to do some tests in the hope of removing the secrets from your brain, then you can get rid of us for good,” Rip told her, “So I will pick you up for date at eight tonight.”

                                 *********************************************

 Zari smirked as she leafed through Gideon’s closet, “Second date with your new guy. Are we going for sweet and innocent or sexy and seductive? Or did some things happen on your first all night date you won’t talk about?”

“I am going for comfortable,” Gideon replied, pulling out her favourite green top, “And nothing happened.”

Taking the top out of Gideon’s hand, Zari replaced it with a black one with lace sleeves, “This is a date top,” Zari told her, “That thing is for clearing out the cupboard with your brothers. This guy is hot and likes you, so maybe make an effort.”

Gideon watched Zari turn back to the closet before she shook her head sadly, she hated how excited Zari was that she’d met someone. The annoying thing was Gideon had liked Rip, and she thought they had really clicked except they hadn’t.

“Are you going out?” Gilbert asked appearing through the door, Gary following behind.

Gideon nodded, “I have a date.”

“Is this the same guy you were out with all night at the weekend?” Gary demanded.

Taking a long sigh Gideon nodded, “Yes, and before either of you try to be the overprotective big brother, don’t.”

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy,” Zari spoke up, instantly getting a dark frown from Gideon when the two men turned to her sharply.

Pushing them out of the room, Gideon stated, “No.”

“We should get to meet this guy,” Gary tried to protest as they were shoved out the door, “Just to make sure…”

“I will break every one of your computers if you even think about finishing that sentence,” Gideon threatened, “Now, go away. I am getting changed then going out.”

Shoving them through the door, she slammed it before either could say anything else.

“Don’t say another word,” Gideon stopped Zari speaking, before she snatched the top out of her friend’s hand.

 Gideon felt her mouth go dry as Rip drew up in front of the building in a gorgeous black convertible giving her a smile when he stopped.

“Are you ready?” he jumped out and opened the passenger door for her.

Nodding, she slid in and watched him close the door before returning to the driver’s seat and drove them away. Gideon wished briefly that this really was a date, that instead of going to see some kind of doctor they were heading out for dinner or the cinema or anything fun, but they weren’t.

As handsome, interesting and sweet as Rip had been, it had been an act, so Gideon had to accept that - despite the appearances he’d made in a few of her dreams.

She frowned as Rip drew up at the store she worked in, “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

He chuckled, “We’re using the Home Cinema room for the tests, we didn’t want to expose you to an Argus facility.”

Relieved by that thought, Gideon didn’t notice Rip get out the car until he opened her door and offered his hand to help her out. Taking his hand Gideon felt Rip squeeze it briefly.

“Okay,” he said as he led her to the curtained off section of the store, “You have no need to worry about this. It’s just a few non-invasive tests, Sara and I will be here the entire time.”

Taking a seat on the couch, Gideon put the headphones on as Rip directed and turned to look at the screen. Rip disappeared leaving her alone and Gideon wished he was still there.

“We’re going to start now,” Sara’s voice came suddenly, “Alright, there are going to be some images on the screen. All you have to do is say what you see.”

Shrugging, Gideon leaned back and started to talk.

 On the other side of the store Rip stood with Sara and Dr Wells, all listening to Gideon recite the secrets she had in her head as pictures were shown to her, her voice altered so he couldn’t identify her in any way. The man they’d brought in listened a look of amazement on his face, while Sara made sure he didn’t try to meet his patient.

“Well, Doctor?” Rip asked as the test ended.

Wells shook his head, “Incredible. We theorised that someone could hold that type of information in their head but all the tests we did showed it would be one in a million. The fact Patient X is not only storing but able to access these so well is astonishing.”

“But can you remove them?” Sara demanded.

Sighing Wells shook his head, “No,” he quickly held up his hand to stop them snapping, “At least not just now. The Intersect project was a specialist team and none of us worked on removing the information until we knew how to put it in.”

Rip frowned, disappointed for Gideon. But even though he knew Sara hated being here, Rip actually didn’t mind it. Central City was one of the more peaceful places he’d been sent to and, so far, this protection detail was one of the easiest.

Wells pulled together his things, “I will speak with Director Waller and perhaps next time, I’ll get to meet my patient.”

“I’ll see you out, Doctor,” Sara said, nodding to Rip before leading the other man out.

Rip headed back to where Gideon was waiting for him. The moment he opened the curtains, she looked round and her grey eyes looked at him hopefully. Taking a seat at her side, Rip took Gideon’s hand.

“I’m guessing the answer is no,” she said, looking down at his hand for a moment.

Rip sighed, “It’s not no, just not yet.”

“So, until then…”

“Until then,” he said when she trailed off, “You work with us and we will keep you safe.”

Sadly she nodded.

Against his better judgement, Rip wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her, “It’s going to be okay.”

                                 *********************************************

 Rip connected his comm to the TV screen in his new apartment and waited as it activated. A few seconds later Amanda Waller, Director of Argus appeared.

“Ma’am,” Rip nodded.

“Agent Hunter,” she stated, “Dr Wells has given me his report and it looks like you will be remaining in Central City indefinitely. Agent Lance will be joining us soon, but I wanted to speak to you first.”

Rip winced inwardly knowing exactly what this was about.

“Due to your personal history and connection with Agent Coburn,” Waller continued, “I want to know if you can do this job.”

Taking a slow breath Rip replied, “I can do whatever I need to. You sent me to protect the Intersect and I will do that to the best of my ability. Miranda betrayed not only the agency I took an oath to but everything I believed in.”

“Very well, Agent Hunter,” Waller nodded, “Your priority above and beyond everything else is Gideon Ryder. Her safety and her well-being, including her mental health is your main concern. The Intersect must be protected.”

Rip nodded just before Sara appeared on the other side of the screen.

“Agent Lance,” Waller nodded to her, “How are you settling into your new apartment?”

Sara’s distaste was obvious, “Just fine, Ma’am. I have the surveillance of the asset installed fully both in the apartment complex as well as the store.”

“Excellent,” Waller told her, “I know you usually both work for different departments, but you have been chosen for this assignment due to your unique skillsets. I expect you to work together to ensure the asset is protected.”

They nodded in agreement and the screen went blank. Alone once more Rip dropped to sit on the couch and pulled out his phone, flicking through the photographs of him and Miranda. They’d met the first day of training and were instantly paired together, when they finished training and were sent out into the world, they made sure to stay in touch. Meeting up whenever they were close to each other, and Rip loved her.

Finding out she had betrayed them to steal the Intersect had cut so deeply, and it was one of the reasons he was going to protect Gideon Ryder.

Because he wouldn’t let Miranda’s betrayal destroy anyone else.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.81

Lance was silently fuming in his grave. He’d lost his temper with his friends, and now he’d exiled himself to the backyard to avoid them. He didn’t want to be mad at them, but when they pulled stupid shit and made jokes over becoming a vampire, he couldn’t cope. Coming home to a home that kind of no longer felt like his was bad enough. He’d hoped that what Matt wanted to show him was him kicking Pidge’s arse at some video game and Matt was simply making fun of him. Not this. Not some half baked idea of investigating Lotor. Rieva had been so scared they’d been forced to return to Platt, and now she was happily conspiring with Pidge and Hunk, like that fear didn’t matter. There was a reason hunters existed. They took care of things like this. Not two werewolves and two humans who’d only just found out that things really do to bump in the night. He wanted his life back. He wanted things to go back to hunting dumb ghosts and the occasional yucky feeling of death when they did. Why couldn’t they understand how he felt? He shouldn’t have lost his stupid temper, but being a vampire wasn’t something to joke about.

Being the light of his undead life, Hunk was the one who came to talk to him. Shovelling off Lance’s death dirt, Lance faked death until Hunk made it impossible to ignore him

“Lance... I don’t know if you can hear me... but... Can we talk, buddy? I’m not used to this... You look dead in there and I don’t like how it feels seeing you dead”

That was the nicest thing Hunk had said in ages. That he didn’t like seeing Lance laying in his shallow grave

“I’m not changing my mind”

Hunk sighed, Lance hearing the way his clothes rustled as his friend sat heavily, just short of where he’d dug Lance up

“I don’t like this either... but Pidge wanted to help... and she needs someone there to keep her grounded”

Hunk was good at that. Provided Pidge was still listening and not swept away in an investigation

“She needs to leave it alone before she ends up dead”

“But you’re dead... and you’re okay?”

He wasn’t okay. He’d just gotten very good at existing

“I’m not going to watch her go through what I went through”

“What... I mean, you totally don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I guess... maybe I don’t see the problem with you being a vampire”

Hunk wouldn’t. He saw the absolute best in everyone. Even when they didn’t see it in themselves, he kind of... brought it out of you. Lance couldn’t tell him. He didn’t want Hunk to pity him. He’d barely been able to tell Matt without Keith’s support

“I... I can’t tell you. I can tell she should fear being a vampire. If Pidge was turned, she’d never be the person we know again. That’s if she kept her mind”

“But you... kept yours? You’re not secretly a serial killer are you?”

Lance could almost see Hunk worrying his pointer fingers together

“No. I was turned young. Too young... My mind and body were more flexible. When we get older we get set in our ways. Our sense of self evolves as we grow. That’s the secret to keeping your sanity. It’s holding onto every little bit of humanity you can find”

“That had to be rough... I...”

Hunk was so pure he wasn’t seeing the truth

“You don’t know what to say. You’re cautious. I can hear the way your heart beats increased. I did everything I could to keep you out of this. But that all went up in flames in an instant. Yeah. I knew Matt was a werewolf before he came back. I prayed Pidge wouldn’t find out... and look what that got us. A whole lot of awkwardness and mistrust. You guys can talk and laugh about it because you’ve never seen a vampire properly. You’ve never seen humans paraded around as fresh meals on a lead. You’ve never felt hunger that robs you of your sanity. Pidge only saw a sliver and you were there to witness what that did to her. This isn’t a game and we can’t just drink slushies to feel better after a bad hunt. A bad hunt means you’re dead. Throat torn out for the fun of it... if you’re lucky. If you’re unlucky... it’s not a quick death”

If you’re unlucky you turn out like Adam, but that wasn’t Lance’s secret to share.

Hunk fell silent. Lance’s hearing not good enough to hear the metaphorical cogs kicking over. It was a long moment before Hunk replied

“You’re right. We don’t understand. It scared me when Matt suddenly showed us his wolf. I don’t know how to cope with any of this. I can’t even tell Shay and she totally thinks I’m flaky”

That wasn’t fair. Hunk was only flaky in the sense he was like a warm croissant

“I know. Since I met you guys... I... I was scared. I’ve never had friends as close as family before. I’ve never loved having people around like I love you and Pidge. I’ve spent my adult life trying to atone for what I am. Realistically I should have died when I was a kid. I never enjoyed lying. My ego never thought I was better than you. If anything I envied you both. You both grow old. You grow old and fall in love. You make families and you know love. When you don’t age you get to watch everyone you love grow older and die before you. I love you guys warm and breathing...”

“I don’t think Pidge is going to give up. Her... um... dad... he like knows about this kind of thing. And her mum... she’s pretty mad at both of them”

That made sense. Kind of... He’d thought Colleen and Sam had some sense that he wasn’t human. Though how they knew hunters wasn’t as clear. Platt was a big place. Most vampires and werewolves knew how to keep their heads down when they really needed to

“I love her. I love her and I don’t know if I can support this. I can barely support Keith and he’s been a hunter for years now. I don’t... I spent a long time not being part of that world for a reason. Nothing good ever comes out of it”

“Keith did...”

Touché. Keith and Shiro... they were a different kind of hunter. Eyes opened by personal tragedy that should have left them blood thirsty

“Keith... with him... it’s different. He feels like... he feels like he’s been our friend for years. He was really hurt over what happened. He’s not the best with social cues and friends. He’s been through so much and I was so happy that you guys wanted to be friends with him”

“He’s... nicer then when we met him”

“That’s because he was convinced I was a blood sucking monster that fed on you as you slept”

“That doesn’t make me feel good”

“Relax. I swear I never ever fed on either of you. I had blood bags, and I never wanted to. I wanted to be human”

“Is there a way to cure vampire-ism? Is it “ism?”. Do you guys have like a preferred term?”

“I’m fine with whatever. But no. There’s no cure. I’m as dead as I can be without being in a hole in a ground”

“Dude, you are literally in a hole in the ground”

Touché again. He was kind of cold buried up to his shoulders... His poor death soil hadn’t been taken care of at all. Stupid dandelions had invaded... He’d always kept the garden so meticulous

“I know... Hunk, I don’t know what to do”

“I don’t know what to do either, bud. What would Keith say?”

“I don’t think he’s talking to me. I told him I was coming back here today and he didn’t reply”

“Oh, man... I’m sorry... I didn’t know you two were...”

Two were what? Fighting? Lance thought they’d made up...

“I don’t think we’re fighting... he just normally answers or he’s working... or sleeping. Shiro did get slightly drunk last night”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Curtis finally took him on a proper date”

“Like in public?”

“No. They went to this underground vampire fighting ring that serves great wings. Yes, in public. Just because Curtis is slightly cursed doesn’t really mean anything”

Lance could hear Hunk scratching the back of his head

“Dude. Relax. I’m joking. Curtis’s curse doesn’t mean he can’t go out and enjoy himself with Shiro. He styled his hair to hide his horn”

“So like curses and magic are real? That’s a real thing?”

“Yeah. I only found out about it not that long ago. Curtis used to be a hunter. I suppose he still kind of is, but he works for Coran now”

“Like you work for Coran?”

Hunk was curious, yet kind of freaked. Lance could hear it in his voice. He’d come out here for peace, but instead found himself having a much needed talk with Hunk

“I don’t work for Coran. Coran takes care of like all the supernaturals and hunters in Platt. I’ve known him since I was turned. He helped me and my family out a lot with adjusting to me being the undead”

“So if anything goes wrong...?”

“I go to Coran. He’d welcome you guys too. He’s heard all about both of you”

“I don’t know how that makes me feel”

“Nothing bad. Just... you guys really mean a lot to me. You’re not the first humans I’ve been friendly with, but you’re the most important people in my life to date. And Keith. I didn’t even tell him I was coming back today. I messaged him... but he didn’t reply...”

Silence fell between them again. Lance content to let Hunk take his time, which he did, before finally starting to talk again

“Lance. Is there a reason you left Platt? If you were happy there... you could have stayed to be with Keith if you’d wanted”

“I was in Platt because Rieva was concerned for our safety with Lotor around. Lotor comes from a really bad family. Like worse than every vampire movie you’ve seen put together. His mother’s worse than Elizabeth Bathory. Hell, she probably got her twisted ways from her...”

“Or from pop culture”

Lance shook his head, sending dirt across his face. That was the trouble with burying himself. Maybe it was time to invest in a nice body bag, or a proper coffin to keep the dirt out

“She’s been alive longer than pop culture has existed. If Lotor suddenly proclaimed she was Elizabeth, I don’t think I’d actually be surprised”

“Is she really that bad?”

“Rieva didn’t tell you? The woman’s got a screw loose up there. More like she’s walked into a hardware store, pulled every packet of screws off the shelf, opened them all, then thrown them everywhere as she then bosses the staff into cleaning up the mess she’s left”

“That doesn’t sound good”

It sounded like a total chaotic shit show. Kind of like how the Blades conveniently marched to the beat of their own drum

“Not particularly. Bud, I know you always see the good in people, but you need to see Honerva isn’t a person. Those invisible lines the of law that keeps us in line doesn’t apply when you’re that powerful. Going after Lotor could bring that madness down on all of you. Not just us, but everyone you love. I’m so happy you and Shay finally started dating, and I’m not telling you to choose but if you ever feel you have to, then please choose her. You two are so perfect for each other. I want to see you grow old together... I want you both to be happy”

Hunk sighed heavily

“I... don’t know if I can ignore what’s happening... I don’t want... I don’t want to see people hurt because I wasn’t brave enough to do something”

Because Hunk loved his friends as fiercely as Lance loved them

“Then... then I don’t know. But don’t chase anything. I can let Keith know, or Coran, but I can’t lose you, even if it makes you hate me. The world is a better place for having you and Pidge in it... always remember that. I’m going to take a nap out here”

Moving seemed like effort. Inside smelt like werewolf. The gremlin was cranky. Here seemed as good as any spot to wallow

“You’re going to take a nap?”

Hunk sounded surprised. Then again, he wasn’t used to Lance napping in the ground. Lance wasn’t used to Lance napping in the ground, but the soil felt kind of reassuring

“It’s fine. I spent three months making this soil. It’s actually good for me. Helps promote healing all that... I’ll be okay”

“I don’t like leaving you in there alone”

Lance snorted, mentally imagining Hunk trying to climb in beside him

“I’ll be okay. Just don’t let Matt pee on me. I think I need some me space”

“Should... should I cover you back up?”

“If you want to. I’m pretty cozy in here”

“But... don’t you need to breathe?”

“Eventually. I breathe. But I can also hold my breath a ridiculous amount of time”

“Dude... that’s so weird”

“Welcome to having a friend who’s a vampire. Seriously though. I really love you guys. I want to be here with you... I... Thanks for coming to check on me. I know this isn’t easy for you”

“Well... like... you know... we’re like best friends... right?”

“Best friends forever, buddy”

** I can’t help it. I love our boy interacting with his besties and being friends again**

[raywritesthings]

Bird in a Storm 4/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Joanna de la Vega, Quentin Lance, Frank Pike, Felicity Smoak Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Joanna couldn’t believe it when she first got the news. But the multiple texts from her coworkers at CNRI proved its veracity: Laurel was being forced out.

She headed over to her friend’s apartment and was let in by a surly Tommy Merlyn.

“You wouldn’t be here to talk some sense into her, would you?”

“I’m here to support my friend.” Joanna headed past him into the sitting room where Laurel looked up from her laptop.

“Hey. I guess you heard.”

“Yeah. Are you okay?” She’d meant to come by even earlier to see her after that whole incident with her injury, but they’d had family in visiting still. It didn’t keep her from feeling guilty for not being there when Laurel clearly needed someone.

She shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Just your career,” Tommy reminded them all as he passed by on his way back to the bedrooms. The door shut hard behind him.

Joanna hid a wince and took the spot next to Laurel on the couch. “Where have you been looking?”

“Everywhere?” Laurel shifted so she could look at the cover letter her friend was drafting. “It’s a little hard when I can’t talk much about my only place of employment or use them as a reference.”

“I guess your reputation of taking down corporate big shots isn’t too helpful when applying for corporate law.”

“No, it is not.”

Joanna shook her head. This was so unfair and everyone knew it. “You want me to talk to Eric?”

Laurel shook her head. “It won’t do any good. He’s under the thumb of CNRI’s backers.”

“And those backers want you to starve?”

“They want to see the Hood punished. Since they can’t do that, I guess I’m the next best thing.”

“But you’re more than just a connection to the Hood. If you hadn’t been helping me solve my brother’s murder, nobody would even know you’ve worked with him. None of this would’ve happened.” Joanna hung her head.

“I wouldn’t take it back if it meant not exposing the truth about your brother’s death. Or saving the chief. Those were good things.”

Before Joanna could answer, the bedroom door opened again and Tommy stopped in the sitting room. “I’m heading out.”

Laurel set her laptop aside and stood. “Okay. Did you want me to wait on dinner?”

“I’ll eat while I’m out.” He gave a curt nod to Joanna, then turned and headed to the front door.

Laurel wavered on the balls of her feet. “Have a good day,” she called just before the door shut.

“Does he really have to start at the club that early?”

“His hours are what he wants them to be. And right now, he does not want to be here.” Laurel sighed and dropped back down into her spot. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe… maybe you just take the deal. It’d make things a lot easier for you and your relationship,” she pointed out. It was the practical choice. The safe one. But she knew Laurel was rarely interested in safe or practical.

Her friend looked at her. “Jo, you know as well as I do what lying about the Hood would look like to our clients.”

She grimaced. That was a hard point to refute. Laurel was good at what she did precisely because of the trust she garnered in their clients. They really believed she was willing to put everything on the line in the name of justice. The time had come to prove she was.

“There is one thing about CNRI,” Laurel told her. “Thea. Anastasia has agreed to become her temporary sponsor, but when you go back to work, I’d really appreciate it if you could take over. I feel like Thea could learn a lot from you.”

She felt herself smile. “Yes, of course. Actually, on one condition.” Laurel frowned, but Joanna wasn’t worried. “If you ever need anything, you let me know. A reference, food — my mom misses cooking for a group.”

“I don’t think things are that drastic yet,” Laurel was quick to say.

“You never know. It isn’t exactly cheap to live in this town. Except in the Glades.”

“Yeah,” Laurel agreed quietly. “Thank you for the offer, Jo. Really.”

“I’m your friend, Laurel. It’s what we do. I’m gonna miss you when I go back.”

“You’ll do fine without me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t love the odds,” Joanna told her. Laurel pulled her in for a hug.

“Me neither. But we have to keep fighting.”

She nodded into Laurel’s shoulder. Then she pulled back. “So, jobs. You try the DA’s office yet?”

“Yeah, I think Kate Spencer is my least biggest fan at the moment.”

Joanna couldn’t help a snort. “Yeah. That figures.”

Laurel joined her in laughter. Sometimes that was all you could do.

---

It had taken him practically begging for Laurel to finally come see him at the station. She wouldn’t go to his home, and he knew he still wasn’t welcome in hers. That was assuming it was hers for much longer, the way she was going.

“I don’t get it. I really don’t. They don’t wanna let you go. Nobody wants to see you leave CNRI. You’re the best they got!” He paced back and forth in the space between table and wall of the interrogation room he’d commandeered to try and talk some sense into his daughter. “Why would you throw that away?”

“Because if I agreed to what they’re asking, I wouldn’t be the best anymore. I’d just prove to be susceptible to coercion.”

“Coercion to help control a criminal. That’s not coercion, that’s- that’s cooperating with law enforcement!”

“A lot of people in the Glades see that as the same thing,” she stated while looking straight at him.

“Hey now,” he said, raising a warning finger. “I’m not saying this department is perfect, but you gotta have order in a society. This Hood guy, he’s disrupting that.”

“If it was already so broken, maybe it needed disrupted,” she argued.

Quentin could feel his frustration mounting despite his promise to himself not to get angry with her today. The investors at CNRI were pushing the issue because he’d pushed it first — but there wouldn’t be an issue if she’d just see reason!

They were interrupted by a quick rap on the door and the desk sergeant poking his head in.

“Detective, there’s a woman at the desk asking — well, she called you Laurel Lance’s father,” the sergeant amended with a glance Laurel’s way. “I think she might really be looking for you, Miss.”

Laurel took a step forward, but he said, “Send her back here.”

The desk sergeant left and returned a few minutes later with an older woman with dark skin whose face lit up when she saw his daughter.

“Well, Miss Lance!”

“Hello, Mrs. Ross.” Laurel embraced the other woman, and Quentin tried to remember if she’d been a client or family of one.

“I heard through the grapevine you’d been fired. It’s a disgrace, and after everything you’ve done for that office!”

“Thank you,” His daughter said, a small smile gracing her lips.

“You find some other work yet?”

“Not just yet. Most of the law firms in this city aren’t too keen to attach my name to themselves at the moment.”

“I thought so. Well, they’re all a bunch of thieves anyway. So listen, if you need something to keep you afloat, I’ve been asking around. My neighbor’s aunt has this friend, she’s got a flower shop on Wells and 17th Street, and she’s been looking for a helper for a while now. Arthritis getting bad in her fingers.”

“Oh,” said Laurel. She glanced his way, uncertain. “I’ll have to stop by and introduce myself.”

“Mm-hm. It’s honest work, which beats most things. Gotta put the food on the table.” She looked to him as if expecting to share a grin. Quentin’s lips didn’t even twitch.

Mrs. Ross dropped her gaze to her purse, which she rifled around in. “Here, I wrote the address down for you. You show up anytime and just tell her I sent you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ross.” Laurel hugged her again. “It means a lot.”

“Well, we all gotta help each other, cause them upstairs never will.” She darted a look in Quentin’s direction and stepped back. “You take care, now.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Mrs. Ross left the room, and the silence in her wake was deafening. Laurel looked down at the paper in her hands, which was really just a way of avoiding looking at him.

“A florist?” He finally asked. “That’s what you’re gonna be now?”

Laurel grimaced. “Has to beat retail, right?”

“Laurel, honey, just be reasonable, alright? No vigilante is worth this much no matter what he’s done.”

“And what am I worth?” Laurel asked. “My word, my integrity. That’s what’s on the line here just as much as his reputation. If your boss asked you to lie about some case just because it would make a few CEOs happy, would you do it, dad?”

If he answered truthfully, it wouldn’t make everything right again. Except: “Lying about a case is a lot different than saying a criminal’s a criminal.”

Laurel shook her head before walking to the door. “The next time you wonder why residents in the Glades don’t trust the cops? Remember that.”

She left without letting him respond. It never helped that the both of them always wanted the last word.

“Detective?”

“What?” He snapped. Kelton just blinked at him, and he sighed. “What was it?”

“The incident report was filed for the, uh, Winick Building use of force.”

He straightened up right away. If he couldn’t save Laurel from her own reckless decisions, he could at least nail the idiot who had hurt her that night. “Well?”

“The rubber bullet came from Officer Daily’s weapon.”

“Daily.” Something had always seemed off about that one. He hadn’t even been one of Quentin’s first picks that night, just volunteered because he was on shift. Probably one of those gun-happy nuts who thought the job was more about shooting people than about keeping the peace. Quentin never minded knocking one of those guys down a peg. “Good work, Kelton.”

He left the interview room and headed to Frank’s office where he rapped on the door. It took a few minutes for his superior to open it.

“Got a minute?”

“I suppose,” Frank Pike sighed. “It’s either now or later with you anyway.”

He showed him in, though Quentin remained standing. “You see the incident report?”

“Well? What’s gonna happen to Daily?”

Frank brought his hands together in a gesture that rarely meant good news. “That’s up to Captain Stein’s decision. From what I understand, there will be no disciplinary action.”

Quentin thought he felt his eyes bug out. “What do you mean, no disciplinary action? The man shot a civilian!”

“It’s a difficult situation, Quentin, one you probably should have thought of before you made your daughter a person of interest to the Taskforce,” Frank pointed out none-too-gently. “Daily believed he was shooting at the vigilante. He has expressed no ill intent towards Laurel or any other civilians since. Laurel didn’t even press charges.”

“And you’re lucky she didn’t since it would’ve exposed us being caught in another lie,” he snarked. “Look, if Stein wants to let the whole thing go, that’s his prerogative. But Daily was under my command that night, so I’ll decide—”

“You won’t go near Daily,” Pike said, standing from his desk. “You won’t speak to him, won’t touch him. It’s a huge conflict of interest, Quentin, one that could see you in front of an ethics committee if Stein decided to pursue the matter.”

Quentin stood there a minute, hardly daring to believe it. Far from threatening him, Frank was trying to protect him, and from his own superior. But he was also protecting an officer who had demonstrated gross misconduct. “You know this isn’t right, though.”

“I know what my orders are. I’m telling you what yours are now. Are we understood?”

Quentin looked down, his jaw working for a moment or so. “Sure.” Then he left the office.

Back at his desk, he checked the incident report. Nowhere in it did it actually confirm that Laurel had been struck by Daily’s bullet; it simply made note that Daily’s gun had been returned with one bullet missing. The official record would never hold him accountable and, apparently, neither would any of them.

Why nobody trusted the cops indeed.

---

It had been a long evening of arguing with the contractors yet again. Tommy had been hoping to be done with that long ago, but thanks to the fire last month, they were still in the building process. It didn’t help matters that Oliver tended to disappear as soon as he turned his back for more than a few minutes. He was just glad to be heading home for one night.

Tommy entered the apartment, frowning as he took in the stripped-down sight of it.

“Laurel?”

“Hey.” She came in from the bedroom, a notepad in one hand and a box under her other arm. It looked to have some of her court suits folded up inside.

“What’s going on?”

“I started an account to sell some extra things for rent this month. Since CNRI is a nonprofit that struggles to stay open as it is, they don’t exactly have severance packages.”

“You’re auctioning off your belongings,” he stated flatly.

“They’re clothes, Tommy, not precious heirlooms.”

“And what about next month’s rent? What’ll you have to give up, then?” Even if Laurel let him cover all of it, they’d barely make it along with food and other expenses. He was too proud to ask Oliver for a raise, especially so soon, and it shouldn’t be necessary. None of this was necessary, but Laurel was stubborn enough to go ahead with it anyway.

She seemed to sense his irritation, for it was apologetic eyes she turned on him. “Next month I’m hoping to be out of here. The landlord already said he’s happy to waive the fee for breaking the lease. I think he’ll be glad to have less attacks.” When he didn’t even crack a smile, Laurel started playing with the hem of her sweater. “I’m taking a job at a flower shop for now. So we’ll have to start looking for something in a cheaper neighborhood.”

A flower shop. That was the next grand step in this plan of hers.

He couldn’t believe this. All this time, he’d seen Laurel as something of an unattainable ideal, with some faults perhaps, but nothing in comparison to his own. While he’d been drinking and sleeping through life, she had followed a path to success. And all of that she was willing to give up for the sake of some killer who had decided to make her a centerpiece for his crazed vendetta on the city. He couldn’t just stand by and watch that happen.

Tommy had been trying to make himself better for her, but it seemed clear to him now that the problems in this relationship weren’t just with him.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “Yeah, we will. But separately.”

“What do you mean?”

He gathered a breath. “I thought I wanted this. You. But I was wrong.”

He walked back towards the bedroom. Laurel set her box down and followed him, her eyes widening as she found him pulling clothes out of the drawer — the drawer he had fought tooth and nail to get only a month ago.

“Tommy, talk to me.”

“Why should I? You haven’t been talking to me. Not about meeting up with the Hood, not about the decisions you’re making with your career, the apartment.”

“My career is my choice,” she argued, yet her shoulders slumped as she added, “But I shouldn’t have lied to you about meeting the Hood. I know that, Tommy. And we can still make this work—”

“Just answer me this,” he said, turning back to her as he shut the drawer. “Would you give up everything you’re giving up right now for me?”

Laurel’s head gave a minute shake. “Why would I need to?”

“Exactly. You wouldn’t, because I would never ask you to. But you’re giving it up for him.”

She frowned. “Tommy, this is about what’s best for the city. Not the Hood.”

“It’s about him for me, Laurel,” he stated. “I’m not stupid. You’re committed to him in a way you’re just not to me. I don’t know why, or what this lunatic has that keeps you so loyal to him.”

“He’s—”

Tommy held up a hand. “I don’t really care anymore. I can’t keep caring when you’re ignoring what’s best for you to keep him going. I’m done, Laurel.”

“Tommy, please.” She followed him back out to the front room. “I need you.”

“If you needed me, you wouldn’t have gone to him in the first place.”

Tommy shut the door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the stinging and the tears, and he walked forward to the elevator. Laurel’s crying grew quieter in his ears the further he got away, but not his mind.

He paused in the elevator, his eyes on the apartment door. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket with a news alert.

Hood attacks Queen family matriarch at QC

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, and he hit the close door button. The Hood was an enemy to the people he cared about, whether they could see it for themselves or not.

---

John worked frantically to restart Oliver’s heart. He didn’t know what had gone wrong, but the machine kept up its flat, dead tone.

At least until Felicity Smoak fixed the wires. It was with relief that he realized there was actually nothing wrong with Oliver. His friend was just resting and recovering.

He and Felicity talked while they waited for Oliver to wake up. John could tell she was searching for some kind of reason to stay and accept what was happening, what she now knew. He did his best to explain his own rationale for helping a vigilante.

But at an extremely late hour, the door upstairs opened, revealing a miserable sight.

John stood up straight. “Laurel? Something wrong?”

“Um, hi, John.” The woman’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her voice came out quiet and a little hoarse. She must have been crying a while.

But when her eyes widened upon spotting Oliver on the table, it was any guess as to the reason. “Oliver. Is he okay? What happened?”

Laurel rushed down to their friend’s side, her hand reaching to take his where it hung limply at his side.

“He took a bullet. Should be okay with time,” John told her.

“It was his mother,” Felicity added.

Laurel looked up sharply. “Mrs. Queen?”

John nodded. “We got some intel that she might know something about his father’s list. He tried asking her about it as himself, but she wouldn’t answer. So then he gave it a try as the Hood.”

“And Mrs. Queen gave a try at putting the Hood down,” Felicity remarked.

“She must’ve panicked. If she’d had any idea,” Laurel said. John just stayed quiet. He knew Laurel didn’t have quite as large a blind spot for the Queen matriarch as Oliver did, but she had grown up knowing the woman. It would likely take some time for her to adjust to the idea that Moira Queen wasn’t all she pretended to be.

Laurel wiped her eyes on her sleeve and turned to Felicity. “Um, sorry. I’m Laurel.”

“I know. I saw you on the news a few weeks ago,” Felicity said. “I’m Felicity. I work at Queen Consolidated, which apparently includes doing odd jobs for vigilantes.” She considered Laurel for a moment. “So you really have known who he is. I was wondering.”

“Just for the last month,” Laurel said.

“Did you need something when you came down here, Laurel?” John asked.

“Oh. Yeah, I was hoping to have a look through Ollie’s list. But it can wait.” She returned her gaze to the man’s prone form.

It was another hour before Oliver stirred. His eyes opened and his hand clenched around Laurel’s. John watched her bite back a gasp.

“Ollie, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Laurel?” Oliver’s eyes opened and he looked around at the three of them. His grip eased, and then he was pushing himself up to sitting with one arm.

“Easy there. Try not to aggravate your shoulder,” John advised. “You’ve been out most of the night.”

“What happened?”

“Uh, well, I got you to your secret basement like you asked, John patched you up, I hacked the SCPD database to have them dispose of your DNA sample collected at the crime scene, and then Laurel showed up,” Felicity summarized in one breath.

Oliver turned back to Laurel. “Are you okay?”

She looked ready to laugh in disbelief. “I’m fine. You’re the one with a shoulder wound worse than mine was. How are you going to hide this from your family?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Did you want to see the list now, Laurel?” John asked.

Laurel nodded and stepped back from Oliver’s table. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Why do you need the list?” Oliver asked, frowning as she walked away.

“I wanted to make sure which landlords are on it and which aren’t.” She kept her eyes on the pages she was scanning as she continued, “I’m, um, probably moving to the Glades.”

“What?” Oliver slid off the table and winced as the impact reached his shoulder, but he shook it off. “Laurel, the Glades aren’t safe.”

“Yes, but they’re what I can afford. The only work I’ve found is at a florist’s shop, and if I can walk there instead of using public transit, that’ll save me money, too.”

“That the shop on Wells and 17th?” John asked. He’d noticed the help wanted sign in its window a few times as he’d passed by.

“Uh-huh.”

“Laurel, you’re not a florist,” Oliver said. “You’re a lawyer.”

“Well, there aren’t any law offices that want me. Wish I’d known that before I paid all that money to get the degree,” she remarked. John could see the effort she was going through to keep things light. He still didn’t know what had had her so upset when she arrived. “Okay, so none of the Nickel properties are worth looking into…”

Oliver shook his head. “Those offices will reconsider with time. Look, if you’re that tight for money, I’ll just raise Tommy’s salary so you have more time to look or you can work here with him—”

“Tommy broke up with me,” Laurel stated bluntly, at last looking up from the list. Her mouth pulled down in a terribly sad frown. 

Oliver froze. “He left you?”

“He packed his things and walked out tonight.”

“Because of everything that’s happening.” Oliver looked down for a long moment. “I’ll tell him the truth.”

John’s eyes widened, though before he could speak up Laurel was already replying with common sense.

“No, you can’t. He hates the Hood worse than ever, Ollie. There’s no telling how he’d react.” She heaved a sigh. “And it wouldn’t fix the rest of the problems we’ve had. I gave a relationship with Tommy a shot because I was tired of constantly having to turn him down. And I liked it, but — it’s over now. He can’t agree with my choices, and I can’t force him to.”

There was a heavy silence after those words. John noticed Felicity was busying herself by the table with the newer computers she’d set up, and he had a feeling the woman was desperate to be anywhere but here.

“I can still get you a job. Maybe not at the club, but Queen Consolidated. I’m sure we could find something for you,” Oliver offered.

“After the Hood attacked their CEO?”

John looked down. He could see where this was going, and it didn’t lead to any of Laurel’s problems having an easy fix. That was going to be partly on him since he’d been behind the push to send the Hood after Mrs. Queen, and all for no new information, as it was turning out.

“Oliver, if you want people to believe your cover for not being the Hood, for not even liking him, you can’t have anything to do with me.”

Oliver’s face took on a look of alarm as he started towards her. “Laurel—”

She set the list down and took a step back. “Your mother’s just been attacked by a man you’ve been claiming is insane. If I continue believing in the Hood — which I will, since I know you never meant to hurt your own mother — it would be impossible for you to keep being my friend. We can’t have contact, at least not in public.”

Words were failing Oliver. Combined with his shoulder wound, the man looked absolutely broken. He and the rest of them could only watch as Laurel made her way to the stairs.

“I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you,” she added to Felicity. For one moment, she stared at Oliver with eyes that practically ached. Then she looked down and climbed the staircase, the door closing with finality behind her.

“Well,” Felicity said eventually. “I think I’ll be heading home myself. I’ve got an early morning.” She reached for her coat and started for the door.

“Felicity,” Oliver said quietly. The woman paused. “Thank you for everything you did tonight. I understand it was a lot to bring you in on so quickly.”

“Yeah.” She fiddled with her keys. “Not that I’m not grateful you felt you could finally trust me with the truth about all this. But just, no offense, from where I’m standing, being associated with you seems to destroy a person’s life.”

Oliver stayed silent, not even attempting to argue against that assessment.

“So I’m not going to tell the police about you, and I will work with you to find Walter. But that’s it, and after that we’re done.”

Oliver gave a slow nod. “That’s fine.”

“Okay. Well, goodnight. I’m glad you didn’t die.” She, too, headed up the stairs and at of the foundry.

A very heavy, very uncomfortable silence fell once it was just the two of them. John knew it was up to him to try and bridge it. “Oliver, I’m sorry things worked out like this.”

“What is this like, Diggle?” Oliver asked. “A disaster? Because that’s how it seems to me.”

“You couldn’t have known Tommy was going to call things quits. And that relationship needed to run its course without you anyway.”

“But it’s not without me, John.” Oliver’s look was absolutely guilt-stricken. “Tommy was jealous of the Hood. And with him gone, and her and Lance not speaking, and now this, she’s totally on her own. I did that.”

“A lot of that was Laurel’s choices, too,” he pointed out quietly.

“I forced her into them. I should have realized the danger I was putting her in. The risks. Now it’s too late. But I’m not taking them with anyone else.” Oliver pulled on a sweatshirt, then took two steps towards John, getting right into his space.

“My mother — any of my loved ones, are off limits. For good this time.”

He’d known it was coming, and there was little he could say without them coming to blows over it. And without any more information about this Undertaking, he had no real leverage.

Oliver turned and stormed from the base. John sighed, then got to work finishing cleaning up.

To think things had somehow only gotten worse even after Oliver had been shot.

[jane-fucking-seymour]

& Juliet Fanfic - “Don’t Give Up On Your Faith”

Words: 4,224

AO3 Link (first in the fandom?)

NOTE: still getting used to the characters.... so yeah.

Even after the play had been written, the piece was published, and the world fell in love with Romeo and Juliet’s story, Anne Hathaway found that she could still enter the Story.

At least, that’s what she was calling it; the realm that seemed to be some sort of suspended reality, something similar to, but definitely not completely tethered, to their usual world. The Real Life, as William coined it.

In Story, the tale of Juliet and Romeo continued, far beyond what the two writers originally intended. It was confusing even to William, who found that he, too, could reprise his usual roles, as time passed in Story.

“Might be good for a sequel of sorts,” William quipped one morning, sitting next to April as they watched Juliet, May and Nurse from afar.

“Eh, I think they deserve some peace, don’t they?” Anne asks, slipping her hand into his. “Everyone does. It’s been quite the last few months for them, a small break won’t kill anyone-” she makes a face at the bad phrasing, which makes William laugh. 

“Fine, fine, no Romeo & Juliet 2, I suppose,” he quips with a smile. “I rather like it here.”

“It is quite nice, isn’t it?” Anne asks with a grin, looking over at him. “A few rules, though: we don’t stay in here for more than a day maximum, and we definitely don’t bring the girls in here.” She looks down at their hands. “We don’t know the full extent of this place, so-”

“April!”

The name is second nature to Anne now: April, the woman of Story, best friend to Juliet. When she’s in the Real World - or alone with William - she’s Anne; but here, with Juliet and company, she’s April. It’s all as compartmentalized as she could make it.

“Oh, ready to go?” April asks, jumping off the ledge to move to meet them. “What’s the plan today, everyone?”

April did always love the adventures and antics they got into in this world; she had a freedom here that, in the Real World, she wasn’t allowed. It was refreshing on multiple levels.

“Probably just going to hang out in the square,” Juliet says with a shrug. “Then I’m meeting up with Romeo for a nice dinner.”

“Oh?” April asks with a smile. “That sounds lovely… how’s that all going, anyways?”

William, who was following originally, is suddenly stopped by a few of Romeo’s friends. With a smile and a wave, he moves away, towards the other side of the square, still in eyeline of each other should they need it. Now that they weren’t fighting, they never wanted to leave each other’s sides - as much as possible, anyways.

“We’re alright,” Juliet continues. “We’re getting through some things. Not really sure what we are currently, but that’s okay for now, you know? We’re definitely friends. I just hope we can get closer.”

April smiles. “That’s a good way to go about it.”

“It’s a fresh start,” Juliet replies. “I like where it’s going.”

“And how about you, May?” April asks, smiling a bit coyly at them. “What about you?”

“Oh, uh… me and Frankie are doing well, thank you,” they reply, a soft smile on their face. “It’s been wonderful, really.”

Juliet laughs at that, pulling May closer. “You can’t stop talking about him, May! It’s adorable.”

May chuckles at that, shrugging a bit shyly. “It’s nice, you know? To have that connection with someone. It’s nice.”

April nods understandingly, smile growing wider as she looks over at… 

“Angelique?” 

“Oh, uh,” Angelique replies, chuckling. “We’ll see how it goes. Lance has been quite the charmer since we decided to… er, you know.” She chuckles. “I’m meeting with him tonight, actually, while Juliet and Romeo go on their little date of sorts.

“Oh, it must be a date night,” May quips. “I’ll be with Frankie. We’ve got a faire to go see.”

April tilts her head. “Oh, where is it? I might take-”

April stops, though, and stares, straightening up a bit.

It’s a chill down her spine, a stoppage of breath, a terrifying reaction to something unseen. 

The group stops to look at her. “April? You alright?” Juliet asks, frowning.

April doesn’t react for a moment before, suddenly, she looks down, a bit confused.

She’s not sure what just happened, but she’s sure of what she needs to do.

“I… need to go,” she says, looking around; sure enough, William is rushing to her side. “Emergency.”

“Can we help-” Juliet starts, but Anne’s already rushing off, having taken William by the hand.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” Anne replies. “Don’t wait up!”

William follows quickly. “You felt it too, right?”

“Yeah,” Anne nods. “Something’s off.”

The duo end up in an alleyway, where they close there eyes, take a deep breath, focus…

… and William opens his eyes to find himself in the Real World. He’s thankful that little trick hasn’t failed them.

The first thing he does is check on the girls; they’re safe, still not back from their trip. With that anxiety lessened, he continues the search for whatever has gone wrong. 

Will looks around anxiously; something’s off, he knows it, but he can’t seem to find anything at the moment-

-which, with a terrifying realization, he knows is part of the problem.

“Anne?” he asks, rushing through the home. “Anne, where are you-”

He stops, however, when he enters the next room, eyes wide.

“Christopher Marlowe?”

Sure enough, the man was standing there, Anne being forced to stand in front of him, a knife to her back. 

“Hello, William,” Chrisopher says. “It’s nice to see you again.”

William shakes the shock away.

“Where are the girls?” Anne asks; it’s the biggest concern to her right now, not even her own safety. 

William expected nothing less; it’s what he would worry about as well.

“Safe, not here, still on that trip,” Will explains. When Anne visibly relaxes, William turns his attention back to the current situation. “I thought you died, right about the time you were outed as not the writer of all my plays.”

“Greatly exaggerated,” Christopher explains. “But don’t worry, I’ll soon reveal myself to the masses… as the new William Shakespeare.”

William blinks.

Anne blinks.

They both reply:

“What?”

Christopher sighs.

“Both of you are rather cute with the whole do-the-same-thing-at-the-same-time thing,” Christopher grumbles, “but now’s really not the time for it.”

He pulls Anne closer.

“I’m done with being in your shadow, William,” Christopher says, taking out something. “And I think this finally my chance to take what’s mine: your works, your legacy… your lady here.”

“Since when are you even remotely interested in Anne?” William asks, giving him a confused look. William was getting more and more confused by the moment.

Christopher takes a moment before he shrugs and nods.

“Okay, fair play, I’m not really after her, but… the Story, that’s what you’ve been calling it, haven’t you?”

Anne tries to look back. “How do you know about that-”

“That’s a conversation for another time,” Christopher says. He starts to move and Anne’s scared he’ll move towards her husband.

“William, back away,” Anne says, voice as steady as it could be given the moment. She tenses when she feels something against her back - something that’s getting hotter by the second. “Get help. Don’t worry about me.”

“And leave you here with him? Not a chance,” William growls out, glaring daggers at his opponent.

Christopher smiles. “One more chance, Will. Give me the play, or I’ll take her from you.” 

“Christopher Marlowe, get the hell away from her-” William starts, but then Marlowe presses the thing further into Anne’s back, and the woman gasps, eyes wide.

There’s some sort of… darkness, of shadow, that floats through the air, coming from Anne’s back and into the woman’s heart. Marlowe backs up, away from Anne, but the woman is still floating in the air, darkness surrounding her.

“Anne!” Will tries to yell, but he’s suddenly knocked down by an unknown, invisible force.

When he sits back up, he looks with wide eyes.

Standing before him is his wife, but her eyes… they’re as black as night. They look straight through him.

Christopher looks pleased.

“Now then,” he says happily, gently carding a hand through Anne’s hair. “I think another rewrite is in order, wouldn’t you agree, love?”

He offers her a dagger… which she takes.

“Anne, please-” William starts, but then the ground shakes and a sigil appears on the ground. His eyes go wide.

“We’re not killing you, William, don’t worry,” he says. “Just everything you’ve held dear will be destroyed over the next 24 hours. Isn’t that right, Anne?”

Anne says nothing as she’s suddenly engulfed in the shadow… and they’re gone. They’re both gone.

William can only stare.

Back within the Story, Juliet was a bit panicked.

“I know April does this sometimes,” Juliet said with a frown, “but never for this long. Does anyone know where she’s gone off to?”

“Not that I know of,” Nurse replies. “She’s usually here by now-”

“There you two are.”

The duo turns to find April there. Juliet almost smiles in relief, but…

“Are you alright, April?” Juliet asks, moving over to the woman with urgency. 

April looks over and, for a moment, Juliet feels a coldness. It’s gone as soon as it came, though, and April gives her a smile.

“Of course, Juliet, why wouldn’t I be?” she asks, the normal tone and warm smile back in play.

Juliet shrugs. “You were gone for half a day without telling anyone where you were.”

April shrugs. “Sorry. Shall we get going?”

Juliet narrows her eyes as April walks past.

A few hours later, it’s clear to Juliet that something’s wrong.

It’s April, she’s sure of it, but it’s also… just… not. 

When the two of them were alone for a moment, Juliet takes the opportunity to talk to her privately.

“You’ve been acting strange all day, April,” Juliet says gently, taking the girl’s hand. “Are you sure there’s nothing the matter?”

April, for the record, isn’t really hearing Juliet right now; all she can focus on is the voice in her head, repeating the same thing over and over:

Kill her.

Kill her.

Kill her.

Kill-

As it continues, April can’t help but remember a time, not so long ago, where she and Juliet fought back against demands like this. April had helped Juliet make her own choices, her own decisions… the same things that aren’t being allowed for April - for Anne - right now.

It helps give her strength and, for a moment, April can see the light in the darkness.

“Shut up!”

Juliet starts in surprise, stopping. “I’m sorry-?”

“No, not…” April sighs; she’s surprised that came out of her mouth. She winces, a hand to her head.

“Are you alright-” Juliet tries, a hand reaching out to try to help steady her friend, but April pulls away rather harshly.

“I’m fine, don’t touch me,” April growls out. “I need a moment.”

April moves past without much fanfare. 

Juliet frowns, watching her friend as she moves into a dark, shadowy back alley.

In said alley, April walks fairly unsteadily, eventually toppling towards the wall. With a deep, shaking breath, she steadies herself.

“This… th-this isn’t right,” April says quietly, to herself. “All of this, it’s not-!”

“But it is, April~”

She can hear him, she can feel him… but she can’t see him.

“What did you do to me?” Anne demands, anger rising the longer this continues. She looks up. “Show yourself, Marlowe!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asks, though clearly not anywhere near Anne. She looks around wildly, angrily… but nothing. “No, no, you still have a job to do, Annie.”

A dagger suddenly appears in April’s hands.

“No,” Anne says. “I refuse. I absolutely refuse-”

“You can and you will,” Marlowe cuts in. “You won’t have a choice. This isn’t your narrative anymore, Hathaway. This is mine. It will all be mine.”

“I have a choice,” Anne growls out; to herself or to Marlowe, she’s not sure, but she clings onto the reminder like a lifeline. “I have a fucking choice-”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Marlowe starts, just as the darkness rises once again. Anne feels like she’s drowning in it, fading off into obscurity because of it, completely unable to overcome it.

“You will never have a choice again.”

Anne shakes, dagger laying in her hands… and then slowly but surely, she grabs it and holds onto it tightly.

The darkness is eternal, swirled around her, and she relaxes into it.

“I will,” she replies, her voice devoid of emotion. “I will.”

She’s resigned to it, suddenly; she knows there’s no other way. She knows what she must do - what she has no choice but to do.

The darkness has taken hold again.

“Good,” Marlowe replies. “Now, it must be done before midnight,” he says. “Which is in about… four hours.”

The darkness swirls around Anne more and she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Succumbing to it. 

“I will, before midnight,” she promises.

The darkness fades.

Anne puts the dagger on her belt, hiding it from view, before she moves back towards the others.

Juliet looks back as soon as April is seen.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Juliet tries again, but April gives her a smile.

“Never better, I assure you,” April replies with a grin. “Come on, Juliet, we have much to do before tonight.”

Juliet raises an eyebrow but follows. “What’s tonight?”

April just grins. 

“You’ll see.”

Back in the Real World, William has been trying over and over to get back into the Story… but for some reason, he just can’t. No matter how hard he focuses, how hard he writes… there’s nothing. He’s blocked, it seems, from his own creation.

“Come on, Anne,” he says, a frustrated sigh following. “You need to let me in-”

“She’s not coming, William.”

William glares at the man in front of him: Marlowe, once again, holding a book. He recognizes it immediately, but he doesn’t care.

“Give her back to me,” William demands. “Now.”

“So sorry, can’t do it,” Marlowe replies. “You can read along, though, if you’d like.”

When William gives him a questioning look, Marlowe throws the book at him. William catches it, opens it up… and his eyes go wide and he drops the book immediately.

“Witchcraft!” he exclaims. “That must be witchcraft.”

“It’s something far worse, I assure you,” Marlowe replies. “It won’t hurt you, though. And you can follow along with what’s happening in that realm of hers… and watch when she completely destroys it.”

William glares… but takes the book anyways. When he looks up, Marlowe is gone.

All he thinks he can do is just… read along, as the words appear on the page. 

He joins in just as the clock is about to strike 11:30 at night.

“What’s happening in half an hour again?” Juliet asks; at this point, she and April are alone, walking the streets of Paris, arms linked. “It’s dangerous to be out here alone like this, you know… we should have waited for Romeo, he said he was only going to be another minute or so.”

“I assure you, Juliet,” April replies, “he won’t be needed.”

Juliet stops then.

“Alright, come off it, then, what’s going on?”

April looks back, questioning. “What do you mean?”

“April wouldn’t just blow him off like that,” Juliet replies. “Something’s wrong here. Can’t you feel it?” Juliet shivers a bit. “It’s like a coldness… it’s you, but it’s the air around you, too. Something’s off, and I think it starts with you.”

April tilts her head in thought before she shrugs. The dagger appears in her hands.

Juliet instantly backs up a few steps.

“April?” Juliet tries, but then the girl strikes, trying to slash at the woman. “April!”

Back in the Real World, William squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus; why can’t he get in?

Juliet backs up again, eyes wide. “What’s gotten into you? Snap out of this!”

April moves forward once more, once again being dodged. “April!”

“Will you just be a good girl for us and die already?” Anne growls out, going for the stab once again.

“Us?” Juliet asks, suddenly moving forward. Somehow, against all odds, she’s managed to grab the arm with the knife without injuring anyone. “Who’s us?”

They struggle. William tries harder, as hard as he can.

Come on, William, he thinks to himself, your wife’s in danger and you can’t even save her? Do something!

Juliet looks around for a moment before she pushes April away, the knife clamoring to the ground. April stumbles, a hand on the wall as she glares.

“Whatever this is… this isn’t you, April, I can tell that much,” Juliet tries.

April sneers. “Be a good little Capulet and stay still, alright?”

Juliet stands firm. “Absolutely not.”

“Then I’ll make you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

They struggle, once again, and April tries to grab the knife, but Juliet successfully kicks it back towards the opening of the alley.

They’re in a standoff once again.

“So, what, whatever this is… you’re just going to let it control you, April?”

“I’m doing what I must,” April replies. “You wouldn’t understand, you foolish girl.”

“You clearly didn’t do your history, because I do understand,” Juliet replies. “I’m the one that would understand more than anyone, April. You know that.”

April winces at the comment, and Juliet takes it as encouragement.

“I thought we learned from before that we all need to be able to make our choices, our own decisions.” Juliet moves towards April now. “Whatever is stealing that from you… you need to take it back. Please, April, we’re counting on you.”

Juliet notices it immediately, but something starts to happen: April is shaking, eyes wide for a moment in fear, lips trying to form sentences that aren’t coming out. April shakes her head, squeezes her eyes shut, tries to talk… but she just can’t.

April collects herself too quickly and suddenly pushes Juliet down. With her towering over Juliet, April smirks… but is stopped by Juliet herself.

“Wait!” 

April stops, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got two minutes before you die, girl,” she says, a hand extended to telepathically take the dagger back. “Make these last words quick.”

Juliet watches the girl carefully - Romeo should know that something’s up, he should be headed this way soon. April clearly wants something to happen before the stroke of midnight, so… she needs to stall. Just for that long.

Okay, Juliet thinks. She can do this. “Remember when things with Romeo were a bit messy?” Juliet asks. “Remember when I wasn’t able to have a choice in my own life? Remember when you helped me take back my agency, my story?” 

April narrows her eyes, but Juliet continues.

“April, what happened to me then, it’s happening to you now. I don’t understand all of it, but I know you don’t want to do this. You’d never want to hurt me, or anyone. Something is making you. But April… you’re not the type of girl to take this and just go along with it. This isn’t you, this isn’t your story, you have a choice here and I know - I know - that you can beat it.”

April is starting to shake, eyes suddenly less sure and harsh and dark. Juliet takes it as encouragement.

“Whatever’s going on, I promise you, it’s something you can break,” Juliet tried. “It’s something you’re stronger than - something you’ve been stronger than.”

April’s dagger rises into the air, but April’s face clearly shows that she’s unsure of the situation.

“April. Please. Remember yourself, your mission, your entire story. You can beat this. I know you can.”

April looks conflicted - more than she’s ever been, as far as Juliet’s concerned - and when the dagger slowly starts to lower back to April’s side, Juliet has a hopeful look on her face.

April seems to look at her then - really look at her - and there’s a spark of recognition.

“Juliet?”

“That’s me, exactly,” Juliet replies with a nod. “There you go, April, come on, just a bit more. Keep rising above it, you’re almost there-”

But then, suddenly, the darkness surges.

The dagger disappears suddenly and April collapses to her knees, holding her head in her hands, scraming as the whirlwind of darkness continues to surround her and Juliet. Juliet grabs onto her, holding the girl tightly, but eventually the darkness is just too much, even for the Capulet.

The last thing Juliet hears is Romeo calling her name as she collapses to the ground, April having disappeared in the dark.

William feels something break in the back of his mind - a barrier of sorts - before his eyes open to the sight of his wife, on the floor, struggling for breath.

“Anne!” he yells, quickly moving over to her. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re out, it’s alright-”

“For her, yes. For you… hm.”

Anne suddenly straightens up, eyes wide for a moment as tears start to form. She suddenly has the knife in her hands again. 

William glares at the man behind her. “I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me.”

“Change of plans,” Christopher replies with a shrug. “Go on then, Anne. You know what you have to do.”

Anne looks down at the dagger, then over at her husband, who is standing way too close for comfort, and Anne just…

…. Stops.

She’s conflicted - she still is - but she can’t do this. She remembers what Juliet said - remembers how right the girl was, how the choice is hers and hers alone, and she’ll be damned before she lets someone else take that choice.

She’s Anne fucking Hathaway, thank you, and she will not be denied her choice.

“You had…” Anne says, standing up. She stumbles, but William is there to help. “You had a better chance of me killing Juliet before I killed him.”

William smirks at that, pulling her in for a moment before she moves away, looking back at the guy that had cursed her in the first place.

The clock strikes midnight then, much to Christopher’s alarment. 

“How did you do it?” He demands as, suddenly the room gets impossibly darker. “The magick, it was ancient, no one’s defeated it before.”

Anne smirks, the dagger falling from her hands. 

The dagger turns into smoke and, with the rest of the darkness in the room, swirls around Christopher instead. Anne feels it leaving her as well - the darkness, the compulsion - and she falls to her knees as Christopher yells in pain.

When she looks back up, he’s gone.

“Finally.”

She feels someone close pull her in, checking her over. She smiles softly at him.

“You need to rest,” he says quietly. “Whatever that was, it wasn’t good.”

Anne shakes her head, though, leaning into him for a moment before standing. “We need to go into Story. Juliet… we need to get to her.”

William knows better than to argue at the moment.

Sure enough, when they arrive in Story, Juliet is still down for the count.

Romeo quickly ushers them over. “Please! I don’t know what’s happened, I just found her like this and… and some shadows-”

“I know,” Anne replies, instantly at the girl’s side. She holds Juliet closely now, worried eyes scanning her over. “Go get Nurse, please.”

Romeo nods, rushing off. William kneels next to his wife and Juliet, staying close but staying quiet.

“Come on, Juliet, breathe,” Anne says, trying to wake the girl up. She frowns. “Can you see that, William?”

“See what?” he asks, looking down.

“The Darkness… it’s there.” Anne says. Then, with an understanding nod, she gently puts a hand on the girl’s shoulder and focuses.

Suddenly, without warning, Juliet gasps awake.

“I’m honestly surprised that worked,” Anne mumbles, suddenly out of energy.

Juliet scrambles to sit up, looking around.

“April?” she asks, a bit suspicious, but the soft, warm smile from the woman in question allows Juliet to relax. “Is that actually you this time?”

April nods. “It’s… a long story. I think. I don’t quite remember, but… you saved me, Juliet. Thank you-”

That’s all she can say, however, as Juliet quickly pulls the girl into a tight embrace.

“Don’t you EVER do that to me again,” Juliet mumbles against April’s shoulder.

April smiles. “I’m not planning on it, love. Promise.”

Juliet pulls back with a watery smile.

In the days that follow, Juliet is put on bedrest while April is sent away for rest as well. When she arrives back in Story, Juliet is happy to see her.

“Can you explain what happened, though?” Juliet asks. “That guy you’re always with, William… he’s something special, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s something, alright,” April quips with a smirk. 

“No, I mean… he’s special. Like you.”

April looks over at Juliet for a moment; she knew Juliet would figure it out eventually, but… eh, where’s the fun in just telling her?

“Not sure what you mean,” April replies with a grin. “I’m just your best friend, that’s all I need to be.”

Juliet narrows her eyes, but a soft smile rises on her face. “Alright then, April, keep your secrets.” She nudges the girl with a grin.

“It’s your choice, after all.”

[the-recusants-sigil]

Hey again!! Thank you again for the brilliant request- I’ve been editing while I work all day, so sorry for the delay! BUUUUUUT here is Part 2, with Xaldin~

Enjoy! <3

Xaldin

Words: 2784

-It didn't happen often, but at this particular moment, Xaldin was in deep shit.

-His mission was straightforward, and in an ideal situation, there wouldn't have been any danger to begin with. How a simple reconnaissance mission could go so horribly wrong was beyond him.

-In a rush to get out the door that morning, he had skipped eating and hadn't bothered to prepare. No potions, no ethers, not even a packed lunch.Nothing. Though he hadn’t eaten much the day before, either, he wasn't going to bother going back for anything. After all, it was just a pithy little recon mission; what could possibly go wrong?

-A lot, as it turns out.

-He was just supposed to be surveying the land around Beast's Castle. That was all. He was to report back with details about the landscape, the foliage, the climate and anything else that stuck out to him as noteworthy; basically, he was scouting for possible synthesis materials and nothing more. He was not to engage in combat of any sort with anything unless it became entirely necessary.

-An hour in, and what had happened? Wolves. Wolves happened. 

-He noticed them following him at a distance, first. Just a few, with jet black fur, watching him for a few moments and then darting off into the cover of the thick underbrush. They weren’t aggressive, or so he thought. But after the sun went down, he noticed more and more sets of yellow eyes peering at him. Surrounding him.

-It was a large pack, larger than he'd ever seen. Normally, dealing with them would be a cakewalk. In terms of firepower, Xaldin was certainly at an advantage with several lances and power over wind. But these wolves were different. He hadn't seen it at first, but after impaling one  of the beasts, it occurred to him that these were, in fact, Heartless. They hadn't immediately seemed like it, but as the first few burst into clouds of shadow, he was certain that these weren't actually run-of-the-mill timberwolves. Three more of them charged him head-on while the rest of the pack closed in on him. As soon as he dealt with those three, another two leapt at him from behind. Every time he dealt with one, it seemed two more were there to take its place.

-It was more than he could keep up with; the swarm of Heartless was faster and stronger than he'd anticipated, and they were starting to chip away at him. They lunged as soon as he turned his back, gnashing teeth and razor claws tearing at his cloak and ripping  through his flesh. 

-At this point, tired and hungry with nothing to heal himself, Xaldin knew he had to find a way out. With a shout and a strong gust of wind, he propelled himself over the ring of Heartless and towards, what he hoped, was safety. He had hardly any energy to use his powers, though, and barely any energy left to run. And where would he go, he wondered? He had gotten soft. This would have been nothing for him to deal with before.

-Exhausted, hungry, and resigned to failure, the Whirlwind Lancer raised his right hand and summoned a corridor of  darkness to take him home. Something heavy crashed into him from behind; the set of jaws clamping down on his forearm and the Heartless sending him tumbling through the corridor were the last things he remembered.

-At least, from that world, anyway. He could tell right away that something was off. This was, decidedly, not The World That Never Was, because he'd never seen a damn cornfield anywhere in that world. There was also no moon in the sky, whereas back home, the faintest beginnings of a heart-shaped moon hung low in the sky. Something had gone wrong. He knew another corridor just wasn't possible right now, and he briefly wondered what he could do.

-The opportunity to grab a bite to eat had presented itself, though, and he plucked an ear of corn from a stalk before peeling it and biting down. He spit it out immediately- raw corn was tough to chew and, frankly, disgusting.

-He could hear the occasional roaring, whooshing sound not far from him, though, and an acrid smell hung in the air like something had been burning. But it was something, and anything was better than standing around this field with who knows what kind of Heartless. He pushed his way through the stalks as he marched towards the sounds, lifting his boots high to keep them from getting stuck in the loamy soil. It couldn't have been a strawberry patch, oh no. It just had to be fucking corn.

-And suddenly, as he shoved aside the last few cornstalks, he was out in the open. Back on a paved road, just like the roads in the World That Never Was. There was that rumbling noise again--

-A truck horn blared at him and he jumped out of the way just in time as the massive thing went barreling past. Up close, he felt the roar of its engine in his chest, and as it passed, he counted his blessings he hadn't ended up plastered onto the front of it. He watched the eighteen-wheeler thunder down the road and disappear into the night. Apart from the near-death experience, the place didn’t seem too bad. The stars were very visible here, unlike the World That Never Was, and it seemed... peaceful. If he squinted, Xaldin could make out a cluster of lights shimmering in the distance. City lights.

-He looked down the road to see another pair of lights coming, this time from the opposite direction, and he summoned what energy he had left to wave vigorously at the oncoming car.

-You hadn't expected any surprises on your trip back to college. That morning, you'd said a tearful goodbye to your family several hundred miles away, and now you were on the home stretch- five more miles of corn and alfalfa, over the bridge, and back to business. So when a tall man in a torn black coat jumped in front of your Jeep and began flailing wildly, to say you were a little offput would be putting it mildly. As you slammed on your brakes and brought your car to a screeching halt, the man collapsed, falling face first onto the asphalt.

-You were dead tired and not in the mood to deal with any of this, if you were perfectly honest, but what were you going to do- leave him to be vulture fodder? He was still breathing, that much you could see, but you'd want someone to help if you were in his position. You flicked on your hazards and got out, examining the man carefully, one hand on a small pocketknife just in case.

-...............

-How you managed to smuggle him into your apartment without your roommates asking questions was a goddamn miracle. It was also fortunate that you had the unit right next to your elevator, so loading him onto one of the move-in day dollies and getting him up to the fifth floor was a cakewalk.

-In no time, you'd laid out some towels and dumped him unceremoniously onto the couch. He was covered in large gashes, bruises, scrapes, and dirt. You were able to get a closer look at him now: he was tall and broad-chested, with muscles that visibly strained the fabric of his coat. He had long, black hair twisted into braids and prominent sideburns. He looked like some kind of... warrior. While you gathered some supplies to at least clean and dress the wounds you could see, you wondered briefly if he was an actor or something.

-So what had left him this badly hurt? Whoever did this could, and hopefully would, catch a battery and assault charge at the very lightest for what they'd done. 

-The second you touched his arm with a cloth wet with peroxide, his eyes flew open and he looked around wildly. They were an intense violet- mesmerizing, totally unique, like tanzanite.

-”What are you doing? Stop that.”

-You certainly hadn't expected him to be so rude. “Excuse me? I'm trying to help you!”

-”You don't know what you're doing, lass,” he growled, taking the cloth from your hands and undoing the zipper of his coat. The black undershirt he wore was also in tatters, making it even easier for you to see the definition of his abs. It occurred to you, then, that this guy was fucking ripped, and it might not be a great idea to piss him off. “Why did you stop to help me?”

-”Couldn't just leave you. So... do you remember what happened to you? Can you tell me your name?”

-”...Xaldin.”

-”Come again?”

-”My name is Xaldin.”

-”Ah.” The two of you sat in silence for a while. He continued cleaning and dressing his wounds, and you contemplated the whole scenario. Either he remembered everything and wasn't talking, or he remembered perfectly and didn't want to say. Whatever the case, you decided not to press the issue. 

-After a long pause, you finally spoke. “I'm Y/N. I forgot to ask, do you want some water? Something to eat?”

-He looked up, eyebrows raised. “Tea would be lovely if you have any, lass. And anything to eat, really. Very hospitable of you.” He was gruff, straight to the point, yet... something about the way he held himself betrayed that rough exterior. And he hadn't tried to murder you or steal any of your things, which he would have had no trouble doing. That thought made you feel a bit better.

-It dawned on you, though, that there was no food in the apartment because you'd been gone for three months, so you carefully helped him down to the car and drove across town in search of a drive thru open at two in the morning. Finally, you settled on a local burger joint, and as you pulled in front of the menu, you began rattling off recommendations. He wasn't clueless, though- he'd seen these things before, once.

-Those went out the window, though, because Xaldin leaned past you, out the car window, and started ordering. “I'd like two large Number Fives with extra bacon, curly fries with both, and two chicken sandwiches with a side order of chicken tenders. And-”

-You cut him off furiously. “Xaldin! I don't have that much money!” you hissed. He shrugged lightly.

-”I do,” he replied, producing a heaping handful of little yellow... somethings. They were sparkly, sure, but you doubted very much that they would let you pay with what resembled a handful of D&D dice.

-”$48.20, please pull forward.”

-”Shit!” You cried. “Dude, what the hell?”

-”Don't worry about it,” Xaldin said as you pulled forward to the cashier.

-Of course, when Xaldin said “don't worry about it”, what he really meant was, “I'm going to intimidate the cashier into giving us that food”. The young man took one look at Xaldin and decided it wasn't worth the trouble; you sped off towards your apartment with two massive bags of food. Maybe picking this guy up was a mistake?

-But over the next few days, you became accustomed to each other. He stayed in the apartment, for the most part, resting and reading the books on your shelves. You watched him glance through Romeo and Juliet before bitterly flinging it to the side. In your conversations, you were quick to note that Xaldin was a pretty angry guy. Or, at least, it seemed that way. Other times, he was almost eerily placid, like he wasn't quite aware that he should be feeling or acting a certain way. He mentioned heartbreak and a past lover offhandedly once, and it made you wonder just how much this poor man had been through.

-He talked a bit about work, too, and how exhausting it had been. After a surprise termination at his old job, with no severance package or anything, the new job had worked him to the bone from day one. He worked with most of the same coworkers, which was both a positive and a negative according to him. Xaldin noted that this was his first proper “weekend” off in years, and of course it would be spent covered in lacerations.

-At this point, you produced a tall glass and a bottle of red wine from your wine rack. You  uncorked it for him and filled his glass about halfway.

-”Drink up,” you offered. “Sounds like you need it.”

-You spent more time together than you intended to, ditching syllabus week in favor of taking care of Xaldin. There was just something about him that drew you to him. It could have been his voice, the way he worded things, watching his walls come down bit by bit... 

-And just as you enjoyed being with him, you were starting to grow on him, too. He dared not smile in front of you, goodness no, but he showed his growing affection in different ways. When he picked up a package of sausages in Target and tore it open right then and there to get to the good stuff, you panicked and told him that it needed to be paid for first. He listened.

-He picked up on the hints of sadness in your voice when you talked about home, about the family you'd left behind, about all of the pressure on you to strive for greatness when, really, you just wanted to find happiness. Xaldin understood, and for the first time in a long time, he was genuinely sympathetic.

-It was at precisely that point that alarm bells started going off in his head and he knew he had to RTC. 

-He didn't plan on telling you he was leaving. He'd already caused enough turmoil in the past week. But whatever it was about you that he found so comforting, so relaxing- it was so easy to drop the warrior act and just be himself--

-That night, the two of you were mixing drinks and watching The Bachelor, thoroughly enjoying tearing the contestants apart. Even that part of you, he liked- you could be just as vicious as he was and he didn't have to pull punches or mind his manners. You could keep up with him. He hadn't had a connection like that since--

-Since--

-Xaldin's brain short-circuited and the next thing you knew, the man had turned to face you, gripping both of your arms gently yet firmly in either hand, gazing at you with those gorgeous tanzanite eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized what was happening.

-His eyes snapped shut as your lips collided with his. You pulled yourself into his lap and grabbed a fistful of hair as he deepened the kiss. He wasn't as rough as you imagined he would be; on the contrary, he moved slowly, precisely, enjoying every moment with you. When he nibbled at your lower lip, you obliged, and his tongue swept inside your mouth to explore.

-Five minutes turned into fifteen. Fifteen minutes turned into an hour. It wasn't until the doorknob on the front door rattled that the two of you scrambled off of the couch and darted to your room for a little more privacy.

-..............

-It killed Xaldin to leave the note. It really did. But there were too many liabilities, including his growing affections for you, and he needed to get back to the Castle. With a dull ache in his chest, one that he had long since forgotten, he placed the note on your nightstand and opened a corridor to take him home.

-You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore, with thoughts of cooking a big breakfast for the man. Your heart sank, however, when you noticed the empty spot next to you where Xaldin had been only the night before. Part of you expected this to happen, but it didn't make the hurt any less real: there was no way he was in the bathroom or something, he was just gone.

-A folded piece of notebook paper rested on your nightstand. You knew exactly what it was the moment you spotted it. Slowly, tears welling in your eyes, you unfolded it tenderly and read the neat cursive handwriting:

Y/N,

Sincerest apologies for leaving unannounced, my dear. It was the easiest way for us both. Thank you for showing me kindness, hospitality and warmth; thank you for offering me reprieve from an unforgiving world, however short; and thank you for being a ray of light in a sea of darkness. Until our next meeting.

Yours,

X ~~

[whatarubberchicken]

The Bodyguard’s Tale -Chapter 3

<<Previous - Ao3 or ff.net - Next>>

Chapter 3

Lance’s next excursion wasn’t any better; he somehow got it into his head that he wanted to try hunting ducat. Whatever that was. Apparently, some guy named Coran told him all about them and where to find them. However, after a full day of tromping through the Altean jungle, he and Keith didn’t find anything. And when a tired, muddy, bedraggled Keith asked Shiro about it later, the man had laughed and suggested snipe hunting instead.

He was fairly certain they were being played. So was Lance.

In retaliation, Lance convinced him to help with a little prank. Somehow, the Altean prince had gotten ahold of a couple-dozen half-feral klanmüirls. Keith, openly shaking his head and secretly snickering for the sheer brilliance of it, had the task of putting a collar on each one that clearly stated that the beast was one of 25. There were only 24 klanmüirls. Then they set them loose in the Grand Hall, just before the High Council was called into session.

Keith had never seen such mayhem.

It was glorious.

Uptight lords ran around, panicking, yelling, and trying to catch the stray animals; women were screaming shrilly as several beasts mistook their shiny jewelry for a snack—Lotor had a huge one chasing him that was sure his hair was something edible—even Shiro’s calmer efforts to corral them was hilarious in its own way.

Keith and Lance were literally unable to stand, they were laughing so hard.

Unfortunately, their fun came to an end when Allura caught them hiding behind some draperies. Keith thought for sure they were doomed, but in exchange for her silence, the princess decided to have a bit of her own fun instead.

The next day, Lance and Keith looked at each other miserably as they were forced to try on dress after dress for the princess’s amusement. (She did not, as a small mercy, make them leave her quarters in the dresses, which Keith was eternally grateful for.)

“Does this one make my butt look big?” Lance asked, looking in the mirror while his sister was off trying to find accessories for them. The apparent reasoning behind this whole fiasco was that she wanted to see how different outfits looked side-by-side.

Why she couldn’t use her own ladies….

“I don’t think you have the hips for it,” a voice by the door laughed before Keith could reply. They both whirled around to see Shiro standing there, snickering. “Or the chest!”

“What are you doing here?!” Keith hissed, attempting to cover himself with another dress. Embarrassing himself in front of his best friend was not in the job description!

“Ah, Shiro! You have those documents I needed signed?” Allura said, handing her brother some jewelry as she crossed the room to the ambassador. Keith narrowed his eyes at her. So, she’d arranged this, the scheming little—

“Right here, princess,” Shiro said cheerfully, handing her some forms. “And I—uh, love your new models.”

Keith growled and Lance freed a hand long enough to give Shiro a rude hand gesture.

“Aww, did Lotor not come with you?” Allura pouted, looking behind the ambassador. Keith gaped at her in horror. His brother? Seeing him like this?! She was EVIL!!

“Unfortunately, Prince Lotor had some pressing business to take care of,” Shiro said, grimacing. Keith snorted. Undoubtedly, his brother simply hadn’t seen how a visit to see his betrothed would benefit him and had brushed off Allura’s invitation. “He swears he’ll make it up to you later.” Shiro glanced at the two boys again, and barely hid his laughter behind his hand.

“Of course, if he’d known what was waiting for him, I’m sure he’d have come,” he added, grinning at Keith.

“Don’t you dare tell him!” Keith hissed, trying to wiggle out of his dress to go threaten Shiro properly.

“And now, Princess, I have some pressing business of my own… That’s a good color on you, Keith!”

“Shiro! Get back here!!” Keith yelled, struggling harder. He ended up stumbling around and crashing into Lance, who yelped when they went down in a pile of limbs.

“Ow, mullet-head!”

“Shut up and get off me!”

“Excuse you! You’re the one on me!” Lance shouted.

“Move your leg!”

“Hey, watch the heel! Watch the heel!!”

“WHY are you wearing heels, Lance?” Keith asked, completely exasperated and still tangled up on the floor in what could be considered a very compromising position.

“Hey, if I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do it right!” The Altean prince had the nerve to pose.

“Ugh, you idiot!”

“Oh yeah? I’m not the one who—OOF!” Lance groaned. Keith winced. He’d accidently kneed the other boy in the stomach.

“Sorry.”

“You Galra, always so violent!” Lance cried dramatically, throwing a hand over his eyes for effect. “Sister-dear, did you see how he brutalized me?!”

“My poor brother,” Allura gushed, joining in the drama effortlessly. “You must be traumatized! Facial masks for both of you!!”

Lance cheered. Keith suppressed his urge to bang his head on the floor. The royal siblings were two of a kind, and a royal pain in his—

“C’mon, Keith, let’s get you exfoliated!!”

Quiznak.

………..

The next few weeks were more of the same. Lance got into more bar fights (which Keith had to step in and defend him for, even if the prince had a pretty good right hook himself) and attempted to learn how to play some sort of wind instrument (Keith chucked it out the window after the third day and claimed it must be in Lance’s messy room somewhere. Win-win for him; Lance had to clean his room, finally, and Keith was no longer subjected to the sound of a dying cat).

The best times were when Lance decided to hang out with Allura, usually studying spellcasting or playing Monsters and Mana. (Keith decided to forgive her for the dress debacle, since those few hours were the most peace he had these days. Still, he swore Lance cheated at that game, there was no way anyone could roll that many Nat 20s.)

Lance also attempted to learn how to use a sword, which Keith had to help him with. The prince was surprisingly light on his feet, but he was no match for Keith’s strength, even if he was Altean. Still, he was stubborn, and those practice matches were very enjoyable for Keith. Especially the way Lance’s eyes would sparkle every time he learned a new move or managed to land a hit….

NOPE! Nope. That was just the adrenaline talking. Keith loved the adrenaline rush. That was all.

Finally, the king and queen deemed Lance worthy of representing Altea on another world. Keith was apprehensive until he found out the mission wasn’t going to take long; it was just a festival that the locals called Clear Day. Shiro even offered to accompany them and make sure Lance didn’t get into too much trouble.

Keith regretted it the moment they touched down. So many lights and noises and smells—

“It’s a carnival,” Shiro exclaimed softly, his eyes wide. “We used to have them on Earth all the time!”

“Really?” Keith asked, interested in learning more about that part of himself. And honestly, watching Shiro was easier on his eyes than all these flashing lights….

“Hey, where’d Lance go?” Shiro suddenly asked.

Keith spun around, looking for the prince who had just been at his side.

“QUIZNAK!”

They searched for nearly an hour before they found him at the shooting games, entertaining several females with his ability to get them some cheap little stuffed animals.

“Lance!” Keith roared. “You know you’re not supposed to go off on your own!!”

Lance took one look at the rage on his face and, to Keith’s astonishment, he ran. What the quiznak?! Where did he think—?

“Get back here!” he yelled after the wayward prince, only vaguely aware of Shiro laughing behind him as he chased the other boy. Shiro could laugh, but it was going to be Keith’s ass if something happened to the prince!

Lance was darting left and right, trying to lose him in the crowd, but Keith was quicker. He tackled Lance right into a line of people. Keith pulled them both to their feet, and was about to start laying into the Altean when—

“Fine, fine, you can go first,” a bored, nasally voice said. The next thing they knew, they had been strapped into a ride and told to have a “blissfully burrowful time.”

All Keith could do was glare at Lance, which intensified when the animatronics all around them began to sing. Lance looked interested (for all of two tiks) and then he chanced a glance at his bodyguard.

“Just remember, if you kill me, you fail your mission,” he sang, grinning sheepishly.

“I remind myself that every day.”

The ride broke, right when they were in the middle of it. Keith groaned in despair and buried his face in his hands.

It took him less than five minutes to get fed up with the idiotic song and slash his way to freedom, dragging a laughing Lance behind him. The prince promised to pay for damages to the irate carny, but also pointed out that the ride had already been broken. Then Keith chimed in about how it could’ve been a trap to harm Lance’s royal person, blah-de-blah, and the worker quickly let them go with hasty apology for their troubles.

They were never coming back to Clear Day. Keith would beg Lance’s other bodyguards on his knees if he had to.

Now, they couldn’t find Shiro.

Some of the locals said something about a human being in the arm-wrestling tournament, but to get there, they had to pass the shooting games again. And of course, Lance wheedled and whined until Keith finally gave in and stopped to let him play for awhile.

It wasn’t like he was actually going to win anything… those things were totally rigged.

So, when Lance presented him with a stuffed red lion, Keith took it out of sheer disbelief—and ignored his flaming cheeks.

It was just to say sorry for that whole ride debacle. It’s not like it meant anything. Besides, they were both quickly distracted by the fact that Shiro was now the center of a cheering crowd of fans.

[tenjouu]

revolvere (2/?)

facetious plot summary: Lancelot loses his magic upon traveling back in time to the day of Alice the Second’s arrival. How will he save the world equipped with only his winning looks and charisma? Read on to find out! lmao!

1  |  2 : delegations

This time around, Lancelot learns to delegate.

No wonder he couldn’t come up with any good plans once he’d entered office. He was overwhelmed with the work and never could ignore the impending doom of his world, so it affected his productivity in some ways. Work smarter, not harder.

His officers reluctantly write yesterday off as an ‘off-day’. He’s back to his aloof persona, which gets them off his case, but he hires two aides to deal with the sheer mountain of paperwork on his desk, which gets them kind of back on his case, but they can’t really say anything about it since they know how busy Lancelot is.

It’s not unreasonable to buckle under the pressure. And with the war brewing, his work literally increases tenfold. Lancelot doesn’t have anything to prove about being able to do all of it himself.

(“What?” Kyle would probably say, if you asked him about it. “He’s obviously an impostor. The real Lance would never pass up the chance to be unreasonable about his workload.”)

But Lancelot begrudgingly admits being king wouldn’t take nearly as long if he didn’t have to read all this shit. The glorious part about kingship is really nothing. Sometimes, he has inspections, meetings with foreign dignitaries, trips to the Civic Center, but those are few and far between.

His daily work is more like managing the salt directed at Hearts Quarter from the Diamonds (claiming political favoritism), charters for new institutions by nobles who have money, grievances and civil cases to be scheduled for later dates, his pet project of reforming the criminal system, marriage proposals from wealthy families within and outside of Cradle, requests for funding, requests for money, requests for more land, requests for a peace treaty—

Necessary, but some of these things are not quite like the others. The problem is that Lancelot never knows which ones he can throw out on first glance because no one reviews the documents before he does. But Lancelot doesn’t really have to address all of these himself.

(He repurposes an unused chamber room into a new office.

“Reject all of the marriage proposals but diplomatically,” he tells his new aides. “If the charters are for a good cause, accept them. I will give you a list of my scheduled council meetings, so arrange court dates as necessary. I don’t care for the time, but not after dinner. Assuage Diamonds Quarter that there’s no favoritism here; I have no patience for either faction and therefore cannot discriminate on principle.” He pauses. “Maybe don’t put it quite like that. If someone asks for an audience with the king, determine for yourself whether it’s of importance and respond. If you have any documents you’re unsure of, place them on my desk, or just ask me.”

The two of them stare at him with wide eyes. The woman looks a little stunned. The man is positively flabbergasted. He must’ve wrecked their impression of him irreparably.

Once again, zero fucks.

Lancelot turns to survey the massive towers on his desk.

“And utilize paper organizers,” he adds as an afterthought. “Label the bins so I know what is what.”)

All in a day’s work. Now that he doesn’t have to read all of those papers himself, he easily has time to join his officers for dinner.

So he does. He never particularly was good at fitting in during social functions, and he might have been too ashamed to do anything about it once before, but he finds himself no longer caring.

Among other things that he says to them, one of them is: “I’m ordering you all to hire aides if you need them.”

Apparently, that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back, because Jonah finally confronts him after dinner.

“King Lancelot, forgive my forwardness, but recently…” He grits his teeth, clenching his fist in the hallway. Lancelot looks down, impassive. “…Have you been well? My understanding is that you have decided to hold off on annexing the Black Army, but you’ve changed…your usual modus operandi.”

Lancelot claps Jonah on the shoulder, and Jonah jerks from the contact. “I appreciate your concern, Jonah. But this isn’t a worse way to do things. What good is it for a single man to make all of the decisions? It’s good to have fresh, young opinions in the state. It’s the only way we can evolve.”

“Then, about the girl, Alice…?”

“I want her company, even if for just one day,” Lancelot says simply.

Jonah is rendered speechless.

“Now,” Lancelot reminds him gently, “hire an aide. And tell Edgar to as well. Or I’ll punish you two for direct disobedience.”

— . . . —

“I could retrieve Alice for you,” Edgar offers him, like how he had the first time.

Lancelot shakes his head. “You’re busy as is,” he says. “I trust that Sirius Oswald will follow through.” He turns a critical gaze to Edgar. “You heard from Jonah, I assume?”

Edgar is amused about the whole thing. “Well, if my king orders me to, then I can’t disobey,” he says amicably.

— . . . —

Kyle clearly thinks the whole thing is out of character, but he shrugs. “I don’t know what changed, but good for you, Lance,” he says supportively.

Zero hums in agreement.

— . . . —

So the whole magic thing is a bit of a problem.

He had some kind of guarantee of holding his own against Amon, figuring he would use the power vested in him to beat the hell out of that deluded, infantile megalomaniac, but now he’s as magically conductive as a plain rock. And that plan evidently didn’t turn out so well considering he regretfully took his final breath in Harr’s sturdy arms.

Everyone still thinks he can use magic, so he’ll let them think that. Amon’s due to check in on him in a few days, but Lancelot isn’t worried about the timing.

Sirius doesn’t disappoint. Not even a week after the Central Quarter confrontation, and Lancelot wants to laugh when he finds the Black Army’s Ace and Alice being escorted down the hallway by Zero. He keeps himself composed though as he offers Alice a cool smile. Sirius must’ve thought the offer was too good to pass up—and he must have realized that it was a show of trust. That Lancelot was testing him.

“He seriously never does that,” Godspeed mutters to her. “Stay on your guard.”

Alice looks uncertain, nods to her guard, and follows Lancelot into his office.

He closes the door behind him, unfazed by Godspeed’s challenging glare.

“Please sit,” he gestures to the chair before his desk. “I’ve already poured tea. And I’ve prepared your favorite desserts.”

Alice blinks down at the tray in surprise upon registering that the pastries are indeed her favorite. It’s not as if Lancelot was unobservant during her time in Red Headquarters. Edgar was always busying about, finding ways to smuggle in her favorite things. He’d offer to let Lancelot have some too.

“Thank you,” Alice says, tense as Lancelot takes the seat in front of her.

“Relax,” Lancelot says. “You’re here as a guest. You will not be harmed.”

Easier said than done, he thinks wryly as Alice tries and utterly fails to loosen up. He can understand maybe why—he wonders just exactly how Sirius convinced her to come. What was it he said? ‘I would like to get to know her better’?

“I like baking,” she blurts, tracing the rim of her tea cup.

“I know,” Lancelot hums. He definitely knows. She’s damn good at it too.

Alice makes a face, opening her mouth to no doubt follow up with something else out of the blue, in a misguided attempt to let Lancelot ‘know her better’, but Lancelot holds a hand up.

“I actually already know you quite well, Alice,” he says. She doesn’t look reassured—in fact, possibly even more apprehensive than before. “Maybe I should tell you more about myself instead.”

“Please do, King Lancelot,” she says, smiling stiffly, finally looking up.

Lancelot resists the urge to smile at the humor in this situation. She must have a direly wrong impression.

Well, here goes.

“Do you know of the Magic Tower?” he asks. She nods. That saves him the explanation then. “I plan to overthrow a man who is currently looking down from a very high place in there. I’d like your help in passing messages along to the Black Army. The peace treaty needs to be kept under wraps so that this man doesn’t suspect anything.”

“Oh, thank god,” Alice breathes. That’s her first instinctive reaction. Her second is to blush, delightfully red, when she remembers where she is. “Oh, that was terribly rude of me! I apologize—“

Lancelot laughs. “You did well to be wary of strange men,” he commends her, “but you’ll find that there are stranger men out there.”

Alice doesn’t look like she disagrees. But her eyes narrow thoughtfully.

“Forgive me for my forwardness, but...why should I believe you?”

“There’s something that I need to protect,” he says with iron resolve. “I cannot give up on the future of this country. Even if it costs my life, I will protect the people. In another world, I would have tried to go it alone.”

In another world, he did.

“But I think it would’ve turned out differently if I had been honest from the start. I’ve decided to place my faith in the strength of others.”

He inclines his head.

“I cannot make you believe me. I can only ask you to trust me.”

She has always been a good judge of character. She was so good for Edgar. Lancelot finds himself strangely relieved when she finally nods, eyes shining with determination. She believes him.

“I’m telling Ray and the others,” she says. “They’re the ones who can make an informed decision about this.”

“I expect no less,” he replies. “But you must keep the details of our deal from any spies. I’m sure there are bugs planted in Blackwell’s army, just as there are in mine. For now, only tell him and Sirius.”

Alice acknowledges his command and takes a sip from her tea. Peering over the rim of the cup, she asks curiously, “Why are you telling me all of this, King Lancelot? You asked me to trust you, but it seems you’ve risked quite a lot to trust me.”

“I have nothing to lose by telling you,” he responded. “Either the Black Army chooses to believe you or they dismiss your words as ludicrous and baseless. The master of the tower thinks I’m completely under his control, and I’ve built up quite the reputation for belligerence.”

“But you know Sirius will believe you, and Ray believes Sirius,” she muses.

He knew she was clever. He wishes more than ever she’d stay in Red Headquarters. Now that he thinks about it, before death, he was so busy preparing for the final confrontation that the amount of time he had was impossibly little.

He hadn’t seen her for four days then. Now that he thinks about it, he missed the Alice of his world. And if his officers—Jonah, Edgar, Zero, Kyle—were here, they would miss the brightness that Alice brought with her everywhere too. As it stands, he’s the only one in the Red Army who remembers and knows to mourn the loss of her company.

“And I’ve told you already,” Lancelot interjects, amused. “I know you quite well. I knew I could trust you. I even know your birthday.”

“I was going to ask about that, actually,” she gasps. “How do you know everything? Are you psychic? Does magic make you psychic?”

“If you want to think of it that way.”

Her eyes are wide with wonder when he brings up the next topic.

“You will be in even more danger now that I’ve brought you into the fold,” he warns. “We’ll need a believable story, and I already have someone in mind who will protect you from the tower since they’ve certainly caught wind of your existence.”

Knowing better than to disagree about needing protection, she simply accepts it with a nod.

“So I’m to play...the Red King’s lover, who is a ward of the Black Army?” she says slowly.

“It need not be reciprocated by you.” Lancelot has no intention, after all, of actually making a move on Alice. He won’t be stepping over his retainer’s toes in the matter. “Given the public perception of me, it would be laughable for you to fall in love with me. So instead, I suppose I’ll have to fall for you.”

Strangely, her face looks troubled. “King Lancelot, you don’t give yourself enough credit,” she says earnestly.

“Says the woman who came in dreading my declaration of undying love,” he shoots back.

She flushes. “That was before I got to know you better! No one in their right mind would agree immediately, no matter how beautiful the other person is!”

“Thank you, Alice,” he says, dry as sand. “I’m not against pretending that the infatuation is mutual. But it’s better for my reputation if these tea parties appear to be against your will.”

“Isn’t it worse for your reputation?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he replies, unconcerned. “I don’t care for bettering my reputation in the good way. Now, if Blackwell’s Ace asks what happened in here, tell him that you were absolutely disgusted by my arrogance and domineering personality.”

“King Lancelot,” she sighs at him in farewell. He notes that she’s taking the tray of pastries with her.

“Be sure to play your part,” he says, letting slip a trace of fondness.

“I will!” she says, pretending defiance when she opens the door.

“I’ll send for you,” he calls calmly as she closes it.

One of his favorite people, going.

He didn’t realize this is what it’s like to watch the back of a person who is leaving you before you can leave them.

It’s bittersweet.

Godspeed’s repulsed scowl is sour icing on the cake.

— . . . —

The guard that Lancelot has in mind is someone that he knows is powerful. Now that Lancelot actually has time after dinner on week days, he goes to the cat alley in Central Quarter and lies in wait.

Loki shows up without fail.

“Oh,” he says, surprised but also unimpressed. “The King of Hearts.”

His love for cats trumps his wariness of Lancelot, because he doesn’t flee on the spot. He lowers his basket of goodies and the felines swarm him.

A stray cat, enjoying the warmth of Lancelot’s lap and the gentle scritch-scratch of Lancelot’s fingers, is the only one who stays back.

“Didn’t know you liked cats, o’ king,” Loki adds, trying to draw a reaction, when Lancelot doesn’t say anything.

A king befitting Lancelot’s reputation might’ve spouted some pompous line like, ‘They’re elegant, clever little creatures.’

Lancelot opens his mouth and what comes out is, “They’re nice and soft.”

Loki makes no effort to conceal his jaw dropping. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t take it back. “I like cats,” he says. “I didn’t think it was mutually exclusive with kingship.”

Loki shakes his head. “It isn’t. The Black—oh,” he cuts himself off emphatically, realizing what he was about to divulge.

“How’s Harr?” Lancelot prompts suddenly.

Loki narrows his eyes. “Fine,” he huffs, tetchy, and ignores Lancelot for the rest of the hour.

—

.

.

.

—

Lancelot kind of has a schedule though. He said he’d send for Alice in a few days to give her time to convince the other two, so he simply can’t wait for Sirius to put him in contact with Harr when the truce hasn’t even been officialized in secret yet.

Without magic, he can’t see past Harr’s invisibility barriers, and therefore he can’t possibly hope to navigate the forbidden forest and find him that way.

So he comes back to the alley two days in a row. This time, he’s the one bearing gifts. Food waste after dinner in the barracks is a big problem, after all. Another thing he’ll have to fix when he topples Amon’s reign in the shadows.

“Cheshire Cat,” he says. “I need to speak with Harr. Tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know,” Loki says, eyeing Lancelot’s payload. “You could check Central Quarter. Can’t you sense him with your magic?”

They both know if Harr doesn’t want to be found, then he won’t be. Lancelot wonders if he can lure Harr out somehow. He has no illusions that Loki is a cunning young man who could just as easily turn the tables on Lancelot. The sooner he’s put into contact with Harr the better.

So he leans close and says casually, “I no longer have magic. And save some of that for Harr.”

“I—I was planning to,” Loki snaps, his face transparent with shock.

— . . . —

He’s a genius.

Harr confronts him two days later.

[sidespromptblog]

Hiya bored! Would you mind writing a spot of Logan angst? It might take your mind off of your boredom!

(Well…you asked for it.)

(This is based from my creature au, I’ve mentioned before how the others have had to bring Logan back from the brink. And this is one of those times.)

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, knife, blood (small cut nothing more), and Logan angst.

Staring down at the bustling city below him, Logan swung his legs back and forth as he twirled the blade in between his fingers. Looking down at them all, he couldn’t help but to see every human that was rushing amongst their meaningless life, rushing and hurrying towards something that honestly wouldn’t be worth it in the end. Looking at them all, crawling among the dirt and filth he couldn’t help but to see them for what they truly were.

Insects.

Weak and insignificant insects, writhing around attempting to give their life some kind of meaning in their dull existence. Trying to convince themselves that what they were doing was truly worth doing, because once it was all over…then perhaps they’d be rewarded. Although, he knew and just about every creature on this planet knew…they were all going to damnation, whether they liked it or not. So why on earth did they try?

Why did he even try?

Staring down at the pale silvery knife that reflected the moon’s light, a rough and troubled sigh broke free of his lips as his shoulders sagged with the weight of both his problems as well as the entirety of the earth’s problems. Why did he try? Why did he try to continue living in a world that would forever hunt him for something he had been born as since the dawn of his creation, why didn’t he just let the angels cut him down with their flaming swords and end it all? Hell, he could do so right now with his own hand, he could end it all, allow peace and serenity to sweep over him for the first time in hundreds of years since his creation. He could…he content with the idea that with his death everything would be alright. That the cycle could finally stop, and maybe..perhaps he could be reborn as one of the insects down below, unaware of who he had been in his past life and unaware of how he had been hunted ever since he learned to put thoughts together.

The pad of his thumb drifted over the sharp cruel edge of the knife, and with a faint inkling of pain lancing up his finger, a droplet of shimmering blood dripped down the edge of the blade. Ruining the clear reflection as it ran to the very tip, lingering just a split second before it dropped to the ground below him. It fell for five stories, before it smacked against the cold concrete ground below him.

“So many options,” Logan begrudgedly mused to himself as he tapped the blade against his thigh in the familiar rhythm of a lullaby, but just for a moment. “So many choices to make.” His lips pulled into an indecisive frown, as he angled his head upward, his eyes reflecting the stars that felt a lifetime away from him. There were so many choices to make, weren’t there?

Do I want to make a mess? Do I want the angels to find what’s left of me? Or do I want to go peacefully, the opposite of what I am? How should I..no how would I do it?

These were the thoughts that ran rampant in Logan’s head as he sat on the very top of the building, in all honesty, he hadn’t planned on thinking these things when he came out here. Mostly he had just come up here to clear his head and enjoy the crisp cool air of the coming winter days, but now the knife forged from the blood of the titans weighed heavy in his hands. His feet ached just as much as the old soul inhabiting his young and never aging body, he could stop, refuse to play their games anymore, ruin all of their fun in one last show of a middle finger to the forces who had hunted him for most of his life.

Yes. A tired grin tugged at his lips, revealing the sharp row of teeth hidden behind his plump lips, it all seemed so simple, so easy now. I could-

“Logan? What are you doing out here so late?”

Within an instant, every rational and irrational thought fled Logan’s mind as soon as he snapped his head around at the voice that had simultaneously made him almost drop his knife, as well as fling it at the one who had intruded upon his silence and his alone time. But every muscle in his body stood rigidly and still at the sight of the pale bodied man clutching the sealskin cloak around his shoulders as the cold wind battered his body in a way that Logan had felt completely immune to. He hadn’t even noticed the specks of white slowly drifting down from the clouds above them, or the fact that the ground below him was now slick with ice. But dragging himself out of his internal stupor, he felt the cold like a punch to the gut as soon as Virgil ambled on closer to him.

Without even thinking Logan tucked the blade under his leg, obscuring it from view as soon as Virgil settled down next to him.

Within mere moments, he could feel the warmth of the sealskin cloak around him as Virgil huddled up close to him. It was a rare tender moment, a moment that Logan knew that he alone was privy to. No one else was allowed to see, let alone touch Virgil’s sealskin cloak not after what had happened last time he had been so careless with it. The brief smile that flitted across the selkie’s lips told him everything, as he lifelessly mimicked that same smile right back to the creature sitting next to him.

“What are you doing out here all alone? You should be asleep.” I woke up and you weren’t there, I was scared. It was so easy to peer through Virgil’s words and read his actual meaning, and yet Logan did little more than rest his head on top of Virgil closing his eyes in order to breath in the smell of saltwater and wind that clung to the selkie’s freshly washed hair and skin. He couldn’t help but to relax around Virgil, someone who knew him just as well as he knew the other’s plights and fears.

“I…” It was difficult to say now that he no longer held the knife, and now that he no longer had the overbearing and crushing urge to just wipe the earth clean of his presence. Shame was something that he was well informed about, he’d felt shame from the very moment he was old enough to speak. The shame of who he was, the shame of his heritage, and just..shame in general. “I came out here to clear my head of several distasteful thoughts,” Again he quirked another smile that somehow felt more real as he inhaled the smell of salt once again. “I just forgot the most important part of doing that though.”

Virgil shifted next to him, the selkie’s fingers clutching the hem of his shirt. The smell of his fear was palpable. “Oh? What’s that?”

His answer was almost too easy now that he looked back on it all.

“A friend.”

[fate221]

What do you think of Klance?

I LOVE KLANCE

It’s such a pity it has bad reputation now because of some certain part of shippers. I think it absolutely deserves all the attention from many talented artists and animators. It’s sad that the more people in the fandom of ship is - the bigger quantity of intelectuals who can’t respect other people is. But I personally just try to ignore them because i know a lot of Klance artists and shippers who are very nice people <3

Actually when I first started watching Voltron - I immediately understood which ship is the most popular in the fandom. For the first 2 episodes I think. It’s know that people like the opposites - black and white, red and blue, fire and ice and other stuff. And it’s known that haters-to-lovers is one of the most used and popular tropes in media now. And yeah I’m one of those people who like relationships like this xD But still even tho Klance is not my most favourite ship from all of my Voltron OtPs (you know which one is :D) it has a lot of things despite fire/ice aesthetic and haters-to-lovers trope.

I know there are thousands of Klance metas and whole article dedicated to their bond and why it would be good for them to get together. Lots of things are reaching of course which is normal for all the shippers but I want to tell just about several main things which make me love them together (even when I really wasn’t very hardcore m/m ships fan and had mostly het/lesbian otps for most of my life)

Firstly I want to stop on two things that are important for me in choosing an OTP:

Mutual support and intimacy. it’s easy, I’ve already told about it earlier - i love when characters share some personal thoughts, keep each other’s secrets, sharing fears with each other - something they usually don’t tell even most of the friends.

A posibility to change to the better. I love when characters have what to learn from each other - love when they are different but it gives them strenght - both of them finds in each other something they usually miss. Characters grow and change because of relationship and complement each other and it’s always wonderful for me. When one is too serious and other is too goofy and when they together they just.. find the balance and peace.

I see these in my Voltron OTPs and Klance especially. Keith was the only one Lance trusted in times when he doubted if he’s even needed here. Lance was hiding his feelings behind the mask of goofy loverboy but only with Keith he decided to take it off. Pidge and Hunk were making fun of him and no that’s not their fault because usually that’s what happens with your friends. You can make fun of each other because sometimes laughing on problems can make them less harmful for you (from personal experience) But everything works other way with soulmates who are the only ones you can tell everything sincerely and you can totally know that they would never laugh and don’t push you off. Again - personal experience. Keith was someone Lance trusted enough to take his mask off. And it’s a literal canon scene.

As for Keith - when Shiro went missing who was the one who supported him once again sincerely? When Keith felt weak and not good enough, when he failed his role of the team leader who was the one he had a sincere talk with - again taking off his mask and just being Keith - being scared, tired and desperate. He knew that even tho they had issues at first - even tho they were some kind of rivals - they still have a lot of common - they both are lost in some sense because of different reasons.

And at the same time they are different - it’s obvious for everyone. Keith is serious and uses to hide his emotions - he never opens for others except someone who literally saved him and changed his life - his family (Shiro). But the thing is - yes you can be open to your family but also you need someone from other field (?) of people (god help me idk how to explain shit on english) - someone who can make you change and be open to the other world, who can make you confident, maybe sometimes even goofy, but a grown personality who isn’t tied just with one person from the very beginning. Lance did it too him because even tho he maybe didn’t noticed it - but I think every time when they were arguing he was also making usually closed Keith to open more - lol at least just to shut this silly bitch up finally! And on the other hand - serious moments of support when Lance wanted to le him know that he a good leader and he is not the only one who misses Shiro. Besides that Lance has  a big-big happy fam and guess what Keith always was missing? Family

And as for Lance he was told many times that sometimes he acts too dumb or like too loverboy. In some sense he often acts too childish and undserious to work with others and that’s why he thinks about himself as the seventh wheel. And he needs someone who is able to cool him down and make to grow up finally maybe even with punches. That’s why I think he doesn’t need some comical kind of character as a partner at all (btw isn’t it something Jeremy Shada was talking about?). He needs someone who can bring balance to him, to take his comic reliefness off and make a grown up confident man out of him. 

so yeah that’s why I actually love them together very much and can’t dislike them even because of not-very-nice shippers. I started shipping them romantically after second watch of seasons but I honestly always enjoyed their interactions the most - because you feel like you’re watching something really important - how two very different and similar in the same time characters grow together and learn to respect each other - how they help each other and learn new things from each other and become better. It’s always incredible. and it’s worth of attention it has. At least they has the most developed over time relationship and you can see it in the show. 

This is not some kind of meta but mostly my personal thoughts and impressions. I never was that kind of shipper who always shipped all the rivals - like I don’t ship something like Drarry/Stony things and yet I think Laith is awesome. When the bond is strong enough for characters to be able to take their masks off, when they learn something new from each other and become better - it’s something that don’t even depends from genders or something else. 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.24.prt.1

“What the fuck is going on with you this morning?”

“Nice to see you too”

Resting with his head against the glass wall of the shower, Lance wasn’t having a fun time. He’d thrown up, and was now basking in the revolting after taste and burning of his throat and sinuses. Hunk had had the best of intentions, but the flavours had been too strong and he was too filled with guilt to keep his liquid second breakfast down

“Are you sick? Do I need to call Coran?”

“My senses are a little too hyped. Blood makes it worse, so I’m super ramped up. It’s fine”

“You threw up”

“Food’s gotta come out some way”

“Ew”

Lance nodded, yep, being a vampire was glorious

“It’s fine”

“It’s not fine. Do you throw up every time?”

“Nah... and normally I don’t have an audience to my embarrassing moments”

Lance hoped Keith would take the hint and leave

“You better get your shit together, Hunk and Pidge are coming back later”

“I know, I heard. Hunk’s gonna he even more worried...”

“That’s his problem, not mine. Mine’s a vampire who’s clearly not okay, but insists on being a dick about it”

“I’m sorry?”

“You should be. What’s going on with you, is it just your senses? Because you look like total shit right now”

“Wow. Way to make a man feel better about himself”

“God! You’re impossible. Why can’t you just talk to me?”

“I already am”

Lance really didn’t want to talk. He wanted to find Blue and go back to bed. Keith wasn’t having it. Flushing the toilet, the hunter put the lid down and decided he needed to have one of those talks where they were both sitting. Something he sooooo wasn’t in the mood for

“You know what I mean”

“What do you want me to say? I had a really messed up dream and now I feel like fucking shit because my stupid brain doesn’t forget things?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t fucking know how to comfort people”

“I noticed”

“Fuck you. I’m trying”

Lance muttered under his breath

“Very”

“What was that?”

Sighing to himself, he raised his head to look at Keith

“Nothing. Look, I appreciate you covering for me. I don’t know why you did, but thanks”

“You could have just said that from the start”

“And you could have left me to vomit in peace...”

“You’re not okay. If you’re not okay, I don’t know what to do. Coran said you were changing, I don’t know what’s normal anymore. I’m stuck here and I don’t know why. And I don’t know why you keep doing stupid things. Why didn’t you feed before Hunk and Pidge got here?”

“Didn’t have time. Barely got out the shower and Hunk was calling to say they were coming over”

“So you weren’t trying to starve yourself?”

How stupid did Keith think he was? He knew he had to keep his hunger under control. He’d fed too much too fast. He should have stuck to his normal third of a bag. Too much blood had amplified the feeling of being alive. Stroked his ego and now he was dealing with his own stupidity. He hated the hunger. He hated not being able to keep down Hunk’s smoothie. Lance swore there were still pieces of kale and spinach stuck in his teeth

“No... Did Hunk make you a smoothie?”

“Nope. He tried to...”

“You’re lucky... are you going to be highly offended if I go back to bed?”

“Depends, are you going to get all douchey if you don’t?”

“Probably?”

“Then go back to bed. This time, try to wake up without looking like something Blue threw up”

Lance managed a weak chuckle. Blue had thrown up some spectacularly gross stuff in her lifetime. Keith probably meant hairballs, but he hadn’t experienced thrown up body parts before, or entrails in his sheets

“Blue is princess. Blue is perfection. She’s a tiny little murder cupcake of perfection”

“Does everything always have to come back to a comparison with bread items?”

“What do you mean?”

“You called Pidge an anger muffin before...”

“And you’re an anger loaf. You’re too fucking tall and grizzled to be a muffin”

“I’m not an “anger loaf”... what even is an “anger loaf”?”

Lance groaned

“I just told you, you’re too big to a be a muffin. Are you really gonna sit there and mock the guy on the floor?”

“If it gets the guy on the floor to talk to me”

“I thought we agreed I need a nap”

Keith sighed at him. Lance flinched when the hunter moved his hand, Keith’s brow raising in confusion

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You flinched”

“I thought you were going to punch me”

Keith rolled his eyes at him

“Paranoid much?”

“Always. Besides, it’s not paranoia when people are out to get you?”

“And who’s going to get your undead arse when we’re stuck out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere?”

“You?”

“Dream on. Can you get up off the floor now?”

But the floor was good. Moving seemed like effort... even if he did get to spend a few hours hiding from Keith

“I suppose”

“Good. You know, you’re worse than a kid”

“Yep. I grew upwards on the outside and not on the inside”

“I can tell. Either that or you were dropped on your head a lot as a child”

Jesus. Keith was snarky... but it was refreshing. Having him worried about him was too weird, but having him insult him felt strangely normal. Good, even. Like Keith didn’t actually worry about him, and that was how it was meant to be

“Probably. Probably dropped myself on my head too...”

“I can imagine”

Lance faked offence before cracking up into laughter. Poor Keith looked completely lost

“What’s wrong with you, now?”

“Nothing, mullet. Give me a sec to clean up, then I’m off for a nap. What are you going to do?”

“Play with my camera... there’s not a whole lot around here to do”

“That’s why I like it... Keith, you know, I know you’re the biggest dumbarse I’ve ever met, but I’m starting to think you’re actually not to terrible”

Keith shifted, uncomfortable but in kind of a good way. His heart was racing for no reason, but Lance could see a smile on those lips of his. Keith was actually kind of pretty when he smiled... pretty lame, yeah, lame...

“And you’re not too horrific for an undead thing”

*

Lance tried and failed at the napping. Pulling Blue into his hold, he groomed her thick black fur as she purred. She was a total slut for grooming. Bath’s not so much, but grooming turned her into a pile of purring goo. Planting kisses on the top of Blue’s head, she nudged into his lips

“No more grooming for you. I want cuddles”

Lance had given napping a genuine shot, only for his nose to decide it needed to be focused on Keith’s vanillary scent from the body wash in the guest bathroom. Keith hadn’t said anything about the options in there, and the hunter didn’t need to know Lance had wondered if he should buy him something more “manly”. Not being bugged by Keith to train felt weird. Lance loathe to admit he kind of missed it. Keith had a lot of drive, fuelled by the anger he hadn’t worked through. Without anything to channel that anger into Keith was left to potter around in a home that wasn’t his. It kind of felt like Lance was torturing Keith, a reversal of roles from when Keith kept insisting he was a vampire. Lance very nearly missed that as well. Yes, he’d been confident that he hadn’t turned Keith, but having Coran confirm it had taken a weight off Keith’s shoulders. He wasn’t Adam. He was lying when he said he was human... not that Lance had the full picture, and he wasn’t sure that Shiro’s version of things quite lined up with Keith’s. Keith must have been terrified he really was turned, trauma did strange things to the mind. He must have been terrified that Shiro was going to have to watch him change, then have to kill him like Adam had had to be killed. It all would have been especially hard on Adam, assuming he was a hunter, he knew just how vile vampires could be. Yeah, he should probably go check on Keith and make sure he was as okay as he was pretending to be.

A quick hunt through the house proved Keith wasn’t inside. Heading out the back of the property, he found Keith working out on his own. Damn if his dream didn’t come back to haunt him. Keith was focused, sweat running from his hair, yet totally in his element. For Keith, his job really was his life. He’d spent years earning those muscles in combat, rather than exercise machines alone. Thanks to his memory, Lance knew how to throw down, but Keith lived it. He lived to hunt the things they should all fear... Something Lance had once entertained the idea of, but knew his Mami wouldn’t approve at all. Plus, he didn’t want to end up on Coran’s disposal list if he lost control and lost the last of his humanity in the process.

Crossing the back lawn, Lance sat himself down a few metres away from Keith. The hunter so in the zone that he hadn’t noticed. Lance managed a good 10 minutes before Keith finally did, the hunter’s eyes widening a fraction as Lance cocked his head

“I didn’t mean to ruin your concentration”

“I didn’t notice you come out”

“I noticed. I was wondering where you were”

“I thought you were napping. Feeling any better?”

Nope. Because fuck if he hadn’t been distracted by the way Keith’s shirt was riding up

“Yeah, a bit”

Walking over, Keith flopped down next to him

“You don’t have to stop. I can go if I’m making you uncomfortable”

“You’re the one who looks uncomfortable”

That’s because he was. He could smell the sweat on Keith’s skin, a feeling welling up inside him. He wanted to reach out and brush Keith’s fringe back and he didn’t know why

“It’s nothing. You know, I almost miss you trying to kick my arse”

Keith snorted at him as he plucked up a stray blade of grass

“A few more lessons and I would have had you”

“Dream on”

“Is that you way of saying you’ve been holding back?”

“A bit. It’s hard to live as a human when you have way too much strength”

“Is that why you wear glasses? Don’t they get in the way?”

Lance took his glasses off, holding them out towards Keith

“We’ve talked about it before, but yeah. I see too much and I’ve seen too much as it is”

Keith seemed surprised as he took Lance’s glasses, holding them up to peer through them, making a face as he did

“These are horrible”

“It helps make the world smaller so I can focus”

“I’ve never really thought about what vampires must go through”

Keith handed his glasses back, Lance surprising himself by placing them down beside him

“Don’t go feeling sorry for vampires, ever. You do that and you’re dead”

“You don’t need to tell me that”

“I know you know the risks, but it’d really suck if something happened to you, you know”

Punching his arm, Keith looked mortified at the gesture, Lance unable to not snort in laughter

“Shut up”

“I don’t know why I did that”

“Because you secretly like me too much. It’s strange. I’ve never had anyone live with me before, other than Mami. I keep wondering if I’m doing anything wrong. If I’ve made you hate me. Or hurt your feelings... I’ve barely known you two weeks and I keep having to tell myself I’m not your friend. Maybe this was what Coran meant by our quintessence complimenting each other?”

Keith plucked up another blade of grass

“I don’t think I understand what quintessence is. Is it a fae term?”

Fae... Coran must be a fae. Lance hadn’t thought to ask and then it seemed too late too

“I’ve heard it mentioned between Allura and Coran before. It’s like the stuff inside us. That spark of life that connects all life. I think faes can manipulate quintessence”

“Like the way they constantly say “you’re safe” or “you’re in a safe place”?”

“That might be more to do with me...”

He’d been so scared as kid. Waking up in a strange place, scared of everything and anything. Coran had told him since he’d met him, and every time they met, that he was safe there

“Oh... I’m sorry”

“Nah, don’t be. You didn’t turn me”

“But still...”

“I have the feeling we both had kind of crappy childhoods”

Keith nodded, Lance noting the pain in the hunter’s eyes, he didn’t like it

“But look at us now! A vampire sitting in the sun, and a hunter who doesn’t know how to relax”

Keith dropped his head, Lance expecting to be scolded for “doing that” again

“I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

Keith raised his head

“I don’t know. I’ve never lived with anyone other Shiro and Adam, not for years. You say a lot of things I hate, but now we’re getting on and it’s weird”

Lance gaped, before smiling

“I know right. I don’t know what to do when you ask me if I’m okay. I’m like, waiting for you to yell at me or try to kill me again, and then you don’t and I’m like why not?”

“I keep thinking you’re going to kill me in my sleep, and then you don’t. And you keep doing weird things that make me feel weird. You didn’t have to go out of your way. You didn’t have to buy lactose free milk”

“I didn’t want to make you sick. You might be a total dick, but that’s just being cruel”

“I tried to kill you”

“You poisoned yourself”

“I yelled at you”

“You still do”

Keith shook his head with a sigh

“I don’t get it”

“I don’t get it either. I don’t get why we seem to be getting on better. You should hate me”

“I do. I mean... I still think you did something to me”

Lance’s undead heart gave a strange leap of concern

“Coran said there was nothing wrong, didn’t he? It was a clean bill of health?”

“That’s what he said, but how am I supposed to believe him when I’ve only just met him?”

“You can’t go wrong believing in Coran”

“He helps werewolves and vampires... he’s not even human”

“Exactly, he helps. If Shiro trusted him...”

“Then I should... but...”

“It’s not easy to trust when you’ve been kicked to the curb?”

Keith nodded at him

“Yeah, exactly. And Shiro’s not even here. I don’t have a target and I don’t know what to do”

“I don’t know what to do either”

“At least you have a job”

“Giving people advice for next to nothing...”

“It’s still something”

With Keith around, Lance had been pretty neglectful of work. He really should check his emails and contact his clients...

“I suppose so. It usually keeps me busy... I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m not exactly a people person anymore”

Keith snorted

“I don’t think I’m in any position to judge”

“You’re alright. Pidge and Hunk wouldn’t be so gung-ho about you if you weren’t”

“I don’t get why they want to be my friend. I’ll be gone sooner rather than later”

Yeah. That was right too. Keith would be gone... a stupid prang if loneliness hit him out of the blue

“Yeah. Yeah. I suppose so... off to fight more vampires?”

“Probably. I go wherever I’m sent”

“Don’t you get scared?”

“Not really... if they’re hurting people then someone has to step up”

“Yeah. Keith, can I ask you something?”

“We’re already talking?”

Lance snorted, okay, he’d deserved that one

“Can you look up the status of vampires. Like if they’re alive or dead?”

Keith immediately frowned

“I can. I can ask Shiro, but that kind of thing usually requires permission”

Lance nodded. He’d expected that

“Okay. I was just wondering”

“You want me to find out if Nyma and Rolo are still alive?”

Just their names made Lance feel sick to his stomach. He’d wanted to ask Coran for so long, but was ashamed that he wanted to know. Shiro poking around could bring trouble... He didn’t want Keith and Shiro to be in any danger from those two

“Not if it’s going to get you into trouble... I just...”

“I can ask. Shiro’s been a Blame member longer than I have”

“No. No, it’s okay. It’s stupid really. They probably don’t think about me at all”

“It’s important to you, isn’t it?”

“They’re in the past. They’re not the kind of vampires you want to meet. I don’t want them knowing about you and Shiro”

“There’s databases for this kind of thing. The Blades take agent safety seriously”

“No. No... If I know... I’m stuck knowing, either way”

“That must be hard”

“Remembering? Humans don’t know how lucky they are. That pain you feel, it gets better with time, but... I’m already scared. I’m scared of when Blue will die. I’m scared of seeing her in any other way than alive. I’m scared that Pidge or Hunk will find out and hate me. I know... that I’m not supposed to be scared... but... Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn’t be letting my emotions get the better of me”

“You shouldn’t apologise so easily”

“When you get old, you feel like there’s a whole lot to apologise for. You’ll get it someday”

“No. I don’t think I will. You didn’t ask to be turned. You didn’t ask to be turning again... you should be mad”

“I’ve been a vampire for a long time now. Madness kind of fades away to acceptance”

“It shouldn’t. You were a kid”

“I was a shit of a kid. I always wanted to be liked...”

“Pfft, doesn’t every kid?”

“Probably. I don’t know. I broke my family and even after 36 years, I’m still fucking dumb”

“You’re not dumb... you’re stupid”

Keith seemed to really be searching for another word during the pause on his sentence, only for to him come up with “stupid”. The hunter’s eloquence rivalled his bullheadedness

“Geez, thanks”

“You know what I mean”

“I don’t know if I do... We should head in soon. Pidge and Hunk are going to be here shortly”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s the afternoon. With those two, it’s always best to be prepared for anything”

Keith dropped the piece grass he’d been playing with, his hands coming up to rub at his face

“I don’t know how to deal with them”

“Go take a shower and I’ll make you another coffee”

“I don’t know if coffee’s gonna help”

“Pidge would kill you for speaking such blasphemous words. According to her, coffee fixes everything”

“I’ll remember that for the day she spills coffee in her laptop”

Lance shuddered

“Don’t even joke about that. It happened in college... and fuck, I was honestly considering changing my name and moving to a new country. It’s not a sight you want to see”

“Noted. I mean, I guess I can force myself to have another coffee”

“That’s the spirit. Let’s get you inside, samurai”

“Samurai?”

Lance shrugged

“With all your martial arts and that... I mean, that looked like karate you were doing”

“Lance, samurais have swords”

[ghostiedoesherbest]

Patches - IV

Trigger Warning: talk of abuse and abusive relationships

Of course, all good things must come to an end. Pidge had returned to the castle without her father and she was sad despite rescuing all of the other scientists that had been held captive. Mateo and Lotor had been sitting in the former’s room, enjoying each other’s company as they regalled one another with funny stories from their adventures, unaware of the offer that Zarkon had made to the Paladins in their absence. Lotor was busting his gut over the story Mateo was telling him about he and Lance finding a turtle while they were on vacation in Florida. Lance had always been afraid of turtles for some reason and that fear increased when the turtle had these loud squeaking noises. Lance immediately started screaming which only caused the poor terrified turtle to squeak even louder. 

“What happened after that?” Lotor was barely able to wheeze out as he held his sides. 

“I went back the next day with some strawberries and I saw that same turtle. I put one in front of it and it ducked into its shell. It took some patience but eventually it came out and started nibbling on it. I was going to leave it there with some strawberries but it started following me but it was so slow that it was pitiful. So, I got permission to take it home and keep it as a pet,” Mateo explained with a wistful smile. “I learned that he was male and named him Toby.”

“How long can these ‘turtles,’ live?” Lotor asked in concern, not knowing how long the human had been in space.

“Well it depends on the species. Small turtles can live for about eighty years and the big ones can live well over a hundred years - I mean deca-phoebs. So chances are, Toby might outlive me,” Mateo chuckled as he scratched his neck. “Lance’s older brother, Luis promised to take care of him since I couldn’t keep him in the barracks with me while I was in the Garrison.”

Lotor was about to delve into the story of how he almost adopted a flesh eating monster that used its cute appearance to lure its prey into a false sense of security when Mateo received a message from Shiro. Lotor watched as Mateo’s smile faded when his eyes scrolled over the holographic text that appeared before him. He turned to the prince with a grim frown, “We’re needed in the control room.”

Lotor quickly sobered and Mateo gave him the time to gather himself before they left his room. The brief walk was filled with tension and Mateo was trying not to show his worry for Lotor as not to worry him as well. There were even more grim faces upon entering the control room. Mateo ignored the glare that was leveled at him and the prince at his side from a certain Altean princess. “What’s going on?” he asked, taking in everyone’s resolute expression. 

He crossed his arms when no one answered as he patiently waited for them to answer his question. It was Shiro who finally broke the silence before Mateo could grow impatient. “Pidge wasn’t able to rescue her father but...we know where he is and how to get to him.”

Mateo blinked in surprise, his brow furrowed in confusion as he and Lotor shared puzzled looks, “Then why all the long faces?”

Shiro sighed in exhaustion, “Zarkon has Commander Holt and he’s willing to trade him for Lot -.”

“No.”

“What?!” Pidge shrieked in outrage. “What do you mean no! That’s my dad!”

“And this is Zarkon we’re talking about!” Mateo snapped back. “Do any of you honestly think that he’d actually hold up to his end of the deal even if you did go through with it?”

“What do you mean ‘if?’ This is my dad we’re talking about!” Pidge snarled,

“You have all of my sympathy but we have to think about this objectively. Our goal is to take out Zarkon and someone has to take the throne after him. After the first attempt, I’m pretty sure he gets that and he also understands that Lotor would be able to take over after him. If he gets Lotor then this would have all been for nothing. Zarkon wins because for all we know Lotor is the only Galra willing to work with us outside of the Blades of Marmora.” 

“Who -”

“Sh sh sh,” Mateo interrupted Lotor’s inquiry with a finger to his lips, “I’m on a roll here.” He returned his attention to an obstinate Pidge and continued, “We need to have a plan - multiple plans in fact because we can’t trust Zarkon.”

“But we can trust Lotor?” Allura scoffed. 

“More than Zarkon that’s for sure,” he retorted.

“What if they’re working together?” Pidge demanded. “What if this is all some big plan to earn our trust and betray us later?”

“Then it’s even more important to keep Lotor out of Zarkon’s hands. I know you want to jump at the chance to have your father back but we need to think this through.”

Shiro put a hand on Pidge’s shoulder, “Mateo is right. We need to be prepared.”

“My father has held the universe in a death grip for millennia, but he sees it slipping from his grasp because of your efforts and because of mine,” Lotor said, hesitantly resting a hand on Mateo’s shoulder to feel grounded. This will be one of the most difficult things that he will ever have to do. “With our forces combined, we would provide the greatest threat Zarkon has ever faced. He knows we could topple his empire, so this is his attempt to tear us apart. But united, we could forge a new path, open doors to new worlds, and crush the tyrannical ways of an old regime.”

“It’s a regime you ran! We can’t listen to him. He just wants to save his own skin! He shouldn’t even be out of his jail cell!”

“If you return me to my father he would surely see to my demise. And with his most legitimate threat to the throne removed he would only grow stronger,” Lotor admitted.

“One less threat to Zarkon and one less threat to us,” Pidge coldly retorted.

Lotor turned his gaze onto Allura and took a step forward to stand in front of Mateo, “Your father, King Alfor, once stood side by side with Zarkon and protected the universe from harm. There was no foe the paladins of old couldn’t defeat. Sadly, that time of peace has been lost, but, together, we can find it once more. Princess, imagine a new generation that could lift the mantle of peace. The children of King Alfor and Emperor Zarkon, you and I, a royal alliance between Altean and Galra.”

Lance grew defensive when he interpreted that as Lotor making a pass at Allura, “How ‘bout we don’t imagine that!”

“Lies! Every word is a lie!” Pidge insisted unwaveringly. 

“So suddenly Zarkon speaks the truth?” Mateo asked as he watched the very one sided exchange. “You’re still ignoring the fact that Zarkon is our biggest threat and he’s lining everything up so that either he or someone like him could be on the throne. Do you really think he’ll do as he says and return Commander Holt? You expect the corrupted leader of a ruthless empire that has murdered his friends, crushed civilizations under his heel, and ceaselessly chased us through the universe will honor his word?” 

“You think he’ll double cross us,” it wasn’t a question on Shiro’s part.

“I don’t think, I know, Shiro!” Mateo implored.

Lotor nodded in agreement. “I believe he would do anything to rid himself of me and claim the Lions of Voltron.”

Allura’s expression was troubled as she thought over this information, “An alliance with the Galra heir could end the war.”

“What?!” Pidge demanded in outrage. 

“It’s not ideal,” Allura said, trying to placate the volatile Green Paladin. “I don’t like trusting the Galra but it could be our best option.”

“No!”

“Pidge think of the lives we could save. Think of the countless worlds we could free,” the princess tried to reason.

“Think of my father!”

Mateo sighed in exasperation and approached the Green Paladin before bringing his fist down onto her head. 

“Ow! What the heck Teo!” 

Mateo regarded the younger girl with disappointment. “Pidge I don’t want to be that guy but shut your trap and listen. I’m gonna go slow so you can keep up. We’re at war, a war that will never end if we don’t screw this up. If we hand over Lotor everyone else is screwed because Zarkon’s place is secure and even if we did manage to take him down afterwards, the empire would have a power vacuum and we all know how that would turn out. We have the chance to end this war in our lifetime and giving Lotor to Zarkon might tip the scales in his favor in one way or another.”

“You wouldn’t understand, you never even met your dad!”

Lance and Mateo both took in sharp breaths for entirely different reasons. Lance, because he’d seen the murderous look in Mateo’s eyes for a split second and Mateo, to keep himself from throttling the petulant Paladin. He leaned down to glare into her hazel eyes.”I’ll let that go because you’re Lance’s friend,” he said in a deathly quiet tone. “But your voice and wants aren’t the only ones that matter. Hunk, you’ve been quiet. What do you think?”

Hunk flinched, surprised at being addressed. He began to twiddle with his fingers as he tended to do in tense situations, “I don’t know - I mean. If this dude here is on our like he says he is,” he turned to Lotor with uncertainty, “you are saying you’re on our side right? Then, couldn’t he lead the Galra toward peace from the inside like they’ve been saying?”

This was as much as Pidge could take as she rose her voice over Hunk’s, “We are turning him in and getting my dad back. We have Voltron to bring peace to the universe.”

Mateo scoffed, “Voltron is a weapon, not a miracle worker. How long would we have to fight if we turn Lotor in? Months? Years? All because you value your dad’s life over others? How many will die for this Pidge? How much blood are you willing to have on your hands for this?”

“That’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair,” Mateo snapped at the Paladin’s weak response. “If we do this your way we lose more lives than necessary because of you and you better be ready to live with that because I’m not.”

“That’s enough, both of you,” Shiro scolded, getting between them. “We’re trading Lotor for Commander Holt and that’s final.” 

“But Shiro -” Mateo tried to protest, not noticing the way Lotor tensed or how his fists were clenched.

“That’s final, Mateo.” Mateo grit his teeth and glared at everyone in frustration. Lance, Hunk, and Coran avoided his gaze, Allura and Shiro gave him looks of resignation, and Pidge met his gaze head on with one of disdain and anger for not being on her side. 

“If you’re gonna send him to his death, then you might as well make him comfortable beforehand,” he grunted, knowing that he was outranked by the Black Paladin. However, he dared anyone to contradict him as he led Lotor away. Lotor followed in silence, unsure what to say about what he’d just witnessed. The tension in Mateo’s back set him on edge, until he stopped and let out a sigh that seemed to make him deflate. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what we’re about to put you through.”

Lotor chuckled in an attempt to reassure him, “I’m honestly surprised that you still defended me as much as you did. Although, I must admit that I didn’t expect the Paladins of Voltron to be so...”

“Impulsive?” Mateo offered him a bitter smile. “Yeah, it’s actually pretty amazing that we’ve survived this long. There’s only so much you can do when you put an insanely powerful super weapon in the hands of children. Someone’s gotta play devil’s advocate and often times that makes you the devil in some eyes.” 

Lotor hummed in thought as he continued to follow Mateo, recognizing the hall that they were walking in. Mateo stopped at a door and Lotor was met with the sight of the brunette’s room. Nothing had changed since they had last been there, but Lotor noticed with intrigue that Mateo had a little compartment that went unnoticed before. He watched the human tap that compartment and open it to take out a small touch screen device wrapped up in a long blue wire. Lotor sat on the bed next to Mateo when he absently waved him over while unraveling the wires from the device. 

“I don’t know what the Galra have for music, but this always puts me at ease,” Mateo said as he offered Lotor an earpiece. 

The Galra prince hesitantly took the earpiece and placed it in his ear. He watched Mateo scroll into a playlist, not recognizing any of the songs written using one of earth’s many languages. Mateo selected a random song and it began to play. Lotor was intrigued by the sound of stringed instruments and high hats filtering through the earth device, and glanced out the corner of his eye to see Mateo leaning back on his arms with eyes closed. His chin was tilted back, baring his vulnerable neck to Lotor as he lost himself in the music. The prince mirrored his position and closed his own eyes, letting the melody and words envelope him and set him adrift.

He felt weightless as the music took him away from his problems and tried to ignore the dread that came from the anticipation of coming back down to them. His eyes fluttered open when the song ended. “What was that song about? The singer sounded like they were in deep despair.”

“That’s because the singer is narrating the life of someone in a really bad relationship. He’s hurting her and lying to her, breaking her heart and then promising to never do it again only to repeat the cycle. She makes an effort not to set him off, thinking its her fault but nothing she does ever works. The one thing she finds solace in is the rain. It’s cooling and comforting for someone coming from such a heated place and it gets her mind off of her situation if only for a few moments.”

“Why is she still with someone that hurts her?”

“Because she loves him, and love can make even the most perceptive people blind sometimes. She wants to leave this man behind and get better but her heart is trapping her with him. She believes that this man loves her as much as she loves him despite the abuse and that’s what keeps her there. In the end, she does end up leaving him to start a new chapter of her life. She’s decided to put herself first because she knows she deserves better. This was one of my mom’s favorite songs,” Mateo sighed, not even flinching at the twinge his heart gave at the mention of her. He’d long gotten used to the ache. 

“Why would your mother love such a sad song?” Lotor asked in confusion, the phrasing not lost on him. Sure, he could appreciate the song but in his experience, most people favored more upbeat and joyous music than what he’d just heard.

Mateo chuckled, “You know I asked her the same question and you know what she told me?” Lotor gave him a puzzled look, queueing him to continue. “She told me that this song is a testament to strength. This woman wasn’t some great warrior with a legendary weapon. She was a tired woman who wanted more than to be beaten down by life, but she had the strength to be her own savior. No one came to her rescue because no one was going to come. She had to do the saving on her own and that takes a strength that I don’t know if I’ll ever have if put in her situation.”

Lotor stared off in thought, reminded of certain aspects of his own life, “I suppose I can see where she was coming from.” He returned to his previous position, listening to the next song that had already begun to play while they’d been talking.” 

Mateo watched him out of the corner of his eye and made up his mind. He reached into the still open compartment that held his phone. It didn’t take a genius to know what Zarkon would do to Lotor once they hand him over, so he took out the only possession he had that would at least allow the prince to put up a fight. Wordlessly, he slipped it into Lotor’s hand and the prince curled his fingers around it like it was a lifeline. Neither of them said a word as Lotor placed the knife in his boot and they tried not to think about his looming fate. This was the most Mateo would be able to do for Lotor and he hated it. They were supposed to be the good guys, so why were they doing something that felt so damn wrong?

Tag List: @starfaring-princelotor @motheroflittlelions@fandomsoffeelings@done-with-your-shit-shirogane @kirahhhh@legendofcarl @lotor-for-emperor@marvelheaux @yanderemommabean@lotorrential @planet-jumping-warrior

[magiesheartlove]

Why I prefer Kallura over Allurance(without hating it)

I FIGURED IT OUT!!!

I did a rather short, general review of my overall thoughts on season seven on an author’s note on my fanfiction (I don’t always feel confident writing reviews of stuff on tumblr, honestly).

One of the things I mentioned was that, while I don’t hate Allurance and genuinely see the good in it and did my best to critic it from a non-biased perspective, no matter what I did I kept experiencing this lingering feeling of disappointment. For a while, I thought it came from me just being a petty shipper or whatever, but today, it finally stuck me why I just simply don’t like Allurance as much as I thought I should. It’s not because it’s bad, nor is it because it’s development was done poorly (I thought it was actually pretty okay), no, that was never my issue. It was the IDEA of Allurance.... it’s not as interesting!

Allurance, to me, as a concept is just not that interesting. I can see it working just fine in a different kind of story, but in a story like Voltron? It feels too normal.

One of the reasons why I fell in love with Kallura was that while, yes, it does have some familiar tropes (serious guy, nice girl. Knight in shinning armor, brave princess. Opposites attract. Birds of a feather). but, at the same time, with the way both individual characters are presented, their backstories, as well as their own goals and ambitions at the same time seems to subvert a lot of them as well. Anyone who has been to the kallura tag on tumblr will find a vast number of posts describing in depth character analysis, parallels, similarities and well balance contrasts between the two, many of which align with material found within the show, so it makes the possibilities feel all the more plausible.

Kallura just had so much to it, and if it was given the chance to blossom alongside the overarching story (which I still believe would have been possible without it overshadowing the other characters), it would have made sense, and it would have served as incredible development for these two characters who have both lost their families, are the two “aliens” (in more ways than one) amongst a group of earthlings, similar yet well balanced contrasting personalities and, from what the story has given us, were supposed to step up and become leaders to their respected successors (King Alfor and Shiro). Not to mention, the half-Galra guy and the Altean Princess starting a new era of peace for the universe once the war was over? Lance himself even said that Keith was the future because he’s half Galra, which may or may not serve as foreshadowing (wink, wink). What about the new Alteans? if they’re still around, wouldn’t Allura want to help her people thrive again? It makes the story come around full circle. 

Kind of like Captain Swan from Once Upon a time; a slow burn between two broken people who have been hurt by the world, trying to find their way home, only to find a kindred spirit which starts as respect, then a friendship, before finally a powerful romantic bond. Even if we didn’t get to see that in cannon, there is so much material in the show already that it can be plausible. Don’t limit the imagination, people.  

I guess, Allurance just doesn’t have that same poetic, passionate, enthralling elements Kallura has that I, personally speaking, felt more attuned with VLD. But, as it is, my vision wasn’t the writer’s vision, and that’s just the reality. If Allurance does become cannon in the end, I will accept it, even if I am disappointed for a little while. I doubt I’ll be devastated, because frankly, Allurance is NOY a bad or horrible ship, it just doesn’t appeal to me. Maybe in a different setting I would be more open to it, but for this show, I’m afraid not.

Also, Plance is a lot more interesting too, it’s cute, it’s adorable, it’s funny, it’s balanced, I love it to bits, I want to squeeze them, wrap them in a bow and take them home to plant in my garden!

(P.S. Allurance shippers, I’m sorry I don’t feel as strongly about this ship as you do, but never feel bad for loving it yourselves. Ship it till your heart explodes. From one shipper to another)

[himecchi]

I’m glad you’re here, Lance.

Summary: Focuses primarily on Keith and Lance (mostly platonic, but a little bit on the romantic side during some parts), with some serious Shiro moments at the beginning and some fluff at the end. Takes place between the season 6 finale and goes into episode 1 of season 7. Keith is absolutely exhausted after fighting Shiro and saving the universe, and isn’t feeling too hot because of it. This was supposed to be a drabble but it turned into 4k+ words. Also, please note, I haven’t had time to proofread this yet, but I’ll come back tomorrow and fix any grammar/spelling errors then (edit: I just went through and fixed a few things, hopefully it’s all good now). Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :)

He was so happy to have Shiro back. That was all he wanted and, seeing Shiro regain consciousness, Keith felt so relieved. What Keith didn’t realize, however, is that he’d been running on empty since their battle. The only thing sustaining him had been adrenaline and, now that everything had calmed down and Shiro was safe, exhaustion and pain hit him like a truck. The brutal beating he’d taken earlier caught up to him and his entire body ached - his face, where Shiro had punched him, his cheek, where he’d been burned, his back which had been slammed against metal scaffolding… everything just hurt. As if his battle with Shiro hadn’t already taken a heavy toll on him, the fight with Lotor had really taken every last ounce of energy out of him - Keith really was running on empty. He had no strength left in his aching body. He wanted nothing more than to rest, but at the same time, he was still so worried about Shiro. “I can’t rest now,” he thought, “Shiro needs me.” Even so, he found it difficult to ignore the heaviness of his eyelids as they threatened to close at any moment. “Maybe… I can rest for… just a… moment…” Keith’s thoughts trailed off as he felt himself slipping away into dreamland, but before he’d had a chance to close his eyes for more than two seconds, he was jolted awake again by Allura’s voice, “Oh no,” she said, concern heavy in her voice, “Shiro?! Shiro?!” Registering Allura’s urgent tone, Keith immediately snapped back into consciousness. “What is it?!” Keith demanded, “What’s wrong with him?” he asked, eyes wide with worry. “I… I don’t know…” Allura cried, “This body… it appears to be rejecting Shiro’s consciousness.” “Rejecting… Shiro’s consciousness…?” Keith repeated the words in his head as he stood there in complete shock trying to process the situation. “What… what do you mean?” Keith asked, a hollow look glazing over his eyes. “What do you mean ‘rejecting his consciousness’?! What does that mean?!” Keith yelled out, expression changing to anger.

By now, Pidge, Hunk, Lance, Kroila, Romelle, and Coran had surrounded Shiro, Keith, and Allura as they took in the situation. “What do we do, Allura? How do we fix it?! You can fix it, right? Please!” Keith was starting to panic, and he couldn’t contain the desperation in his voice as he spoke. “Hey, man,” Lance placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, “Calm down, okay? We’ll figure this out, but you need to calm down.” After several moments, the tension in Keith’s body began to relax and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself. “You’re right. S-sorry about that.” Keith mumbled. “Don’t worry about it, man,” Lance reassured him, then turned to face Allura, “What do we need to do?” Allura paused for a moment, thinking, then spoke, “The cryopod. Put him in the cryopod then move him into the black lion. We can run more tests from there.” Without any hesitation, the team got to work, carefully easing Shiro back into the cryopod and gently moving him into the black lion as Allura had asked. Meanwhile, Keith was still trying to process everything. He’d just fought Shiro - thought he might have to kill Shiro, only to find out that Shiro had been dead since their fight with Zarkon. Now, he’d just gotten Shiro back, only to find out that he might lose him all over again… it was too much. Keith couldn’t keep up. It was all happening too fast. Keith began walking towards the black lion in a daze, still struggling to process everything happening around him.

As Keith entered the black lion, the world just seemed like a chaotic blur. He saw flashes of blue light flickering across Shiro’s pale face as Allura gave out orders, but it all felt fuzzy to him, as if everything were happening in slow motion. Still, his mind was struggling to keep up. Then, as if on cue, a comforting hand on his shoulder suddenly brought him out of his haze as he registered Lance’s voice, “Hey, you okay?” “What?” Keith answered, startled, “Y-yeah. Fine….. How’s Shiro?” He turned to look at Allura, “Is he going to be okay?” The pain in Keith’s voice was palpable and Allura couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. She averted her eyes, looking down at the floor and responded quietly, “I… I don’t know. Only time will tell.” “What?” Keith asked breathily, eyes widening in shock, “N-no… no. He’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He has to be okay!” Keith exclaimed in a combination of fear and desperation as he ran towards Shiro’s pod. “Shiro, you have to fight, okay? Fight! Please,” Keith cried out, hands pressed up against the glass. “I’m not giving up on you!” Keith yelled. He then heard Lance’s voice beside him, “I’m sorry, Keith. I know this must be hard for you.” Suddenly, it was all too much. Everything. All of it. It was just way too much, and Keith couldn’t take it anymore. “Hard?!” He snapped at Lance, “How could you possibly know? How could you possibly understand what this feels like? Have you ever lost a loved one? Been abandoned? How could you possibly know?!” Keith yelled, voice beginning to crack. “Hey now, there’s no need to-” Allura began to speak, but Lance cut her off with a shushing gesture. Lance then pulled Keith into a comforting embrace. “You’re right,” Lance soothed, “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just want to help.” After several moments, Keith spoke in a soft voice, “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.” “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” Lance replied deepening the hug as he noticed Keith beginning to shake. “Try to calm down, Keith. I know you’re going through a lot right now, but getting yourself all worked up will do you more harm than good,” Lance spoke gently to Keith, “Come on, try to breathe. Just take some deep breaths.” Keith did as he was told, inhaling sharply and exhaling slow. Eventually, after several deep breaths, his breathing evened out. “There you go,” Lance soothed, “That’s better.” Once Lance was certain Keith was calm, he finally broke the hug. Keith turned back towards Shiro, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “Please, Shiro,” Keith whispered, “Fight.” Seeing how torn up Keith was, Lance placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, letting him know that he wasn’t alone. Though Keith didn’t say anything, he was grateful for the comforting contact.

Moment after moment passed by, and nothing changed. Shiro wasn’t getting any better, and Keith could feel the panic beginning to rise once more. He swallowed it down, forcing it out of his system. “Stay calm,” he told himself. “You have to… stay… calm…” Suddenly, Keith’s surroundings looked strangely blurry, and before he could register what was happening, he felt himself falling over. Luckily, due to his quick reflexes, he managed to catch himself, steadying his footing before he actually fell to the ground. “Whoa! Hey,” Lance cried out as he rushed to Keith’s side, “Are you okay? What happened?” “S’nothing,” Keith slurred, “Just felt a little dizzy. That’s all.” “Hey, man,” Lance said, concerned, “You’re lookin’ pretty pale. Maybe you should rest for a bit. We’ll let you know if anything changes with Shir-” “No!” Keith cut him off, “I can’t leave him! He never gave up on me, so I won’t ever give up on him. I’m staying right here until he wakes up.” Lance’s only response was an uncertain look of worry. “I’m fine, okay? Don’t worry about me,” Keith tried to reassure him. “Well… okay,” Lance responded, “If you say so…” He could see the exhaustion in Keith’s features - dark circles punctuating his eyes, droopy eyelids, and a general look of weariness, but he couldn’t bring himself to go against Keith’s wishes. He was genuinely worried about him, but he could also see just how important it was for Keith to stay by Shiro’s side, so he let it slide.

Ticks turned into doboshes, then doboshes into vargas, and Shiro still hadn’t woken up. It was agonizing. Then, without warning, the cryopod suddenly lit up, displaying several different images and stats. “Wh-what’s happening?” Keith asked, concerned. Allura squeezed her eyes shut, a sad look spreading across her face, “I’m afraid… the clone body really is rejecting Shiro’s consciousness.” Keith’s eyes widened, “No,” he breathed out. “Shiro, please!” Keith cried out, slamming his fist against the cryopod, “Fight! You can’t do this to me again!” several ticks passed by as Keith silently pleaded with the universe not to take Shiro away from him. Then, suddenly, the images on the cryopod changed color and the pod opened up. “Shiro,” Keith cried out, disbelief punctuating his voice. “Keith,” Shiro spoke softly, “I was dreaming… Keith, you saved me.” A warm smile spreading across his face, Keith leaned forwards to embrace Shiro, “We saved each other,” he whispered. “Get some rest now, okay?” Keith said, smiling down at Shiro. “Yeah, thanks.” Shiro replied, drifting back to sleep with a peaceful expression.

Now that Shiro was in the clear and all the worry and anxiety and adrenaline had once again faded, Keith realized how awful he actually felt. He’d really pushed himself way past his limit. His head pounded, his body ached, his legs felt shaky, ready to collapse at any moment. Not wanting to cause any alarm, he excused himself, walking through the sliding doors into the corridor. Despite his attempts at being subtle however, the shakiness in Keith’s voice did not go unnoticed by Lance, who got up to follow him.

As soon as Lance was through the sliding doors, he noticed Keith’s unsteady form pressed up against the side of the wall as he trembled violently, barely able to stay upright. “Keith!” Lance called out as he ran towards him, hooking Keith’s arm around his shoulders in order to steady him. “Hey, man. Talk to me! Are you okay?!” Dazed violet orbs gazed up at Lance, and it was clear that Keith was pretty out of it. “L-Lance?” Keith questioned, “..... I think… m’gonna… pass out….” he slurred as his head lobbed to the side and his body went limp in Lance’s arms. “Keith?! Keith?! Hey!” Lance cried out. “Dammit,” he thought, “Not good.” Slowly, he eased Keith down to the floor, cradling his shoulders with one arm and pressing his other hand against Keith’s sweaty forehead. A fever. Definitely not good. “Don’t worry, Keith. I’m gonna take care of you,” Lance whispered, a deeper concern spreading across his face at the sound of Keith’s ragged breathing. Gently, he scooped Keith up in his arms, cradling his head against his chest, and began walking towards Keith’s room.

Carefully, Lance placed Keith down in bed, then removed his paladin armor. After that, he grabbed a cool washcloth, placing it gently across Keith’s burning forehead. “You’re gonna be okay, buddy. Don’t worry. Ol’ Lance will take care of ya,” he says, running a hand through Keith’s sweaty hair. “Dammit,” Lance thought, “Why does he always push himself so hard? Doesn’t he realize that he’s important too?”

After several moments, Keith’s eyes flutter open and dart around the room as he takes in his surroundings. “L-Lance?... Where are we? … What… happened?” Keith asks, struggling to sit up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Keith! Take it easy, man!” Lance reprimands as he gently eases Keith back down to his bed. “Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You passed out. Got a real bad fever too.” “Wh… what…?” Keith asks, confused. “You need to rest, okay?” Lance says. “But… Shiro….” Keith pants. “Is fine,” Lance assures him, “You, on the other hand…” he trails off. “Look, I know you’re still worried, but right now you’re running on empty, okay? Give yourself a break. You’re always so busy worrying about everyone else… how about you worry about yourself for a change?” Lance says, giving Keith a slight smile. Keith looks up at him, a mixture of shock and confusion spreading across his face. He looks as if he’s contemplating everything Lance has just said to him. Damn. He really does feel awful. Maybe it would be better to rest for a bit. After all, he can barely keep his eyes open. “Well… I guess… maybe you’re right,” Keith grumbles, looking away. A confused expression flickers across Lance’s face. Did Keith just… agree with him? “Uh… y-yeah,” Lance clears his throat, “Yeah. Of course I am. Now get back to sleep, mullet,” he says in a playfully boastful tone, briefly looking in the other direction. When his eyes fall back on Keith, he’s already sound asleep.

Several hours pass and Lance doesn’t leave Keith’s side. He stays with him, changing out the cool washcloth on his forehead every so often and brushing his sweat-soaked bangs away from his face. Keith’s breathing is still ragged, but he seems to be sleeping peacefully for the most part, so Lance feels mostly relieved… that is until Keith suddenly jerks awake, sitting bolt upright, gasping for air. Lance is so startled he nearly falls out of his chair, but quickly regains composure and is immediately at Keith’s side. “Keith, hey. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Keith’s eyes are rapidly darting around the room, searching for something - for someone. “Sh-Shiro… where’s…?” he pants. “He’s delirious,” Lance notes, eyebrows furrowing together. “Keith, Shiro is okay, remember? He’s fine. He’s just resting.” Lance reassures him, grabbing his hand and rubbing soothing circles into it with his thumb. “Shiro… is… fine…?” Keith says, as if struggling to process what those words mean. “Yes, he is. He’s fine. I promise. Try to calm down now, okay? Take some deep breaths.” Lance begins taking some deep breaths, hoping to encourage Keith to do the same. Eventually, Keith follows suit and, between the deep breaths and Lance’s comforting motions against his hand, Keith begins to calm down and regain his senses.

With the adrenaline gone, Keith’s body suddenly feels unbearably heavy, and he slumps sideways against Lance’s chest. Lance catches him and holds him up, now rubbing his shoulder for comfort. “Lance… I… Sorry about that… just now…” Keith stutters. “Nothing to apologize for, buddy,” Lance reassures him, “How are you feeling?” “Sleepy,” Keith answers honestly. “Alright, get some more rest then.” Lance soothes. “Oh, but first, drink some water, okay? I’m sure you’re probably pretty dehydrated,” Lance says encouragingly. “Here,” Lance reaches down for a water pouch he’d brought earlier. Continuing to support Keith, he opens the pouch and brings it to Keith’s mouth. Keith takes a few sips, savoring the way the cool water slides down his dry throat, soothing his aching body. Within a few minutes, Keith manages to drink the whole thing. “You want some more?” Lance asks him. Keith pauses for a moment, thinking. “No, I’m good. Just... wanna... rest… now...” Keith slurs, eyes already beginning to flutter shut. “Okay, buddy,” Lance smiles, “You do that,” he says as he eases him back into bed. Lance gently tucks Keith in, brushing his bangs aside, and replacing the cool washcloth on his forehead. Lance then strokes Keith’s cheek reassuringly to let him know he’s there. Keith mumbles a bit in response, then leans into the touch, “Feels nice,” he slurs. Lance’s smile deepens and he continues to let Keith rest his cheek against his cool hand.

Keith slept soundly for the rest of the day, waking up around dinner time to find Lance still at his side. “Hey sleepyhead,” Lance greeted, smiling down at him, “How ya feeling?” Although he felt a little better, Keith’s body still felt heavy, drained, weak. He noticed the drowsiness still present in his eyelids and the feverishness of his skin. “Little better,” he replied, forcing a smile. Lance saw right through him. “Come on, Keith! Don’t lie to me. You still look awful,” Lance scolded. Keith groaned, draping a hand across his eyes, “Okay, okay. Sorry. Not so loud,” Keith whined, “You’re right. Still feel pretty weak,” he admitted. Lance gave him a sympathetic look. “You wanna try eating something maybe? Might give you a little strength back,” Lance encouraged, “I’m sure Hunk would be happy to make you something.” At Lance’s words, a light bulb went off in Keith’s brain: he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was. The past few days had been so stressful that he’d completely forgotten to eat. Concern, fear, and adrenaline had all but consumed him and, by the time everything had calmed down, he’d been so physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted that food was the furthest thing from his mind... but now that Lance mentioned it, Keith was starving. “Y-Yeah… actually, that’d be great,” he smiled slightly. At this, Lance’s face seemed to light up. “O-Okay!” he stuttered, almost as if he hadn’t been expecting Keith to take him up on the offer, “I-I’ll go tell Hunk to make you something then! Hang tight!” he called as he darted out of Keith’s room and into the hallway. Keith smiled to himself, thankful to have Lance here to take care of him, then let his eyes rest while he waited for the food.

Suddenly, a slender hand was gently shaking him awake. “Keith, hey buddy. Wake up. Food’s ready,” Lance called out to him softly. Keith’s eyes fluttered open as his foggy mind began to adjust to being awake again. “Hey,” Lance smiled, “Can you sit up?” he asked. “Y-Yeah…” Keith stammered, unsure if he actually could. His body honestly just felt completely drained. Slowly, Keith brought his arms back to stabilize himself as he moved to sit up. As he began to push his body forwards, Lance noticed Keith arms shaking considerably and moved forwards to catch him just as Keith’s right arm gave out. “Ease, mullet. You can ask for help, you know? Don’t push yourself too hard.” Lance said reassuringly. Keith looked away for a moment, then paused and looked back at Lance, “Thanks,” he said with a slightly awkward look on his face. “You think you’re up to eating with the others?” Lance asked, “They’re all worried about you.” “Mmm,” Keith hummed, closing his eyes for a moment, “Yeah, that sounds nice.” “Alright,” Lance smiled, “Hold onto me, okay?” “Mhhmmm,” Keith mumbled as Lance helped Keith onto his back and brought him out into the paladins’ common area.

“Hey, Keith’s here,” Pidge said, smiling. “Oh my,” Allura chimed in, “He doesn’t look like he’s doing too well, though.” “Don’t worry!” Hunk encouraged, “He’ll be fine once he gets some of this space lasagna I made for him.” Hunk paused for a moment, “At least I think this is lasagna… we didn’t exactly have lasagna noodles so I kinda just used these circle-y noodle things… yeah, I don’t know... but hey, it still tastes awesome!” he said, giving his signature wide smile. “I’m sure it’s great, Hunk,” Keith said softly, still exhausted and not having enough energy to speak at his usual volume. Keith then smiled to himself as he closed his eyes. Listening to his fellow paladins - his friends - as they spoke around him was somehow soothing. “Wow,” Hunk said, eyes narrowing, “Sick Keith is oddly very kind…” “He’s always kind,” Shiro chuckled, “He just doesn’t know how to show it.” Shiro. That was Shiro’s voice. Keith hadn’t even registered that Shiro was among the other paladins in the room. Keith had assumed he’d still be resting. At the sound of Shiro’s warm, familiar voice, Keith felt himself instantly perk up. “Sh-Shiro?” he asked from Lance’s back. “Hey, Keith,” Shiro smiled affectionately, “How you doing?” It was all too much. A strong mixture of happiness and relief washed over Keith in that moment and he felt tears slipping past his eyes. He buried his face into Lance’s back and, in response, Lance glanced over his shoulder and gave a soft chuckle. “See?” Lance whispered to Keith, “Shiro’s really alright. You saved him, Keith. You did it.” Keith gave a silent nod of thanks as the tears continued to soak into the back of Lance’s shirt. Lance shifted slightly to hide Keith from view and, thankfully for Keith, no one else seemed to notice his tears.

After a few moments, Keith lifted his head again, letting Lance know that he was okay now - and just in time, as Coran called out, “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you two going to join us or is standing in that formation some type of Earth tradition I’m unfamiliar with?” “Nothing like that,” Lance chuckled out, “We’re coming.” Carefully, Shiro helped Lance ease Keith onto the couch. He sat between Lance and Shiro, leaning against Shiro’s arm. It was warm and comforting - Shiro’s presence. He’d been so scared - so unbearably afraid - that he would lose him, so leaning against his arm was soothing. It reassured him that Shiro was actually here. Keith could feel him. He was real and, as long as he continued to rest his head on Shiro’s arm, he could be sure that Shiro wasn’t going anywhere. Shiro’s warm, familiar presence to his right and Lance’s comforting presence to his left, Keith felt completely at ease.

Several moments passed and Shiro suddenly became aware of a quivering against his arm. It was Keith. “Keith?” Shiro questioned softly, “Are you cold?” Keith mumbled incoherently, then gave a small nod. Shiro looked as if he was about to stand up, then Lance chimed in, “I’ll go get a blanket,” he offered, “Don’t move him,” he told Shiro with a smile, “He look comfortable.” “Sure,” Shiro smiled back, “Thanks.”

A few minutes later, Lance returned with a large, fluffy blanket in hand. He gently draped it around Keith’s shoulders. Keith, who’d had his eyes closed, opened them slightly as the comforting warmth made contact with his shivering body. “Thanks,” he said, smiling up at Lance. “Anything for you, bud,” Lance replied. Keith gave a small, happy sounding noise, then closed his eyes again.

A few more minutes went by, and finally, the lasagna was ready. Shiro and Lance helped Keith sit upright, and Keith managed to steady himself enough to eat on his own. Thankfully, Hunk had been considerate enough to cut Keith’s piece up into smaller bites so he wouldn’t have to worry about using a fork and knife. Keith managed to eat the entire thing, and he was grateful to find that a bit of his strength had returned to him. In spite of this however, he was in massive sleep debt and his entire being was still extremely exhausted, so he let himself lean back up against Shiro and closed his eyes as the lively, bustling common space slowly turned to a dull roar, and then to silence.

“He really is tired, huh?” Pidge stated, quizzically. “Of course he is,” Shiro replied softly, “After all, he saved me, then had to go save an entire universe right after that… not to mention he stayed by my side the entire time until I woke up. He’s barely gotten any rest at all,” Shiro hummed, running a hand through Keith’s hair. “You did well, buddy,” Lance said, patting Keith’s sleeping form on the shoulder. In response, Keith breathed in deeply, then let out a contented sigh. Shiro suddenly made a face, “He still feels a bit feverish, though. Should we take him back to his room?” Seeing how at ease Keith looked tucked against Shiro’s chest, Lance realized how important Shiro’s presence was for Keith, especially right now after everything he’d been through. “Nah,” Lance replied, “He looks happy. Let’s just let him sleep. I’ll go get a fresh washcloth for him. That should be enough to help with the fever.” With that, Lance jogged off.

All the clean washcloths appeared to be dirty, and it took Lance a few doboshes to find a usable one. Eventually he made his way back to the commonspace, but by the time he got back, it appeared all the other paladins had turned in for the night. It was just him, Shiro, and Keith.  Lance walked over to where Shiro and Keith sat on the couch - Keith’s sleeping form curled up against Shiro’s warmth, head resting in his lap - and placed the washcloth gently on Keith’s forehead, careful not to wake him. Shiro appeared to be sleeping too, so Lance turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks at the sound of Shiro’s voice. “Hey, why don’t you stay for a bit?” he whispered. “Oh… uhhh… guess I didn’t want to, you know… ruin the moment?” Lance said awkwardly. “Nonsense,” Shiro smiled, gesturing towards the couch. Lance paused for a moment, unsure what to do, but eventually made his way over to the couch, sitting down quite a distance away, then awkwardly scooting closer to the two. Shiro gave Lance a reassuring smile, then let his eyes close as he fell back asleep. “Somehow… this feels awkward,” Lance thought to himself as he slid down to the floor. His head was now even with Keith’s head, which was still resting in Shiro’s lap. He moved in closer to adjust the washcloth on Keith’s forehead in order to prevent it from falling off. “There we go,” he whispered. He looked around the dark, empty room and began to fiddle with his thumbs. “Maybe I really should leave,” he thought. Just as he was about to stand up, he heard Keith stir. “L-Lance?” Keith mumbled sleepily. “Oh… hey, bud. How’re you doing? Feel a little better?” Lance asked softly. “Hmmm? Yeah, a little,” Keith said in a tired daze, “I didn’t realize you were here,” he mused. “Oh… uh… yeah, sorry. I’ll get go-” Lance began, but Keith’s sleepy voice cut him off, “M’glad you’re here, Lance,” Keith slurred with a small content smile on his face as his tired hand reached out to grab Lance’s. “Thanks,” Keith murmured, “For everything.” Lance’s eyes widened with a mixture of shock and joy. “Anything for you, mullet,” Lance replied, gently touching his head affectionately to Keith’s, “Feel better.” Keith had already fallen asleep, but managed to respond with a contented sigh. After a few more ticks had passed, Lance fell asleep too, right by Keith’s side.