#keith design as promised

[irldogbot]

drawing the gang + keith 🥺🥺 i love them !!!

[discordiansamba]

freshly unbrainwashed Lance walks onto the bridge of the Castle. Allura is chilling in the red paladin's chair (she is not a paladin) and Keith is the one at the controls of the Castle.

lance: okay. I'll bite. Why are we letting mullet fly the Castle again?

allura: because I am currently not capable of doing so!

keith: you got a problem?

lance: Yes. I have a problem with letting Keith fly the Castle. I've got my memories back. I know all about you and your stupid stunts.

keith: stupid stunts? you mean-

coran: keith no-

keith: (does a stupid stunt with the entire Castle that throws everyone off their feet) -like this?!

[fanvoidkeith]

i really am a dumb boy-creature sometimes, huh

[munsonify]

lost bracelet

pairing. steve harrington x fem!reader

summary. after finding a lost bracelet at a house party, steve keeps ahold of it in hopes someone comes looking for it. luckily for him, he notices that the pretty girl at the video store with a matching necklace.

genre. fluff

tropes. meet cute (kind of)

content warning/s. alcohol and weed consumption, making out and sexual touching (in a flashback), not proofread lol.

word count. 1448

disney princess collection

A shiny, dainty bracelet dangled, hooked on a loose screw on the brown banister of Mike Lewinski’s house. It was late, streetlights shining through the houses front doors. Even through Steve’s slightly drunken haze, the silver jewelry caught his eye quickly. The streetlights shined perfectly as it caught the dangling beauty.

Steve stumbled over slightly to the banister, thick fingers grasping at the bracelet gently as he admired it. The design looked familiar - small multicolored flowers dangling from the chain. He admired it, thoughts racing and blurring together as he tries to piece together where he’s seen this bracelet before. With a frustrated huff, he carefully slid it off of the nail, holding it in his hands as his thoughts betrayed him. Steve cant quite remember when he’s seen it. Instead of dwelling - his head beginning to pound and swirl - he hooked it around his own wrist.

“Bracelets like that are the first steps to cross dressing, Harrington. Is there something you need to tell the class?” Robin retorted in a slurred voice, stumbling to Steve’s side. Even drunk, she could find a way to poke harmlessly at her friend.

“I’ve seen it before, Rob,” He mumbled. He made his way to the door. “Think someone lost it. Gotta make sure they find it.”

Robins eyebrows raised at him, watching his drunken figure stumble out of Lewinksi’s house with a serious look on his face.

“So you decided to steal it?”

“I’ll know whose it is when I see them. Gotta keep it safe.”

Stumbling after Steve, Robin just let him be. There was no use trying to talk some sense into him, especially when he’s drunk. With a mumbled “dingus”, the two found their way to a sober Jonathan, who promised to drive them home.

A few days had passed since the night Steve found the flowered bracelet. He’d since taken it off, storing it in his jeans pocket everywhere he went. He was certain he knew who it belonged to - the memory was just buried somewhere in the back of his mind. Long fingers gently fiddled with the silver, becoming almost a nervous habit he’d become comfortable with.

There wasn’t much Steve remembered about that night. He remembered the beers and the loud thumping music, and the possibility that he’d gotten a hit off Eddie’s joint earlier in the night. He also remembered finding the bracelet - it dangled off his wrist even while he crashed and burned into his welcoming bed. He just wished he remembered who it belonged to.

His head snapped up quickly as the bell at the door of Family Video rang out. A group of young boys came in, babbling on about what rated R movie they were hoping to rent. Steve also wished he wasn’t constantly waiting for this mystery person to appear.

“If you keep getting distracted like that, Keith’s gonna fire your sorry ass,” Robin said with a glare. She caught the glare Steve threw back at her and ignored it. They both knew Kieth was too short staffed to do anything more than threaten him.

“Give it up man,” Eddie quipped, his curly hair shaking around his head as he spoke. Steve found himself, once again, fiddling with the bracelet in his pocket. It’d gotten so bad that Eddie of all people picked up on it. “You stole the bracelet, of course nobody’s gonna come looking for it.”

He earned himself a rough smack in the arm, returning with his hands up in defense. Steve seemed more pent up than usual, so Eddie dropped it. He gave him a wonky side eye, before he went outside for a smoke. One he thought Steve would benefit from.

A stack of videos rested on Steve’s hip as his eyes scan the shelves. He hadn’t worked in three days, and Kieth had somehow rearranged the entire store. That left Steve and Robin scrambling to familiarize themselves with the new set up. Steve couldn’t help but let out a frustrated huff.

He stumbled around the store with heavy feet, placing each returned film in its proper place, completely focused on his task. He was walking in circles in a dull attempt to finish the stack. Steve had already found himself in a bad mood to begin with. Rain poured outside, the dark clouds making Hawkins look more depressing than usual. He made sure to make a comment about the humidity and his hair to Robin before they were forced to work.

So engrossed in the task at hand, Steve failed to notice the front door opening. Somehow his ears didn’t register the chiming of the bell. With one last final trilogy in hand, he was determined to find its home before he even dared to look back at the register or the front door.

It wasn’t until a nice smelling perfume filled his senses that he came back to his surroundings. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. He recognized that scent. It wasn’t Robins, he knew that, the scent too distinct for him not to pick up on it. It certainly wasn’t Nancy’s. He’d grown a slight adversity to it.

A sweet voice rang into his ears before he could come to his own conclusion.

“Excuse me, sir?” you asked. Steve shuffled around on his feet at the question, eyes locking with yours the moment he finds them. His eyebrows knitted together even more at the sight of a woman his age - why were you calling him sir? He quickly chalked it up to politeness.

“Can you help me find the romance section please? You must’ve rearranged the store, I can’t find it.” Your pretty smile ignited something inside of him. His mind quickly flooded with the memory he’d been looking for since the party at Lewinski’s.

He quickly remembered your soft lips against his, the gentleness of your fingers brushing through his hair, the loud music surrounding the two of you. Steve had your back pressed into a corner of the dining room, locking you in place. He remembered the strawberry lipgloss you had on, too. It was an odd contrast to the liquor on your tongue. More importantly, he remembers the pretty necklace that you wore that night. It was a perfect match to the bracelet in his back pocket.

An awkward cough escaped your throat at the sudden quietness. Your eyebrows were raised in a confused sort of way as you stared up into his eyes. You hardly noticed his blush before he turned his head. Steve began babbling about how Keith - his manager - switched everything around without warning. You followed his awkward stumble towards the new spot for romance in the store.

There was something familiar about the man, you just couldn’t pinpoint where the familiarity came from. You fiddled with the flowered necklace around your neck as you moved past the thought. Your eyes landed immediately on the romance movie you were in search of. A giddy laugh rang into Steve’s ears as you slid the video off the rack and into both hands.

You walked up to the front of the store, letting the man guide you once again. Quickly, you noticed the way he reached inside of his front pocket and fidgeted. He seemed nervous, or deep in thought. He slid behind the counter to the register, eyes flickering up at you as he speaks.

“You were at Lewinski’s party last weekend, right?”

You couldn’t help but scoff at the reminder. A quick nod of your head gave him his answer, though you still spoke. Steve noticed the way your nose scrunched up in annoyance. It made his heart flutter.

“Yeah, but I kinda wish I didn’t.” Your words made his heart drop. He wondered if you remembered, or if you were too far gone to recall it. Your next words washed that away, though. “I lost my bracelet that night. It was my favorite, too.”

Steve’s hand found its way down to his pocket again. This time, he tugged out a thin bracelet. The same bracelet you were missing. Your eyes lit up again at the sight of it, relief filling your body. More rambles spew from his mouth, explaining that he found it when he was heading out and didn’t want to leave it.

He felt your fingers brush against his as you took it from his hand. Your bright smile and your gentle touch had his head spinning. You rambled on much like he did about how grateful you were of him. It didn’t take long for you to get choked up on your words. The way Steve stared into your eyes, you remembered where you’d knew him from. Warmth bloomed from your neck and stretched to your face. He’d been on your mind for days - you had no idea you’d run into him like this.

You weren’t sure what stars aligned for this to happen, but you were beyond grateful it did.

taglist. @songbirdofthenight

[atiianeishaunted]

voltron reboot, voltron: sonder wip, sketching over their pngs to show off their designs and get the finalized concepts down, heres keith/morse and lance, the others will be . revealed(?) in the next post i just wanna show them off before i post the full lineup ... sigh

as ive been deepening my character design skills,, i really do not fuck w vld's designs, they feel like rough drafts oh MY LRODJFHEJHFG..... SIGH.. anyway hi reblogs appreciated, vld fans you WILL love my reboot / next generation (mlp style) of voltron i promise,, its really cool, has mature themes, supernatural, fantasy, etc etc. bwaaaa

lance is the main character for sonder btw <3

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and exhales deeply. He lets all the air trickle out of his lungs until his chest feels concave, until spots dance behind his closed eyelids, until his lips start to go numb. Then he lets go and lets the air get sucked back into him like a vacuum.

“One more try,” he whispers to himself, conscious of Lance sleeping — finally — beside him. “One, and then we move on.”

He swipes the touchpad on his computer to wake it back up, dragging the blinking curser over the rarely-used blue ‘10’ under the Google logo. The page loads, and loads, and loads, and finally spits out the next few results.

Most of them he’s already seen before. Dozens of times. BARGAIN BALLET TICKET SUBSCRIPTION, reads one link, CLICK HERE FOR 20% OFF YOUR FIRST MONTH. Another reads, Rush Ticket Prices — Buy Now!

He’s been there. Clicked that. Priced it out. Looked at the worst possible, next-to-the-washrooms, garbage seats. Nothing. Not a single ticket within their limited budget — or even close to it.

Completely out of the realm of possibility even if they hadn’t agreed on a price limit for their Christmas gifts.

He keeps scrolling down a few pages that all advertise the same thing — a disgustingly costly subscription here, bargain-but-not-really tickets there, more scammy resell ads than one would believe possible. Even, notably, a still-active link from 1997 that Keith peruses for clicks and does not actually count towards his one-more-try limit. (It even tries to accept his Paypal, which is crazy and means that someone updated the site to accept modern payment for a show that is no longer running. Keith is so amused by the pure audacity that he has to fight the urge to buy one. Wild thing, ADHD.)

Just as he’s about to give up and buy his boyfriend yet another plant this year, a link catches his attention. It’s the very last result on page 13, with no description, no punctuation, hell, hardly even a sentence of text. Nutcracker ticket sales, it reads, for a website called ‘FeuillesBrillantAcademie.org’.

Keith shrugs. Might as well. Not like anything else has been promising.

He clicks the link and immediately wishes he hadn’t. The ugliest website he’s ever seen literally assaults his eyes — a bright blue and a neon purple, clashing in the worst possible way. It takes at least four solid seconds for his eyes to unblur enough to recognise the screen in front of him as having words rather than a solid wall of Bright And Bad. Even then, he has to squint, glasses practically touching his eyeballs.

Feuilles Brillant Academy is pleased to present the final performance of the hard-working dancers this season, is what he can finally make out. The show begins at 7 p.m. on December 23rd, tickets for $20 per person. In-person payment not accepted. Please pay via e-transfer using the link below. Call out administrative office if there are any difficulties.

Keith stares at the page for as long as his eyes can handle, then he looks up at the ceiling. (Where, he may add, he can still see the screen perfectly, because the damn thing has been burnt onto his retinae. He will never mock Matt for his web design degree again. Well, probably.)

This seems…too good to be true.

It’s outrageously cheap, for one. Keith has been looking for literal days and the cheapest he’s managed to find is $50 per person, for bad rush tickets. $20 is bonkers. For two, this is a perfect time, and nearby, as well. And there are still tickets left. Somehow.

Something is amiss.

Keith’s first thought is that it’s a prank page. But the page is buried so deeply — page thirteen of Google. The hidden archives, basically. If this is someone’s prank, it’s garbage. His second thought is that the link is a virus, which, while possible, is still kind of unlikely for the same reasons. Why on Earth would someone post something nefarious so obscurely? It doesn’t make sense. This might be one of those rare times when something isn’t too good to be true, it’s just good.

Then again. Keith just got his laptop back from the last time he fucked around and well and truly Found Out.

Time to get a second opinion.

Despite the disgustingly late hour, the phone picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, stinky,” says Pidge. Keith can hear the smile in her voice as clearly as the explosions and gunfire of Call of Duty in the background.

“Asshole.”

“Turd for brains.”

“Skidmark.”

“Rotting splatter of parking lot vomit at three in the afternoon in Arizona during high summer.”

“…Pidge, that’s disgusting.”

She snickers. “I win.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith freezes as Lance stirs next to him, curling his arm around Keith’s bent leg and muttering something in Spanish too fast for him to understand. Keith smiles, tucking a stray curl back under his fluffy frog-eye hairband, lingering over the scar on his temple from a skateboarding accident when they were fifteen. “I need your help.”

“Well, obviously. You’re calling me at three thirty four in the morning. Usually you’re in bed by nine because secretly you look up to Adam and emulate his habits.”

Keith flushes. “I don’t remember ordering a psych analysis, fucker.”

“Consider it a bonus! Tell Auntie Pidge about your troubles.” He can practically see the face she makes immediately after, and snorts. “Ignore that. My mouth is not attached to my brain. Carry on.”

“I need you to check out a link,” Keith says, choosing to be merciful. “It’s pretty buried and obscure, but honestly I think it’s fine —”

“Yeah, last time you thought a link was fine you fucked your shit up so bad I had to download another virus to cancel it out. I’ve never had to do that before. You fucked your laptop up so bad I’d actually never seen that kind of damage before, Kogane. And I do this for a living.”

Keith pouts. “No, you commit cyber crimes for a living.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m an angel and have never gotten so much as a speeding ticket. I am a law abiding citizen. Send over the link.”

Switching his phone to rest between his ear and shoulder, Keith does. “I need to know if the link does what it says it does.”

Pidge hums. He can hear the ding of her laptop as his e-mail goes through, and then the sounds of her clicking as she inspects the website, running it through her various programs that Keith cannot fathom for the life of him.

“What did you say you were looking for, again?”

Keith closes his eyes and tips his head back, letting it thunk gently on the thin wall under the big window, in the corner of the apartment where they’ve shoved their bed. He lets his eyes go blurry, lets the stars they stuck on the ceiling before they did anything else turn into bright green dots. They’re real constellations. The two of them spent hours on them; Lance on Keith’s shoulders, tripping and shouting and laughing.

“I need tickets,” Keith says quietly. He turns his gaze slowly to Lance, who is sleeping soundly again, who has bags under his eyes, whose hands twitch every few seconds, who frowns deeply. “And we can’t — these are the only ones I could find. That I can even pretend to afford. I need it to be —” He swallows. “I need you to tell me they’re real.”

Pidge is quiet for a moment. The only sound is her breathing, her nail tapping slowly on the edge of her screen.

“The link is exactly what it says it is.”

Keith sits up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, man.”

Keith bites back a cheer so he doesn’t wake Lance up. Hell yeah! This is perfect! Exactly what they needed! Just — a little bit of luck. A little bit.

“Thank you, Pidge,” he gushes, hurrying to punch in his information. “Seriously.”

Pidge huffs fondly. “Okay, dweebus. Gross. Go be all affectionate somewhere else.” She pauses. “Take a picture when you tell him.”

Keith smiles. “I will.”

———

It takes every inch of Keith’s willpower to keep his mouth shut for a whole three weeks.

“I Know you are hiding something, Kogane,” Lance says while walking home from classes, while curling up into him as they watch TV, while cooking, while showering. “I see it in your face.”

“It’s nearly Christmas, you dweebus,” Keith says every time, and every time he softens it with an exaggerated kiss to Lance’s cheek, one to make him laugh despite himself and shove Keith’s face away. “Of course I’m hiding something.”

But it’s eating at them both. Lance’s blatant curiously makes it that much harder for Keith to keep things hidden, to stash the tickets between the pages of his corniest romance novel that Lance won’t touch with a ten foot pole. To wait, and wait, and wait, as they set up the three-foot high discounted Christmas tree and Lance changes their sheets to the flannel ones his mother gave them.

But the days pass. Finals come and go and so does the time. And finally, finally, it comes time to crawl onto the creaky mattress, knees on either side of Lance, nose kisses down his neck, and murmur, “We’ve got plans today.”

Lance groans. “No we do not.”

Keith smiles widely. He knows Lance can feel it, because he scowls harder, trying to hide his own fondness even as he melts into Keith’s affections.

“Yes, we do. I know. I planned them.”

“Well, then, un-plan them,” Lance grouches. He turns over so he’s facing Keith, now, trying hard to glare up at him, but late afternoon sunlight bleeds into his dark brown eyes and makes them shine golden, and they are as warm and bright as the rest of him, and his hands slide up Keith’s chest, over his shoulders, brushing through his hair, to rest on his cheeks. “Come nap with me.”

Keith turns his head to press a kiss to Lance’s palm, keeping his mouth there. Lance rolls his eyes, and can no longer hide his smile. “Later. I made plans. Dress up, I’m gonna pick us up some food for the way. We’ll leave in forty minutes.”

“Ugh.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, baby. I can see you eyeing the closet.”

“Shut up and get me a burrito.” He soothes the bite of his words by pulling Keith’s face closer to his, pressing their lips together softly. “Please.”

“Whatever you want.”

God, he’s whipped, and Lance knows it, because he grins, pleased, and pulls Keith even closer, kisses him stronger. It takes Keith a good five minutes to muster up the willpower to pull away, and Lance knows it, smirking.

He finally manages to yank himself away, stumbling backwards towards the kitchenette of their studio. Lance pouts at him.

“Menace,” Keith says sternly, deliberately turning away as he pulls on his boots and coat. He ignores his boyfriend’s grumbling and finally makes it out the door, hustling to their favourite bodega and hoping it isn’t too crowded.

Thirty-seven minutes later, burritos secured, Keith is shoving his frozen fingers around the door handle to jimmy it open. The bodega was indeed crowded and they are indeed late. The show starts in an hour. From what Keith remembers from Lance’s recitals — and he has been to many — people who are late are people who miss the show. The ballet does not fuck around with tardiness and disruptions; if you’re late, that’s tough shit for you. Plan better.

“You’re going to eat shit,” Lance says, amused, the fourth time Keith power walks right over black ice and nearly actually dies. “Slow down, babe.”

Keith does not.

“Can’t,” he huffs, keeping a half-eye on the pavement. A tourist walks into him, shoving him into Lance, who takes the opportunity to slide his hand into Keith’s back pocket and wink at him when his cheeks colour.

“Why can’t we slow down? Where are we going?”

“It’s like you don’t know what surprise means.”

“I do know. I also know that if I annoy anyone long enough they’ll snap so I’ll shut up.”

“Nah. I like it when you talk.”

He’d meant it as somewhat of a comeback, as a jab back to Lance’s teasing. But suddenly Lance stops, spine going rigid, something like shock flirting across his face for half a millisecond before he blinks it away and moves again. It happens so fast that Keith would almost be convinced he’d imagined it, except Lance’s cheeks are crimson.

Keith smiles. “Lance.”

“Shut up.”

“Babydoll.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m barely sayin’ anything, baby.”

“You are so fuckin — gay, you know that? God. Who fuckin — who says shit like that? Who on this Earth?”

Keith laughs, bending down to kiss right below Lance’s ear, to feel his flushed skin warm to frozen tip of his nose.

“You are so easily flattered.”

“Easily flatter this dick. How about that. Fuckin. Jerk.”

He lets Lance grouch at him, pleased and embarrassed about it, as he pulls them along the overcrowded streets. He checks his watch. Fifteen minutes ‘til the show starts, thirteen minutes ‘til they get there. Hopefully.

“Are we almost there? It’s cold and these shoes are pinchy.”

“I told you to wear comfortable shoes!”

“You told me to dress up! I can do one of those things, Akira!”

At the seven minute mark Keith starts running. Lance, surprisingly, doesn’t complain — a grin pulls at his sharp features, actually, and he wraps their hands together and runs faster, despite not knowing where they’re going. Every time they bump into someone in a suit he laughs. He laughs harder when they curse at him. Keith has to fight to keep his head in the game, to keep running, to not stop where he’s standing and watch Lance laugh for hours and hours and hours. It’s been too long.

He nearly pulls Lance’s arm out of his socket when he stops then abruptly, shouting “Here! Here! We’re here!” and pulling him inside a well-kept brownstone.

“Where’s…here?” Lance wonders, taking in the well-salted walkway and pretty red-and-green decorations all over the aged brick.

Keith doesn’t answer. “Close your eyes.”

Lance narrows his eyes. Keith makes his expression as wide and pleading as possible, and in seconds Lance caves, much to Keith’s satisfaction.

“You’re a pain in my neck.”

Keith kisses him quickly and chastely. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let me walk into anything.”

Satisfied that Lance won’t peek, Keith shuffles them over to the box office, holding out their tickets. The stewardess smiles at him, scanning them, eyes twinkling at Keith wordless plea for her to keep the secret, and gestures towards a grand set of doors.

“Up the stairs, to your left, seat and row on your ticket,” she murmurs. “Enjoy the show.”

Keith nods his thanks and rushes them off.

“This sounds very fancy,” Lance observes as their shoes click on the — literally marble, how the hell were these tickets $20 — floors. “Dangerously so.”

Keith shrugs. “Perhaps.”

“…Not to be. A bummer. But please tell me you remembered our budget, Keith.”

“I did, Lance. I swear.”

Lance relaxes into him, and Keith realises for the first time how tense he was. He winces to himself. He probably could have made things a tad less stressful and still kept the surprise. He’ll remember that for next year.

“Okay, good. I trust you.”

They barely make it to their seats in time. Keith’s butt barely makes contact with the cushioned chair before the lights dim and the orchestra starts tuning, the rest of the audience lapsing into almost immediate silence.

Lance inhales sharply. “Keith…?”

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

Lance does, and they’re wide, and his mouth drops open, slightly, and for a moment he just stares, frozen, at the stage and the lights and the set, the familiar set, as the dim light casts shadows onto his face. The orchestra’s tuning note reaches its satisfying peak, harmonizing as one sound, and Keith’s full attention is on the lines of Lance’s face, the set of his jaw, the curves of his cheekbones.

“Merry Christmas,” he says quietly.

Before he can say anything else, before Lance can say anything else, the familiar sound of pointe shoes tapping delicately across the stage steals Keith’s attention. He turns his eyes to the stage, watching the dancers strut on the stage, and — stops.

He leans forward, squinting.

What?

Keith is…very familiar with the Nutcracker. He’s grown up alongside Lance’s family since he was eight years old. He’s been to more recitals than he can count. He’s been dragged to more performances than he can ever remember. Lance has lived and breathed and loved ballet his whole damn life, for the entire time Keith has known him, and that love bled well outside of the studio, has lasted even after he aged out of the program last year. Keith knows how the Nutcracker begins, and nothing about the program said this one was supposed to be any different.

Half of the dancers walking onstage are significantly shorter than they should be.

Now he knows damn well that there are kids in the Nutcracker. The main character is a kid. That’s the whole deal.

But there is not one adult on that stage right now. Hell, not even a teenager.

Keith looks down at the ticket — Feuilles Brillant Academy. He looks back at the stage. He looks at the other audience members — lots and lots of people with camcorders. And other small children.

Keith sinks into his chair, head in his hands.

His dumb ass bough a ticket to a children’s ballet recital.

Lord above.

“Lance, I am so sorry,” he whispers, “I was so caught up in the ticket being in budget I didn’t bother actually, like, looking deeper into things, this is totally — Lance?”

Keith leans forward in alarm, hands immediately falling on Lance’s knee, on his back. His shoulders shake and his hands are pressed to his eyes.

“Shit, babe, I’m sorry,” Keith says desperately, embarrassment replaced with panic. Everything feels like it’s crashing down around him, as dramatic as that is. He’d been so excited for this. Now it’s a whole mess. “I didn’t mean to — fuck things up, shit, we can leave.”

Lance shakes his head. Blindly, he reaches over the grasps Keith’s hand, holding tightly. His own hand is damp from his tears.

“No, no, it’s — perfect,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I —”

His chin trembles, and more tears spill over his cheeks. As the music swells along to the climax of the first dance, Lance lifts the armrest separating their seats, half crawling over Keith until his head is tucked in the crook of Keith’s neck, arms folded between their chests, hands clutching at the fabric of his sweater. His voice is wet with tears and soaked in an emotion Keith can’t quite name, an almost — relief.

“It’s been so long. I didn’t want to — I thought I wouldn’t be able to do this again. I wouldn’t let myself think about it.”

Keith lets a huge, relieved exhale, sagging forward. He wraps himself more comfortably around Lance’s frame, squeezing him back, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

Growing up has been…hard. For the both of them.

They’d been told by everyone who knew them that they were being stupid and reckless. Keith has been promised that they won’t last more than two years by almost every grownup he’s ever known. Even his own brother had sighed his trepidation when Keith told him, stubborn and bold-faced, that he was moving in with Lance, that they were going to start their lives together the second they pulled off their caps and gowns, that they were ready for the next step. That they were eighteen and ready to face the world.

“Sacrifices,” Shiro had warned, “are going to be half your life now. It’s not that I think you can’t, Keith. I just. There’s a reason people don’t move in with their highschool sweetheart they summer after they graduate. Katy Perry wrote a whole song about it. It’s a banger.”

Keith hates it when his brother is right, and this time he was right about so many things in consecutive order. Living on your own is hard. Learning to live with someone else is harder. Doing it in a city far away from home, while balancing school and work and rent and groceries, is the hardest.

“I miss dance,” Lance croaks, and Keith closes his eyes and breathes deeply and holds Lance tighter.

He knows Lance misses dance. He knows that he hasn’t so much as listened to a ballet since they moved to New York, unless it’s in the dead of night, and he thinks Keith is asleep, and he puts in his headphones and moves their furniture as silently as he can to the edges of their tiny ass studio apartment and laces up his falling-to-pieces pointe shoes and dances like the very act of it is tearing him apart, and cries the whole time. And then stashes his shoes in the bottom of his gym bag and crawls back into bed and pretends again in the morning that he left his pointes back in Arizona. And Keith looks away and lets him because school is already twenty thousand a year and in no shape or form can they afford that and money to rent a studio.

But Keith can give him this. For a little bit, maybe, even if it’s little kids with handmade costumes pirouetting across a stage.

“I know, bluebell.”

Lance exhales, shaky, breath ghosting across Keith’s collarbones, and finally turns back towards the stage, keeping tucked under Keith’s chin. The kids dancing as the Snow Queen’s ladies-in-waiting are — three years old, maybe. At most four. They keep twirling right into each other like clumsy little bumblebees. It’s maybe the cutest thing Keith has ever seen in his entire life, and what’s better is the tiny smile that graces Lance’s face, despite the tears, growing bigger every time one of them wobbles back up to their feet and prances on, oblivious.

They watch the rest of the play in silence, Lance hands entwining with his sometime around the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy and holding fast. They stand and clap as loudly as the gathered parents, louder even, at curtain call, as each kid jumps and twirls across the stage to thrown roses and cheering. It’s adorable.

They’re among the first to walk out, because the majority of the crowd surges towards backstage to collect their kid, so the walk is blessedly unrushed. They take their time, observing the pictures of grinning ballerinas that line the walls and numerous awards on endless shelves. Keith is filled with a deep and strong longing, a strange feeling of coming home — years of waiting on plastic chairs for Lance to finish solo practice when they were thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Of taking his boots off at the door and quietly sneaking in the back of the studio, ducking away from other dancers’ boring stares, to watch Lance shine under the studio lights, reflected a thousand times by mirrored walls. Of the smell of lemon cleaner and polished hardwood floors and satin.

He notices a poster on the wall, among dozens of drawings and pictures of intricate sets, and freezes.

“Lance,” he says, tilting his head, “look.”

At the end of a hallway, right next to a door, is a hand-painted banner, reading: WE’LL MISS YOU, MISS RAULA! HAPPY RETIREMENT!

He squeezes Lance’s hand. “I bet they’re looking for a replacement.”

Lance stares at the poster for a long time. “You think?”

“I think it wouldn’t hurt to shoot them an e-mail.”

Smiling, Lance stops them in the hallway, puts his hands on Keith’s shoulders, stands on his tiptoes, and kisses him, long and sweet and loving.

“I’m already in a pretty tight spot now,” he murmurs, still standing so close to Keith and smelling so sweet that he has trouble focusing on his words, “‘cause this is already kind of the best Christmas gift ever. If that ends up being true I’m never topping you again.”

Keith laughs, suddenly, not expecting the turn, and Lance grins, pulling Keith down to him and kissing him again. It’s less of a kiss and more of a press of smiles, a clack of teeth, a shared laugh.

“I love you, Lance. Merry Christmas. I will be the Gift Giving King forever.”

“Shut up, goober.” He lifts Keith’s arm, tucking himself under it as they walk back out into the snowy December night. “I love you too.”

———

based on this post (third slide)

[dark-frosted-heart]

(JP) Ikemen Prince 3rd King of the Beast Election Promises

If you’re wondering where these numbers come from, these are the number of votes they got last year

If Leon gets at least 455,138 votes, we’ll get an illustration of the princes in a special outfit

If Chevalier gets at least 1,178,374 votes, we’ll get 100 limited story tickets

If Yves gets at least 413,901 votes, we’ll get avatar outfits Yves designed for his brothers

If Nokto gets at least 537,151 votes, we’ll get a sickeningly sweet story event

If Licht gets at least 577,011 votes, we’ll get images drawn by the princes themselves

If Clavis gets 852,613 votes, we’ll get an additional outfit slot and a Clavis-made clay figure

If Jin gets 209,654 votes, we’ll get 100 limited cake sets

If Luke gets 162,026 votes, we’ll get a Luke-made plushie avatar item

If Sariel gets 207,238 votes, we’ll get childhood pictures of the princes

If Rio gets 367,238 votes, we’ll get a new Encyclopedia of Beasts

If Gilbert gets 512,157 votes...Gilbert hijacks the app?!

If Keith gets 137,856 votes, we’ll get a look into the princes’ diaries

If Silvio gets 524,925 votes, we’ll get 10 gacha tickets

[logo-comics]

Katarina Termina

As promised, the AU that was inspired by THIS thread, but I'm going more in-depth on this here.

This AU is going with the idea of the Monkey Girl being reincarnated into someone who isn't integral to the plot of Fortune Lover. As I said in the linked thread, the name Katarina Termina came from my fanonical name for a rough draft of Katarina Claes being Tatiana Terni, a romanceable character borrowing the surname from @azure-wolf-227's name for the Queen's family.

Since I like that concept, I decided to not attach Katarina to that name, in order to give the harem an officially fair chance, even though my endgame is always the same ship when given the option.

The Termina Family:

Duke Odin Termina of Termina:

Portrait of a northern barbarian with fire magic. Despite Sorcier having a rather nice climate in general, his island some how manages to be permanently covered in snow, which necessitated the development of greenhouses and a massive keep that the people of his Duchy occupy. Looks much, much older than he is, and comes off as only slightly less intimidating that Luigi. Adores his family and has a love of the macabre that comes off as threatening to some. He and Luigi Claes have shared maybe ten words in court and tend to sit in the same general vicinity. He would call the man his close friend, if asked. He's also related to Miridiana through their great grandparents and knows Viscount Coleman by reputation, so he quickly figured out the Keith situation, but has never actually seen the family together, so he doesn't know about the family issues.

Duchess Tatiana Termina nee Smith:

There was quite a stir at court when Odin married his personal blacksmith, an orphan apprenticed to the blacksmith of the previous Duchess Termina, Odin's mother Belladonna (from whom he inherited his title), but they'd grown up together and fallen in love, and the northerners don't rightly care who marries whom unless agreements are being abruptly broken. Tatiana is a cheerful woman who will happily go on about how which weapons she designed are capable of doing what amount of damage to people. She also has a fondness for creating new weapons and has been working on what Bakarina would recognize as a flamethrower for years. There's a rumor in court that she's the result of one of the previous King's affairs due to her having golden hair and bright blue eyes behind her goggles, but there's no proof of that one way or another.

Katarina Termina:

Prior to Catarina Claes's accident and the subsequent scar on her forehead, Katarina Termina was one of the frontrunners for Prince Geordo's fiancee. She actually didn't have an opinion about that one way or another, being more interested in improving the greenhouses and her weapons training, as well as her interest in her mother's designs. She does have quite a fondness for sweets born from sweets being uncommon in Termina, and she doesn't have the most courtly of manners, but she was actually considered rather refined in the mead hall in Termina's Keep. She also later manages to "invent" the ice cream maker after regaining her past life memories. By sheer coincidence, she and Catarina Claes were born on the same day and look similar, save for Katarina having slightly darker hair and lighter eyes, as well as darker clothes in general and a sword that's always present on her hip. She has fairly weak fire magic, and unknowingly has moderately strong Dark Magic.

Anne Shelley:

She was sent to Termina, instead of the Claes land because Baron Shelley thought it would be best to send her somewhere that most people didn't know and also because, from an in-universe meta perspective, Katarina Termina is the cut content for Katarina Claes, so she gets the positive relationship with Anne that I give FL Katarina. Her relationship with Katarina was a slightly more professional version of her relationship with Bakarina, up until the training accident, when Katarina becomes notably more friendly and Anne winds up adapting. Her time in Termina actually let her become more of a free thinker, and Baron Shelley didn't even make it to the door of the keep before he was chased off. Despite not being related by blood, they treat her like part of the family, and, though she doesn't know it, Odin, Tatiana, and Katarina agreed that, if Katarina winds up engaged to someone who has to maintain their family title, Anne will be made the heiress to the ducal title.

The Training Accident:

During Katarina's first year at the Academy, she was in a friendly duel with a wooden sword with her sparring partner and best friend, Lady Penelope Blancarosa, whose family is allied to her own, with Sienna Nelson and Astrid Grimnir as their witnesses, only for a momentary distraction to cause her to drop her guard at exactly the wrong time, getting a blow to the head that woke up her Monkey Girl memories.

The Harem:

Geordo:

I feel like Katarina was someone he found interesting early on, which was why she was one of, if not the frontrunner prior to Catarina's injury. Since she lives on an island in the north, she only really visits during social functions, so he didn't notice all of the changes, since she was basically just a slightly more disciplined version of herself as Bakarina. He's still trying to figure out how to broach the subject of potentially leaving his fiancee to be with her specifically due to the fact that, as a northerner, she might take offense to him trying to break his engagement like that.

Keith:

Keith wound up developing into something just shy of being an actual playboy, but it's very close. While his relationship with the Claes is... strained, to say the least, he actually managed to meet and befriend Katarina Termina during a ball, causing him to be infatuated because of how kind she was to him. Alas, she has noted on occasion that's she's somewhat disappointed in him for all his flirting with pretty much every girl he meets, which hits hard enough that he never goes further than flirting and the occasional cafe date with his target du jour.

Mary:

As something of a horticultural hobbyist, Katarina, upon a social visit to the Hunt manor, finds herself musing upon how the person who tended to the field has a green thumb, not knowing Mary was in earshot. By sheer chance, she and Mary don't get to properly meet until another social event, when Alan directly tells Mary that she has a wonderful green thumb. Cue Mary having a Crisis when she properly meets the mysterious garden lover at that same event. Now she's trying to figure out a good way to get both of them, by whatever means she can scheme up.

Nicol:

Nothing much changes, to be honest.

Sophia:

No one is quite sure how she keeps managing to get to Termina, given that it's on an island, but she inevitably appears there to hang out with the girl who saved her from those bullies when she was little, who she feels oddly comfortable with in a familiar sort of way.

Alan:

Not much actually changes. Timeline shifts a bit and, due to Mary not messing with him to try to neutralize him as a rival, he has a surprisingly healthy understanding of his feelings for everyone around him. Geordo breaking decorum by showing his interest in Katarina despite his engagement to Catarina also helped him see Geordo as fallible and human, helping him feel more comfortable with his brother.

Raphael:

Due to Marchioness Dieke not letting Sirius go many places and Raphael having no real basis for comparison, he spent an unfortunate amount of time thinking that Katarina Termina and Catarina Claes were the same person. He's actually a bit embarrassed about it when the trial starts and he sees the two of them in the same place.

Maria:

Since the Training Accident happens prior to the Academy days, then Maria's life actually isn't all that different from canon. The only real change for Maria is that her beloved Lady Katarina has an evil doppelganger named Catarina Claes, who Maria has seen her chase off.

Other Noble Ladies:

Sienna Nelson:

As with Anne, this relationship is being transferred from Catarina to Katarina because Katarina is all of the positive traits that the developers cut from Catarina Claes. Her family is subordinate to the Termina family, so she grew up in Termina's Keep with Katarina, giving her more confidence.

Penelope Blancarosa:

Her family's lands are the closest mainland territories to Termina, so she and Katarina are very close friends, and a fellow lover of the art of swordsmanship. Katarina has seen her with Astrid Grimnir enough times to know they have feelings for each other, but Katarina wonders how any girl can be as oblivious as Penelope when it comes to realizing one's friend is in love with them.

Astrid Grimnir:

Daughter of the Baron Grimnir of Seithr, the self-proclaimed Young Wolf is an avid hunter, like her father, and loves seeing innovations in any technology. She's also completely in love with Penelope and quickly befriended Katarina after having met her while she was tweaking the systems of one of the greenhouses.

Marsha Catley:

Funnily enough, she gets along rather well with Katarina, though she does assume that Katarina was devastated by the fact that she wasn't chosen to be Geordo's fiancee.

Noelia Flores:

She and Katarina hate one another. No one is entirely sure why, and most are too afraid to ask.

Catarina Claes:

Katarina and Catarina are natural enemies as a result of their opposing views on various topics. The only thing they can agree on is their disdain for Noelia's purposeless, boring malice. Like I said in the original thread, paraphrasing Terry Pratchett is the best way to describe how they feel about one another: Catarina and Katarina shared a look. It said: While I loathe you and every aspect of your personal philosophy to a depth unplumbable by any line, I’ll credit you at least with not being Noelia Flores.” Despite this, Katarina is still trying to figure out a way to stop Catarina from ruining her own life and that of those around her out of pity for what her foreknowledge showed her of her possible fates. This, funnily enough, got Catarina to stop bothering Maria after the first week because she was getting concerned by Katarina looking disappointedly at her with her hand on her sword.

*Edited because I forgot to include Penelope and Astrid.

[we-out-here-simping]

Living for the Hope of it all (s.h. x desi!fem!reader)

part 2

Summary: your cousin was getting married to a guy in Hawkins, Indiana. While the idea of searching for Bollywood movies in a mostly white town seemed like a fruitless endeavor, you were bored— so, you set foot in family video where you meet Steve Harrington. The cute boy and you quickly become friends. Steve realises that he was falling for you but he also realises that you were only going to be in Hawkins for a few weeks. 

Warnings: Hard of hearing steve Harrington (so true); lots of staring; lots of yearning; lots of confused steve; reader talks to her family members in Hindi (i tried to edit it to not include hindi cuz not every desi person speaks hindi but i didn’t know how to deal with one particular place in the story sorry); reader has an older brother; two pining idiots; steve Harrington is a spaced out king; an almost kiss😳

A/n: a somewhat of a bollywood reference in there somewhere. Took some inspo from this post. Also this is gonna have a part two and it'll be on here sooooooon. No fucking promises tho

Word count: 8.6k 

Mixtape

It was a rather slow day in Family Video. There had been a grand total of one person since opening and they too were a person on a road trip, only there to use the phone. Steve could might as well be swatting flies for a living. Mondays were always slow, but on this particular one, the entirety of Hawkins had decided to not rent movies; and that added with Robin taking the day off that day because she had to finish a project, was really doing a number on him. Even Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Mike were busy with their own stuff. He was so bored that he could even take Keith's company over this. Steve let out a dejected sigh as he looked over at his wrist watch. He still had an hour of his shift left. 

He had nothing to do, he had done the inventory, stacking, restocking and rewinding the tapes within the first two hours of the shift— he realised he worked quite fast without the constant banter with Robin. But that banter and Robin's constant ramblings are what made the job fun and lively. The only sounds that echoed through the store were the whirring of the table fan, the buzz of the neon sign that read 'Family video', and Steve's fingers tapping a random tune against the counter.

A glance back at the watch, only two minutes had passed. Steve wondered what he was going to do when he got off. Robin and the kids would still be busy. Perhaps he could call Stacy, the girl he hooked up with, a week or two ago. She was great, but God, did he not feel any sparks when they went on the date.

Maybe he could just watch a movie. His eyes moved through the sections of the store, looking to decide on an option. Horror? Dear God, no. He'd had enough of the genre in real life. He threw the action and thrillers in that metaphorical pile too. Romance? Last thing he wanted was to see a movie of doomed love, or worse actually successful love especially without a Robin to make fun of the characters with. The only option viable enough was comedy.

Before Steve could decide on the movie, the bell above the door rang. He turned to face the customer and he was met with a face he'd never seen before.

"Um, hi?", You said with a soft and amused smile. 

"H-hello," Steve cleared his throat, "what can I help you with?" He flashed you a grin, you returned it.

The boy finally took you in. You were wearing jeans and an unbuttoned maroon sweater that looked hand knitted and was probably a bit too much for the mild autumn weather. You had a red top with little intricate designs made in white threads peeking through the open buttons, your ears adorned by earrings that looked a little too heavy to Steve. Your hair was tied up in a ponytail, however little strands framed your face perfectly— flowing in the autumn breeze. Your eyes were lined with dark kohl, he was sure he was looking at a siren, ready to lure him to his death. His breath was hitched, eyes wide, lips parted but he could not say a word. Forget sparks, he felt like there was the entire fourth of July going on in his chest.

"....wondering if you guys had that?", Had you been saying something? Oh shit, he was too busy taking you in to really pay attention to your words.

"Um- I'm sorry, what was that?", He voiced after a few seconds long pause, "i wasn't paying attention to your lips– didn't quite catch that"

"Why would you need to pay attention to my lips?" The corner of your mouth curled, head tilting.

"I- I'm hard of hearing so I kinda need to look at people's lips to understand them", he said with a dry chuckle. The Russians had really done a number on him last year. Besides giving Steve years worth of trauma, they'd also given him extra stuff like lessened hearing ability, constant ringing of the ears, migraines, and bad eyesight— a buy one get four free sort of thing.

"Oh", you blinked, "sorry", an apologetic expression flashed over your features.

"No need, it honestly helps in some weird way 'cause people always think I'm flirting with them, staring at their lips"

you let out a small embarrassed laugh. Now that was a sound he could get used to. Steve wished he could replace the ringing in his head with your laugh. Was he moving too fast? Probably– considering you'd only met two minutes ago.

"Maybe I was", he mumbled softly. If it wasn't for the quiet of the store, you'd have never heard it, but you did. You did and now your cheeks were a little warm, maybe you should come here all the time to tolerate the cold. You tucked the free strands of hair behind your ear and licked your slightly dry lips. 

"So… what can I help you with?" He asked again with raised bushy eyebrows. 

"Uh– this is a long shot, really, but I was wondering if you guys had Bollywood movies?" Your fingers absentmindedly played with the fraying yarn of your sweater. You already knew the answer. Bollywood movies in Hawkins, Indiana was like trying to look for the colour brown in the rainbow. You were more likely to find out that interdimensional monsters or superheroes were real.

"Bollywood, you say", the boy turned to the computer, typing something. His brows were scrunched and you wished you could smoothen the lines on his forehead with the pads of your thumbs. The brown hair looked perfect save for a few strands falling on his temple. The tip of his nose and cheeks were brushed with a pink hue to them, perhaps due to the cold breeze. His cheeks and neck were peppered with moles and faint freckles. He was wearing a navy blue sweatshirt that almost looked black, the sleeves pulled up to reveal his arms. He wore a watch around his wrist, his skin and arm muscles rippling as he typed away. He had a green vest on, a tag pinned to it that probably read his name. You were just about to read the name on the tag when you realised— you were staring. Full on staring. His voice pulled you out of your daze.

"I'm afraid we don't have that", he said while finally looking back at you, frowning at the news.

"Oh, well that's a shame", you said.

"I'm sorry, no one's asked for them before", he got up from the chair and leaned on the counter. Your chest fluttered at the sudden proximity, and now you were getting too warm. "But I assure you, when you're here next time, I'll make sure we have them"

Next time.

"And when is that?"

"Give me till next week? I'll have it by then?"

"That's pretty fast"

"Well I hate to disappoint pretty people I've never met before''. Your face was definitely getting very warm. Was it the middle of July? Because it sure as hell felt like it.

"Well, I guess I will see you next week then, mr. Video man", you declared before turning to leave the store. It was getting too hot in there, you needed the cool winds to brush against the tips of your nose— to cool you down. 

And just like that you were out the door, Steve's eyes followed your retreating figure as you walked away from the store. He looked back at his watch, thirty minutes left of his shift. He could have sworn that you were there for just a few minutes, but the clocks wouldn't lie. He stayed still for a few seconds due to the whiplash of it all. He then strolled towards the romance/comedy aisle, picking up a random one for himself. 

Steve got ready for closing. Turning the 'open' sign to 'closed', checking and double double checking the locks. And the entire time, he kept thinking about you. He couldn't wait to tell Robin about you. A girl he'd never seen before, because if he had, he would have remembered. It was when he got in his car that it dawned on him that he never got your name. 

He hoped that he would be sure to get it the next time you would come. The next time.

The next day, Robin came in fifteen minutes late for her shift– she'd pulled an all nighter for her project and just managed to barely finish it. Steve first chastised her because "messing with her sleep cycle isn't healthy"-- the dirty blonde rolled her eyes at the brunette's parent-like behaviour. 

Steve then told Robin about the girl he'd met, he was practically jumping on the balls of his feet as he did so. The roles were suddenly switched— she was the parent now.

"So let me get this straight– which is very hard for me, trust me", she let out a breathy laugh while wiping the counter, "you apparently found a girl who was so beautiful that she enraptured you in her girl magic under which you stupidly made the ludicrous promise that you'll have a collection of movies that we've never housed before only because you wanted to see her again? Sound 'bout right?"

"I mean, essentially yeah", he nodded sheepishly.

"You are insufferable, dingus", Robin groaned.

"Oh, please. Like you wouldn't have done the same thing"

"How do you plan on getting those movies anyway?"

"Keith, duh"

"And you believe that he'll listen to you?"

Steve looked at her with pleading eyes, eyebrows scrunched, fingers mindlessly playing with the paperweight on the counter. 

"Steveee" she asked like a parent would ask their child if they had eaten all the chocolate while said child had chocolate smeared all over them. She knew the answer, he wanted her to do it. She was the one who had convinced Keith to hire Steve, surely she could persuade him again.

The next Monday took forever to come. Steve and Robin– mostly Robin, had somehow managed to convince Keith to have a small Bollywood collection. Total of around seven tapes, not big by any means but would still have to do.

That morning Steve had arrived annoyingly early to the store. He was sporting his maroon sweatshirt. The colour reminded him of the sweater you were wearing, it reminded him of you. His hair was its usual self– set perfectly. He'd shaved the little scruff he had and doused himself in an overindulgent amount of his favourite cologne.

So there he was, fingers nervously tapping against the stack of Bollywood movie tapes and eyes glancing over to the clock every two minutes. Steve would frantically get up with an expectant smile every time the doorbell rang and then the smile would instantly disappear when he would see that it wasn't you. 

There was just 15 minutes of their shift left and you still hadn't come. Maybe you weren't going to. Steve's hope was starting to wither away.

"Y'know dingus, I'm starting to think that your mystery girl isn't coming", Robin muttered while rewinding some tapes. 

"Yeah, maybe you're right", he let out a dismal sigh. His hair wasn't sitting perfectly anymore, it was floppy and sticking up in places maybe due to the excessive amount of times he had run his fingers through the thick strands. He had accidentally spilled ketchup on his pants during lunch and his cologne was no longer as "overwhelming", as Robin had put it. His overall demeanour was that of a sullen little child, who was offered with immeasurable treasure and then given a class about taxes and mortgages.

The brown haired boy turned his back towards the door, his amber eyes fixating on the dirt clung to the sole of his shoes. The ringing in his head acted as white noise as he zoned out subconsciously, he realised he was doing that a lot lately— especially since the starcourt mall "fire".

Robin got up to get ready for closing up, putting all the tapes in their designated places. While doing so her eyes glanced over to the sunset outside, the clouds swirling with the oranges, pinks and lilacs and that's when she noticed a girl marching quickly towards the store. A very pretty girl.

"I retract that statement. I think your magic girl is here steve", she said while making her way towards Steve whose back was turned to her and the door. Robin groaned realising that Steve probably didn't hear her. She tapped his shoulder lightly and he turned around, "I think your mystery girl is here and you were right I'd do the same", she smirked.

Steve turned to the door and you were entering the store. Your hair wasn't tied today, the wisps of hair flowed as you walked quickly towards the counter. You were still wearing the maroon sweater, this time paired with what looked to be a hand knitted scarf around your neck. Once again a bit too much for the weather. Your earnings were different, still looked heavy to Steve though. 

"Hi, I was scared you guys had closed up. I just got caught up in something"

"We– we were just about to close up actually", Robin said.

"Did I keep you waiting?", You asked, eyes locking with Steve's while tucking your hair behind your ear, fingers hitting the silver jewellery adorned on your ears. The action gives rise to a jingle in the heavy earrings and a heavy thumping in Steve's chest.

"W-what? no–"

"Yeah, he was,'' Robin interrupted. Steve gave the short haired girl a glare to which she muttered a "ok, sorry", held her hands up in surrender and went to the backroom to give you and Steve privacy. 

"Sorry for being late–", you tried. 

"No- no it's fine. Completely fine", Steve protested while ushering you and himself to the aisle with the small newly added section.

"Ok. Did you get the movies?"

"Yes, ma'am", he said, holding up a random tape, triumphantly.

"Impressive that you could get your hands on these so quickly", you picked up the tapes looking at the titles, trying to pick a few.

"I feel like, I had to if I wanted to see your face again"

you took out the movies you wanted, the words from the boys mouth not fully registering at first. After a moment, what Steve had said finally got through— the implication of it, apparent, your heartbeat a little faster and your cheeks a little warmer. However you didn't address the statement and instead stuttered, "I'll uh– I'll take these two"

"All righty!" He clapped his hands, taking the tapes from you.

"I– um, I'm gonna need your name?"

"(Y/n)", the boy repeated it out loud to etch it to his memory– his accent warping the pronunciation. You bit your lip to contain your laugh, however the boy caught you and laughed with you.

"Aren't you gonna ask for my name? I got those tapes for you after all", he said, crossing arms in front of his chest.

"Oh, so tell me", you started, leaning against a wall, "What is your name steve?"

"Well, it's st–", the boy with honey eyes stopped, gears turning in his head, "oh. how'd you know?"

"I have my sources. Those being your name tag"

Promptly you heard an audible and hearty laugh of Steve's co-worker, all the way from the backroom. Steve groaned at the realisation that Robin had been eavesdropping on both of you. His palm rested between your shoulder blades as he took you further down the romance aisle, away from Robin's prying eyes and ears. His touch was light, soft and barely there but its warmth still managed to seep through the layers of your clothing. He quickly retracted his hand back to his side, leaving your skin almost burning. You weren't sure why he was leading you away but you followed his lead nonetheless, not saying a single word.

"So, what's it mean?" He broke the silence, "Your name?" He added.

"What does Steve mean?" You retorted immediately.

"Honestly, I have no clue", he said with a chuckle,

"So, you new in hawkins?"

"Sort of. My cousin is getting married to a guy from here. So I'm just here for that"

"Oh cool, so I guess….. I'll see you around?"

"Maybe" you smiled.

He smiled back, "uh, I'm gonna need your number"

"Why do you need my number, Steve?"

"So, if you don't return the tapes within the rent period. We can call you and extort the money out of you", he said, crossing his arms– the muscles flexing that made you feel a little too hot.

"You think I won't return the tapes?", You reached to rest your hand atop his exposed arm, "Don't you trust me?", You weren't sure where the sudden confidence was coming from— perhaps you were being possessed by a ghost or something.

Steve's breath hitched, he was sure he had short circuited. Your one action of just touching his arm, equivalent to pouring a glass of water over the wiring of a computer.  The sparks came in the form of stutters, words spurting out too fast to be coherent. "I uh— I do, but it's– it's company policy", he cleared his throat, "We're supposed to do it with everyone"

"Forget about everyone else, this is between you and me, Steve", the boy's heart skipped a beat. Steve was sure that you saying his name was his new favourite sound. He still hadn't let out his breath, your hand still touching his skin.

"Maybe, we can deal with this in other ways…", you said in a sultry tone as your hand went putting your hair up while making direct eye contact. The flustered boy admonished himself for the image his mind conjured up, he gulped. He should probably look away, he thought, yet his eyes were transfixed onto your Kohl lined ones. He was no longer paying attention to your words to register them or lips to read them. Maybe it was lack of oxygen, he still hadn't let that breath out.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mr video man", you said with a chuckle. You took the movie tapes from his hands and headed to the counter where Robin now was, leaving behind a frozen and blushing Steve Harrington.

By the time Steve comes back to senses, you were already out the door. Robin had rung you up. He finally let out a long heavy breath, walking up to the counter, mind reeling.

"Jesus, you've got it bad. And here I thought you had game, but you truly forgot how to function"

"I do have game", the boy objected.

"Yeah, dingus, that's why you stood there like a mannequin and you still managed to get the girl", the short haired girl scoffed.

"... What?"

"Oh yeah, you were blanked out– she left you this", Robin said while handing Steve what seemed like an invitation card. It was a thick cream coloured envelope, embossed with gold letters and red accents. The envelope was addressed to a 'mr. Video man' written with a marker, which crossed out and now read 'Steve'.

"Mr. Video man?" Robin spoke with amusement. Steve let out a chuckle and turned the envelope where you'd written something.

Hello mr. video man, (I prefer it over steve) you better come in your best clothes or I'll have you know that desi people are really good at judging. – (Y/n)

Steve opened the envelope, looking for the venue. Hawkins was small, so much so that everyone knew about everyone. So, word about an international marriage should've caught wind, yet Steve had managed to not hear a word about it up until now. 

He then saw the name of the groom and bride. 

Ravi and Kajal.

Ravi. Oh shit.

Steve knew Ravi from back in middle school, not in the best way. Steve cringed at his past and how much of an asshole he used to be to people. By the end of Steve's middle school he'd heard that the older boy had shifted to his grandparents house. He and his friends had put the poor boy through hell— so much that his parents thought the only way to keep him safe was to send him back home and away from America.

"What's wrong, dingus?"

"I'm in deep shit."

The next day, Steve picked out his most expensive  suit— adamant on impressing you. His mom had got it for him for an event he never ended up attending, the fabric a deep and dark blue. He set his hair, making sure not a single hair stuck out except for a few rogue strands that fell on his forehead— very much intentionally. 

He wondered what you would be wearing, whether you'd end up accidentally matching or completely different. He knew you'd look absolutely stunning no matter what. 

He locked the empty Harrington house behind and drove his maroon BMW through the mostly empty streets of Hawkins; the sidewalks had an orange hue to them due to the autumn leaves. It was almost dark out now, the sun having set half an hour ago. The chilly air that flowed in through the cracked window brushed the tip of his nose and the apple of his cheeks— sending a wave of goosebumps across his skin.

His mind wandered to Ravi, a pang of guilt and repentance hit his chest at the man's thought. He hoped that he did not cross roads with Ravi. On one hand he wanted to apologise but on the other he didn't want to show his face to him and ruin his day. No one wanted to see their school bully in their wedding with their wife's cousin.

When he arrived at the venue, it was swarmed with way too many people. The booming and toe-tapping music hit his ear, so did the bright lights and colours of the decoration. The people were dressed in what he assumed were traditional clothing. It was then that it hit steve that he had no idea on what to do in a desi wedding so he just walked over to the food stalls, filled with delicacies that he'd never seen before. He had no idea what to pick. His eyes flicked through the crowd looking for you. The music, the lights, the crowd, it was almost overwhelming and Steve could already feel the predecessor of a migraine arising. 

There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned around to see your face. Your beautiful face. Your dark eyes, lined with Kohl, ears adorned with shiny and silver earrings. Hands in rows of matching silver bangles, jingling with every move of your arms. You were wearing a baby blue top that flowed to your knees,it had white intricate designs, the fabric looked a little too sheer to protect you from the cold. He wanted to hug you to help with that, but restrained himself. He was still quite frankly clueless about your culture and its boundaries of what's considered okay to do, the last thing he wanted to do was cross a line.

"Are those your fanciest clothes?", You mused, smiling.

"Not good?" He said looking down at his own clothes and laughing a little.

"Little tacky, I'd say"

"Tacky? This was the most expensive shit i have "

"Look around, video man", you gestured with hands, "your expensive shit sticks out like a sore thumb "

The boy's shoulder sunk just a tad bit, his eyebrows furrowed slightly– surely trying to concentrate on your voice over the rest of the loud sounds.

"Don't worry though, nobody cares", you insisted– waving your hand in the air.

"I thought you said that–" Steve started but you finished for him.

"Oh, people judge no matter what", you turned your gaze to a group of ladies, most of which looked to be above forty, "I bet some aunties back there are judging me because I'm talking to a guy or my choice of clothing", you shrugged, turning back to him.

"Are you kidding me?! You look amazing! And this top looks great" he complimented, you muttered a little "thanks" trying not to profusely blush at his flattering remark. "but like– don't you get cold in it?" He added.

"A bit but i can handle it", you were lying through your teeth, your chittering-by-freezing-weather teeth. You already hated the cold hawkins weather but having to dress up and look pretty was challenging in such a weather without freezing your nipples off was a challenge to say the least. But you'd always been a stubborn one for challenges. And steve, had been helpful enough in keeping you warm anyway. 

"Are you sure?" Steve asked again. Ever the gentleman, the boy wanted to give you his blazer but once again restrained himself.

"I am, I'll be fine", you confirmed, "You still look good, by the way", your voice almost close to a mutter.

Steve wouldn't have heard you if he wasn't so zoned in into to you, though focusing so much was starting to hurt his head a bit. "Thanks", he muttered back.

You realised, his eyes were on your lips. You berated yourself internally, reminding yourself that he was just doing that because he couldn't hear you. But your brain was a funny little fella, who loved to live in delusions. A part of you pretended that he was staring at your lips for the sake of staring at them. You wondered what the aunties would be whispering among themselves at noticing it. Butterflies arose in your chest at the thought. 

"So, where are the groom and bride?" His voice broke through your thoughts.

"Probably back at home", you answered as you chastised yourself, catching yourself staring at his lips. His pink and slightly chapped lips. His very incredibly kissable lips— wait what? Where did that come from?

"At home? Why?" He asked with a tilt of his head and furrowed brows.

"Why would they be here?" You interrogated, not understanding his confusion.

"Um– it's their marriage?"

"Yeah, but not today", you chuckled.

"What?"

"Steve, this is just a welcoming dinner thing for everyone. Desi marriages have several events that go on for weeks", you explained, laughing.

"Oh", he mumbled with knitted brows.

"Are you okay? Did I just shatter your worldview?"

"I think I'm kinda having a migraine.. The the noise and lights are a bit too much", he said, palm going up to his forehead before muttering a little,"sorry"

"Okay, let's get to somewhere quieter", you said with authority before grabbing his arm that tensed under your touch but he didn't pull away. You lead him away from the crowd. You led him through the house, up a flight of stairs, and down a hallway, and finally let him into a room. The bed was messy, a mix of clothes and blankets on it. There was a table with a clutter of jewellery and makeup. Steve felt compelled to clean up the mess but the boy stopped himself. you sat him on the edge of the bed.

"Your room?'

"Me and a few cousins", you went to try to clean up the chaotic mess that you and your cousins had conjured up earlier to get ready, "feel better?"

"A little… thanks"

"No problem, how long have you had this migraine problem?"

"I don't know, like– a year or two"

"Your hearing problem probably makes it worse. Why don't you wear your hearing aid?"

"I don't have one", he said, hand flying to the back of his neck, "I'm also not that hard of hearing"

"It's enough that it interferes in your daily functioning, Steve", you shot him a disapproving look, finally shoving the last piece of clothing in the closet.

"Then how will people think that I'm flirting with them?" He joked, however you didn't return the amusement. 

You turned towards the door. Steve's smile quickly disappeared as he stuttered out, "W–where you going?"

"Getting you some food to fix that migraine of yours"

You came back a few minutes later with a tray full of your favourites for Steve and yourself. Steve, although quite clueless, was very interested. You made him try everything that you could fit onto that plate of yours. From kadai paneer to kebabs to pakoras to samosas and ras malai to gulab jamun to jalebis to kulfi, Steve was adamant on trying it all. And the boy loved it, maybe the heat was a bit too much for him and maybe he shouldn't have had all that so quickly but he'd be lying if he said that he wouldn't love to eat all that again, perhaps separately next time. 

With you telling him all about the food, their names and Steve attempting to pronounce them, Steve's headache had subsided– almost like it was never there. 

You were a good distraction, he thought. With your cute accent, the way you express yourself through moving your hands around in the air, the way the hair framing your face bounced when you bobbed your head while talking, the way your earrings jiggle and shined, the way you smelled, the way you sounded, the way you laughed, and the way your soft lips moved. The movement, mesmerising.

You were just about to tell him about the difference between kulfi and ice cream when the door flung open, revealing your brother with a plate and two cola bottles in hand. He looked at you and then the brunette boy on your bed, brows arching as if to ask, 'girl, why the hell is there a white boy in your bedroom?'

"heard of knocking?", you muttered in an annoyed tone.

"who?", He said, jutting his chin towards steve.

"Friend.'

"Oh. Of course," he said with a sly tilt of his head, "a friend"

"Shut up and get out", you got up to push your older brother out and close the door behind him but then you noticed the contents of his plate. 

"They had biryani?" You had looked through all the food stalls looking for the biryani but weren't able to find it as it was out within half an hour. Your brother had probably saved a plate for you. 

You weighed your options; kick your brother out of the room and probably face embarrassment and mock for days on end from said brother, or let your brother in, introduce him to Steve, face embarrassment and mock for days on end but also get to have that biryani. You pondered, biryani was worth it, you thought.

You let out a long breath, "ok fine, you can come in", you muttered, opening the door wider so he could let himself in.

"Thank you", he sing-songed as he put the plate on the bed and handed you both the cola bottles, "hello, white-guy-i-do-not-know"

"Uh, hi, I'm steve", the boy stammered while holding his hand out to shake.

"Hello Steve, myself Rohan", he gave him a firm handshake.

"Rohan", he echoed as if to glue it to his memory, "thanks", he said while holding up the bottle.

"Don't mention it, man. So tell me Steve, why are you in here with my sister when you could be out there having an actual good time?"

You rolled your eyes and started, "He wasn't feeling good–"

"I asked your friend"

"I– uh I have–  my migraine was really acting up so she bought me here"

"Migraine?"

"Yeah, I don't know, I guess the music and everything was a bit too much"

"Are you calling us loud and noisy?"

"U– no– of course— I'm not– I just–", the boy stuttered.

"Don't worry dude, I'm messing with you", Rohan chuckled, waving his hand before asking, "Is your head okay now?"

"Uh, yeah", steve let out a breath, "Yeah it's better, the food helped"

"Delicious, isn't it?" The white boy nodded, "Be free to have the biryani, but I'm sure my sister would offer it to you", your brother said, flashing you a smirk. You let out a annoyed sigh, one that Steve didn't notice. 

Steve goes to eat the biryani but his bite ends up having an elaichi. The boy let out a pained groan as he hung his jaw open so the food could fall out, immediately going for the cola.

You hissed, "oh that's bad, don't worry it happens to the best of us"

"Maybe to you", your brother muttered while taking a swig of the fizzy drink from your bottle, "it doesn't happen to me. I mean, my first love always was chicken"

"That sounds way too weird. I'm considering disowning you as my brother", you huffed out, annoyed. 

"So steve..", Rohan started as the boy went back in for another spoonful, "Are you going to be there tomorrow?"

"W– what is tomorrow?" He asked through a mouthful of rice. 

Rohan scoffs, "you haven't told him?", He asked you, shocked as he tutted.

"Told me what?"

"There's the haldi tomorrow" The brunette boy waited for you to elaborate. "It's like an event that we do with the groom and the bride separately, it's hard to describe to be honest– I guess you'll just see it tomorrow"

"Not in those clothes"

"Rohan–"

"Oh, no offence man but that suit is bad. Like doesn't fit the vibe at all"

The light bulb lit above your head. "Then let's get you something else"

"Um– what–","What–", both the boys said together.

"You", You pointed at your brother, "do you have an extra suit?"

"Why the hell would I have an extra suit?"

"I know you do", you did infact not know.

"No I don't"

"Yes, you do"

"No, i–"

"Listen, Rohan if you run along right now and find a nice suit for steve, things will be a lot easier for you"

"Or what? What're you going to do?"

"Guys, it's fine–", Steve tried to speak up. 

"No steve, it's isn't fine","No steve, it is not fine", you both said simultaneously.

"Go and get the suit, Rohan", you ordered.

"Why don't you shut up, (y/n)?"

"Guys–", the boy started again.

"Shut up, steve ", "Were trying to have a civil conversation here Steve"

"It's better that you get going now, bhaiyya", you gave a sickly sweet mock smile.

"I don't think so, mummy, papa ko bata doon tere iss chakkar ke barey main?"

"Go ahead, bata de. But main bhi tumhari girlfriend ke kisse mummy-papa ko pesh karungi, it's only fair" Rohan paused, a mix of fear and annoyance flashed through his features— you'd got him good.

Steve had no idea what you were saying, you two could be making fun of him for all he knew. But there was something about the mischievous glint in your eyes that said that you knew that this would end with you winning.

Your brother rolled his eyes, let out a sigh and marched towards his room.

"What happened?"

"Oh, nothing, I just asked him to get me the suit or I'll tell our parents about his girlfriend", you went to take a gulp of the fizzy drink, "Still hard to believe that he even has one but she comes useful with getting something out of him". Perks of being a younger sibling, you'd say.

Soon your brother stepped back in your room, and a yellow suit with embroidery hung over his arm.

"I seriously don't have yellow suits. I have the one I'll wear but I found this chikan kurta– don't know if it'll fit him"

"Um– chicken?" Steve questioned quietly.

"Yes, a chikan suit"

"Chicken suit?"

"Yes…? Oh, Steve, you idiot. Chikan is an special type of embroidered cloth"

"So, it's not made of chicken right?"

"No?!", "What? No dude"

You put the suit against his chest to see if the suit will fit him. his breath hitched at your proximity to him, he chided himself, reminding himself that your brother was still in the goddamn room.

"I think it'll fit fine enough", you mumbled to Steve before telling your brother, "Okay, fine. You're fine,i won't tell them"

Rohan shut the door behind him, muttering something along the lines of, "Fall for it every single time"

The next day, Steve came clad in the suit you'd given him. The fabric was a little too loose in some places and a little too tight in others, it wasn't a perfect fit but you'd be lying if you said that he didn't look amazing. Something about seeing him in traditionals just made your chest flutter and stomach flips. 

A smile etched itself onto his face when he noticed you in the crowd as he weaved through the people to get to you.

"Hi, you look great! And we're matching!"

"Steve everyone is wearing yellow", the boy looked around and indeed– every single person was wearing something yellow.

"Why yellow?"

"It'll make sense soon"

Confusion settled on his features as he saw the people putting a yellow paste on the bride's face and arms.

"That's a turmeric paste, we call it haldi. The groom and brides family do it separately to them"

"...why?"

"Steve it's a tradition, I'm sure it probably symbolises something but I don't really know, to be honest– it's just fun"

Soon enough, you led him back to your room before Steves migraine started acting up again and you talked the entire time. He told you a bit about traditions that they did in their weddings.

The next day, at work, Steve felt like he was starting to lose it– Robin was right there with him. He wouldn't shut up about you, 

"..and did I tell you that she got me a suit?"

"Yeah, Steve. Like seven times already"

You hadn't told him anything about any events that day and neither had you called the workplace. He was starting to get ansty.

Although he wanted to, he couldn't leave Robin alone at the video store as it was one of the busier days of the week. So, he helped Robin close the store up.

After dropping the dirty blonde girl at her house, the boy grit his teeth and drove to the house you were staying at.

The clock read 10:30. You were putting oil in your grandmother's hair and braiding it. The radio played a random cassette of Indian songs that Ravi had given you for the night. The buzz of the heater placed by the bed filled the air along with singers voice.

Through the song, you thought you heard a knock at the door but when you turned around, there was no one. So you turned back to braiding your grandmother's hair. Another knock, still nothing. Your motions stilled, trying to ascertain whether it was coming from the player. That when you heard it again. Another series of rapid knocks …. Coming from.. the window?

Your head snapped towards the window, the curtains were drawn but there was a sliver of an opening to be able to see outside. Your eyes met with a certain Steve Harrington. He waved his fingers at you awkwardly, your eyes widened as you looked back at your grandmother who was apparently still oblivious to the unwanted presence in her vicinity. You quickly gestured to Steve to be quiet, finished your grandmother's braid and led her to her room.

When you came back, Steve was still there, waiting patiently. You locked the door behind yourself, Your feet moved rapidly towards the window. When you finally opened the window–

"Hey–"

"What the hell are you doing here?", You interrupted him.

"Came here to return the suit", he held up a bag that had the suit.

"And 10:30 p.m. was the right time to do that?"

"Fair. Fair. I'm gonna be honest I was just bored", he raised his palms up in surrender, "Might've missed someone", he muttered the last part.

"Oh, missed me?" You questioned with a mock grin ignoring how your cheeks heated up, Steve Harrington really was your own personal heater. 

"Don't get too happy. I didn't say you– missed your brother"

"Well, then I think you climbed up the wrong room"

"Yeah, I should get going and probably climb up to his window. Y'know, woo him with my charm and uh– y'know, he'll forget about his girlfriend and I'll be what– your brother-in-law?"

"Are you implying that you're attracted to my brother?", You laughed. 

"He's a good looking guy", the boy deadpanned. 

"And here I thought you were starting to fall in love with me"

"You can dream on, princess"

"Just be glad my Nani is just like you or else you'd be in trouble"

"Like me?"

"My grandma. She's also hard of hearing and just like you refuses to wear her hearing aid"

"I don't need a hearing aid, y/n", you rolled your eyes at his words, "What were you two gals upto, anyway?"

"Uh, I was oiling her hair and she was about to do mine but someone decided to climb a window", you said, turning around to face the mirror and taking the oil in your palm and trying to put it on your scalp. 

"I wonder, who could that be?"

You rolled your eyes, then looked at the boy's reflection in front of you. His facial features moulded in an unreadable expression. And although unascertainable, your hands stilled mid action as you tried to decode what the boy was feeling. It was then when it came to you that the boy climbed up your window– you were on the second floor. The absurdity hit you like lightning. Your heart swelled, chest fluttering– the boy had scaled up a wall to meet you. Simultaneously, you tried not to think of why he would've done so, when he could've just met you during the day. Suddenly you felt self-conscious, exposed. Why was he looking at you like that?

"What?", You all but whispered. The boy didn't say a word, still staring at you through the mirror. You turned around, facing him, His gaze still unwavering. He was staring at you like that. The same way he'd looked at you when you first walked into the video store. You noticed that he was staring at your lips, again. Your brain did that thing again, where it would pretend that there was more to Steve's gaze– a labyrinthian code to decipher– rather than just a crutch to help with his hearing. 

There was something about looking at you through the mirror that made Steve's head dizzy. You weren't wearing any jewellery or makeup, skin bare– your imperfections present but they didn't feel like imperfections. You were wearing a white version of the same top which you seem to have a collection of– you'd called it a kurti the other day. There was a spot of oil on the fabric that you were perhaps unaware of. Your eyes were bare, no longer lined by dark Kohl. The pupils held a hint of confusion to them, understandably so– he reckoned people climbing in through windows isn't common. There was an intimacy to it, to seeing you without the addings of makeup and fancy clothes and under the moonlight. Something so incredibly… close.

Your words ringed in his head, 'And here I thought you were starting to fall in love with me'. You'd said it as a joke, it was apparent. But the way his heart jumped whenever you looked at him, it had started to take the joke rather seriously.

"what?" You repeated, still a soft whisper.

I think I'm falling in love with you.

You moved closer to him, he shook his head as if to say "nothing".

its terrifying because I met you like a week ago..

"Are you okay, Steve?"

Can I please kiss you?

"Uh– you've got oil on your shirt"

Your eyes widened, and when you looked down, there was in fact a huge oil stain on your white kurti.

"Yeah, it's um– impossible to get rid of those stains"

You muttered curses that Steve didn't understand under your breath, your feet taking your embarrassed self towards the bathroom that was attached to your room, shutting the door behind you. You used all the soaps your bathroom held to rid the greasy spot on the fabric, to no avail. Minutes passed and you'd given up on the stain and now a new problem arose— you were in just your bra and sweatpants, your kurti was wet and greasy and you didn't take anything with you and Steve was right outside and–

You cracked open the door, the smallest opening to get a view of the room. Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed now, his head turning around at the creaking of the door.

"Don't turn!" You squeaked out, "not wearing anything"

The boy muttered a "sorry",closed his eyes and turned around despite how much he wanted not to. 

"Did the stain come off?"

"No. Can you get me a t-shirt or something from the closet?"

"Uh– sure", the boy moved, still making sure to keep his back turned towards the door. Honestly, even if Steve were to turn, he wouldn't see anything other than your head and maybe a bit of your shoulders. The brunette boy picked out the first t-shirt he found there and slowly walked towards the bathroom door, eye still averted. He held his hand out to give you the piece of clothing, "here". 

In order to get your hand out of the door, you had to widen the gap of the door. Steve's eyes flicked down towards the movement, unintentionally– the boy quickly averted his gaze again, a pink hue overcoming the colour of his cheeks. 

"Thanks", you muttered before slamming the door shut.

When you opened the door again, Steve's back was turned towards the door. 

"You can look now..", you said awkwardly. Suddenly it was so awkward, something lingering in the air that you dare not mention or think of. You didn't know why you felt nervous. The t-shirt steve had given you was just a simple graphic tee you'd picked from a thrift store in hawkins, the threads at the bottom fraying and the colour a little faded. You felt like you were back home in mid summer with the amount of heat radiating from your skin.

The boy cleared his throat and turned around, his cheeks still pink– eyes not entirely looking at you. Had you made him uncomfortable? 

"Um, d'you– do you want me to help you?" Steve's voice broke the silence, "With your hair?"

"Uh– sure..", you mumbled softly. The boy gestured to you to sit in the chair by the vanity. Your heartbeat loud against your chest as you tried your best to look nonchalant, you took a seat and Steve stood behind you– bottle of coconut oil in hand. 

He poured some onto his palm, unsure in his movements, nevertheless he started massaging your scalp– accidentally pulling at your hair in the process.

"Steve you're really bad at this", you joked to lighten to mood, chuckling a little.

"Sorry, I'm trying (y/n)", he joined you, letting out a little breathy laugh as he tried to untangle his fingers from the strands of your hair.

"It's okay", you whispered quietly. A comforting silence fell between the two of you, Steve's digits starting to get a hang of how to massage your scalp. Slowly, your tense shoulders started to slump down and you let out a soft sigh. You weren't sure if it was possible but your cheeks had gotten warmer. Almost a bit too hot.

"D'you want me to braid it?"

"You know how to?"

"I can try", he shrugged. 

Turns out, braiding hair is actually complicated, you tried your best to explain it vocally however it didn't really work out. So you both settled on tying your hair in a bun.

"Your turn", you commanded. He titled his head in confusion, eyebrows scrunched together, "might help with your migraines"

"I don't have one right now, (y/n)"

"Just shut up and sit down", you ordered before adding a soft, "please?"

The boy let out a breathy laugh before shrugging and running his slightly oily fingers through his hair. You put your hands on his shoulder, turned him around and pushed him down to make him sit between your knees– back facing you. His tense shoulders brushing against your knees.

You spilled the oil in your palm, warming it up a little and finally carding it through the chestnut brown strands. The boy's shoulders relaxed as you started massaging his scalp and forehead, his amber eyes fluttering close. 

"Damn, you're really good at this"

"I know", you stated. 

Steve wasn't sure when, but he fell asleep. You weren't sure when either. One moment he's joking of hiring you as his personal migraine reliever and next moment you're hearing his soft and barely audible snores– head lolling to the side. You continued to gently and delicately brush the boy's brown locks. 

There was something about him.

Something that never allowed you to pull your eyes away. Something soft and warm. Something so domestic. Something you could get used to. Something you wanted to get used to. Something you'd never felt before. Something real. Something too real. 

Too real.

No, you admonished. It isn't real.

Well, it feels real. 

You were only going to be in Hawkins for two more weeks. As soon as you would take that flight back home, it would be as real as fairies. 

You looked over at the clock, the thing read 11:47p.m. you bit your lip, looking back down at the boy deep in sleep; As much as you hated to do it you had to wake Steve up. 

"Hey, Steve", you gently nudged his shoulder, "Hey, mr. Video man", you shook him a little harder, "Steve, wake up"

The boy murmured in his sleep, further snuggling into your thigh. You leaned forward, your face beside his and you called his name again. Finally, his golden eyes fluttered open, a soft smile on his pink lips. He looked like he had been awoken from the best sleep– because he had. He couldn't remember the last time he'd truly had a good night's sleep despite only being in slumber for a few minutes. He couldn't recall being so comfortable in a really long time, and then waking up to the sight of your soft eyes and smile only added to the serenity of it all.

"You look really pretty", Steve murmured, voice deeper than normal and sleepiness still glazed over his features– mind still not conscious. Butterflies fluttered in your chest, heartbeat picking up. "I think i really want to kiss you"

You were felt like you were stuck in time, maybe you were. Your chest swelled but it also felt a little too tight, your cheeks burning up. You eyes locked into his, you noticed he was once again looking at your lips, and so now so were you. And before you realised, you slightly leaned towards him and you could've sworn the boy did the same. Your eyelids fluttered close as awaited the impending sensation. But it never came.

"Shit", your eyes flung open, catching Steve pulling away and scrambling to get up from the carpeted floor. "I'm– I'm so so sorry", the boy stammered, fingers running through his oily strands. His gaze flew over to the clock on the wall before saying, "I should get going, it's really late and I have work tomorrow and– I'm sorry." He turned to the window where he'd entered form earlier in the evening. His greasy fingers fumbling with the latch. When he finally got it to open, a gust of chilling air flew into the room– leaving shivers in their wake. Before climbing out the window, steve uttered, "I'll– bye!"

And suddenly you were cold all over again.

Taglist:

@555stargirl555 @bijleegiregi @luvsersi @lj127 @angelulls @bitch-biblioklept @1derfulzxyn @avianawrites @pl4ybhaicarti

[blueblueberryjam]

100 CHAPTERS. 450k WORDS.

At the Garrison, Shiro flashed his ID to get them clearance onto the launch pad. 

"Don't touch anything," he warned both of them, leading them onto the ship. He showed Keith his bunk and introduced him to the mice. ("That one is designated Alpha-B, so we call her Abe.") Finally, he showed Keith to the pilot's controls. 

"And this is where the magic happens."

It looked fairly complicated, but Keith felt like he understood the basics of what things did. "Cool," he remarked, looking marginally more engaged.

Shiro showed Keith the controls for artificial gravity, thrust, and rotation, explaining how he would use the last two to get them out of atmosphere and on course to Mercury.

Keith paid attention to what Shiro was saying. Hey, he'd have to know this at some point, right? Well, assuming he actually got in. It was entirely possible he wouldn't. Probable, really. There were so many way better candidates.

Shiro checked his watch and ushered them out of the ship. Technically, they weren't supposed to be in here. 

Outside the ship, he waved to Lieutenant Reyes and Commander Holt. Matt was there, too, with his sister, Katie. Shiro checked his watch again. "I only have a few minutes before we're supposed to start pre-launch checks."

"Oh." Keith wasn't sure how to react. He didn't know what he was feeling. He wished he understood himself, but he didn't.

Adam hugged Shiro tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and dropping his head onto his shoulder. 

"I'll miss you," he said. He looked into Shiro's eyes. "And remember- don't hide anything from me this time. I want to know." 

"I promise." Shiro nodded. Adam stepped away, and Shiro opened his arms to Keith for a hug.

Keith hugged him, a little stiffer than normal. Logically, he should be trying to maximize what time he had with Shiro, but.... it was weird. It was like his brain was just preparing him to... to be left. Shiro hugged him tightly anyway. 

"I'll send messages, I promise," he said. "And I'll be back before you know it." He pulled away slightly, brushing Keith's hair back from his face. "I love you." 

"Ensign Shirogane!" 

Shiro looked up. "I have to go," he said again. He waved over his shoulder as he walked away.

[scotianostra]

On March 16th 1309 King Robert the Bruce convened his first parliament, at St Andrews.

After the Declaration of the Clergy in February the King was starting to establish himself as the recognised Monarch of Scotland, this was a significant point in his reign.

By 1306, when Robert I seized the throne, there might have been some expectation that the prominent role for the community of the realm in the government of the kingdom that had arisen since 1286 would continue. Yet no king voluntarily accepts limits upon his powers, and Robert I restored royal authority, removing the ability of the community to play a significant role in the formulation of parliamentary acts. The king used the rhetoric of community and parliamentary authority that had evolved since 1286 to give his actions a façade of broad support that they often did not have. Parliament became a tool for creating documents designed to validate and augment the king’s authority by the public display of support for his kingship.

I’ve said it before, most recently with the post in February on the Declaration of the Clergy, these were tools used to send a message to England that the Scots were functioning normally, propaganda tools. The same tools are still being used nowadays, only in a modern way, you just have to look Ukraine and President Zelenskyy, with his daily updates and speaking at other countries parliaments via video links, he is sending out a message to the Russians that Ukraine is still functioning, much in the same way Scotland let other countries know that we continued to repel the English Usurpers, Edward I’s death two years before must have been encouraging for Bruce, Longshanks son was certainly not a warrior like his father. The most famous piece of propaganda we sent out was The Declaration of Arbroath in 1320, although the first of note from Scotland was The Lübeck letter in 1297.

The Bruce was still trying to unite the Scots against their common enemy, the meeting of parliament, therefore, was a useful means of engineering declarations of support for the king, or of manipulating collective decision-making. At this time, the Scottish magnates sent a letter to King Philip IV of France in response to his request for assistance in a crusade. The Scots replied expressing their support for Bruce as king, reminding Philip of Scotland’s devastation by war, and promised help when peace was achieved.

The letter reads:

“Letters: by the magnates of Scotland to Philip IV, king of France.

To the most Christian and triumphant prince and reverend lord the lord Philip [IV] by the grace of God illustrious king of the French, William, earl of Ross, Malcolm, earl of Lennox, William, [earl of Suther]land, and the communities of the earldoms of Fife, Menteith, Mar, Buchan and Caithness, the heirs of which are in ward, likewise the communities of all the other earldoms of the kingdom of Scotland [except]† [D]unbar; Edward de Bruce, lord of Galloway, James the steward of Scotland, Alexander de Argyll, Donald de Islay, John de Menteith, Hugh, the son and heir of the earl [of Ross]†, Gilbert de Hay, constable of Scotland, Robert de Keith, marischal of Scotland, Thomas Randolph, lord of Nithsdale, James, lord of Douglas, Alexander de Lindsay, Alexander de [Fraser], [William] Wiseman, David de Barclay, Robert Boyd, barons; and also all of Argyll and the Hebrides and the inhabitants of all the kingdom of Scotland recognising the fealty of the lord Robert by the grace of God king of Scotland, all [… … ….] Your credence having been revealed to us in writing, and having been fully understood [by us], in the full parliament of our lord the king solemnly held not long ago at the city of St Andrews, impressed upon our minds the joyfulness of [your] devot[ion] [… … ….] For we conclude that your majesty’s mind is devoutly disposed to take on the business of the Holy Land, to prosecute which all followers of the Christian faith justly ought to strive and with humble devotion incline their hearts [… … …,] we saw that it was contained [in your letter] that your royal grace considers and calls to mind the treaties between the kingdoms of France and Scotland, made long ago and confirmed; also the losses, harms and injuries which the inhabitants of the kingdom [… … …] have suffered in many ways hitherto. The particular and special affection which, in that credence, you say you have towards the person of our lord Robert by the grace of God king [of Scots … …] [whom] justice and truth and the grace of the King of Kings has raised up as our prince and leader, cheers our hearts above all else. We therefore noting, with heartfelt feelings, the aforesaid, as we are bound in duty to do [… … …] [?commend] your right royal devotion towards the business of the Holy Land, and for the affection which you have towards our lord the king, and we return thanks as best we can to your majesty for restoring the liberties and rights of the kingdom of Scotland, praying to God that ‘by the bowels of mercy of Jesus Christ’ that you may bring to fulfilment the devout purpose which you have conceived in your mind, trough our Lord’s inspiration in relation to the aforesaid, with holy desire, and efficacious eagerness and a safe outcome. May your royal majesty deign to take note, with pious mind, that in the exaltation of Christian princes the name of Christ is extolled and the Catholic faith strengthened. If, therefore, the standing of our lord [the king whom] we say unanimously is [… … …], is exalted and the kingdom of Scotland returns to its former free condition, the tempests of war having been quelled and secure peace having been granted, then your royal highness will be able to have as supporters to achieve the end of your desire, the service of God, and to come to your help, not only our lord the king aforesaid, but also the inhabitants of his kingdom as best they are able. And as [evidence of] the aforesaid things [… …] clearly these letters sealed by our seals were commanded to be sent patent to your highness. Written and given at the city of St Andrews in Scotland 16 March 1308 [1309] and in the third year of our lord King Robert’s [reign].

I know it’s not an easy read, but I have taken this straight from the web page of The Records of the Parliament of Scotland here https://www.rps.ac.uk/trans/1309/2 . Check the side bar for more records from 1308, when an assembly was held and William, earl of Ross, recorded his act of homage to Robert I before an assembly of prelates and nobles.

The second photo is a Letter by the magnates of Scotland regarding the right of King Robert I to the Crown of Scotland, 16 March 1309, an extract reads:

… we see it contained that royal gratitude reflects on and brings back to mind the alliances formerly existing and maintained between the kingdoms of France and Scotland and the losses, sufferings and trials which the inhabitants of the kingdom have hitherto so much endured. Our minds are cheered, above all, by the extraordinary and peculiar affection which… you say you have for the person of lord Robert, by the grace of God our lord king, who has been raised up as our leader and prince by right and truth and by the justice and grace of the King of Kings. We therefore… [?commend] your royal devotion for the affairs of the holy land… and for the regard you have towards our lord king, and we return all the thanks we can to your royal majesty for the restoration of the liberties and rights of the kingdom of Scotland.

… If therefore… the kingdom of Scotland [be] restored to its original liberty, the storms of war extinguished, the security of peace granted… your highness may have at power not only our lord the king aforesaid but also the inhabitants of his realm.

[beardedmrbean]

“It’s fascist to eliminate DOE!” Americans are considered some of the most illiterate people and lack critical thinking skills on the planet since the DOE was made.

Boys are INTENTIONALLY throw under the bus since the public school system is purposely designed for girls style of learning. Fuck I’m 23 and I realize I only got any form of support because of my skintone.

And what we been getting, hmm, kids don’t know how to do taxes. We barely have any cooking lessons unless your lucky af. Most Americans can only read at a 3rd grade level and oh the big ones.

Teachers unions are corrupted af and we have rampant child sex abuse issues where 1 in 10 students REPORTED sexual misconduct. And how many headlines that boils down to “Teacher raped a male student” in one year alone?

And I’m African American, now I didn’t grow up in the inner cities. But I known the government don’t give two fucks about me(I live in the Chicago area too)

What wrong destroying the DOE? People call American schools a hell on earth and we been getting more stupid since the government interference. Oh shit I forgot, how many boys were overdrugged again? Sorry I don’t have Stockholm syndrome towards schools

2013 not sure if there's anything more recent this was the one that popped up when I was looking for something different for that post

You'll notice that adjusted for inflation there is three times the money being spent per student now than there was in 1970 with a fairly static level on scoring, but you know that whole definition of insanity trying the same thing and expecting different results doesn't count when it comes to my tax dollars apparently.

There are understandable newer things that will increase the monetary need like ADA compliance, computers, and meal programs (which I wholeheartedly support, kids shouldn't go hungry drop the obama one tho I don't support that one it's garbage and kids were still hungry, how bad does it have to be for a kid to skip out on some of what might be all they eat that day) and various other improvements and such, big fan of air conditioning myself.

Still shouldn't triple the dollar number,

Also for the record the DOE was formed in 1979 so the numbers were already going up for spending when it came in.

Data presented to the Akron, Ohio, school board revealed not a single student from the school’s inaugural third-grade class — now entering eighth grade — has ever passed the state’s math test. “It is discouraging,” said Keith Liechty-Clifford, the district’s director of school improvement, in a model of understatement. State test scores in English and science are nearly as bad, and Black students at I Promise test in the bottom 5% of all Black students in Ohio.

Nice to see the people there making excuses instead of taking responsibility too, one more lesson in failure from this school.

I do hope they can figure it out though, I still have hopes for this one.

But if you've been around here for more than a few months you'll likely know I have hopes for everything to be better, I try to be very bright side oriented.

and in that vein, at least these kids get 3 hots 5 days a week maybe more so that's a W, less hungry kids is always a W

[corporal-brainworms]

Gardener’s story:

—————————————————

Gardener, once named Scott, was the son of a well known entrepreneur, Gerald Thompson. Gerald held his son to high expectations and raised him with the sole purpose of inheriting his father’s company. Scott hated this idea, as from a young age he was rather anarchistic, he hated how his father hoarded money from people and how that made him look down on others. Scott was a gentle, loving soul; he liked to draw and play and help his aunt Ayesha in the garden. Gerald became frustrated, he labelled his son a cissy and a poof. He tried to make his son take an interest in finances or politics or hunting or anything that Gerald felt was fitting for a boy. Scott was receptive to none of this and continued to enjoy what he liked.

When Scott was 13, his mother fell pregnant and at 14 his little sister was born. Her name was Alice, and Scott loved her. He spent every day with her. He taught her to play and smile, to walk and eat by herself, to dress herself and do her hair, he taught Alice everything and watched as she hit every milestone- except for talking. Scott tried. His mother, Layla, tried. Gerald tried. Ayesha tried. Alice did not talk. Layla was heartbroken, Ayesha was disappointed, Gerald was enraged. Scott did not care. He taught Alice to write. Alice went through notebook after notebook and pen after pen. She had so much to say like any child would. She just could not talk. Alice grew up to love the garden too, but she liked to play in the mud and in trees; she kept worms and got her clothes dirty. She drove Scott’s old trucks over the flowerbeds and into the pond. Gerald hated that. All he wanted were two normal children and he got the gentle gardener son and a mute tomboy daughter.

Gerald’s disappointment and rage towards both of his children grew and grew until he walked in on Alice putting her big brother’s ‘overgrown’ hair into pigtails with the pink ribbon she was meant to use in her own. Gerald snapped and yanked Scott by the hair, pulling the loose tails out. Alice watched with horror as Gerald smacked his son three times across the head and screamed slurs and profanities at him.

After Gerald leaving, Scott calmly told Alice to get her schoolbag and fill it with clothes and some of her favourite toys, and then hide it. Alice jumped at the order and Scott descended the stairs to the garden to meet his aunt. It took only a glance for her to understand what had happened and she sent Scott away with a similar task to the one he gave Alice. After packing up the three went on as normal until Gerald and Layla went to bed for the night. then, Ayesha pulled Alice from her bed and shook Scott awake. With Alice still at rest, Scott and Ayesha called a cab and had themselves escorted to the nearest airport. Ayesha sorted all the transactions and ticket nonsense while the fresh adult Scott held his baby sister in his arms. They only had two hours to wait before they could board the flight. Only two hours to be found. Scott nor Ayesha could sleep a wink.

As the clock struck 6 they were called to board. It was slightly awkward, they had a lot of luggage and a little girl to carry but they made it work and got on board. They all drifted in and out of sleep the entire time before arriving in Limerick in Ireland. Due to them being runaways they all opted to change names. Ayesha started calling herself Ray, Scott called himself Keith and Alice was permitted to keep her name given how young she was, but they all adopted the name Timmison.

They spent time jumping hotels and sofas while Ayesha and Scott alternated shifts until , just a few years into their new home, Ayesha landed herself a job in a fashion line as a designer. Scott and Alice were ecstatic and Ayesha promised she would take care of everything from there. With this new promise, they bought themselves a big house with an even bigger garden.

Ayesha was out often and when she wasn’t she spent her time inside working on designs or watching cheesy romcoms. Scott was the opposite, choosing to spend all his time outside working on his own new business: he would make and care for people’s gardens. Everyone in his town soon came to know him, but because he didn’t talk much. They simply knew him as ‘Gardener’, and he was ok with that

[kidge-planet]

Kidge summer event

Day 16 : sunset

Characters: Pidge/Katie holt/Kogane , Keith Kogane, Shiro, Lance, Hunk, coran

Pairing: pidge and keith : kidge

post Season8

The annual paladins' meeting in New Altea had become a cherished tradition for the team. They gathered together to share stories, updates, and strengthen their bonds as defenders of the universe. But this year, Keith had a surprise planned that would make the occasion even more special...

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape of junibery flowers and the grand castle in the distance, Keith's heart raced with nervous excitement. He had been thinking about this moment for a while now, and he couldn't wait to ask Pidge the question that had been on his mind.

Pidge stood beside him, looking out at the breathtaking view, completely unaware of Keith's plans. She had been so caught up in the beauty of the scene that she didn't notice Keith's anxious glances in her direction.

Taking a deep breath, Keith took Pidge's hand in his and turned her to face him. "Pidge," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion, "we've been through so much together. We've faced countless battles and saved the universe together. And through it all, you've been my rock, my partner, and my best friend."

Pidge's eyes widened in surprise as she realized what was happening. Her heart started to race, and her hands trembled slightly in Keith's grasp.

"I can't imagine my life without you," Keith continued, his gaze never leaving hers. "You're the most incredible person I've ever met, and I love you more than words can express. So, Katie Holt, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Pidge's eyes sparkled as she looked at Keith, her heart overflowing with love and joy. "Yes, Keith," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "Yes, of course, I'll marry you."

A cheer erupted from a distance as the rest of the paladins, who had been watching the scene unfold, celebrated the happy moment. Lance, Hunk, Shiro, and Coran were all elated for their friends, witnessing the beautiful moment between Keith and Pidge.

Keith couldn't help but smile as he slipped a beautiful ring onto Pidge's finger. It was a simple yet elegant design, just like the love they shared. Pidge couldn't take her eyes off the ring, feeling overwhelmed by the significance of the moment.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the couple, they shared a tender kiss, sealing their promise of love and commitment. The rest of the paladins approached, showering Keith and Pidge with congratulations and heartfelt embraces.

"Congratulations, you two!" Lance said, his eyes filled with happiness. "You make an awesome pair."

Hunk echoed his well wishes, and Shiro clapped Keith on the back, giving him a proud smile. Even Coran couldn't help but shed a tear of joy.

Amidst the celebration and laughter, Keith and Pidge stood together, basking in the love of their friends and the beauty of the moment. They knew that their journey together had only just begun, but they were ready to face whatever challenges came their way, hand in hand.

They will always remember that day where, in front of this sunset, they sealed their love for a lifetime.

[kitsumidori]

I've seen some users post their own version of Keith, and I've been wanting to join the band wagon.

His design is slightly inspired by @sheepkebby design for Keith

About

The best way to describe him is that he is a mix of a loveable himbo and a brave idiot.

Others call him the luckiest man alive due to the fact that he cheated death multiple times.

(though according to Keith, until he wins the lottery, he'll be the luckiest)

Ellis mentioned that Keith lost all feeling in his right foot after eating 3lbs of raw chicken. He ended up having to get it amputated and now wears a prosthetic.

A lot of his wounds have healed, though some are too drastic to heal fully

Unlike Ellis, Keith never finished high school. In fact he made a lot of mistakes that he deeply regretted. He made Ellis promise to never make the same mistakes he made, even reminding him of that promise after Keith became a run away groom.

Him and Ellis have the biggest bromance that people assume that they are dating, which they are not. Keith has said that Ellis is more of a brother to him.

He would always be the guy that Ellis would go to whenever he has something on his mind. He was the first person to know about Ellis being bisexual and even helped through Ellis gender identity (for more context: I headcanon Ellis as demi-male (he/they). Just to make things clear)

Still has the "I'm a Moron" tattoo on his forehead and would usually cover it with his bangs or medical gauges. Still the best 200$ he's ever made.

Like Ellis, he has an optimistic outlook on the whole apocalypse, seeing it like in the movies. Though unlike the movies, the zombies are more scared of him than he is of them.

[kudosmyhero]

Transformers (vol. 1) #5: The New Order

Read Date: January 28, 2023 Cover Date: June 1985 ● Writer: Bob Budiansky ● Penciler: Alan Kupperberg ● Inker: Alan Kupperberg ● Colorist: Nel Yomtov ● Letterer: Rick Parker ● Editor: Jim Owsley ◦ Keith Williams ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● this cover is quite intimidating. how can Shockwave's expression be so scary when he doesn't even have a face to emote? (amazing cover art by Mark Bright) ● wait… is Spidey back? that looked like his head logo ● lots of Autobots hanging by their ankles ● Thundercracker, Starscream, Ravage, Buzzsaw, and Laserbeak are undergoing rehabilitation. ● Shockwave tells a recuperating Megatron that he is assuming command (yeah, we'll see how that goes) ● Megatron brings Shockwave up to speed on the past 4 million years ● the people trying to figure out why the ambulance is speaking ● Megatron actually calling him "Commander Shockwave," but is basically just giving him enough rope to hang himself with. Shockwave is being pretty badass here, though, and he's just catapulted to one of my faves ● 11 Decepticons are all that remain?

● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: Having taken over the Ark, Shockwave has strung up all the Autobot's deactivated bodies from the ceiling of the ship and has begun the process of reviving all the Decepticons, and filtering out the poisoned fuel provided to them by Sparkplug Witwicky. The Decepticon requiring the most repair is Megatron, whom Shockwave deals with contempt and informs him that he is taken over leadership of the Decepticons, earning the now former Decepticon commanders ire. Shockwave has also taken a point of monitoring the Earth's television transmissions and learns of G.B. Blackrock's new high-tech oil rig that has been designed by his technologically gifted employee Josie Beller.

While at the Greater Portland Hospital, Buster Witwicky goes out looking for Ratchet and finds him just returning back with a pair of paramedics answering a call. When the medics realize that the ambulance they were riding can talk they are all frightened away. Buster explains to them that his dad pulled through the surgery and informed him that he tainted the Decepticons fuel so that they would lose their battle against the Autobots. Ratchet is concerned however because he is unable to contact the Autobots via radio and Buster convinces Ratchet to let him tag along in case there is trouble. Before he goes, Buster decides to visit his father one more time.

In Sparkplug's hospital room to tell his father that he is going back to the Ark. Sparkplug expresses his disapproval telling him that getting involved with alien robots is not a thing a high school student should do and has him promise that he is only going to say his final goodbyes, Buster promises his father that he will even though it saddens him deeply.

Back aboard the Ark, Shockwave gets all the Decepticons back up to working operation and has the remaining deactivated Autobots strung up on the ceiling. He then gloats to Megatron that he intends to use Optimus Prime's Creation Matrix to create the next generation of Decepticon warriors for him to command in his quest to conquer the entire planet Earth, seizing its energy resources. Shockwave then transforms into a space gun mode and flies off to begin his bid for conquest.

Ratchet and Buster meanwhile arrive at the Ark and are shocked to find Rumble and Frenzy guarding the base. Buster convinces Ratchet to let him slip past the entrance and investigate what's going on. Sneaking inside Buster is horrified to find all the Autobots destroyed and strung up on the ceiling. Rounding the corner he runs into the severed head of Optimus Prime, kept alive by the Decepticons. As Buster looks on in ever increasing horror the head of Prime tells Buster that he is the Autobot's last hope.

(https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Transformers_Vol_1_5)

Fan Art: Shockwave by sakuranez

Accompanying Podcasts: ● Transformers Chronicles - episode 05

● Transformers University - episode 17