#my brain made some sort of connection with me hugging my cats and lying with my face flat against their fluffy belly and this

[lost-in-azalea-forest]

im still feeling a bit tired since meds didnt kick in yet and because of my g.enshin grind yesterday i just think of hugging n.euvillette from behind and burrying my face in his hair, and feeling how nice to touch it is... maybe leave some small kisses on his horns... ughfhddggf

[sprnklersplashes]

written in ink (cadnis one-shot)

Ever since Janis could read, she's known one of the biggest plot twists in Harry Potter. Not because she worked it out, but because it's been tattooed on her skin all her life. Her soulmate spoiled Dumbedore's death for her.

The AU where the first words you hear your soulmate say are tattooed on your body, Cadnis style.

Since she was old enough to read, Janis had wondered what her soulmate’s first words to her could mean. It’s pretty scary, especially for a kid, knowing that the first words you ever hear your soulmate saying will be about someone dying. She’s puzzled over who the future death might be even more than she has about who her future soulmate might be. She doesn’t want to ask her parents for fear it’s someone close to them, nor does she think to look it up at her young age and so for the first few years of her life her world is dominated by one, huge, unavoidable question; who in her future dies, and what they are to her soulmate.

But then she’s old enough to know about Harry Potter, and she doesn’t need to wonder any more.

Her soulmate tattoo, etched in black across her ribs, reads I just can’t believe Dumbledore died.

She got two pages into Philosopher’s Stone before she made the connection and flung the book across her bedroom, her eyes popping out of her head and her jaw on the floor. The first question on her mind is “what kind of insane author kills off the main character’s mentor?”, but soon she’ll learn that frankly, that is the least of JK Rowling’s problems. The second question is “so… my soulmate is into Harry Potter?”. And then the third question comes slowly, creeping into her brain with tentative steps and simmering excitement, “so when do I get to meet them?”.

She doesn’t get a quick answer to that last one.

It’s a bit of a pain really, having a major spoiler to everyone’s favourite book series permanently written on her body. For one, there’s always a surge of pity in her chest when she sees people with the books, oblivious to the impending death of a beloved parental figure. Like God’s cursed her with forbidden knowledge that places her above her classmates, where she can watch them live in blissful ignorance until they reach the fated book or movie or just Google it because they’re too impatient. Janis is denied that luxury, her knowing of events yet to come too much for her to even give the books a chance. They’re not worth the way her heart clenches painfully in her chest whenever the wise old wizard comes in.

Okay that was an exaggeration. There are far better books out there that she’s happy to read. But that doesn’t change how the words seem to burn on her skin. No one likes spoilers after all.  So when she changes before PE it’s in half the time it takes the other girls and she covers it up with make-up during the summer. And then kids start to get nosy and what should be an intimate secret is tossed around carelessly, and she starts teaching herself the art of lying.

Regina’s the one who asks first. They’re 12 and it’s a sleepover and she’s sprawled across her bed, her chin resting on her closed fist, her eyes glinting dangerously in the half-light.

“Okay Janis. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” she chooses. She’s not scared of dares, but she’s smart enough to know better than to take a dare from her.

“Okay,” she says, her lips curling into a sly smirk, one that makes Janis bite on the inside of her cheek and wish she could take it back. Sometimes she forgets how slippery Regina can be, especially on days like today when she’s been nothing but bouncy and fun and kind. She forgot that this side to her best friend even existed, the side that takes jokes too far and tries to pry Janis open like she’s a treasure chest. All that comes back to her when she tosses her perfect hair over her shoulder and raises her eyebrow, and she’s reminded that sometimes she doesn’t actually like hanging out with Regina.

She’s also reminded that she hates Truth or Dare.

“What does your soulmate tattoo say?”

“That’s private,” Janis reminds her, hugging the pillow tighter against her chest. “You’re only meant to tell your soulmate.”

“I know,” she scoffs, rolling off the bed and shuffling towards Janis. “But everyone tells people. And if you can’t tell me, your best friend, who can you tell?” Her tone is like the satin sheets on her bed, soft and comforting and familiar that Janis almost falls for it and tells her. Besides, Regina doesn’t even read Harry Potter, right? So it’s not like she would care… But other people might. And Regina might tell other people. Or Gretchen. Or Karen. Most likely Karen. And Karen could tell who-knows-who, who could tell who-knows-who, and then before she knows it she’s ruined Harry Potter for her entire grade. And then anything could happen to her. Taylor Wedell got her head shoved in a toilet for spoiling the end of Gossip Girl. And Janis really likes her head.

“I’m not telling, Regina,” she says, shrugging. “I’m sorry. That’s private.”

But there’s no word Regina George hates more than ‘no’. Her eyes narrow and her face falls into a pout even as she shrugs it off, telling Janis that she’s making a big deal out of nothing and if she won’t tell her that’s her problem. Janis tries to make it up to her, saying that she can ask anything else, but Regina won’t listen, deciding she wants to braid Karen’s hair instead.

They spend the rest of the night in a prickly silence and it takes a week before Regina returns to normal after that.

Damian is her next friend and he’s far better company than Regina is. He shows her his tattoo of his own volition, proudly extending his arm so she can see the words ‘can you do that again?’ written there in a rushed scribble. He confesses that he’s compared it with every other boy’s notes in their year, trying to see if he’s already met his other half and just forgot.

“I don’t think you can do that,” she tells him as they walk home from school one day, aged fourteen. “My mom said that when my dad first spoke to her it changed everything else. Like the minute she heard those words, nothing else mattered. She described it as some flower opening up in her chest.” She rolls her eyes a little, unsure if she’s inclined to believe all that. “It was really poetic.”

“Sounds beautiful,” he remarks, kicking up a pile of leaves. “Is that why you won’t tell me yours?”

“Sort of,” she sighs. “Hey, do you like Harry Potter?”

“I guess,” he replies. “I mean I’m more of a fan of the lore than of the books itself, what’s your house, I’m a Hufflepuff-”

It’s months later when they watch the sixth movie for the first time. The two of them on the sofa in Damian’s basement, Janis half-paying attention, half-working on a drawing. Damian is on the edge of the couch, his eyes wide and his hand slapping Janis’ leg every ten minutes. Despite telling herself she doesn’t care, she does, but it isn’t in the way Damian thinks she does. Her heart hammers against her ribs through the whole movie and nearly stops in every scene Dumbledore is in as she wonders if this is it, the moment she’s had carved into her skin her whole life.

She lets out a loud, relieved “finally!” when he eventually up and dies, prompting Damian to turn to her with his mouth open and his eyebrows shot up to the ceiling, a silent ‘Janis, what the fuck’ on his face.

And it’s then she tells him, tells him about the words on her chest and the secret she’s kept and how someone she’s never met ruined one of the biggest franchises in pop culture for her.

Damian laughs so hard his cat has to run over and check he’s not dead.

                                                                                                    *****

Janis sits on her desk in the art room, studying her piece from every new angle she can find. Not many people are in, given that it’s only the second week of junior year, which gives her a space to work on her own. Thanks to her spending the better part of her freshman and sophomore lunch periods in here, the art teacher gives her free range over the place and leaves for her cigarette breaks when she comes in, telling her not to touch anything and help herself to the cookies in her drawer but not to tell anyone else. And with just two seniors in and devoted to their work, she sits on the desk, her foot on the chair and a paintbrush between her fingers, trying to find the right colour.

“Good morning starshine!” Damian sings, earning him glares from the seniors. “Ooft, tough crowd.”

“They’re trying to focus,” she tells him, handing him a cookie. Sure Miss Peters said not to give the cookies to anyone, but Damian’s not anyone.

“My apologies to them,” he says in a low voice, leaning against the table and taking in her newest piece, a mermaid with flowing black hair and delicate purple eyes, the little fangs on her mouth the only allusion to the danger she holds. “That’s cool.”

“You think?” she replies, pride thumping in her chest.

“I know,” he says firmly, a smile on his face and the kind of wholesome honesty that only moms, grandmas and Damian Hubbard know how. “Did you hear the tea?”

“What?” She avoids school gossip like the plague, knowing all too well how it feels to be on the receiving end, but if Damian is telling her it’s either important, completely harmless or hilarious.

“There’s a new girl in our grade,” he tells her. So it’s the first one. “The student activities committee was telling me. Apparently she moved here from…. Kenyaaaa…” He drags the ‘a’ out for as long as his mighty lungs will allow, wiggling his eyebrows for dramatic effect.

“That’s neat,” she remarks, secretly getting a kick of Damian’s wounded puppy ‘why aren’t you appreciating my dramatics’ face. It’s a little more than neat, new kids aren’t really common in North Shore, especially ones from Kenya. “What’s her name?”

“Katie Heron, apparently,” he says. He opens his mouth to say more but he’s cut short by the bell ringing, ending their free period. With a sigh, Janis places her picture back in her folder and tucks it under her arm. Damian skips along beside her, filling her in on the whispers of the drama department about the upcoming musical and telling her he’s secured a room for their LGBTQ+ club movie night on Friday. She chats along, suggesting some more movies to add to their list and agrees what snacks to bring and asks him to get a list of dietary requirements from everyone. The normal kind of stuff that she deals with on normal school days.

But in the very very back of her mind, the name ‘Katie Heron’ sticks, and she’s not entirely sure why.

As fate would have it, she sees the new girl at lunch. It’s pure chance, she just happens to look up at the right moment in the right direction and sees an unfamiliar face in the cafeteria. And quite frankly, she’s pretty. She’s tiny, impossibly tiny, as in a kind of tiny that should probably not be legal, with long, caramel-coloured hair, braided at the top and the rest falling past her shoulders. She’s not too far away from her and she can see the wide smile on her face, innocent and excited, dimples in her rosy cheeks, and while she can’t see what colour her eyes are, she can see them lighting up as she looks around the cafeteria. She stands out, even in her cargo shorts and plaid shirt. Like the rest of the cafeteria-including Janis- was drawn in pencil but she was drawn in pen.

There’s something in her gut, something pushing her to go say hi, maybe invite her to sit with them even though that wouldn’t be normal for her. Damian’s the one who does that anyway and she’s just the arm candy. There’s no reason she should single this girl out other than the fact that she’s new. And she looks a little lonely, wandering around tables, her neck craning for an empty seat. Maybe Damian can do the talking and she can just smile.

Janis very nearly does approach her. She pushes herself up and makes to head in her direction. But one thing, one crucial thing, stops her.

Regina. Regina slides up to the new girl with a beaming smile and a no-doubt sweet, breathy voice, touching new girl-Katie’s-shoulder and tugging on her arm, asking her to come have lunch when them at their table, all the way on the other side of the cafeteria. She happily agrees and Regina links arms with her and escorts her away from the art freaks and towards Plastic Land, where Regina’s word is the word of God. She can tell her anything and New Girl will believe her.

Janis slumps back down, a cold, heavy weight in her stomach. She scoffs at herself and shakes her head, no clue why she’s so upset, since she doesn’t even know her. Damian’s eyes meet hers and he pats her shoulder sympathetically, a ‘maybe next time’ said softly to her. But when she spies her at the Plastic’s table amongst the pink and gold, she wonders with a heavy heart if there will be a next time.  

She crosses paths with the new girl three times in the following week. During that week she learns that her name is Cady with a C, a D and a Y, not Katie. She also learns that she’s taking AP calculus, she really likes math and that she used to live with animals. She also works out that she’s in her French class but was sick that day, and that the empty seat captured her attention more than anything their teacher said did.

She’s also learning that she might be becoming a stalker.

“So are you going to talk to her?” Damian asks her during gym.

“Why would I?” she replies, slowing down her pace once she’s out of the coach’s vision.

“Because you like her,” she replies, drawing out the ‘like’ for as long as his lungs will allow, as though the longer he says it the more Janis likes her.

“I don’t even know her,” she reminds him. “You probably know her better than I do.”

“Yes, and I know you better than you know you. So I know you like her.” She rolls her eyes, unable to find it in her to correct him. It’s not untrue. “I also watched you obsessively stalk her Instagram and Facebook accounts for a solid thirty minutes so...”

“Oh stop,” she scoffs, laughter in her voice. “You didn’t stop me so that’s 90% on you.”

“Oh so I have to steer you straight?”

“Well that would be an accomplishment,” she grins. “Considering.”

“Hubbard, Sarkisian!” the coach barks at them from the middle of the field. “Pick up the pace and stop the chatting or it’s two more laps!”

They speed ahead and lower their voices, privately discussing what they think of the coach and his new shorts and what they’d like to do to his head with those dodgeballs.

                                                                                               *****

By Friday, Janis has almost forgotten about her crush-that’s-not-a-crush on Cady. Well, she’s not forgotten it but she’s put it to the side. Well, not to the side, but it’s away for now. Well, not away but… Cady wasn’t the first thing on her mind when she woke up, so she’s calling it progress.

At least the LGBT+ movie night provides a welcome distraction. They only have the hall for the next few hours, just enough time for Pride and Love, Simon and finishing off with a few episodes of One Day At A Time, which is a cheat, since they’re not movies, but they’re the only thing short enough to fill the remaining time.

Janis takes charge of snacks while Sonja and Sophie argue with the IT guy over how to use the projector, Sophie’s hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, pulling her down when she gets too heated. Janis tries not to wonder if her girlfriend will do that for her one day. She’s trying to banish all thoughts of romance entirely, but Sonja is leaning on Sophie and holding her hand as they look at the computer together and it makes Janis’ chest ache and images of a certain brunette creep into her mind.

The more she tries not to think about Cady, the more she does, so much so that when the doors open and Cady jumps in with the Mathletes and their matching jackets, Janis is half-sure she’s imagining it.

And then she panics.

“Holy crap,” she whispers, slapping Damian’s shoulder again and again until he acknowledges her. “Damian, Damian, Damian!” There’s a knot in her stomach and a familiar feeling of being pulled towards her, like there’s an invisible rope around her waist.

“I see her!” he replies, grabbing her hand both to comfort her and stop her from slapping him again. His hands come around her shoulders, straightening her back and holding her up as Cady wanders over in their direction. Her eyes happen to find them and her face breaks into a smile, and for an insane moment, Janis thinks she’s smiling at her. Which would be ridiculous because they’ve never said one word to each other. The only reason she might smile at her is if she was being extra-friendly or if she was her-

No, she tells herself sternly. Not the S word.

“Oh, Janis, Damian!” Kevin hollers, jumping down the hall to them with the rest of his crew. Janis wipes her hand on her shorts, giving what she hopes is a normal smile. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey Kev,” Damian replies, offering a high-five.

“You guys met my girl Cady?” he asks, gesturing to her. Met is a funny word in this scenario. I wish is the response Janis thinks but doesn’t say out loud.

“We haven’t had the pleasure,” Damian replies, eyeing Janis and grinning. “Hubbard comma Damian. This is my amusing sidekick, Sarkisian comma Janis.” His introduction makes Cady laugh and it sounds like a bell ringing or part of a melody being played.

“We’re introducing her to American pop culture,” Marwan adds just as Cady is opening her mouth to speak. She closes it, a pleasant expression on her face but her hand is clenched into a tight fist. “But we need a break from Harry Potter. That’s too dark. We watched Half-Blood Prince and oof” He makes a cutting-your-head-off gesture with his hand, his features twisted into over-dramatic "yikes". Cady nods along enthusiastically and opens her mouth, a sense of urgency in her face, as though one might cut her off, and Janis is almost excited to hear her. Holy crap, is this having it bad?

“I just can’t believe Dumbledore died!” she exclaims. "I mean who does that?"

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

It doesn’t happen the way Janis’ mom described it. Rather than a flower blooming in her chest it’s a truck hitting her at full speed and sending her flying, her mind turning to static at those words and the pieces don’t even have time to connect in her brain before she yells-

“It’s you! You’re the one!” And at that, Cady’s mouth falls open and her eyes bulge as her hand flies to her forearm. For years, this girl has occupied Janis’ mind, and now she’s face to face with her, and in her most dire moment, rational thought has abandoned her. “You ruined Harry Potter for me!”

“Well… that’s not how I thought this was going to go down,” she mumbles, her pale cheeks turning pink.

As she comes back to herself, Janis looks around her, finding a face looking at her everywhere she turns. Some are amused, some shocked, some annoyed, some confused. But they surround her and the room starts closing in on her, making her feel like caged animal in a zoo, a spectacle for people to discuss over lunch. It’s a familiar feeling all right.

Her eyes meet Cady’s, terrified brown meeting bewildered blue and alongside the heavy cloud of embarrassment and the jagged anxiety, she feels a stab of guilt for doing this to her and it all threatens to crush her. So she does what feel most normal for her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and she finds herself running towards the doors and out into the hallway.

“Janis, wait!” Cady calls after her, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floors. She catches up to where Janis is standing, taking in deep breaths and pulling herself back together. Cady hovers in front of her, unsure of what to do, which isn’t what Janis expected. Shouldn’t soulmates just know?

“Sorry,” she repeats, straightening up. “Sorry I shouldn’t have flipped out like that.”

“S’okay,” she replies with a shrug, tapping her toe against the floor. She gives her an adorably sheepish look, one that makes Janis want to hold her tight forever. “Sorry I ruined Harry Potter for you.”

“Oh it’s fine,” she scoffs. “Seriously. Percy Jackson’s the superior children’s series. I wasn’t losing sleep over it.”

“I’ll make a note to read those,” she says softly, stepping a little closer to her. When she looks up at her, Janis feels it. The feeling her mom told her about. The flower opens in her chest and her worries begin to fade at the edges. Right now is the moment she begins hoping and daring to be brave, which is new for her. But there’s something, always something, or rather someone that looms over her and threatens it, even when she’s not physically here. She got her claws into Cady first and Janis can’t not be freaked out by that.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” she begins.

“I’ve not heard anything,” is what Cady replies in a firm voice. “Not anything worth repeating.”

“You haven’t?” Janis asks. The urge to pick at her nails rises in her. “Because… I know people-”

“Regina?” she says. She stuffs her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, her expression half-smile, half-grimace. “Yeah. She told me stuff. But…”

“But?” That makes her laugh again, and even though it’s soft and more of a breath, it’s beautiful to her.

“But you know… I’m not going to trust someone who uses slurs that freely,” she says, quirking an eyebrow. “Or who keeps a burn book about other people.” It takes a lot of self-control not for Janis not to hug her right now. Her anxiety dissolves almost entirely, replaced by feelings that are new and exciting and safe, above everything else. She feels safe with her. Maybe that’s what a soulmate means. Having someone be your safety net.

“You know…” she begins, sneaking a glance back inside the gym, where the movie has already started playing. “These things are great, but they seem to have it under control. Maybe you and I could go to the diner down the street? Get some milkshakes? Hang out? Talk a little?”

“I’d love that,” Cady replies, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling. She bites her lip and after a moment’s hesitation, holds out her hand. Her face is expectant but her fingers wiggle nervously. Her fingernails are painted green and on her wrist is a braided leather bracelet. Her hand looks soft and tiny and perfectly suited to hers, just like Cady herself, she supposes.

After more than a moment’s hesitation, Janis takes it, and nothing before has ever felt so right.

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 3)

part one | part two

(I don’t think I clarified it in parts one and two but Lance and Pidge are roommates. Lance finished college two years ago)

After spending the weekend with Shiro and Keith, everything seems a little brighter.

Lance has an extra spring in his step that annoys the hell out of Pidge. He plays Overwatch with Keith at least twice a week, and they make a devastating team when they’re playing to win. Keith plays with a fiery, single-minded focus that would probably be scary if Lance wasn’t already crushing on him. So instead it’s just insanely attractive, the way Keith sounds when he’s barking out orders to the team. He’s a natural leader and Lance is stupidly eager to follow.

It’s time for Lance to make a trip home to Cuba to see his parents and he’s so excited, he only gets to go home every few months. It’s only for a week, but Pidge will take care of his cats. He mentions to Keith that he’ll be out of town and won’t be available to play for a bit.

Lance makes some vlogs while he’s home, and does them in Spanish because why not? He bets a lot of his followers don’t even realize he’s Cuban and this is his chance to show off his home. It takes a whole night to add the English subtitles because he doesn’t trust YouTube’s auto CC feature not to garble his words, but it’s worth it when he sees the outpouring of comments on the video, a lot of them in Spanish. He gets one from Shiro complimenting him left and right and it makes Lance blush and flail a little.

He spends every other minute with his family, teaching his nephew how to play the ukulele and cooking with his mom and he’s so happy to be home, he cries a little when it’s time to catch his flight back to the states.

He gets in an Overwatch game with Keith the night he gets back, and he tries not to be annoying but it’s hard not to gush about his trip over the mic. He’s halfway through telling Keith about some sea turtles he saw on the beach when he’s interrupted.

“I know, Lance. I saw the photos on twitter.”

Lance blinks. “Uh. You did?”

Keith seems unfazed and triggers his ultimate, taking out half the enemy team. “Yeah? I follow you.”

And oh my god, Keith follows him on twitter. Keith follows him on twitter. He’s suddenly freaking out that he might have tweeted about Keith?? But no, his account is public and he knows better. “Oh, uh.” Lance almost gets taken out by a Sombra. “Your account is set to private, so it didn’t tell me you were.”

“Oh.”

Lance is panicking a little because he wants to ask if he can follow Keith on twitter but is that too much? What if he keeps his account locked for a reason? What if that’s too forward? What they have is cool and he doesn’t want to fuck it up--

“You can follow me,” Keith says, quiet. “All I ever post is bikes and photos of Kosmo, though.”

Lance hopes the sound of his chair squeaking as he bounces in it doesn’t come through the mic. “I could always use more dogs on my timeline,” he says, trying his best to sound nonchalant. They play for another hour and then Keith yawns, saying he has to work early tomorrow. Lance bids him goodnight, then manages to wait until he’s brushed his teeth and gotten ready for bed before hitting the “follow” button on Keith’s twitter, @k_redlion. He then opens discord on his phone and goes to the chat with Hunk.

LanceyLance: HUNK HE SAID I COULD FOLLOW HIS LOCKED TWITTER LanceyLance: HUNK LanceyLance: SEND HELP

When Lance wakes up, all he’s gotten from Hunk is a few party popper emojis. He checks to see if Keith accepted his request and he totally did. Lance spends a half hour just scrolling through the mysterious secret twitter, and Keith wasn’t lying. It’s just photos of motorcycles in progress, his dog, occasionally Keith taking an adorable selfie with Kosmo. Sometimes a photo of a sunrise. He checks Keith’s profile and sees his birthday is in late October and Lance has to laugh. Of course he’s a Scorpio. Of course. Keith has less than 40 followers and Lance sort of feels blessed.

He manages to stop himself from liking a five month old tweet where Keith is smiling up at the camera with Kosmo out cold on his lap. Just barely.

July finally hits and it’s disgustingly hot, but it’s always Lance’s favorite month for several reasons:

More excuses to get ice cream,

More excuses to hit the beach,

It’s his birthday month,

It’s the month of Harborville Pride.

Pride comes first and Pidge is excited too, because the college town of Harborville might not have much to offer other than the university, but it definitely knows how to put on Pride. The city park becomes crammed with people for days, food trucks lining the streets with picnickers and grills and ultimate frisbee (which Lance is no slouch at). The marina becomes packed with boats. Most importantly, it means Hunk is coming into town for the weekend, so Lance will get to hang out with his two best friends like they used to - stay up late, watch movies, stuff themselves on junk food and Hunk’s homemade cookies.

The day of the parade (the first one, anyway) is a Saturday morning. Lance and Pidge wake up Hunk from where he’s camping on the sofa and they all get dressed, Lance in his blue, pink, and purple sleeveless shirt, Pidge in her black, white and purple hoodie, Hunk in his pink, yellow, and blue tee. Pockets stuffed with small cash bills for funnel cakes and hot dogs, they set off for the town center.

The parade is amazing this year and they have a blast. Lance convinces Pidge and Hunk to be in a selfie with him that he posts to twitter with the caption, “Having a blast at Harborville Pride!!” Lance then puts his phone away and doesn’t really check it for the rest of the day, having too much fun with Pidge and Hunk and all his other friends.

He’s exhausted when he comes home, collapsing into bed. He manages to open twitter and check it one last time before he passes out. His notifications blew up, of course, but one sticks out.

@k_redlion liked your photo

He kicks his feet a little. So it’s out there, Keith’s saw the colors he wore. Was it too forward? Did Lance unintentionally broadcast his crush on twitter? Maybe. Who knows how Keith would take that information. Lance passes out with his phone in his hand.

He’s in a queue for a game in Overwatch with Keith when it comes up again. Lance was casually talking about a band he saw at Pride.

“Sounds like fun,” Keith comments. “Pride sucks here. One tiny parade and then everyone just goes home.”

There’s a record scratch in Lance’s brain. Does that mean…?

“You should come here next year,” Lance says as evenly as he can. “Harborville knows how to party.”

He hears Keith huff a laugh. “Maybe.”

Lance sucks so bad after that, missing all his shots and dying more times than ever. He’s too distracted. Keith goes to Pride. What did that mean? It could mean so many things. He shouldn’t get his hopes up, he really, really shouldn’t.

“You okay?” Keith’s voice comes through his headphones. “You’re sort of sucking tonight.”

Lance feels a wave of hot embarrassment wash over him. “Ugh, yeah, sorry. Guess I’m just tired.”

He stops playing after that, saying goodnight to Keith and resisting the urge to scream at Hunk over discord about it.

.

Pidge is taking one of her high level classes over the summer so she can graduate in December, so she has little time to hang out with Lance. So he’s bored. A lot. Work at the cafe has slowed down, the only customers he gets are dying for cold brew coffee. He makes a lot of videos, records a lot of comedy Overwatch material, sings some covers of love songs for his channel.  He goes to the beach a lot and posts selfies on twitter, making sure to showcase himself while also trying to remember that he has a few thousand followers and he should be careful what he posts. Lance starts playing some free games from Game Jolt for his channel and it gets a good response. His birthday is right around the corner, and though it’s on a Tuesday, Pidge promises to take the night off to celebrate with him. Hunk is going to make the drive in too.

He’s scrolling through twitter on a rainy night when Pidge kicked him out of the living room to spread out her study materials. There’s a photo of Keith smiling softly with Kosmo on his feed and Lance takes a minute to appreciate it, the warm lighting complimenting Keith’s ridiculously attractive cheekbones, Kosmo with his giant tongue hanging out as Keith hugs him. It’s adorable and Lance hits the like button immediately. He’s about to keep scrolling when something catches his eye. Lance sits up and taps the photo, using his fingers to zoom in.

There’s a rainbow bracelet on Keith’s wrist.

It’s almost hidden under Kosmo’s neck fluff but it is absolutely a rainbow, exactly the kind you’d get at Pride and Lance is about to hit the ceiling. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it? They’d talked about Pride like three days ago and Keith liked a photo of Lance in his bi shirt and holy shit. Was this a hint? Lance already liked the photo. He could take it back, but he didn’t want to?

Lance rolls around on his bed clutching his phone to his chest for the next ten minutes before opening discord to gush at Hunk yet again. Hunk, apparently, is getting fed up.

Hunk: omg just talk to him!! LanceyLance: i cANT Hunk: Lance you know I love you but this is painful to watch, just ask him out already. please. for me?

But Lance is scared. What if he’s reading too much into this? What if he’s only seeing a connection because he wants there to be one? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s made that blunder, cringing as he remembers Nyma and the huge falling out that resulted from Lance charging in head first. He couldn’t even repair their friendship after that.

He didn’t want to risk losing Keith, too.

.

July is winding down and it’s almost time for his favorite birthday tradition: an all-day charity livestream. This will be the third year he’s done them, and he’s expecting the response to be even better this year. It takes him a while to decide on a charity - he’s done a children’s hospital, first responders, local charities. Lance spends days trying to decide when it hits him. The next day, he makes the announcement tweet:

Lance! @LancyLance • 2m Hey guys!! Doing a birthday charity livestream on Saturday 7/25, 10am-10pm to benefit Disabled Veterans National Foundation! Will be playing Overwatch, Risk of Rain, Apex Legends and more!!

He goes about his day, feeling pleased. Later he checks twitter and sees that Shiro has retweeted his announcement with a comment, “Make sure to check out my buddy’s livestream next week! This charity means a lot to me.”

And wow does that make his day.

For the next week it’s business as usual. Work at the cafe (his latte art is getting better, but Lance keeps photos of that work sequestered on Instagram), recording videos, singing in Overwatch, playing games with Keith and Hunk. Lance can tell that Hunk is trying to push him to make a move on Keith, but he’s still reluctant. Keith hasn’t really indicated that he’s interested in Lance at all. Sure, they’re casual with each other, but there hasn’t been anything he could classify as “flirting.” Even though he’s opened up, Keith is still stoic as hell and Lance hasn’t figured out how to crack him.

It’s the Saturday of his livestream and Lance is loaded up with snacks, drinks, and everything he needs. He’s set up his room to have a fun backdrop and did his full skincare routine to make sure he looks good for the webcam, he even borrowed some fancy diffuser lights from a friend.

The stream starts and he gets about 30 viewers in the first hour, which is a good start. By noon he’s up to 400 which is insane, and the donation counter keeps going up. He set his goal to a thousand, and it’s looking like he’ll reach it before dinner. Lance takes song requests from viewers and has more than one laughing fit. When he gets into an Overwatch game, he’s thrilled to see Keith there, and shoots him a quick text to make sure it’s cool for Lance to point him out.

Keith (2:18): yeah it’s cool

So Lance introduces Keith and his chat goes nuts. Apparently Keith is crazy popular and Lance can’t help but notice how many declarations of “omg Keith is so hot” are scrolling past. They play a few serious rounds where Keith dominates everyone, then Lance creates a custom server with no cool down time on abilities and zero gravity. He uses it as an opportunity to do more comedy songs. Lance takes a short break, and when he comes back, Keith has signed off. There’s a text on his phone from Keith reading “gotta work on some stuff.”

He’s in voice chat later when some girls come on with mics and they know his channel. They’re thrilled to be in a game with Lance.

“Lance! I love your videos!”

“Sing a song for me, Lance!”

“Lance, I love you! Marry me!”

He laughs at the last one, playing his guitar. It’s not the first time he’s gotten a mock marriage proposal in a game. “Sorry, ladies,” he answers, strumming on his guitar. “I’m afraid my heart is spoken for.” He’s talking about his massive crush on Keith, of course, but no one needs to know that.

There’s some “aww” and “boos” but they don’t actually sound hurt, so Lance keeps going. He switches to Apex Legends which he’s spectacularly bad at, but he still  has fun. By seven that evening, they’ve met their goal of one thousand dollars, but Lance encourages people to keep donating.

He’s exhausted by the end of it, but at 9:50pm Lance does his exit speech, thanking everyone who donated, thanking his friends who played with him, and taking a second to thank Keith by name. He hopes Keith is still watching.

Lance falls into his bed and sends a quick text to Keith to thank him. He doesn’t get a response.

.

CONTINUED IN PART 4

[mysmeprotectionsquad]

Can i request RFA reaction when they recieve news that MC is dead or in danger but than she's actually alive and well

I’m sorry this took so long, nonnie! I had to rewrite it because I didn’t like how it turned out at first, whoops. hopefully this is what you had in mind? if not, make sure to let me know! warning: there are slight mentions of death, dead bodies, hospitals, kidnapping, accidents etc. nothing graphic, though, but read at your own discretion anyway!

- Admin Cat Mom.

Yoosung

sunshine boy goes apeshit crazy right after hanging up the phone.

who on earth would dare to hurt such a precious being like you?

whoever the responsible for this car accident that took your life is… they are in big trouble.

his brain is not responding properly anymore.

and he just plain refuses to live in a world where you no longer exist.

he could’ve easily succumbed to his tears, and trembling hands and legs.

but oh, no.

he’s going to take matters into his own hands.

so he pretty much grabs his coat and leaves the apartment as fast as lightning.

somehow he’s at the scene in less than fifteen minutes.

and you’re there, the police and paramedics are there, and your car is there too.

your car is wrecked.

but you’re standing right next to it safe and sound, and your legs, arms and head are all in the right places.

you seem a little distressed, that’s all.

after staring blankly at the scene, he runs up to you and holds you tightly, rubbing your back and kissing your cheek multiple times to prove himself that you’re there and you’re alive.

“what in the world happened oh my god MC.”

“jumin is a bad influence please stop hanging out with him.”

Zen

he’s going to punch someone.

he’s also going to punch himself.

it’s weird enough that you haven’t come home in the past few days, and he has tried to reach you plenty of times but you’re not answering your phone.

now that he’s heard about the dead body that’s been discovered near a river (which description matches you almost perfectly) he starts panicking.

and he wants to die too.

instead of going to the police to make sure it’s not you, he spends an entire night looking for you.

because the mere thought of seeing your lifeless body would destroy every inch of his soul.

yes, zen has a strong body and soul, but not when it comes to the idea of you not being by his side.

after checking every damn corner of the city, he goes home feeling defeated.

he has a lot of missed calls and texts from the rest of RFA.

does he care at this point? not really, he doesn’t feel like answering to anyone but his dear MC.

when he opens the door, he’s surprised to see you sitting comfortably on the couch and going through your phone.

“MC? Where… where have you been?”

“you silly! I told you I was going out of town this weekend to visit my family. I even left you a message! because I didn’t have any signal there.”

oh, so that’s why even mr. trust fund kid has been calling non stop.

you spend the next day cuddling, and kissing, and talking—he feels so relieved that you’re not dead.

from now on you’re not allowed to leave this wreck of a man alone for more than a day.

Jaehee

her heart sinks to her stomach as soon as she hears the news.

you are her guardian angel, she said it herself.

you cannot leave just yet.

a relative/acquaintance of yours had called her that morning to let her know that you’re in hospital and things aren’t looking too great.

after all, you’ve been sick the past days, that’s a fact, and you weren’t taking care of yourself.

she scolded you a lot, but she also did her best to make you feel better.

still, she thought it was just a cold that would go away eventually.

it turns out now that your life is at risk?

on her way to the hospital, all she can think of is you lying on a bed connected to a hundred wires.

but she tries really hard not to focus on worst-case scenarios, takes a deep breath, and drinks her entire cup of coffee in one sitting.

staying calm and thinking straight, that’s all she gotta do.

she already has a contingency plan anyways, and jumin is more than ready to help with anything you need (he cares about your health as well).

when she arrives at the hospital, she’s surprised to see you on the entrance blowing your nose and looking like a mess.

a regular, definitely not on the verge of death kind of mess.

“jaehee, what are you doing here?”

she sighs in relief and gives you a hug.

you then explain that your relative/acquaintance tends to blow things out of proportion, that you’re just a bit sick and that’s all.

“for the love of god, MC, please take care of yourself.”

and… you have your very own personal nurse now.

Jumin

this man turns into a mess.

he knew it, he knew that he should’ve taken you to the airport.

he only let you convince him to go alone because you told him you didn’t like goodbyes, and that everything was going to be just fine.

the report on the news says otherwise.

the plane you took a few hours ago has crashed.

he sits calmly on the couch and lets the information sink in, it takes a while.

an hour passes by, he should start making calls.

his rational side is telling to send help, helicopters, anything in order to save you and bring you back home safe.

his sense of revenge is telling him to sue the airline, find the culprit of this injustice, and make them pay.

but his body is not responding to his orders, he’s gone completely numb.

how could you, MC? how could you leave him like this? you are his source of happines and stability.

god… his clothes start feeling way too tight, he’s having trouble breathing.

and then, when he’s about to call assistant kang, his phone rings.

your name showed up on the  screen. “hello? jumin? I don’t know if you’ve heard about the plane crash—”

like a sweet lullaby, your voice soothes him instantly, so he clears his throat and manages to say only one thing: “MC, I am so glad you’re well.”

you had lost the flight and decided to wait for the next one as you didn’t want to bother jumin, but after hearing about the accident, you thought it was best to return home and postpone your trip.

he refuses to hang up the phone until he’s there because yes, he’s going to pick you up (feat. good ol’ driver kim).

Seven

he knew something like this would happen sooner or later.

just when he starts feeling like he can live a normal, happy life, someone decides to take you away from him.

with the amount of enemies he’s gained through his job as an agent, he should’ve know.

yet there he is, in shock, sweating, and feeling extremely nauseated.

he’s panicking so much he forgets for a moment that he’s a skilled hacker.

he doesn’t know what this person that took you wants because the message they left was too vague, but he’s going to find out one way or another.

even if it costs him his life.

the only problem is that he can’t seem to focus and he’s making mistakes left and right.

MC please be okay.

he keeps picturing you locked in a filthy basement, tied up, scared and alone.

that is until you finally showed up—you were buying groceries.

prepare yourself for a tacklehug.

wait, if you’re here and you’re well, what’s up with this weird message?

wrong number? a distasteful prank? 

he’s baffled and doesn’t understand what’s going on.

then decides to dig into it later and increase security, you can’t take threats like this lightly.

he’s a clingy mess for the rest of the day and does everything you ask him to, he even cleans the living room and eats a proper meal.

V

this sweet, selfless man just can’t catch a break.

it took him so long to heal his wounds and allow himself to love someone healthy and good for him.

a building has caught fire and collapsed, and not many people made it.

the same building you say you were going to.

he hasn’t heard anything from you yet, and you’re not answering your phone.

so he calls every person he knows and does everything he can to find the tiniest bit of information about the fire and the survivors.

his efforts are useless.

his chest is hurting so much? he doesn’t think he can take it?

all he can do is hold his head in his hands, bite his lip and quietly swallow his tears, because he knows how much you hate to see him sad.

and as expected, he blames himself for it.

it should have been him.

you didn’t deserve such a horrible death, let alone such a short life.

after all, you brought so much joy into his life.

when it seems like he’s lost all hope, the door opens.

it’s MC!

you swear you’ve never seen him smile so brightly, like he’s witnessing a miracle of some sort.

he asks you where you were and you explain that your job interview was cancelled, so you weren’t there when the building caught fire.

he holds you so tightly he leaves you gasping for air, but you don’t complain and instead comfort him with tender kisses.

[thecowardlycreative]

Title: A Little Bit of Hope

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Pairing: Still none

Characters: Lance, Blue Lion

Other parts: Prologue

Summary/concept: Just how did the blue lion open that first wormhole when Allura was still unconscious in the pod? Altean Lance. That’s how.

Words: 3,142

Enjoy! This is pretty long. Also I’ve taken some artistic licence with the lion/paladin connection.

It was night, or as close to night as it ever got in the castle. The crystals dimmed and the engines slowed until the ship was almost as silent as the vacuum outside. Going by the ticker embedded in his bedroom wall, set to Standard Castle Time, Lance knew that it was close to midnight when he slipped out of bed, into the hallway and down into his lion’s hanger.

Blue waited silently before him, crouched like a sphinx. It was odd. She seemed entirely lifeless when she was like this. Just a lump of metal -- a tool to be used and discarded rather than the playful, intelligent creature she really was. It annoyed Lance a little bit, staring up at her. It was like she was pretending, like she thought he was a bear and if she just stood still enough, he’d go away.

He knocked lightly on her knuckles but she didn’t respond.

“Hey,” he whispered and she didn’t respond. “Hey!”

Nothing.

God, he was tired. He didn’t have the energy for this. This had been the longest day of his life, bar none. Breaking his dead hero out of some weird experimentation lab, finding out his greatest rival was some sort of mad conspiracy theorist, finding an alien spaceship -- finding out aliens existed! -- flying the alien spaceship which was actually a sentient robo-cat through a wormhole and meeting actual aliens! Then the whole fighting aliens/becoming a power ranger thing and multiple interstellar journeys that came with that. It was well and truly time for bed. But he couldn’t sleep. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he got this one question answered. It was too bad the only creature in the universe capable of answering that question had decided to play dead.

He could dismiss it, dismiss the whole thing as some weird dream or a retained memory from Blue of her last paladin, if it hadn’t been for Allura. The way she’d looked at him. The way she’d reached for his ears and mumbled, “Ro? How? But you’re so young…” before he swept in and set her straight. That wasn’t so easy to dismiss.

He sighed and let himself slump against one of Blue’s massive forepaws.

“What was that?” he asked the silent cat. “Back in the cave?”

Predictably, she gave no reply.

“Why did you show me that? Everyone else saw Voltron and all I get is the horrible last moments of some alien prince!”

Nothing.

“Is it because he was the Blue Paladin. The one immediately before me? Did the others see the same thing when they found their lions?”

Still nothing.

“Or what? Are you saying that’s me? We don’t even look similar -- it’s just the nose! And he’s like thirty! Did I age backwards or something?”

Blue’s silence was really starting to irk him.

“Did I die? Was that some sort of past life?”

She gave a soft rumble -- finally, a response! -- that he was fairly sure meant ‘no’ and then his vision was flooded with colour.

Yellow: the flash of an electrical surge as it overloaded the system and sparks flew.

Red: the emergency lights glowing in the otherwise dark cockpit.

Green: a soft wave of light that passed over Prince Lanaaro’s face, highlighting it in all the twisted pain of his death.

Blue: the colour of ice.

And then black: nothing at all.

Lance landed back in his lion’s hanger with a gasp, hands clasped around his stomach as his breath came short and fast and he struggled not to throw up. Even then, he stared up at the lion, still crouched impassively over him as if nothing had happened at all. As soon as his lungs finally stopped seizing and words were possible, he spoke.

“You saved him?” he heaved, his breath still shallow and stabbing at the muscles in his chest like shards of glass.

Blue gave a deep rumble of confirmation and the soft green light appeared in Lance’s vision again. It passed over Lanaaro’s face once and the pain eased, twice and his heart gave one slow beat as it sputtered into life again. But he didn’t open his eyes.

“How?”

You underestimate me, Blue spoke in his head and Lance scrambled away from her paw, adrenaline speeding his heart so fast in his chest he thought it might explode. She’d never done that before. He hadn’t even considered that she could. I am very good. I do not need so much.

“You gave some of it back… His quintessence…”

Your quin, she corrected.

“But why a baby?” Lance asked, crawling cautiously back to where he had been leaning against her as the blue of ice appeared in his vision again, encasing an infant like it had been shut inside a crystal walnut shell.

Less quin required to function, Blue said as if it were obvious.

“And the ice?”

There was another rumble in his head, a lilting one and Lance thought she might be laughing.

What do I know of children, Cub?

Lance shrugged. “Fair point,” he said with a smile. “But what exactly was your plan? Just leave him suspended in ice until the next Blue Paladin came along to take him back to the castle?”

No plan, said Blue, just… the words stopped and Lance was punched in the chest with something, some feeling she was trying to convey, so hard he almost fell over. It was only when the moment had passed and the emotions had dulled a little as they seeped away that Lance could recognise what they were.

Affection.

And fear.

She gave a low whine in his head and Lance didn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around her, or at least her foot, in the hug she seemed to be craving.

“You tried, Blue. You did your best.”

I succeeded. You’re still here.

Lance only smiled. He knew he wasn’t Lanaaro. Not in the way the Blue wanted him to be.

I can hear you, my cub. You are still you. Despite everything.

Doubt flashed across his mind again but, this time, he didn’t bother trying to hide it. She could hear all his thoughts anyway. She moved, then -- dipped her head with a soft purring sound to nudge at him with her nose. Lance had never felt more like a real lion cub, coddled and safe in the lioness’ den, as he pressed back against her. If she could hear his thoughts, he didn’t have to try and put anything into words. She would know his doubts, his fears, feel his gratitude and budding affection. Words were superfluous between them. So he didn’t say anything, just let himself feel for a moment before he changed the subject.

“So what did happen? If there was no plan, how did I end up -- my family,” the thought struck upon him suddenly, “they’re not my real family.”

Blue nuzzled closer, letting him feel her empathy rather than trying to voice it. In fact, she didn’t say anything, just rubbed him with her nose and purred in his head while he sat on the floor as every truth he had ever known came unravelled around him.

His family -- his mother, his father, his sisters and his brother -- they weren’t really real. No, of course they were real. They lived and breathed. They were human with human lives and human thoughts, dreams, fears and flaws. They just weren’t his. No, even that was wrong. They were his. They were still the people who raised him and loved him and gave him guidance and the freedom to explore. They had just lied. Because they had known. They had to have known. At least his parents and older siblings must have known. And no one had ever said a word. Why didn’t they say anything? Did they think he wasn’t old enough to know, or something? Did they think he didn’t deserve to know? Were they going to just keep lying to him for the rest of his life?

They probably thought it didn’t matter, Cub, said Blue. You are their family regardless.

Lance shook his head. “No. I don’t underst-- But I look just like my dad! I mean, like my… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to call him.”

Your father, I expect. If your image of him is true, I feel he would want you to call him your father.

Hush, little one, she went on before the confusion could take full root in his brain. Do not think too hard. When you are home again, you can ask.

“Right,” said Lance, not entirely believing her.

Until then, think of them as you want to think of them.

“But how can I look just like m-my dad if he’s not actually my dad?” His mind was in loops. “I don’t get it, Blue.”

Perhaps, she said and sent a reel of images into his mind. Alteans working as moderators at diplomatic meetings. Alteans growing and shrinking, sprouting horns or colouring their skin shocking pink to meet the expectations of whatever culture was hosting them. Lanaaro at such a meeting, shaking the appendage of some sort of tentacled centaur before his back twisted, he sprouted an extra set of legs and his arms narrowed, split into two separate limbs and lost their fingers until he was the same -- just another centaur with four handless tentacles instead of arms.

“You’re saying… I changed? To look more like my family?”

It is only a possibility. I cannot say for certain.

“Then, this isn’t even my real face.”

To me, you look just as you always have.

“Thanks, Blue. I guess I can always fall back on that.”

Think no more of it, my cub. You have lived your life after you left me. It is made no less real by what you did before then.

It was odd, really, that Blue’s metal paw, which should have been hard and cold and unfeeling in its sturdiness, was so comforting to hold. Especially when her nose was laid right on the other side of him. He could almost hear her breathing, feel the moist warmth that a real lion’s nose would give off. But no, he was imagining it all -- or, at the most, she was breathing only within the reality in his head. Still, he sat there, pressed against the comforting sympathy of her nose and the sturdy reality of her paw and let his mind loop and loop as much as it liked, let the fear and confusion wash over him like water off a duck’s back, until the world stopped spinning and he could have some sense of truth again.

He was in a castle. In Space.

The castle was a ship. Piloted by aliens.

Shiro was really alive. Keith had been tracking bigfoot.

Blue was right there, beneath his hands, inside his head. Even if he doubted everything else in the universe, he couldn’t doubt that.

These were his facts and he held onto them, built his world around them until everything was alright again.

“Thanks, Blue,” he said. “For…” Saving him? Being there? Explaining? Her understanding?

He didn’t try to finish that sentence. Blue would understand, anyway.

You are my paladin, my cub, my Ro. He felt her smile. My Lance. I will not leave you. She gave him another nudge with her nose and he pushed back against her good naturedly.

“But Blue,” he said, returning to a long forgotten train of thought, “If you didn’t leave me, how did I end up with with my family on Earth?”

She growled as she sent yet another wave of images into his mind. He was beginning to get a rather prickly headache.

This time it was the earth, deep, deep beneath the crust. The molten rock bubbled and boiled and mixed until, suddenly, it was moving. Up. Up . Up, through the crust and splitting the ground. Burning magma bubbled to the surface in a steady but deadly river. Rocks flew, bright red and unimaginably hot, from the ground into the air and the sky steady filled with smoke. Miles and miles away, buried in the ground in a cavern, the Blue Lion shook where she sat. The earth split beneath her and she toppled sideways. One tiny, frozen baby rolled out of her cockpit and into the pool of water by her feet.

“Really, Blue?”

She growled, somehow both guilty and dismissive.

“What about the particle barrier?”

I was careless. It had been ten thousand years and no one had come.

Lance laughed and patted her reassuringly on one of her giant knuckles. “Well, I guess we all make mistakes. What happened after that?”

With a soft rumble, the images were back.

Baby Lance -- or was he still Lanaaro? -- rolled into the pool and sunk to the bottom as the Blue Lion righted herself and looked around for him. By the time her nose poked into the pool, the baby was gone, sucked out into a small underground stream, and she gave such a mournful roar, Lance felt his chest tighten and tears grow in his eyes.

“And then?” he managed to croak out after a minute.

I don’t know. I was not there. But you will know.

“Yeah, it doesn’t quite work like that, Blue. I was kind of a baby. And encased in ice. In some cryogenic freeze. I don’t remember anything.”

Listen, she said and pressed her massive forehead against his. Feel.

He took a deep breath, felt the cold of her metal head against his, and let it out again. And he could feel. Well, he could feel something at least. And there was the sound of water. Not the bubbling of water above ground but the deep-bass churning you could only hear while completely submerged.

There was a pop and Lance knew he must have broken the surface. Then there was nothing, just the gentle bobbing feeling that meant he must be floating for a long time. But, what was that? Was it getting warmer? Oh, the ice was melting. That was good, right? It meant he was going to wake up. Wake up as an infant in the middle of a fast flowing stream.

Oh no.

A dog was the first the hear him crying. The world suddenly felt so close to his senses, even his sight returned with his consciousness, though the dog was nothing more than a blonde blur across his vision. The water was silk-smooth but deadly. It filled his mouth and stabbed at his eyes, wrapped around his chubby little legs and tried to pull him under and Lance, grown up Lance who sat in his lion’s hanger, was shouting at him to swim. But, of course, he couldn’t. He had no control. This was the memory of a drowning baby.

Suddenly, there were two children in the water with him, hands reaching towards him. They had followed the dog into the water, a boy and a girl, and were pulling it back by the collar to keep it from biting the small, wriggling, crying thing in the river. Lance recognised them as his older brother and sister, which meant the dog must be Jessi -- the pet that vaguely lurked on the edges of his memory.

Blue pulled away and the images faded.

There is more, she said, but it is not very interesting.

“Not very interesting? This is my life, Blue. All of it is interesting!” he shouted and then paused for thought. “Wait, you looked ahead! You didn’t know anything until you took a look in my head and then you peeked at the end!”

Blue gave her rumbling laugh again. It is all paper and writing, she said. Not very interesting.

Lance crossed his arms in a huff. Blue nudged at him with her nose but he only pouted more. She nudged again at his shoulder and he leant away from her. She nudged again and he still leant away. So she just kept nudging until he was almost folded in half, forehead on his knees, still with that same pout on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. And then she laughed.

Lance had no defence to that. The sound of her happy rumbling in his head was impossible to ignore and he gave in with a smile.

“Oh, alright,” he said at last, pushing her nose away so he could sit up straight again. “But no more spoilers! I want to go through all of that one day. Boring paperwork and all.”

She purred her acquiescence and he rubbed her nose.

“How did you do that, anyway?” he asked.

I am you and you are me. You may have been asleep in the ice but I felt and heard for you.

Lance didn’t question it. After all, he was in space with aliens and feline-transformers. He just settled against Blue’s paw again, taking off his coat to use as a pillow against her hard shell. She purred in his head and he traced spirals on her paw beneath him, wondering if she could even feel such a light touch. The growing response in his head told him, ‘yes,’ she could. He knew he was going end up sleeping right there eventually, Blue knew it too, so he thought he might as well get comfortable.

“Hey, Blue,” he said almost ten minutes later. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Whatever you like, Cub. Go wherever the universe takes you.

“But I’m supposedly Allura’s brother, right?”

Blue somehow managed to give a growl that sounded like a nod.

“I mean, should I tell her? But, at the same time, I’m not really Lanaaro. Because I don’t remember. So maybe I shouldn’t tell her. That might be weird. It’d be like looking at someone else using your brother’s corpse like some creepy puppet master. For that matter, can I do that freaky Altean shapshifiting thing? Make myself look like Lanaaro again? Would that be okay? Or would it make Allura cry? It feels wrong, somehow. Maybe it’s just because I really can’t remember being Lanaaro so wearing his face is, like, really gruesome. What do you think, Blue? This is so messed up, right?”

Sleep, Cub. You’re thinking too much again.

Lance huffed. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything -- let his worries pass through to Blue by thought alone -- but he knew he had to put them into words for his own sake, talk until he had his own thoughts straight.

No, sleep, said Blue again.

“But Blue,” whined Lance, settling his head on his jacket-pillow. “Who am I?”

You are Lance, she said. You were Ro, you still are Ro. You are the Blue Paladin of Voltron. You are kind and selfless. That is enough.

“Gee, I hope so, Blue,” he said softly.

If I do continue this, I’m totally just posting it on AO3. Having to re-italisise everything after copy/pasting is such a hassle. There may be more. I’m super busy atm so this is my procrastinating project