#now if my job stays slow i’ll be working on drafts but forgive me if i’m slow

[quietlyblooms]

i’m going to be cleaning up this blog some more and seeing what drafts i have the spoons to write today, but in between all that, i’d love to get some new threads going, especially if we haven’t written together or have written very little! specifying a muse or muses on your end is preferred but not required bc i understand it can be hard to choose. i’ll just use a randomizer if need be! and remember that chiyo has a plethora of verses to choose from; they’re all up for grabs!

these starters will vary in length, though i’ll do my best to keep them to 1-2 paragraphs to give you something good to work with. softly capping at 5.

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office - The Sexperiment

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Five: Make It or Break It

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n is doing better than ever; she’s finally in a relationship with the man she’s been constantly thinking about, she has some great friends, and she’s thriving at her dream job. Except, there’s one problem: being in a relationship with one of your coworkers can get really steamy, and can cause a lot of sexual frustration. Her new pitch idea may solve exactly that problem, but will George be okay with it?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! **“The Sexperiment” is inspired by an actual Cosmopolitan article (here’s the link!) IM SO SORRY FOR BEING GONE SO LONG I’m here to finish this shit once and for all... I know it’s been a while, but I hold this series so close to my heart and I still have the same love for it as I did when I wrote my last chapter (I know it’s only been a few months but STILL) if you’re reading this, I just want to thank you for sticking around, you’re the best <3

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackay x reader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s NSFW content..aka smut. You have been warned. Also angst :/ srry this is kinda short

I was in the worst possible situation I could have ever imagined: I had to choose between my dream job and my dream man.

Bree arrived home about twenty minutes later by herself. My bedroom door creaked open, signaling her arrival. She frowned at my appearance, which seemed to be mascara smudged all over my eyes and cheeks and swollen, bloodshot eyes.

She sat down beside me, pulling me into her. “Y/n, I am so, so, sorry.”

I let out a croaked sigh, “I-it’s fine, he was going t-to find out eventually.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” she rubbed my back soothingly. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“It doesn't matter if he’s in love or not!” I exclaimed, pulling out of her embrace, my emotions arising again. “He’ll never forgive me for this.”

Hot tears began to stream down my face and I felt my bottom lip tremble. Bree took it as a cue to leave me be, so she quietly exited to her own bedroom.

What the fuck was I going to do?

This job was the job I’d been looking for my entire life; it was the job I’d dreamed about working at. 

But, George... 

George was everything. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that George would have ever fucked up the way I did. I wouldn’t ever have to question his loyalty, he’d proven to be trustworthy and honest. He treated me like a princess, a way I’d only ever been treated by my father. I wasn’t sure if I’d hurt more without him or without a job. He never failed to make me smile or laugh, and he’d ensure that I always felt safe. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever fall in love again, until I met him.

I could get a job anywhere, but there was only one George MacKay.

I had to delete the article.

I headed to the kitchen and made myself two cups of coffee before cracking my knuckles and getting to work. 

Dean, 

This is an emergency. If you don’t reply now or tomorrow, I’m going to be in deep, deep shit.

I didn't have time to wait for his response; I got right to work. 

What are people into nowadays, I thought to myself. Sex.

Ping. I clicked on my email.

Y/n,

What? 

Well, anything’s better than the fucking Sexperiment article. 

Dean,

I have to write a new article. George found out. BAD. Can’t release it, I have to fix this.

Also, would you say your penis size relates to your shoe size at all? It’s for the article.

Promise!

Well, I thought, here goes nothing. My fingers began typing immediately. The caffeine made my fingers shake slightly, but I was determined to write anything. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get George back, but I knew I had to. This was a start, at least. 

Ping.

Y/n,

Knew that was going to happen. I’ll help you out, but you owe me. Can we do this tomorrow though? It’s Friday night. Uhhh and to ur other question: I don’t think so. Not going to elaborate more than that. Hope that’s good enough.

I rolled my eyes.

Dean,

Fine. I’ll send you my drafts and you better respond as soon as you can.

I prayed to every possible higher power that this would work. I began conducting research, reading articles and articles about the relationship between the size of a man’s penis and the size of a man’s feet. I wrote down statistics, quotes, and scientific evidence–making sure to exclude any personal experience. I spent hours explaining the theory and science behind it and citing every single quote.

I wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, but I prayed that Connie wouldn’t be too pissed at me and George would hopefully see how genuinely sorry I was. I knew I’d fucked up, I got too caught up in trying to impress my boss that I practically sabotaged my own relationship in the process. I hadn’t received a single text message or call from him. I missed the way he smelt of sandalwood and vanilla, I missed entangling my fingers in his soft, sandy locks. I missed the way his skin felt against mine and his velvety voice when he called me “love”.

Tears ran down my cheeks once again as these memories lingered in my head. I stared at my computer screen, my eyelids drooping; I needed a break. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I decided that I was going to be entirely committed on staying up all night. Making a sandwich for myself, I sat and watched television for a moment, attempting to distract me from my obvious thoughts. And once I felt slightly more energized, I resumed reading articles, highlighting quotes, and writing. I continued this until Bree woke up, yawning as she swung her bedroom door open.

“Jesus, Y/n,” she observed, my figure at the kitchen table still hunched over, staring at my screen. “Were you up all night?”

“Yeah,” my voice was raspy from exhaustion. “There’s a pot of coffee waiting for you.”

She smiled softly, walking behind me and wrapping her arms around me. “All couples fight, you know.”

I sighed, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore; I need to get this article done.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re writing a new article?”

“Of course I am,” I defended, my eyes not leaving my screen. 

She poured herself a cup of the hot liquid.

“You love him.”

My eyes began to water and I fought to blink it away.

“Damn right I do,” I muttered to myself, though I was sure she heard me.

After finishing the draft of the article, I sent it over to Dean. Bree suggested that we go see our friends to distract me, but I wanted to stay home. I needed to write the final draft, and see George...both as soon as possible. Bree stayed around to make sure I’d be okay, watching television with me until Dean responded back with the edits. Once he finally did, I was rewriting the article and using his edits to perfect it. Once I’d finally finished it for Monday, I shut my laptop, grabbed my keys, and began driving to his house.

After parking, I climbed up the stairs until I reached his apartment door. I knocked a few times, nerves churning inside my stomach as I pondered all of the possible reactions he’d have. My biggest fear was that he’d never want to see me again. The door opened, revealing himself in a t-shirt and pajama pants, eyes puffy and bloodshot; I was sure my eyes looked the same.

 “I-” I began, letting out a sigh. “I rewrote the article.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s still sex-themed, but it doesn’t have any connection or correlation to you,” I explained, my voice beginning to croak. “I can email it to you, if you’d like. You can read it, see if it’s okay first.”

He shook his head silently. It was apparent that he didn’t know what to say either.

“I know I fucked up,” my voice broke and my bottom lip trembled. “I shouldn’t have come up with an article like that, it was so fucking awful of me to embarrass you in front of your coworkers.”

Tears began to run down my face and I couldn't help but hiccup.

“P-please, George,” I whimpered.

His eyes began to well with tears of his own, and he pulled me into his arms. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you outside of the restaurant,” he whispered, hugging me close to him.

“Oh, George,” I sobbed. “That was nothing; all you’ve done is treat me like gold, and I nearly exposed our fucking sex life to the world.”

He pulled away, cupping both of my cheeks with his palms, his blue orbs staring into mine, his eyelashes thick from wet tears and the whites of his eyes red.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking, “don’t lie, nor do something behind my back ever again.”

I pressed my hands against the backs of his, still holding my face in his palms. 

“Never again,” I confirmed, throwing my arms around him to feel the warm embrace I thought I’d never feel again. I could inhale his scent, hear his heartbeat through his chest, stare into his ocean blue orbs, and feel the soft sandy curls on his head.

He read the article, and though it made him slightly uncomfortable that I was writing about penises, he designed simple art that would make the article pop in the magazine. Then, we laid in his bed for hours, listening to each others heartbeats, listening to our breathing rhythms, staring into each others eyes as if we were silently communicating to one another. 

We decided to take a shower together, stripping each other of our clothes slowly and meaningfully. Once the hot water was running down our bare skin, we washed each other; shampooing each others hair slowly and washing our bodies tenderly, leaving kisses on wet shoulders and necks. Once we got out and dried off, we got back into his bed and maintained a spooning position, his bare torso against my bare back, as we dozed off to the warm, comforting feeling of our bare skin touching. 

Monday morning, I sat down at my desk and sent the new article to Connie, anxiety making me bite my nails as I waited for a response back. 

Ping.

Oh, no, I thought to myself.

Y/n,

Meet me in the conference room with Dean.

Connie

I sighed, exchanging looks with Dean–whom was reading the email over my shoulder–before we made our way to the conference room. She stood, her arms crossed, as we entered the room. I gulped, heart racing and sweat starting to form at my palms. The two of us sat ourselves, waiting for her to begin.

She joined us in a chair across from us, her elbows resting against the table.

“Well?” she began, her voice questioning. “What happened to the article?”

Dean looked at me, waiting for me to speak for myself. I braced myself before talking.

“The Sexperiment article wasn’t working for me, Connie,” I explained nervously, “I wasn’t having much luck writing it, and I wasn’t confident that it’d reach the magazine’s standards.”

I had to lie; I couldn’t tell her that the article nearly jeopardized my relationship. Dean sat next to me, silent.

She sighed, “I hope this one will reach the ‘magazine’s standards’, then,” she mimicked, before standing up and flattening her skirt. “I’ll publish the article, but this is a warning: do not change your article without contacting me first.”

And with that, we were dismissed, panic still swimming in our stomachs. Well, I thought, I chose George over my job; what else was I expecting?

[kd-holloman]

The Traveler’s Gift Deleted Scene

I haven’t posted any deleted content lately, so here’s a deleted chapter from D3 of TTG. This chapter--or something really similar--managed to make its way through three drafts before I decided to get rid of it. For some reason (one I can’t think of now that Draft 4 is done) I was reluctant to get rid of it. I’m glad I did, because the story just flows so much better without it. 

Warnings: Drug use, mentions of nsfw content, implied molestation, violence, language, and murder. 

Louis didn’t know what he was doing crammed in the back seat of the SUV, but he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Johnny was lounging in the front seat next to Mark, while Damien sat on Louis’s left. On his right, Slater unapologetically did his best to take up as much of the backseat as possible.

Louis was still hurt over what had happened to Rodney and he wasn’t about to forgive the brute in the passenger seat for the role he’d played in his murder. That was what he deserved for getting so attached. There was a reason that many of those who worked for the mob kept their home and work lives separate. If they didn’t, things got messy. 

Louis had distanced himself from his family to the best of his abilities without raising suspicion. His intimate relationships had a history of being nothing more than one-night stands or brief flings with no emotional attachments. He hadn’t kept up with his childhood friends after returning from the war. They’d had their own lives, families, and jobs to worry about. Once he’d been hired by Marcello, the only person he’d kept up with had been Javier, but only because they’d been partners. 

Look where that got you, he reminded himself bitterly. Javier is dead too.

“Oh, don’t be like that, blondie,” Johnny grumbled, his crooked nose pressed against the tinted glass to watch the city streets slide by. “It was just business.” The smirk was audible in his voice. 

Louis scowled and slouched against the supple leather of the seat, a quiet spark of fury igniting within him. He was in the car with two other gifted individuals reputations just as red as the blood on their hands. It would be wise to keep his trap shut. With that in mind, he swallowed his heated retort and settled for glaring past Damien, through the window, instead. “Where are we going?”

“Rick has given us an errand to run,” Mark explained. 

Slater spoke up for the first time since they’d left the apartment. “If I wanted to waste my time I’d spend it watching videos of dogs that can walk on their back legs. This is stupid.” 

“It’s not a waste of time. We’re just reminding Marco who he’s dealing with. If you run a drug ring from one of O’Shea’s buildings, you pay the rent.”

“They’re street trash. I don’t associate with street trash.” 

“You’re not associating with them. You’re associating with us.” 

“Why did you drag me along again? Johnny is here and he likes to crack skulls together. I’m sure he’s more than capable of getting the job done.” 

Mark tightened his grip on the steering wheel so much his knuckles cracked. “Yes, but he doesn’t have your reputation. Your face in a room is enough to make a grown man shit his pants. Don’t argue with me or I’ll put Rick on the phone.” 

“Please do. I can’t wait to tell him to go fuck himself.” 

“No! I’m not going to call him so you can piss him off. You’ll get all of us in trouble.” He pulled up to the curb in a shady, industrial, part of town. “Go in there, scare the shit out of a couple of drug rats, and we can all go home.”

“He does have a point,” Damien piped up. “If we have Slater, why do we need him and Johnny?” 

“I don’t know! I don’t make the fucking rules.” Mark twisted around so he could look at Slater. “You have to be on your best behavior tonight, O’Brien.”

Slater wore a liar’s smile. “I’ll be on my best fucking behavior.” 

“I’m too old to deal with this shit,” Mark grumbled before opening the door. “Dee, stay with the car. I don’t trust these bastards not to take a baseball bat to it.”

Damien obediently leaned against the bumper to wait.

There was nothing particularly special about the grimy building. It was a handful of blocks away from the main stretch of road, nestled in the shadows, and out of reach from any street lights. A few cars sat out front, dented, rusting, and paint fading. Their bumpers sat low to the ground, their windows too dark to see inside.

Louis unsnapped his holster, ready to draw his gun if necessary. It didn’t seem like it was going to come down to a shootout. Nobody else seemed concerned, even if the quiet stillness of the night seemed to whisper danger. 

Mark rapped on the door in a patterned series of knocks before it swung open. 

A haze of smoke hung in the air, curling in lazy wisps overhead. The smell of marijuana was so pungent that Louis felt like he was going to get gowed-up just from breathing. 

A man was sitting on a lopsided couch, a woman in his lap was being none-too discrete with her hand down his pants. He jolted upright fast enough to send her to the floor. He pulled the reefer from between his lips. “Who the hell are you?”

Another man had been weighing white powder on a scale sitting among a trash-littered coffee table. At the sound of the other man’s voice, he stopped what he was doing and picked a gun off of the table next to him. 

“None of that shit,” Johnny said. He waved his hand and the gun went skidding across the room. 

Mark gave an approving nod. He held up his hands to show that he wasn’t about to pull any weapons. “I’m not here to fuck up your shit. Are you Marco? Rick O’Shea sent me. He says your rent is due.” 

The man on the couch nodded. He had a tattoo on his face, an X, the blank ink was faded and looked slightly green against his skin. He slid a suspicious look from Mark to the rest of them. “Why did you come with such a big crew if you aren’t here to start trouble?” 

“You can never be too careful. I didn’t know if you were going to have twenty guys waiting to punch me full of holes.”

Marco nodded, seeming to decide that it was a fair precaution to take. “Get your ass up and get the hell out of here,” he snapped at the girl sitting at his feet with red eyes and black streaks of makeup down her face. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be. Go on, now.” He gave her a nudge with the toe of his boot. 

She was slow to get to her feet and slightly unsteady once she got there.

“If you see Drew or Kevin when you get out there, tell them to mind their own business outside until I tell them to come in. Got it?” 

She looked like she hadn’t even registered a word he’d said. She was too high to pay attention. 

“Bitch, did you hear me?” 

She jerked, the sudden boom of his voice startling her. “Uh, yeah … yeah. I’ll tell ‘em.” She shuffled to the door. It slammed shut behind her. 

“Jesus,” Mark said, “she’s fucked up. What is she on?”

The man sat back down on the couch and twitched his fingers toward his friend. Once he had fat stacks of cash he began to count it out. “Just herb, y’ know what I’m saying? Good dealers don’t use their own product.” He licked his finger and continued to count cash. “Your boss is asking for his cut a little early, isn’t he?”

“No,” Mark said. “He’s doing you a favor. He gave you an extension, remember? It’s time for you to pay up. I’m sure you discussed the terms and conditions of the late fee.” 

“I know my business,” Marco replied coolly. “I thought I had another week before I paid up.” 

“Take that up with him. What’s in the back room?” 

“That’s where I keep my supplies.” 

Mark looked from the doorway in the back corner of the room to Louis. “Mahoney, take a look back there and make sure we aren’t going to have any surprises.” 

Louis touched the brim of his cap in acknowledgement. He looked at the dark room, imagined himself standing next to it, and willed himself there. 

Once his shoulder was pressed up against the wall next to the door, ignoring the burning in his bones, he raised his gun and peered inside. 

There was nothing but a couple of locked gun safes against the back wall. There was another couch, even more stained and lopsided than the first, to his left. Trash littered the floor, the room smelled like mildew and marijuana. He checked each corner of the room before he gave Mark a thumbs up.

“Oh,” Marco laughed, amused, “you got yourself a bunch of freaks here. I almost forgot that O’Shea had a bunch of them on a leash.” He didn’t look up from counting the money when he asked, “What about you, red? Any tricks up those leather sleeves of yours?” 

Slater fixed the drug dealer with a ferocious sneer. “It will be a bad day for you, if you ever find out.” 

In the stillness of the night, a series of shrieks came from outside. It sounded like the woman from earlier hadn’t gotten very far and she was having an episode. 

“Don’t mind her,” Marco dismissed with a wave of his hand. He gestured for his friend to hand him more money. “She’s always carrying on about something. Back to you, Red, are you going to show off your moves for me?” 

“It’s a disappearing act,” Slater replied. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah and if you watch closely, you can see just how I do it.” With that, he turned tail and walked through the front door. 

Mark did his best to appear unconcerned, but Louis saw his jaw twitch from where he stood. No doubt, Slater was going to get an earful once they got back in the car. 

Marco finished counting out the cash. “There’s that and here’s the extra chunk I owe him for his generosity.” 

Johnny dropped a backpack on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Don’t forget that you’re just a phone call away from losing everything, Marco,” Mark reminded the dealer. He accepted the loaded backpack from Johnny. “Keep the boss happy and we won’t ever have to have this conversation again, understood?” 

The sharp glimmer in the other man’s eyes showed just how sour the threat sounded. “Of course, of course. I wouldn’t want him to send The Reaper after me. That’s his name, isn’t it? Or is that some sort sick joke your boss made up?” 

“I don’t know,” Mark replied with a shrug. “The Reaper just stepped outside. Why don’t you ask him yourself. Mahoney, go get him.”

Louis nodded and disappeared from the stuffy drug den and emerged in the sticky night air. He found Damien leaning against the SUV’s bumper. “Is Slater in the car?” 

He shook his head and pointed to the backside of the building. “He went that way, where that girl was screaming. Christ, you don’t think he killed her, do you?” 

That was a grim thought, but part of Louis was skeptical. “I don’t think so.” He jogged to the rear of the building, where Damien had indicated that Slater had gone. He only slowed when he heard the staccato smack of a closed fist hitting flesh. 

Louis’s heart beat faster as he rounded the corner. 

Slater’s red hair was unmistakable, even if the rest of him was hardly visible in the barely-there light. 

The woman sitting on the ground, slumped against the tire of a car the color of cigar ash. Her shirt was crooked and her skirt had been hiked up past her hips, revealing too much of a bright pink undergarment. Her head bobbled every once in a while, the way it did when someone was nodding off and trying to stay awake. She was alive. 

Louis turned his gaze from the woman and back to Slater. Why? He wondered. Why is he fighting with these strangers when he could kill them in their tracks? Why was he choosing to throw fists when he could end it in an instant? What’s the point? 

Judging from the way the redhead stood with his hands in the pockets of his , he wasn’t concerned about the two men circling him like sharks preparing to feed. 

“You think you can just come around here and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?” The taller man asked, his voice raspy. There was an unthreatened melody to his tone, like the idea of a fight didn’t scare him. 

Slater’s face split into a grin. “Do you know who I am?” 

“From what I hear, you’re the guy that everybody’s afraid of. I can’t see why. You look like a pussy to me. What do you think, Drew?” 

The shorter of the men smirked, “He looks like a preppy motherfucker to me, Kev.” 

“Run along, Reaper. Let me fuck this bitch and get on with my night.”

Their jibes seemed to have little impact on Slater. He simply stood where he was, watching them from behind his sunglasses. “The only ones getting fucked tonight are the two of you.” 

The taller of the two men—Kevin—moved, a snake striking in the tall grass. It was sudden and the force of his punch was hard enough to snap Slater’s head to the side. The hiss of air slipping between his teeth was as sharp as a gunshot. 

Slater reached up and brushed his thumb across his upper lip. He inspected it for a moment before he laughed in delight. “Now, this is starting to get fun!” When the man swung again, he ducked out of the way before retaliating with a jab of his own. 

In an aggressive flash of fists, Drew joined the fight. It was unfair, two against one, and obvious that the two men wouldn’t stop until Slater was unconscious or dead. 

Louis contemplated intervention, but stayed put. He was interested in seeing how this deadly boxing match would end. Whatever the outcome was going to be, Slater didn’t appear concerned. 

In fact, with each blow struck him, it seemed to drive him faster, made him burn a little brighter. The smirk on his face continued to grow, even with the bruises already forming on his fair complexion. He showed now signs of slowing down. 

The door banged open and Mark scrambled around the side of the building with Johnny on his heels. He skidded to a halt when he saw Slater in the midst of a fight. Then, he pulled a device out of his pocket and lunged for Drew, it crackled and spat in a flash of blue light. 

Kevin stopped and looked at Mark, but his attention was jerked back to Slater when the redhead spoke. “If you touch them, I’ll kill you.” 

It must have been a credible threat, because Mark hesitated.

His pause was enough time for Johnny to extend his hand. 

Drew hardly had enough time to let out a startled yelp before he went flying backward. His body crashed into the brick wall behind him hard enough that Louis heard a crack. Then, he slumped onto a pile of garbage bags, eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

Slater’s eyes snapped to Johnny, the smile on his lips vanishing, his expression frigid. 

Kevin didn’t need an invitation to send another fist flying. This time, the punch was fueled by even more rage. It slammed into the side of Slater’s face with enough force that Louis’s own jaw ached in sympathy. It sent the two of them into another round of snarls hissed between clenched teeth and battered knuckles. 

Apparently, Slater’s arctic glare had been enough of a message to keep Johnny from intervening again. He didn’t make a second move to put an end to the fight. 

How much longer is this going to go on? Louis wondered. Are they going to keep going until they’re unconscious, dead, or until Marco comes out with his friend, guns blazing?

Enough was enough. 

Louis’s approach didn’t go unnoticed. Mark stepped in front of him to block his path. “Stay out of this, buddy. This isn’t your fight.” 

He flicked Mark an unimpressed look. Having something—doors, people, or walls—in his way had never stopped him before and it wasn’t going to work now. 

“Did you hear me? Are you deaf or are you stupid?” 

“Probably just stupid.” 

Mark made a move, the Taser in his fist crackled angrily. 

One moment Louis was there, the next he was standing between Slater and Kevin. 

Everything went still. The only sound was sound of the fighters and their ragged breathing, their attack thwarted by Louis’s sudden presence.

Louis had done what he could. He’d gotten their attention. Now, he had to keep it. 

“Move,” Slater ordered. 

He stayed put. At this point, if The Reaper wanted him dead, he had nothing to lose. 

“Get the fuck out of my way before I kill you.” 

Louis stared down at him, seeing his own reflection in the lenses of his shiny, bent, glasses. He thought about what Damien had said, that Slater had blown a man’s head clean off his shoulders with only his mind. Obviously, he’d been deemed The Reaper for a reason. If he truly wanted Louis dead, there was nothing stopping Slater from killing him. He didn’t look away. “If you were smart,” he warned Slater’s opponent, “you’d get the hell out of here.” 

He didn’t have to turn his head to hear the other man run off into the night. 

Slater was still glaring at him, four inches shorter than Louis. 

It reminded Louis of a game he and James had played when they were kids, one where they stared at each other before the other looked away.

Louis looked back for what felt like an eternity, every muscle drown rigid with anticipation. If felt an awful lot like staring down the wrong end of a loaded gun. Each second dragged as he waited to see if Slater would pull the trigger. 

“Johnny,” Mark said, “go tell Damien to start the car. Come on, O’Brien, you’re coming with us.” 

Slater kept his gaze on Louis for a few more deliberate moments before he followed Mark without a word. 

Louis exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. The tension resolved once those hidden eyes were no longer burning him to the core. He gave the girl, propped up against the wheel of the car, one last look before he followed the others. 

On the ride back, Johnny broke the uncomfortable silence by complaining. “Why do we even let O’Brien come with us? That asshole gets off on picking fights. I swear—”

Slater, now in the passenger seat, reached out with a bruising and bloody had to flick on the radio. He twisted the knob for the volume until nobody could hear Johnny bitching. 

Once the car was turned off, Johnny started again. He slammed the car door hard enough to make it rock. “You want to know what I don’t understand? I don’t get why Boss keeps you around, anyway. You’re a loose fucking cannon. I mean, just ask the new guy, I can kill people too. Big fucking deal! You aren’t spe—”

If Louis hadn’t been watching, he would have known what happened. One moment, Johnny had been going on and on, without a breath between words; and the next, he’d collapsed to the concrete of the parking garage floor, lifeless. 

There was a breath of stunned silence among them before Mark reacted. “O’Brien! What the fuck?!” 

Slater’s expression was smooth. There wasn’t the slightest hint of emotion on his face. He looked at the body with disinterest before he turned to the other man. His voice was just as blank as his face when he said, “I warned him to stay out of it. I warned all of you. He just didn’t listen.” 

“Oh shit!” Damien gasped from Louis’s elbow. “Oh, holy shit!”

Now Louis understood how Slater had earned his nickname. It hadn’t been a myth and Damien hadn’t been exaggerating his power. He had really killed Johnny just by looking at him. 

He studied the corpse with morbid fascination. Blood ran from Johnny’s mouth, nose, and ears, pooling beneath his head on the oil-streaked concrete. His eyes were wide open in a blank stare. 

Louis looked at Slater, palms sweating. Maybe he shouldn’t have stepped in to stop the fight. By doing so, he had probably signed his death certificate. 

Slater paused in front of Louis on his way out of the garage. He leaned in close, reeking of sweat and leather. There was a bruise blooming on one of his high cheekbones. His voice was a whisper, “Consider this your warning. Don’t get in my way again.” 

Louis swallowed the nerves that had formed into a ball in his throat and watched Slater disappear into the night.

Tag List: @tricksexual, @wildler, @ganseyboii, @surrealirist, @obsessionandstuff, @pertinax--loculos, @pe-ersona, @a-curator-of-nonsense, @angelolytle, @aslanwrites, @aurumni-writes, @andrewminyardd, @lordkingsmith, @gloriafrimpong

[accidentally-a-writer]

a dangerous game

Hello! After a much waiting (we’re so sorry) here is chapter 2 of Part II of the Past Patiently Waiting Series; the end for which we live. 

written by: @stegekay and @accidentally-a-writer

Read it on A03

tw: non-consensual drug use 

... 

Alexander storms away from the general and his quarters, taking the stairs two at a time despite the fire it sends up his side to do so.

He needs to find those notes, he’ll show Washington… he’ll prove that the error wasn’t on his part. He slams the office door a little louder than he’d intended but it doesn’t deter his anger any, Hamilton can still feel his fury burning through his veins.

The desk drawer rips open with a satisfying thud, his fingers leafing through all his saved papers at an unprecedented speed. He finally sees the bound stack of scrap papers where he collected the notes he used to draft his missives. Good. This is the proof he needs, he’ll annotate all his supposed mistakes and show Washington, he’ll force him to listen.

But he certainly won’t do it in the general’s own office; it’s been made perfectly clear that he’s not welcome at the moment.

Hamilton nearly crashes into Laurens as he rips out of Washington’s office. He doesn’t feel like explaining what’s just happened, even though Laurens probably knows to some extent - he was most likely woken by it - so he shoulders past his friend in favour of getting the Hell out.

“Alexander, wait! Slow down!” Laurens calls after him, easily catching up to the boy and grabbing his arm, forcing the younger officer to face him. He lowers his voice so it’s just for them two. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hamilton mumbles.

“Frankly, I don’t care what you feel like doing; you’re upset. Come, we’ll find somewhere private to talk.” Laurens expects more of a fight, but Hamilton deflates and nods.

“Not your chambers, I won’t- I want out of here.”

“We needn’t stay here, there are plenty other places.” After a quick nod Hamilton rips himself from Laurens’ hold and marches himself towards the front entrance. Laurens grabs both of their cloaks and follows, wondering what the Hell could have happened that was so volatile so early in the morning.

The door slams before he reaches it, and Laurens cringes internally and spares a glance up the stairs. There’s no shouting, no one questioning what’s going on, but when Laurens follows Hamilton out, he makes sure the door doesn’t close so loudly behind him.

…

“Is that all he said? That Congress called for your discharge?”

“After accusing me of carelessness? Yes.” But Laurens sees it behind Alexander’s eyes, there was something else, something he doesn’t want to divulge even to his closest friend.

“Is that all you said?”  

“Of importance to this conversation? Yes.”

“How little our friendship must matter, for you not to disclose what hurried you away from Washington’s quarters in such a speed I thought your hidden affliction cured.” Hamilton scoffs and averts his gaze, but still he feels the rush to his cheeks at his friend’s sardonic words.

“You’re rather forward today, Colonel,” Hamilton says instead. “First rejecting my wish to keep the matter undisclosed and then scolding me when I turn out to be, in fact, uncomfortable in broadcasting the details of a private conversation.”

“Is it forward for a man to wonder after his friend?”

“When his friend makes it known the matter is a private one? Perhaps. You’ve yet to tell me what the general sends you riding out at all hours of the day for; do not speak in haste and discover yourself a hypocrite.”

It is Laurens’ turn to blush. Hamilton is right, he has no right to demand the boy’s secrets with the general when he keeps such an enormous one to himself.  He utters a short apology and follows Hamilton to the nearby stables.

They don’t ride for long, it can’t be more than an hour, if that. It’s a quiet place where Alexander finally stops, and it seems to pass whatever requirements Hamilton could not find in the camp. He dismounts, tying his horse to a nearby tree. Laurens follows without a word.

Hamilton retrieves his portable writing desk and shifts himself into a sitting position, though he can’t hide the wince as the movement pulls at his side.

“Alexander?”

“I’m fine,” Hamilton hisses in sharp reply. “It’s not that bad.” He glances up quickly enough to see Laurens open his mouth, and an instant later close it. With no more hesitation Laurens sits on the ground next to him.

Hamilton settles his desk against his knees and removes two bundles of papers from his coat, tossing them in the space between he and Laurens.

“Explain to me exactly what we’re doing?”

“Congress blames me for the mistakes in my reports,” Alexander bites out the words and snorts at the end. “That’s why they want the general to remove me. But all of the information from the reports came from these notes, you see?�� He hands the stack of reports to Laurens and takes the notes for himself. “The mistakes here aren’t mine.”

Any other man Laurens might doubt at such an arrogant sounding statement, but not Hamilton.

“Alright,” he says, “so we find the mistakes in the letter and the information in the notes, and match them.”

Alexander sighs in what could be relief, nodding gratefully as Laurens separates the bundles from two into four.

“The general will have my head for missing a day’s worth of work,” Laurens mutters, eyes already scanning the document. “And for riding out here with you.”

Alexander hums, ingrained in his work already, “When standing next to me you can rest assured his ire will not fall to you. Besides, you’re protection enough, oui?”

“Neither of us have our pistols Hammie,” Laurens grins. This is harmless disobedience, surely. Washington will indeed reprimand them when they return but for now it is worth it to see Alexander look at him and wink, at ease in the world at last.

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to work quickly.”

John shakes his head in amusement, returning to his task. Congress has done them the convenience of underlining all of Alex’s alleged mistakes, making it a far easier job to find the mistaken information in the notes. Hamilton is right, he didn’t make any of these mistakes. His dictations were reported back incorrectly, he doesn’t deserve to be expelled or even suspended.

It’s nearing suppertime when Laurens finally sits back from the bundles, charcoal and ink staining his fingers.

Alexander scans his final document furiously before making a definitive angry underline and throwing it onto their pile of stacked correspondences.

“He’ll see now,” the boy announces, “he’ll see that I’m not at fault and I’m not being arrogant by not accepting fault.”

“He does not think you an inept worker Alexander, even now, he merely thinks-”

“The general thinks that my encounter with Samuel Davies has left me so broken that I’m unable to complete my tasks to a standard of his office,” Hamilton spits. “That is not the case, if anything I feel Washington is the greater affected, the way he obsesses over protection and guards and control-”

“Alexander there was a great deal of time where we thought you dead or hours from. So do not chastise the general for now being protective, when he spent weeks wondering how he might have failed at the task so severely that you were left injured and dying in his care.”

Alexander flushes and looks down in shame. He breathes a moment and then- “Forgive me.”

Laurens also averts his gaze. “And I as well, I was harsh. Just- try to remember that what Washington does he does out of concern, out of care.”

Alexander nods wordlessly and Laurens takes it as a good moment to end the conversation.

“Come, we must return while we still have the light.” He stands, offering Alexander a hand up which for once the boy accepts. Laurens gathers the letters back into their bundles.

“Might you put those on Washington’s desk for me?”

“Alexander, I am not afforded the same leniency as you, I cannot just walk into the general’s study-”

“Please? I… I’m not quite prepared to meet him yet.”

Casting his friend a disapproving glare, John mounts his horse. “I’m not getting in between any of you and Washington’s domestics.”

“I’m not asking you to, I’m asking you to set them on his desk.” Alexander mounts his own horse. “Please.”

John breathes a long sigh. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Hamilton’s face is that of a spoilt little one, and Laurens would daresay he is. “You ride first, I’d like to collect my thoughts for a moment.”

“More like you want me to take the brunt of any ire our disappearance has caused.” Alexander grins and quirks an eyebrow. He neither denies nor accepts the accusations. Laurens shakes his head and spurs his horse, casting one last remark behind him. “If I am discovered I’ll have your head!”

All he hears for a reply is Hamilton’s laughter.  

…

Laurens doesn’t stay half-asleep for long. At the general’s clearly growing panic he blinks a few more times, harder, chasing away the rest of his sleep. “Sir? Is there something wrong?” He sits up, uncaring that his commanding officer will see him in his bedclothes. “General Washington?”

Washington is pale, his breaths coming too fast and too short to be anything but panic. He’d asked Laurens about Alexander.

“Sir? Is something wrong with Hamilton?” No reply. Washington isn’t looking at him, he’s looking through him. “General Washington? Where is Alexander?”

“I-I don’t know,” Washington finally gasps. “He’s not- are you sure he did not sleep here last night?”

The desperation in the man’s voice pains Laurens, especially because it will do nothing to change his answer. “Yes sir, I always wake up when Alex comes in, he didn’t last night. I thought he was with you.”

Worry gnaws at Laurens’ stomach, he’d been sure that Hamilton returned, he’d only left him alone for a moment...

As if just realizing where he is Washington snaps away from John’s bed like he suddenly realized it was on fire. “This is improper. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“If you cannot find Alexander that is ample reason to rouse me Your Excellency.” Washington nods and meets Laurens’ eye, and the general sees the guilt hidden within them.

“Laurens,” he starts slowly, “you left with Hamilton yesterday morning. You two were absent for hours, where did you go?”

Although Hamilton had been placed on leave Laurens had technically still been on duty, he was meant to report to Washington that morning and hadn’t. When he reappeared that evening he and the other men expected him to get a thorough tongue lashing, but Washington hadn’t done anything to punish or even chastise him - the other men rolled their eyes and whispered of more favouritism.

“I... we-”

“John.”

“We didn’t go far outside the camp’s boundaries sir!” Sitting up in bed, dressed in little more than his nightshirt and hair sprawled over and around his shoulders, Laurens looks every bit his few twenty-three years, like a child pleading innocence to their schoolmaster. “Alex needed- he was going to leave on his own anyways, he was upset… I went with him.”

“On horseback?” Washington knows his tone is too harsh as Laurens jumps in place and refuses to meet his eye, but he cannot rectify that now.

“Yes sir, only to the halfway point between here and the town sir.”

“And what time did you two return from this halfway point?”

Laurens meets Washington’s eyes and the general immediately knows what he’s about to say. Those eyes are filled with guilt and worry and confusion. “A little after supper? Alexander gave me those letters to deliver to your office and said he’d join me in the evening, he was supposed to be right behind me. I heard someone come in and I thought it was him and that you two had merely resolved your… row. I thought he slept in his own bed.”

Washington is angry at the situation - no he’s terrified about the situation - but that terror manifests as anger and there’s nothing for that anger to direct itself at except the poor boy confessing in front of him.

“You left him alone?” The general’s voice comes as a dangerous hiss which Laurens can do naught but flinch at.

“No! He was meant to be behind me, he only asked for a moment alone to collect his thoughts. He needed to be alone-”

“No, he wanted to be alone, he needed to be kept safe! For God’s sake John you of all men should know why he should not be left alone outside the camp’s boundaries!”

“I’m sorry,” Laurens whispers. He watches Washington carefully, muscles taut in fear he knows should be unfounded. “Your Excellency, what’s happened?”

“The incorrect notes, they’re in Davies’ handwriting.” Laurens gapes at that revelation. But then that would mean-

“He was waiting for Alexander to be expelled for his mistakes.”

“Evidently.” There is nothing but fury in Washington’s eyes, nothing but ice in his voice. Laurens bows his head again in response. “And yet I did not expel him, he would have been fine if he’d not left the camp grounds!”

It’s his fault. Washington clearly thinks so. Laurens should have stayed with Alexander, despite the fit he would have thrown if his friend were to persist. “I’ll take a horse and search for him, just give me a moment’s time-”

“Never mind Colonel, I’ll send other men to search for Colonel Hamilton.”

Laurens stares up at him and Washington can see the guilt in his eyes, how crushed he looks. He blinks quickly - forcing away tears Washington realizes - and Washington feels a jab of guilt in his own gut. He’s almost made this boy cry, whose only crime was indulging his brother.

“Please allow me to accompany the search party.”

Washington’s remorse does not show on his face, but he does not shout at Laurens again. Washington nods stiffly and jerks out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a resounding thud which reverberates far longer in John’s head.

Laurens lets out a breath and then is scrambling to dress himself; this is his fault, he was the last to see Alexander before he was- he knew that Davies is still alive- he knew and Alexander didn’t…

Now his best friend, his brother, might be in a living Hell that he was unaware still loomed over the horizon.

…

Beer tastes vile, Alexander has always thought so, but he drinks it anyways. Men don’t drink beer for its pleasantries after all.

Right now it gives him something to do to escape, and as long as it takes to finish his second he does not have to return to the camp. After this one however he will return, he’s had plenty. Any more and he’ll be on his way to drunk.

Well actually… perhaps he ought to stop before then. He might be well on his way to drunk now. He’s not eaten all day, he realizes, Washington will be even more displeased with him if he returns to camp roaring drunk.

Someone sits across from him and Hamilton does not want company right now. He lifts his head to tell the stranger so and feels himself go absolutely rigid.

Davies.

How-

How is he alive? Washington told him that he was dead. He saw him fall to the general’s bullet-

Hamilton pushes away from the table, trying to put as much distance between him and his tormentor, but the man catches his wrist and pulls him back. It’s too easy. Hamilton’s limbs feel weighed down by a force outside his own body, unnaturally heavy and compliant.

“Don’t scream now,” Davies grins. “Sit down, let’s just talk.”

Sit? Hamilton does. He’s not sure why. He… he should want to leave. He does want to leave. But sitting makes sense right now. So he sits.

“I’ve so missed you Colonel, these past few months,” Davies’ tone is far too casual, but it still has that sadistic quality that Alexander remembers from their encounters and his nightmares thereafter. Hamilton wants to run. Why can’t he run? “What have you been up to, pet? Keeping busy? I see that nasty wound never properly healed, shame.”

Davies smirks at the unsaid question in Hamilton’s eyes. “Your general is a fine shot,” the man reaches for his shirt collar and pulls it back, revealing a jagged scar against the side of his neck, “but he’s not the best. He missed the vital regions of the neck. And true, most men die anyways from a shot like this one, but I had very good doctors.”

Hamilton grunts, his limbs are so heavy and he can’t understand why. He only had a few-

His eyes dart to where his beers sit, and then back to Davies. In his hand Davies fiddles with a vial, flipping it up and down and around his fingers. It’s empty.

“Just something to help us along, pet,” he explains.

How? How did he… And then it strikes Hamilton's muddled mind. Davies has been watching him, following him. Whatever substance had been in that vial was in his drink before it ever got to him.

“You still look thirsty. Go ahead," Davies prompts him out of his head. "Finish it all in one go.”

Hamilton doesn’t want to, he knows it’s drugged Davies has just told him it’s drugged but- he drinks it until he chokes and even then he gulps down more. It’s like a compulsion, like he can’t say no.

Something lights up in Davies’ eyes as he watches Hamilton struggle to finish his drink. By the end he reeks of alcohol and everything around him has gone fuzzy. His ears ring like they do when a pistol is fired and the world sends tingles through his skin.

Davies stands and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him in tight against his side.

When Hamilton stands he expects the sharp pain of his wound, but it doesn’t come. It should hurt, he knows. There’s a lot of things that should be happening but aren’t, he can’t remember what they are.

“My poor friend I think has had a few too many,” Davies says distantly. Or right next to his ear. Hamilton doesn’t know. “I’ll get him to his bed safely.”

This is wrong. Alexander can feel it deep in his soul; something is wrong. But… but he’s not sure what it is. He’s not sure what… what’s happening right now. What anything is.

Words. He doesn’t know what the words are.

Davies pulls him along and he stumbles, breathless mumbles of “No…” and “Stop” slipping from his lips, though he doesn’t know why he says them. Nobody spares a second glance, this is a common scene coming from the pub.

When Davies disappears into the night with him no one sees anything out of the ordinary.

…

The words fall from Washington’s mouth easily, orders for men to ride immediately to search for Colonel Hamilton.

There’s confusion, of course there is, but he is in no mood to explain himself. His men should obey anyways.

The small group of soldiers return, Hamilton is not to be found in any nearby area or surroundings, not even where Laurens points them to, the clearing they spent the previous day in. His horse is still missing from the stables, by all accounts it is likely he did not return to the camp.

The terror Washington feels is familiar now, how it clutches at his heart and suffocates his lungs. It’s all too coincidental… Davies handwriting in the notes, Alexander’s disappearance, Washington knows something is wrong he knows.

What if Davies had been waiting for this? That must have been his plan, to wait until the mistakes he forced onto Alexander’s head roused Congress to demand his suspension.

Whether or not he thought Washington would truly expel him, Washington doesn’t know, but he must have known it would be enough to prompt Alexander to leave the camp. Foolish, stubborn, boy.

Foolish, stubborn, boy who Washington cannot bear to lose.

Please be safe, please, please, please be safe.

Washington hears Davies voice near every night in his sleep, promising and threatening all in one, describing how he’d make Alexander scream, holding the boy too close and too tightly.

Washington still does not know what possessed him to take the shot, but he knows that in the following hours when it was still unsure if the war could proceed due to the false orders he had looked at the sleeping boy, safe and sound in his bed, and decided it’d been worth it.

Why didn’t Washington go after him? He was upset, they both were, why did he let the pair of them leave the camp when he could have so easily called Alexander back. He doesn’t care what was said anymore, he doesn’t care if Hamilton made the mistakes himself or not. He just needs to find his-

“Your Excellency, Colonel Hamilton might be anywhere. Perhaps he took it upon himself to deliver the early morning missives himself, maybe he did return after all…”

Washington says nothing of Hamilton’s suspension. He won’t, it was made under false circumstances anyhow.

“I am almost certain that this is not the case. Keep looking. We all know how dangerous situations such as these can become, I’ll not have a repeated history. We cannot afford to lose Colonel Hamilton, if the British were to question him for information I’m sure he would not willingly give it up, but I worry if they were to try and use more aggressive means.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.” The man salutes and rushes away.

Torture. Washington is talking about torture. But he knows that if that is truly the case then it will not be the British administering it, no, it would be someone far worse. And there’s nothing in Heaven, Hell or the Earth that Washington would be able to do to stop it.

The sudden severity of the situation becomes apparent to the men, and they rush to organize themselves in a broader, more thorough manner. Washington is not questioned again, until he orders his own horse brought to him.

“Your Excellency, you mustn’t ride out yourself,” one of the other aides urges him. “It’s too much of a risk if you are not to be accompanied.”

Before Washington can object that his orders are not to be argued with another voice interjects. “His Excellency will not be unaccompanied.”

Laurens leads two horses, his own and Washington’s. He salutes, and then hands Washington the reins to the stead. Washington takes them gratefully, too aware of the angry words he’d spat at the boy earlier; Laurens must be exhausted, he’s been riding hard all day.

“You heard the general, he will be assisting the search parties while others are to be organized and dispersed, now.” There will be grumbling later, that Laurens orders these men as if he were above their station, but they move to obey him and to Washington that is all that matters.

The boy bows his head to Washington, waiting for something Washington himself doesn’t know how to give.

“Mount, Colonel,” Washington orders instead, “we ride hard for the town.”

“Yes sir.”

Laurens rides first, for his duty is to take any bullets that might wait for them first, instead of the general. Washington follows not far behind, his thoughts clouded with guilts and regrets and what-ifs, enough to drive a man mad.

As he watches Laurens’ back he comes to one of many conclusions; of strategy and war and literature and language Washington was well taught, but apparently, how to properly communicate with young twenty-something men in his care he was not.

Laurens and Washington search, but just like all of Washington’s efforts to do the right thing their efforts are useless. They find nothing. The barkeep mentions he perhaps saw a young man matching Hamilton’s description earlier in the evening. Perhaps he left with an older man dressed as an officer, but he can’t be sure.

...

“Your Excellency, sir!” Washington’s just barely dismounted his horse when a soldier jogs up to him, saluting stiffly before dropping his hand into his messenger bag. “A letter sir, marked urgent. I recognized it as Colonel Hamilton’s handwriting.”

Washington is quite sure he can feel his heart stop. But that’s impossible, for it thunders just as noticeably in his ears. “Give it here.”

The messenger passes him the missive, and sure enough handwriting he knows better than his own decorates the page.

Urgent: For the desk of General George Washington the inscription is simple, standard, and yet Washington feels something insidious behind it.

“Thank you Officer,” Washington barely glances from the letter to address the messenger. “Please inform my guard I’ll not be seeing anyone for the remainder of the evening.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.” The man salutes and rushes away, and Washington is left staring in his wake.

Does he know what he’s just delivered? Does Washington?

…

The room he’s in barely sees the light of day. Alexander knows by now the sun should be coming up, they travelled for hours.

It’s comfortable, it reminds him of his room back home, or… Washington’s room anyhow. But darker. The candles spread throughout it cast an orange glow against the expensive furniture and velvet blankets on the bed. The window is so small that hardly any light gets through, and even though this room is furnished almost exactly like Washington’s it doesn’t feel like… home.

Davies pulls him towards a desk and pushes him into the seat. His hands linger against his shoulders, an ever present pressure warning him from trying to stand.

“I want you to take a letter,” he murmurs, too close to Hamilton’s ear.

Alexander nods, this makes sense. This is what he does. The hand on his left shoulder pulls away and opens the desk, producing ink pot and quill. Hamilton is quick to trim the quill and set a piece of parchment at attention; this is what he does.

“Dear General Washington,” Davies starts, lips curling into a satisfied grin as Hamilton’s hand moves immediately. “I know you are wondering where I’ve gone, and more importantly worrying about who I am with.”

Davies is quite satisfied with himself, he’s mastered plenty of things in his lifetime and his concoctions are one such substance, but to accurately estimate the exact amount needed to get his pet behaving exactly as he wants him - obedient, subservient, but still there - is a true indication of his genius.  

“I write to you today to tell you that your worry is perfectly founded. I’ve been reclaimed by my rightful master and am in his care now. He wants to thank you, for your carelessness, marksmanship and stubbornness; without all three I would surely still be safe within your camp.”

…

Washington hand trembles as he holds the letter, and his knuckles turn white as he clutches it in an iron hold.

You’ve known for weeks now that Samuel Davies lived on, and yet when I was caught I was caught unawares. But still, you should count your blessings, Your Excellency, that my dear friend John Laurens was not at my side when my master came to retrieve me, for he knew and would have had to die for it.

He can’t breathe, there’s a pressure against his chest and it is pressing against his lungs. Air won’t fill them, no matter how hard Washington tries.

As for the marksmanship, if you had checked Davies’ wound you would have seen that it was not an immediately fatal one. You should have understood that your fear of hitting me would throw your aim to the side, even unconsciously. I shall take your penance for delivering a wound against my master, and he wants you to know that it will be agony.

You had to have known that you could never be enough to protect me.

This couldn’t be happening, how could-

Washington doesn’t recognize the sound that comes from his throat as he drops into his chair like a stone.

…

“I’ll be sure to update you often as to how I’m progressing, or rather, my master will. He’s certain you’ll be interested to know.”

Davies paces the floor behind him, and as easily as the words roll from his tongue, Alexander copies them to the parchment. At last he stops, and then his hands are back, fingers curling around his shoulders.

“That should do it, pet. Sign your name.”

Alexander does, with his natural flourish.

Then Davies moves again, rounds the desk and takes a seat on the other side. “Fold and seal it, and address it to His Excellency.”

Alexander does.

“He’ll recognize your writing, won’t he?”

“Yes,” the answer comes before Hamilton can stop himself. There is no stopping whatever this is, it seems. He can’t think, can’t run, he can’t even bring himself to move.

Because he wasn’t told to.

Davies takes the finished, folded letter and carefully sets it aside to allow for the wax to dry.

His hand slithers from Alexander’s shoulder to rest against overtop his wrist, he feels the boy’s pulse beat against his fingertips.

He snaps his wrist. It’s easy.

“Well, you won’t be needing that anymore, will you, pet?”

Without so much as a flinch, his wrist bent at an unnatural angle, Hamilton looks at him and shakes his head.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under A Red and Green Cloud prt 5 full draft

Letting Keith sleep, Lance peeled himself out of bed when the alarm on his comms started to beep. Mumbling in his sleep, his husband was adorable. Face relaxed, black hair fanned out, a thin line of drool running from the corner of his slightly parted lips, a hand searching for him. Pushing his pillow into Keith's hold, Keith let out a happy sigh as he cuddled tightly, nose pushed up into the fabric. Dios. He was perfect. Making sure the blankets were pulled up, Lance didn't want to leave him, but the animals needed tending to, and he needed to check in at the house to make sure their teams were alright.

  Lance was freezing as he jogged down to the barn, despite wearing a long sleeve shirt, a T-shirt, and the jacket Keith was wearing the previous night, plus jeans, two pairs of socks and his boots, the weather looked miserable. Miserable weather meant getting all the animals into the barn... getting the animals into the barn meant taking even longer with the morning chores, because that was fun when he was already wishing he'd never got out of bed. Reaching the aging structure, he was quick to let himself inside the garage. If the animals were coming in, he needed to shut the split door or risk chickens escaping again. Walking over to the split door, it was already locked and chained in place

"You're slow dumb arse. Mami sent me down to help with getting the animals in"

  Screaming, Lance threw his hands up, trying to protect himself from Rachel. Lowering them cautiously, his sister rolled her eyes at him. An all weather lantern already lit and in her hold

"You're supposed to be doing the animals, remember?"

"I know I am, but what are you doing here?"

"Mami definitely dropped you on the head when you were born. She went me down to help get the animals in"

He'd heard the first time. He didn't need the annoyed drawn out sentence

"I can take care of it alone"

"Your precious husband isn't here?"

He didn't need Rachel's sass. Striding across the garage, he ignored his sister. Sure, he wanted to talk to her, but not with her being so snarky. He could hear Rachel following him to the chicken feed, gumboots weren't the stealthiest form of footwear. Continuing to ignore her, he grabbed the scoop, going for the bucket that was usually right there, only for it to be stolen away

"Rachel! I need to feed the animals"

"Just give it here. Go let the cows in or something"

"I know what to do Rachel! I'm not stupid! Go back up to the farmhouse. My precious husband is sleeping. I want to get this done and take the milk up to the house, so if you're going to mess around, you can go"

Why was she even down here? Sure, it was a job that went faster with someone else... but she'd only slow him down trying to get a rise out of him.

  Pointing towards the house, Lance kept glaring at sister

"Go! I can take care of this! Or do you want to have another go at me? Is that it?"

Frozen Lance was cranky Lance. He should have still been relaxed after the previous night, but the cold wind of the morning had stripped away his ability to give two shits. Placing the bucket down, Rachel raised her hands in clear surrender

"Lance, wait! No. I lied. Mami didn't send me, I wanted to talk to you"

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Was he actually awake? Was this his sister? She was acting so serious... He didn't know what to do with "Serious Rachel"

"Yes, you idiot. Why is it every time I look at your dumb face I get angry? That's not what I wanted to say..."

Groaning at him, Rachel put her hands on her hips

"I heard what you said to mami yesterday when you brought the milk in"

  Picking up the scoop up again, Lance started shoving chicken feed into the bucket

"You didn't hear anything"

"Brain damage. PTS and panic attacks...  Why didn't you tell us?"

That little... he could see it all now. Her back pressed against the hallway between the staircase and the kitchen

"Rachel, I'm not having this conversation with you"

"No"

"You're my brother!"

"I don't need your pity, Rach. I'm a fucking screw up and you know it. You saw what it was like when I was home last time. Well it's been like a thousand times worse, so there was no way I ruining everything again!"

Yelling at his sister only caused Rachel to yell back

"Why couldn't you just come home?!"

"And risk bringing the people after back here? Where they could hurt my family? I know you think you've been replaced, but there's no one who could replace you all. I've been in space so long, it's better I just stay there. Besides, it's not like you want me home"

"Why are men so frustrating?! I don't not want you home! But I don't get why you can't call us"

"You wouldn't understand"

  With the bucket full, Lance looped around the outside of the barn then over the fence into the pens to start filling the indoor feeders

"Why wouldn't I understand? I was here when Earth was invaded. I know what's it's like"

Sure, his sister had seen things he'd never wanted her to see, but at least she'd been back on Earth with her family

"But you weren't out there! I missed you guys every single day! I worked my arse off to come back to you, but all you got was a broken brother back after being missing for like 4 years Earth time. Then, when I finally come back, I can't relax and let go of the past. So forgive me if I want to keep all the crap out there, out there. I love Keith. He helped me get back on my feet and gave me the strength to finally come home"

"But why couldn't you come home sooner? We missed you. Mami has been so worried. She and V keep talking about you"

  Rachel didn't get it. She'd always been a ball of too much energy and sibling rivalry. It wasn't like Lance hadn't gotten his own back. In revenge for when she's ruined his face cream, he'd snuck into her room and sprayed spray adhesive in her hair. He'd thought it'd wash out, but instead his mother had to cut Rachel's hair short... She was always so much stronger than him... sneakier too. He was the baby of the family, the one in the background and usually forgotten in the chaos.

  "You don't get it. I mentally can't. The anxiety starts and I end up fucking everything up. I'd rather you laugh at me, or act like a cow, than have you act all weird because you think you have to be on edge or whatever"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do to help"

"You don't need to do anything, except maybe give my team and Keith a break. Keith's a good guy. A really good guy. The aunties already have it in for him. I want him to relax and be happy. He's special to me, so it's important to me that he gets on with all of you"

"You married him without telling anyone. You don't get to come home with your husband like it's nothing!"

"I do! If you were listening, we were wed by a princess who is all of 8. We had no idea. But Keith and I... Keith was dating me with the intention towards marriage... So what if we skipped the gun a little? We're happy and we're working things out together. We've known each other for years... He's always had my back, and he's so fucking good to me and for me"

"You nearly got killed..."

"Which was all my fault. It was my fault and now Shiro's stuck cleaning up the mess..."

Groaning, Rachel stomped her foot

"Why don't you get what I'm trying to say?"

Throwing his hands up, chicken feed went everywhere

"Then why don't you explain it?!"

"You're my stupid little brother! I don't want you getting hurt and I don't want you to die! I want my brother back! The one who could be counted on when it came to mischief! Now you're married, you've got your own team and you never call home to talk to anyone but mami!"

"Because if I don't call mami, she calls Keith. Honestly, it's a hassle. Look, when I call next, ask mami to sit on the call"

"You have a communicator, you could message me"

"And if I did, would you reply?"

"Maybe. It depends how stupid your message is! All I want is you to take better care of yourself... You're my baby brother... my only baby brother. We're the youngest, we've got to stick together"

Lance paused, thinking through what Rachel said

"You... missed me?"

"Of course I missed you... All I wanted to do was be there for you"

  Abandoning feeding the chicken, Lance strode over to Rachel, throwing his arms around her

"I missed you too. So please don't treat me any differently. I'm still me... mostly me"

"Get off me you idiot, you stink!"

That was the Rachel he knew and mostly loved

"Nope, you said you missed me. You asked for it"

"I'm starting to miss you even less by the second"

"Good, because you're stuck with until after the new year. Me and my husband"

"I don't know how you snagged Keith. He's too good for an idiot like you"

"I don't know how I managed it either, but I'm not sharing"

"Mhmm..."

"Rachel"

"I just said "mhmm" now let me go. We need to clean up before the storm"

"Don't you dare get any ideas when it comes to Keith"

"What kind of sister would I be if I didn't initiate this husband of yours?"

"Rachel, I swear to god. If you go near my husband, I will shoot you"

"I'd like to see you try. Now hurry up, mami is going to make a full breakfast for everyone, and if I miss out on bacon, your ships going to go missing"

"My ship? You stand no chance at heisting my ship"

"Wanna bet?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I won't hit on your husband"

"Keith's gay, you stand no chance"

"That doesn't mean I can't make him as uncomfortable as hell"

"You little... I'm going to kill you. This is his first family Christmas. If you ruin it..."

"Yeah, yeah. That ship's going to be mine"

"You can't use my team..."

"I'll find a way. You just wait and see"

With all the tech on his ship and Rachel not in the system, Lance was kind of curious how it'd play out

"Fine. You win, and I'll give you a blaster. You lose, and you leave Keith the quiznak alone. You have until we leave to heist my ship. You can't involve my team, or hassle then into cooperating"

"It's a deal!"

"Deal!"

      *

With the weather turning sour, the day was spent inside watching movies. By the time lunch had rolled round, outside was blowing a gale that rattled the windows. The power flickered off and on, as they all crowded the living room and spilled into the dining room. Yet, through all the chaos of the weather, and Rachel and Marco loudly trying to teach Acxa and Daehra monopoly, Lance was completely out to the world. When his husband had come back wet from the rain, Keith had been slightly disappointed that Lance hadn't asked for his help, but when he'd happily filled him on Rachel's plan to claim the Telula, Keith realised that maybe it was for the best that the two siblings had spent the morning together. Now... Now he'd long lost feeling in his legs, Lance had fallen asleep while watching the Voltron cartoon series with the team, Keith pushed into Acxa's side by his sleeping husband. Freeing up the space for them, Keith pulled his sleepy husband up to lay along him. Lance clinging to him in sleep, snoring softly as his hands remained fisted around Keith's shirt. Oblivious to everyone's stares.

  Blinded by the flash of a camera, Keith nearly growled at the unwanted interruption. The sound bubbling up in the back of his throat before growing mute when he realised it was Lance's mother smiling down fondly at the pair of them

"I don't think I've ever seen him sleep so peacefully. Not since you all returned, and not without medical intervention"

Bringing his hand up to stroke Lance's hair, Lance nuzzled into his chest, a happy kind of purr escaping in his snore. Fuck. He was so smitten with his husband. It didn't matter if he couldn't feel his legs or if a there was some spring digging into his back. Lance always accused him of being the cuddly one, but here he was clutching at him and smelling divine. A perfect mix of sea salt and waves, coupled with the smell of rain outside. Keith was very nearly on the verge of sleep, yet his instincts wouldn't let him rest while Lance slept so deeply, the storm outside sounded ready to break through at any moment

"He doesn't wake up as much as he used to"

"We can move him if it's too much, up to Rachel or Marco's room"

"No... no, it's alright. Let him sleep. Do you mind getting him a blanket though?"

While Keith ran naturally hot, Lance now always ran cold. He'd felt warmer since his stint in the pod, but to Keith Lance felt warm more often then not. Warm and alive, the way he should be. Rubbing lance's back with his other hand, his husband let out a rather loud snore, drawing a smile from both Keith and his mother

"Of course, mijo. Are you sure you're alright like that?"

"Yeah, thank you"

  With a blanket covering most of Lance, Keith's protective instincts started to lessen. Not that he wasn't fiercely protectively of Lance, it was just better when his boyfriend was covered by a blanket and protected from the world. Making the mistake of wriggling down to try and restore circulation and relieve himself of the spring, Lance roused with a sleepy yawn

"Keith?"

"I'm here, babe"

Nuzzling into his shirt, Lance let out a soft sigh. Ruffling Lance's hair, he was rewarded with a loving smile

"' love you... so much..."

"I love you too. Go back to sleep, babe. I've got you"

"Mmm... rainy days with sound of rain against tin are made for napping with beautiful men"

"I noticed... we'll just have to find you a beautiful man"

"Got one. Best man in the 'verse..."

"Go back to sleep, you fool"

"I am... love you"

Laughing softly, Keith leaned up to kiss Lance's hair

"You already said that"

"Mmm... nap with me"

"I'm alright"

"Nap with me any..."

  There was boom so loud that the whole house shook. Keith was pushing Lance off of him and bolting to the front porch before his head could catch up with his feet. Searching for the unseen foe, he grabbed his blade from his boot, dropping his stance as his heart raced. When a second loud boom came as the sky lit up, the half-Galra realised what had happened. It was fucking thunder. He'd freaked over thunder... Thank quiznak they weren't under attack, but to freak out like that over a bit of thunder... Holy quiznak...

  "Babe, are you ok?"

 Cautiously coming to his side, Lance waited until he acknowledged him. Forcing himself to calm down, Keith slipped the knife back into his boot

"Yeah... Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking"

"You were thinking we were under attack, didn't you?"

Biting his bottom lip, his husband pulled him into his hold. An arm around his waist as he pushed a small kiss to Keith's lips

"You're ok, babe. You're ok. I'm ok"

Reaching up to stroke his hair, Lance nuzzled into his cheek

"There's nothing wrong. It's just a bad storm"

"I'm sorry. It's stupid. My instincts..."

"Your instincts are usually right, babe"

"No... I... I was feeling protective of you, I guess the sudden clap of thunder startled my instincts. I feel stupid now"

  Returning his husband's embrace, Keith could feel the tension of expected battle slowly leaving his body

"You're not stupid. You're not. It's ok. I get it"

"I don't"

"It wasn't a panic attack, maybe more like a flashback? The loud sound reminded you of an explosion instead of thunder. Trust me. The first time I heard thunder again, I was the same, thinking it was them coming for us. But you're safe here. No one's going to hurt you. I wouldn't let them"

"I don't know what happened though"

It was quiznakking thunder. There were no evil violet lasers shooting at the planet. He'd leapt to tense and on guard too fast. He didn't even remember slipping the knife into his boot. He'd thought he was relaxing and enjoying spending time with his husband's family. Shifting, Lance gave him a loving smile, blue eyes shining as they met his

"I get that. I get that... You're not stupid. You're not whatever else you're thinking. We were kids when we got sent out there, it's going to leave an effect. Can you come back to the living room with me?"

  Keith's felt like he was internally blushing. Lance getting it didn't make him not feel stupid. He knew how these sorts of things made his husband feel, and that he wasn't judging him for any of it... yet... How was he supposed to face them after rushing out like that?

"I made a fool of myself"

"You didn't. I promise you didn't... and if anyone says anything, I'll get mami's pink slipper onto them. Come back to the sofa, baby. Weather like this where there's lightening is made for napping"

"You just want your pillow back"

"No, I want my husband to understand that there was nothing wrong with what happened. That I love him, and then I want my pillow back. You're like a goddam heater, of course I'm going sap all the warmth from you that I can"

"I feel stupid"

"You're not"

"I freaked over lightening"

"And I freak over everything. Babe... if you want, we can run for the Telula? If that's better. Whatever you want"

With how hard it was coming down, there was no way that he was letting Lance out in this weather

"The sofa's fine"

Releasing more of the same calling sea scent, Lance kissed his cheek

"Good. I love you. I love you and you're not stupid or silly, or anything remotely like that, so stop thinking you are"

"How do you know I am?"

"You're doing that brow scrunchy frowny thing you do. First you get embarrassed, then you get mad at yourself, then you get down on yourself, and finally you clam up and over think it. I know you, babe. I'm telling you there's nothing to be embarrassed or angry about, so come back to the sofa for me. I think it's time I played pillow"

"I don't mind..."

"I know you don't, but maybe I want to hold my cute boyfriend for a change, plus, I bet the whole time I was sleeping, you were being poked in the back by a spring?"

Huffing at his husband, everything Lance had said been right

"How do you know about the spring?"

Grinning, Lance started waddling them back towards the front door backwards

"I might have been the one to dislodge it. I was playing super heroes with Luis and jump tackled him. It hasn't been the same since"

"You broke the sofa?"

"She's part of the family. Mami kept wanting to get rid of her, but we have so many good memories that us kids said no"

  Keith deflated against his husband. When he'd seen those photos of Lance's blank smile, he'd sworn to make this the best Christmas of his husband's life. He'd just freaked out, pretty much thrown Lance off of him and run out the front of the house like a nut job. He'd hit the "getting down" stage of coping. Hearing how happy Lance was, how normal kids were, it twinged uncomfortably inside of him. He wasn't jealous... not at Lance... it was more like he was jealous of the whole world that his foster parents couldn't get their act together. One time all he'd done was step over the sofa to stop two other kids from bashing each other with game controllers and he'd been backhanded so hard he'd tasted blood.

  "Keith... shhh, it's ok. It's ok. You're ok... oh, shit... Kosmo"

 Walking straight back into Kosmo, the pair of them nearly tripped up. Keith hadn't realised the memory had left him shaking like he was still the kid who's just lost his dad. Swallowing hard, he pushed his face hard into curve of Lance's neck, seeking the comfort only his husband could give him

"Sorry..."

"No. There's nothing to be sorry about. If you're saying sorry over being the biggest doofiest most protective husband in the universe, then I'm confused as hell. If you're saying sorry over emotions springing up that you can't control, then I have like 10 zillion quiznaks full of sorries to say"

"Can we talk somewhere?"

"Rachel's room is the spare room right now. She moved into my old room, and Luis and Lisa live in the town house. With everyone downstairs, no one will disturb us"

"Ok..."

  Led up the stairs to Rachel's old room, the pink starry plaque on the door still said her name. With a soft creak the door opened to reveal a room that was still mostly pink, other than a purple wall on the side the double window was

"Yeah. She has terrible taste. I mean, can you imagine bringing your boyfriend home to this? Sorry it's tiny"

  Keith didn't care that the room was tiny, it felt safer because it was. Two single beds and small dresser occupied the space, not that he got to see much of it before Lance was pushing back the covers on the closest single bed and drawing him down to lay along top of him. Whining at being left out, Kosmo climbed up to squish himself up on the end of the bed near their feet. Letting him calm enough to talk, Lance pulled the two thick blankets over them, then went about massaging his scalp with his fingertips as he waited for Keith to talk. Unsure where to start, the half-Galra hoped his husband would be able to make sense of what he was trying to say.

  "The day my dad died, I was waiting for him... We lived in that shack, in the middle of the desert, so school was ages away but he still made me go everyday. I remember because we were talking about space heroes and I said my dad was cooler because he was firefighter... He was stupidly brave, especially knowing that there was this whole galactic war going on... When the end of the day came, all the kids teased me because he wasn't there, and because I didn't have a mum like everyone else. They always teased me about that... dad and I would get into fights because I didn't understand... I thought I was wrong or bad... and that's why she wasn't there. He loved me, but he wasn't always the best with words... I waited and waited... then it started raining. I could smell smoke on the air and thought he was busy... but he'd always been very clear about waiting near the gates... so I waited... It was the middle of the night before I started walking home. One of his coworkers had remembered that I existed and had been looking for me. They told me he was brave and that as the building was coming down, he said my name... it... it was so bad... I didn't understand how he could die. He made my lunch that morning. He kisses me on top of my head and told me he was proud... and then he was gone forever..."

  He hated talking about it. Seeing it with his mother had been so much easier because she'd been there to help him work through it. But having someone there, didn't mean the trauma didn't rear its ugly head from time to time. He'd thought he wanted to talk about this... but now it all felt a bit too much. Sniffling, he shook his head

"I can't..."

"Babe, it's alright. I know, remember. I know. I'm so sorry about you dad... he missed out on seeing how amazing you are... and I know he'd be so very proud of you"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'm proud of you. Every single tick of every single day. Even when we fight or stuff. I'm proud of you. We might not be parents, but I know for a fact you'd make the most amazing father in the universe... I could only have made it this far with you. Honestly. If you can't talk about it, then don't force it for me. You had a scare, and that's ok. I still love my "mullet-haired samurai" just as much as did when I woke up this morning, and just as much as I'm going to for the rest of our lives"

"I don't want to be alone..."

"I promise I won't leave you alone, if you promise not to leave me alone"

"As if I could do that"

"Then it's a promise. We'll talk when you're ready, and I know you'll tell me when you are"

"It's a promise, sharpshooter"

Lance let out a small chuckle, Keith holding him tighter as he tried to calm the tears that wanted to keep pouring

"Good. I love you, Keith. We're not those kids anymore. Not the kids that were sent off into space. We're adults and stuff. We've got our whole lives together to talk things through... and I have no plans of leaving you. You'd fall apart without me, I know it"

"More like you'd fall apart without me"

"Yeah, I can't deny that. Everything's still moving so quiznakking fast, but I'm starting to really trust in you not going anywhere. I'm really trusting in you. It's being built up between us. Some days my head is just... I don't know... but I've got you. You haven't abandoned me yet, so why the hell would I abandon you? Or something like that kind of thing. I'm getting pretty sleep again. It's like I'm made to hold you and sleep"

Keith let out a wet snort. He hated crying. He hated feeling so weak and vulnerable, yet somehow, in front of Lance, he seemed not so bad

"Go to sleep already idiot, you're rambling"

"Oh noes... Zzzzz Zzzz"

Making fake snoring noises, both of them laughed far too hard at Lance's antics, but let the room fall to silence once their laughter passed, simply enjoying holding each other as the storm outside raged on.

[cosmicsnowcryptid]

State of the Nest Address 7/7/17

Hello sweet owlets, and welcome to the State of the Nest Address! This picture has nothing to do with the address, but I was experimenting with brushes and thought this turned out really pretty, so it’s the one you get.

In this address: The milestone celebration, what’s going on with me, stuff to look forward to in the near future, a dog picture, Markiplier’s egos, stuff about personal writing, and the boring technical updates.

Not in this address: NSFW fanfiction of David Duchovny, herb lore, how to get rid of cellulite with this one weird trick, info on shares being a little low this month. (That was the one and only time I’ll make the “shares are a little low” joke in this one. I promise.)

As always, the questions and topics are bolded, so feel free to skip to what interests you. With that being said, everyone take your seats. Let’s begin!

Hailey’s Updates

This is just a little boring update on what I’m up to at the moment. Fair warning, this section is a small LARGE pity party and mostly useless. Feel free to skip to the blog updates for the real, important things! I’m dog-sitting for about a week and a half. It’s been a little emotionally taxing to have a dog around the house so soon after Max, and I forgot how much energy non-senior dogs have. Considering I find it difficult to get out of bed in general these days, it’s been taking up a lot of my time and energy. Sorry about the lack of content, loves. I know it’s noticeable, even for me, but I thank you for your patience! Here’s a picture of the dog. Her name is Cassy.

One of the other big things on my mind lately is my financial situation. I couldn’t pay off my debts in time and I got sent to collections, which is... bad news, to say the least. It means I need to take next semester off of school to work, because I can’t afford to go back now with the building interest on these other loans. I’ll be updating my Redbubble and Ko-Fi soon to hopefully help while I continue to work at my “real” jobs. That’s another reason for my lack of content, which I hope you can forgive.

Other than that, things have been rough lately, and I’m chugging along as best as I can, but I feel like I don’t get a chance to breathe before the next thing hits me. When it rains, it pours, it soaks, it floods. And I am not a good swimmer. Unfortunately, as hard as I tried to push through, it’s bad enough that I have to see my doctor again. It’s not my intention to worry anyone, but I am in a bad place right now. It’s important that I tell you all that, because if I know that you guys know (or that some of you may have possibly skimmed this a little bit) I have something I am.... tied to, if you understand what I’m trying to say.  I’m sorry. I know this is obtuse and vague, but I am unwilling to elaborate further. I hate that I am even posting this much about my emotional state, but it’s for my own safety. I hope you understand.

That’s all the whining I have for you right now. I just wanted you all to be aware that there’s a reason for my more recent failings. Thus ends the pity party. I’m sorry you had to put up with that, and I sincerely hope for your sake you skipped it. Now to the real things!

Blog Updates

Henry- If I were a good person, I would just straight up turn this into a Henry blog, because he is literally the only good thing I’ve ever made in my entire life. However, I’m selfish, so I’m going to keep the blog and just let him hang out. (Yes, Henry is here to stay!)

The Borf and the Beautiful- The updates won’t be regular, since I only open the game when I have work that allows me to multitask in a very specific way. I can’t promise the “when”s. They will just be sprinkled around in the midst of other content.

Playlists- I got a few PMs asking about making another playlist, and it’s absolutely going to happen! The one I was working on just didn’t pan out the way I wanted it to, so it’s been a while. I’m still occasionally adding to it, but I do not post playlists until I am satisfied with them. 

Broken page links and borked tags- I know, I know. Still lots of broken stuff. I swear I’ll get on that. No good excuse for why it isn’t fixed yet. 

Writing- Toying with the idea of sharing some of my original writings. It could help me keep my motivation up, which is something I sorely need. You guys really love my fics, so I think you may enjoy these as well. We’ll see how it goes!

Doodle Requests- Open! Responses are slow, but they’ll come eventually.

Commissions- Tentatively open. It will take me quite a while, but I would love to make you things, and I sorely need the money.

I will probably start utilizing the queue more. With the way that I am right now, I can’t promise any sort of consistency in my content, so I will try to spread it out a bit more, as opposed to posting immediately. That way, you won’t have 5 art pieces one day and none for a week. I will always have my queue posts tagged, though, so you won’t think I’m here when I’m not.

Milestone Updates

As of the time of posting, we are 3 people away from our next milestone. I had you guys vote for what kind of fic you’d like to see, and it came down to two choices: Darkiplier or The Host. The race was close, but in the end, the winner is...............

..................not going to be revealed. You’ll just have to wait and see when I publish it. It’s just sitting in my drafts, waiting for you to convince three of your dearest enemies to suffer through my content. 

I love you all, and I sincerely apologize for the fact that this had a sadder tone than usual. I hope you’re having a lovely day. Please remember that things are never as bad as they seem.

[jenmedsbookreviews]

Me this week … Between starting a new job, trying to stick to my diet, finding time to write and trying to stay ahead with the blogging I’ve very much been tested this week. Least said soonest mended on the diet front. still fat but back on it so I’m hoping to undo some of the damage by my next weigh in. Job going well so far but it’s very early days and I have a lot to learn still. Looking forward to finding my feet though and my new team are great.

Blogging … yes well. Least said soonest mended on that front too. I have written up three reviews today, two more to go. Reading wise I am falling behind but thankfully I built in a bit of a cushion so I should be okay. Just. I’m on December reads now so I am a couple of weeks ahead of myself. Still can’t afford to fall too far behind though. Only managed to read two books this week. (Well – strictly speaking one as I am currently still reading the other and have taken a break to write this post).

Writing wise it is going a little better. Managed to get ahead before starting work so as it stands I’m a couple of days ahead of schedule at a little over 20k words. Planning on doing more later so by the time this post goes out, I’m hoping to be nearer 22 or 23k. It’s all drivel but hey ho. Aren’t all first drafts. Once I have the outline of my story down I’ll see about editing it into shape, chopping a few million words and writing a few thousand new ones I suspect.

Relatively quiet week on the book front this week after last weeks mammoth book post. On Tuesday I attended the launch of Trap by Lilja Sigurdardottir and Palm Beach Finland by Antti Tuomainen at the Icelandic Embassy in London. I failed miserably at taking pictures (sorry) but do have a few candid shots of the authors in signing mode, and of the cake.

I already have a signed copy of Palm Beach Finland from my trip to the Edinburgh Festival in August, but I picked up a lovely copy of Trap and Lilja kindly signed that for me, plus the lovely Karen Sullivan gave me an early proof of Beton Rouge by Simone Buchholz. I had a quick sneak peek on the train home and it looks fabulous. Can’t wait to get stuck in properly.

They do look rather fetching on the shelf too don’t you think? It must be an Orenda frenzy week as on Saturday I received my #TeamLori pack which consisted of a #TeamLori hat, a bounty hunter badge and a signed copy of Deep Dirty Truth by Steph Broadribb. So excited to be a part of this. Such a fabulous series I can’t wait to read more.

I ordered a grand total of one book this week -a preorder of Perfect Crime by Helen Fields. No cover yet but as it was on Amazon … I know. Only one. And no. I’m not ill, just busy. I did receive my audible copy of The Infirmary though, as well as the e-copy of Deep Dirty Truth I’d had on preorder. Just the one book off Netgalley too which was The Silent Patient. I’m reading it for the blog tour, so that’s my Christmas read sorted.

Books I have read

The Silent Dead – Graham Smith

(Previously available for preorder as The Darling Dead)

He’d found an angel for his collection. But one angel at a time was never enough…

Detective Beth Young has just joined the Cumbrian major crimes team when a body is found posed in a ritualistic manner – arms spread and graceful wings attached – at a crumbling castle in the hills of the Lake District. 

The entire police force are on red alert. But Beth begins to feel she’s the only one who can follow the disturbing clues left by the twisted killer. Because she doesn’t think like everyone else. To Beth, crimes are puzzles she can solve. Even if real life is a little harder.

As more bodies are discovered in derelict stately homes across the Lake District, she knows she’s in a race against time.

But the killer is looking for another victim to add to his collection… Will Beth be able to save her? Or will he get there first?

A tenacious young detective with scars both physical and emotional, Beth Young will stop at nothing in her fight for justice for the innocent. The Silent Dead is the first book in the series. Set in the Lake District, it is perfect for fans of Joy Ellis, LJ Ross, and Peter James.

This is Graham Smith’s first book with Bookouture and the first in what looks set to be an exciting series. Featuring DC Beth Young, the story takes us into the heart of quite a dark investigation when the body of a young man is found in rather gruesome circumstances in a ruined country house. The premise of this story is in intriguing one, with several lines of investigation leading the reader up the garden (or grand estate) path. The murders are quite inventive and it has left me wondering quite what is going through Mr Smith’s mind at times ;). The book is released in December and you can preorder here.

…

Cuckoo – Sophie Draper

There’s a stranger in your house…

When her stepmother dies unexpectedly, Caro returns to her childhood home in Derbyshire. She hadn’t seen Elizabeth in years, but the remote farmhouse offers refuge from a bad relationship, and a chance to start again.

But going through Elizabeth’s belongings unearths memories Caro would rather stay buried. In particular, the story her stepmother would tell her, about two little girls and the terrible thing they do.

As heavy snow traps Caro in the village, where her neighbours stare and whisper, Caro is forced to question why Elizabeth hated her so much, and what she was hiding. But does she really want to uncover the truth?

A haunting and twisty story about the lies we tell those closest to us, perfect for fans of Ruth Ware and Cass Green.

Okay … So I haven’t quite finished this book but I’m going to claim is anyway as I will have by the time you read this post. This is quite an intriguing story, the marketing ploy engaged by the publishers to entice readers in very inventive. A twisted and brooding psychological thriller, this had me hooked from the start, and I’ve been struggling with psych thrillers recently so that’s definitely a good thing. Unsettling and riddled with secrets, I can’t wait to see how it ends. You can preorder a copy here. I’ll be reviewing for the tour.

…

And … that’s it. Just two books. How pathetic am I right? Well, okay so I’ll forgive myself this one time as I am sort of moderately busy. Or something. Full on week on the blog though so you won’t have missed me too much. Recap below.

#DarknessSeries by C.S. Duffy

Some Old Bloke by Robert Llewellyn

The Infirmary by LJ Ross

The Twisted Web by Rebecca Bradley

Snowy Nights at the Lonely Hearts Hotel by Karen King

Dreaming of Christmas by T.A. Williams

Missing Lies by Chris Collett

We’re a bit quieter again this week. a few blog tours and a random review to keep you amused but we’re definitely slowing down for hibernation over the winter … Tours are for Her Last Move by John Marrs; And So It Begins by Rachel Abbott and The Lingering by SJI Holliday.

Have a fab week all. See you next week.

Jen

Rewind, recap: Weekly update w/e 11/11/18 Me this week ... Between starting a new job, trying to stick to my diet, finding time to write and trying to stay ahead with the blogging I've very much been tested this week.

[janiklandre-blog]

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

10:04 a.m. day started sunny, but clouds predicted, temp to fall again and then rise again - yesterday morning on the subway I got into talking with a young man - showed him how my smart phone goes to Contandino, wherever that may be, for weather - he showed me, slide over and get New York! And so I learn in small increments - Cathy taught me to text, Jane Sammon showed me to out in contacts - now I would like to change my message for voice mail - I dislike all those giving you the number you cslled, Jane has a long and personal one, also I would like to change my ring tone to a less generic one - and alas Igor was moved to Queens, and I struggle with the ipad and I'm getting nowhere - it is a snail's progress - also Molly had no time last week, I hope she'll come tomorrow - so at last I would find out how to access the blog she has set up - just now I once again added a dozen names Bcc one by one - never know in the end to whom I have I have sent this - want to let Gesine who has been posting for me in Germany - but then again she uses wordpress and Molly used Tumblet - it all is dreadfully, dreadfully confusing - and yes, if only Ken still lived - and yes if only my learning had not become so slow - obviously if I could this myself - would save my wonderful helpers their time - oh well - and so, in 1937, both of us stateless, I have no idea what document my mother showed to get into Czechoslovsakia - her Czech practically non existent - she did speak French, Francophile she was - we must have stayed a few nights with her desar friends the Rosners who all perished later - and then she took me to Troppau/Opava where her parents then lived by the Oder river, fertile soil, access to a garden, my grandfather a great gardener, growing most of their food, they had geese, chickens - pigs were very useful but I don't think they had one - they were tenents in a very simple house - and there my mother left me - and I was told that every night I would cry - my Koeln, my Koeln, I so loved Koeln, my dear friend Helga - why oh why did we have to leave - little explanation given - my mother later saying - she was so good in Koeln, now she is a fresh little rebel. She was a walking encyclopedia but her friends had rejected Freud's teachings - big mistake. At 5 Hitler had turned me into a rebel - as today countless children are turned into early rebels by the misery a terrible emprire brings to them. o.k. so much is saved in drafts, Last night I wrote more than I had planned - L.P. with whom I had lunch asked a bit incredulously - do you read what you write before you send it - as incredulously when I was teaching E.S.L. people asked, do you make lesson plans - well you could call my style spontaneity, improvisiation - and then again you could call - just plain unbelievable and why should I read this crap. (she still is reading it.) Well, why don't I act and behave like the proper German lady my mother tried hard to make out of me. Hitler! The gestapo - secret police - came to search our apartment in Koeln - I was five - my mother had suitcases packed and as soon as they left the house we were on our way to the railroad station and headed for Prague - not sure how many km - but a good seven hours by train - and my mother must have been very nervious about the border - while in 1918 her family in Oderberg - now a Czech name - had gone to bed as citizens of the austro Hungarian empire, they woke up citizens of Czechoslovakia - Masaryk's country, a wonderful country - only alas they ever learned Czech - my grandmother spoke a mountain dialect called ponashemo - which would translate into, the way we speak, that must have been Slovak. My grandfather lost a job he loved - locomotive engineer - they came to survive on bare subsistence. In Vienna my Ph.D. mother scored one of the rarest teaching post - at the Hayes Gymnasium - the director aghast she was a Czech citizen, five socialist friends offered to marry her, she liked Fritz Jerusalem best, but not the name so she married Karl Spitz in a Jewish fashion, after a year all he had to say was I divorce thee. By then she had met my father but could not marry him because that would make her lose her job that kept both of them - but then she did marry him when she followed him to Koeln, but after she signed off Jewish in early 1933 both she and I became stateless. Enough to make a weirdo out of me who has been winging things in life - and feel sorry for people who spend nights doing lesson plans and who spend days on writing a letter Yes, those empires - Hitler said his would last 1000 years - it lasted for the first 13 years of my life - and while I can feign being a lady I can also be a gutter snipe - and many hold it against me that I am not sweet and even tempered and at all times the nice and quiet Marianne - who - and I shall name her here, Martha Hennessy, the grand daughter of Dorothy Day said to me: I will talk to you when you are the sweet Marianne I love - she too has not studied enough Freud - and I must forgive her because she has no idea how hurtful she is and how she has ruined a good friendship with C.B. - I will always like her - but my feelings are changed forever. I am not alone to write in the style I am writing - many writers describe what some call "automatic writing" - what I write, writes itself -and now I think I will head for the Polish church - where I came to sit at a round table - with Chinese. They encouraged me to get more of the tons of free food - all from Poland - on the stage - they were ready to hire a truck - I took a heavy jar of baked red cabbage, not yet opened, raspberry marmalade, petit beurre - the Chinese grab tons everywhere - perhaps they find ways to sell it - who knows - they did have some trouble with the Chinese labels. My dark Prague humor is a great help - I see absurdity everywhere and try to laugh about it - have learned only very few share my humor - it's the humor of the suppressed. Czech marionettes are playing nearby, I would love to see them, perhaps I should check, if they are here already perhaps I could go tonight alone. I do meet lovely Czechs on such occasions - wonderful people - alas all in all I have no contact with Czechs - I am not a Czech - my accent is German and there are a good number of Germans in my life, we do have a common language - and those my age - we lived through the war. Of course those in good circumstances did become ladies - have often trouble understanding me - would never ever send out what I do - rude, they tell me, recently: never would I publish what YOU write - oh well - they were in the Hitler youth - I was not - I was in the streets playing with the Czech kids. Proletarians - that my socialist mother idealized - but much preferred the aristocrats and lauded their values. All confusing So, it is 11 - my witching hour - though the Poles begin to serve lunch 12.15, 12.25 - they are not Germans. My polish neighbor here, using two names, Barbara and Halina, first too me there. She had been offered my apartment facing the Bowery but had waited for the quiet apartment to the back - I would die she said, if I could not sleep with an open window. She had finished medical studies in Poland but had not gotten American certification and was a research assistsnt at the cancer hospital - lover her work, lived way beyong her means, one day her boss dropped dead, end of job, she buried in debt - ended up in this here house, the first day she said to me: let's study radiology, we will make good money as radiologists - not my plan. She loved taking me to the church - she was one of many Poles who admire  Germans. And then - she had a severe stroke and ended miserably, her sweet brother taking care of her - she died before signing some important paper for him - I trried to help him but he was evicted. He told me I restored his belief in humanity. Sweet man. Alas almost all Poles are anti-Semites - I try being Jana Landre. Most Catholics also.. Horrible noise in the hallway, I'll go out and see what they are doing - and head for the Polish church on East 7th street and sit with the Chinese - only 4 at a table for 7 - the Poles are not keen on an English speaker. The Chinesetalk to me in Chinese. o.k.nread and all, here I go to send - please be forgiving    Marianne

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under a Vanilla Sky prt 47 full draft... gonna leave this on this note and swap to Keith for a continuation

Lance's nerves started to grow as he walked with Shiro and Keith through the palace. Keith was still miffed about not being able to be in the same room as he and Kre'el, while Lance was trying not freak out over the fact that Kre'el could easily divulge all his secrets. It scared him more than each Galra they passed. More than when he'd shamefully screamed at Keith that he'd been raped. More than admitting that he had feelings for Keith and being swept away into a relationship with a man he still felt he wasn't worthy of. Every little thing had his heart racing in fear. His hands clenched as he grit his teeth, not trusting himself to breath through his mouth in case those pancakes ended up on his shoes. Both men at his sides knew he wasn't ok. Shiro said he smelt like dead mouse again, and Keith had growled at him over it, insisting that Lance smelt like rotten fruit. Neither scents appealing, or what he wanted associated with him. To him, he smelt like Keith. He could smell him all over his clothes and skin. He could almost feel his soft lips against his own... But there'd be no Keith in the same room as him. No retreating once he saw Kre'el. The Cuban's throat felt tight, as if the water he'd forced himself to sip while Keith ate, was filled with poisonous thorns that formed with each step closer to Kre'el he came. What did he say to her? "I'm sorry my friends shot you after you nearly killed Keith and I?". "Come here often?", or his personal favourite "Why didn't you ask me for help sooner?". Lance knew losing his temper wouldn't get him anywhere... but she was behind it all... If she was as old as the ship, she'd had thousands of years to change her ways. To find a peaceful way to get what she wanted or needed... Did the fact that she failed to find peace, mean that there'd never be a day when everyone found common ground? The thought was thoroughly depressing. His depression showing in his leaden steps. His whole body tingled with the feeling that this was a horribly horrible idea, and that he'd be absolutely rubbish at "interrogating" her. The room where Kre'el was being held was a converted laboratory. A long double sided window ran along the far length of the room, the space where Keith and Shiro would watch on. Stopping at the guarded door, Lance stumbled back as Veronica came out the room. Holopad in hand, and fierce scowl on her face. Veronica... he absolutely couldn't let her know... stumbling back, he smacked into Shiro's chest "Lance?" Looking up to Shiro, Lance's eyes were silently pleading with the man who wasn't surprised that his sister was there "You never said Veronica would be here..." "That's nice, little brother. We're not letting you be harmed by her" Tugging him away from Shiro, Keith wrapped his arms around Lance as Lance continued to stare at his sister in shock "Shiro, I don't think this is a good idea. It could get... pretty graphic" "Veronica is..." No. Uh uh. If this was happening, it was under his terms. If he had to go in there, have his secrets spilt to the world and be put so far out of his comfort zone that he didn't know where the hell his comfort zone was anymore, he had a right to do this in his own way "No. No. I'll let her die. I'll let her die without asking her a thing. I know you can stick her back in a pod, but if Veronica doesn't leave, then I'm not going in there" Lance's words took him by surprise, yet they summed up how he felt deep down. Veronica pushed her glasses up with her pointer finger "Lance, I'm a professional. Whatever you have to say..." "You're my sister V. You've been my sister since the first time you held me. Remember how it all was before the Galra? You know how bad things got... I don't want you listening to what happened. I don't want you thinking about what could have been prevented. I don't want you listening. Shiro, please. If you and Keith are listening, don't let Veronica listen" Shiro was on the edge of his trust circle. He was trying to let him further, but it was hard to be that way with his "childhood hero-cum-space dad". Veronica was out of the circle after their fight. He wasn't useless and he wasn't a burden. His mami had said so "I'm your sister. I want to be there for you" "You can be there by letting me tell you things in my own time" "In your own time? You have yet to make a statement over what happened out there. Keith made a statement to the Blades, but that was a phoeb and a half after the incident" "It's been two phoebs Veronica! Two! I'm not ready yet!" "You need to do your job" "I have been doing my job! I am doing my job. I know it ended up with a heap of trouble on your end, but you have no idea what it was like, and frankly I pray you never do. Shiro is the Commanding Officer of the Atlas, otherwise I wouldn't have him here either. No offence Shiro. I'm just sure that if you were in my place, you wouldn't want me there" Shiro got it. He dumped the unsure manner, as he rose to the full height of "Commander mode" "Veronica, the plan was for you to stand here and guard the door externally. Kre'el had stipulated that she will only talk to Lance privately. That's why Keith can't be in the room with them. Now. Lance, remember that we can hear you and if anything at all happens, we will intervene. I trust you to handle this. I know you can handle this. You've grown past the age where you need your hand held... That doesn't mean I won't... if you need... or Keith will. I just mean that... you've got this" Giving Shiro a tight smile, he appreciated his words. Keith nuzzled into his neck, pressing a kiss against the curve to his shoulder "Say the word, and we'll get you out" "We don't have a safe word" Lance missed the way Shiro rolled his eyes at them. He hadn't even meant it sexually so he wasn't thinking of it in that way "What about chocolate?" Chocolate could work "What if I forget?" "I'll be watching babe. I know how to read those moods of yours" Lance might have been offended if he wasn't doing everything he could to be brave right now. He'd waited so long for answers, yet now he was so close to them, he didn't know if truly wanted them. Once he knew, he couldn't unknow. Whatever Kre'el had to say, he would carry for the rest of his life "That makes one of us. Now, let's do this. Please. I want this to be over" "Ok, babe. I quiznakking wish I was going in there with you" "I know..." Lance didn't reply with "me too", as he knew Keith wouldn't be able to keep his temper. They needed Kre'el alive long enough to answer everything she could "I'll see you soon" Sitting propped up on the hospital bed, Kre'el's pale maroon form seemed to be paler. The marks on her cheeks glowed so softly they looked as if they'd flicker out of existence completely within doboshes. Swallowing hard, Lance forced his shaking legs over to the visitors chair where sat down on the very edge. He could smell the death rolling off Kre'el. An unsettling scent, kind of like burnt coffee mixed with the sweet scent of rotting meat. Watching as Kre'el's cracked lips parted, Lance still jumped when she spoke "Lance... thank you for coming to see me" "You didn't leave me much choice" Coughing, her breath rattled as she then rasped "I'm sorry. You're the only one who would understand" "I understand that you sold me to your stupid friends. Now two of my friends have to watch me talk to you. Who are you? I thought we friends. I thought of you as a genuine friend, but now I don't even know if Kre'el is your true name. And why... did you have a whole prison ship?" He'd been so close to asking "why me?", but chickened out "It wasn't supposed to happen how it did... none of it was supposed to happen" "Oh, so I'm meant to forgive you, just like that!?" "No. No... I... you had what I needed, but it's too late now" "You couldn't have just asked me for my help? Instead you dangle this job in front of me? Let them fucking torture me. Let them try to kill me. Because I had something you needed?!" Lance knew he was quick to jump to emotional extremes. He wore his heart on his sleeve and would do anything just to make everyone else happy. This was a rubbish idea. Absolutely quiznakkingly rubbish. "You never would have understood" "How can I when you won't explain anything?! You know exactly what they did to me. Over and over! You came to the hospital. You helped me get my job and my feet under me. Was it out of pity?! Or to keep you experiment close? Did he send you the footage? You told him to observe me... did you watch it?!" Rising from the visitors chair, Lance started to pace "Do you know what it's like?! I came back from the dead wrong! My girlfriend died and left me behind. I wanted to stay on Earth, because for some stupid reason I thought planting junipers would bring her back. I tore my whole family apart. But none of that compares to what Klearo did! Why didn't you stop him?!" "Lance... sit down" "Why should I?" Pushing herself up, Lance stopped pacing to stare as Kre'el tugged at the bandage around her left arm, just above her elbow. What did that have to with any of it? All he wanted was answers... Oh quiznak. Shiro was watching... he'd forgotten. Shit. Shit... He was letting him down by not being professional. Fuck. Leandro. Leandro. Not Lance. Not weak and worthless Lance. Pulling the fabric of the bandage loose, Kre'el freed her arm with one hard tug. Lance clamping a hand over his mouth as the skin began to stretch, her arm slowly tearing from her body in horrifically slow motion with a kind of stretching and popping noise as it did. Arms weren't supposed to do that! Throwing up in his mouth, he backed away from the Altean "I cannot maintain this body much longer, but before I die. I want to tell you my story... I want you to understand" Nope. He didn't want to understand. He wanted out... "Leandro, please. What I did wasn't simply for myself. I did what I needed for my people. The people that Alfor and Voltron abandoned" "Alfor didn't abandon you. He died!" "He turned his back on Altea!" "He had a war to fight!" "A war his friend caused! Altea wasn't some peaceful and happy planet! You know life doesn't work like that" "I know they weren't cutting people up like you were" "Please sit. It makes it so hard to have a conversation with you standing over there" "I think I'm just fine here. You said you wanted to explain, so explain" Covering the stump of where her arm was, there was no blood, or oozing or... anything should come with losing a whole freakin' arm. He couldn't bring himself to look back at the sight, or to look Kre'el in the face. He was haunted by her oddly cute pig faced nose and curly blonde hair "You know by now that the ship was an Altean prisoner ship. Alfor thought of himself a kind and generous king. He loved an extravagant lifestyle with his friends, bragging over how peaceful his world was. Even before Zarkon, bad Galra existed. Galra that took what they wanted without mercy. That wasn't a lie. The Galra in my blood wasn't out there by choice. I hated my blood because of it. Our family was shunned. It got slightly better when Zarkon and Honerva wed, then soon whispers spread of her madness. Blinded by his own ego, Alfor had his lions. Lions he handed to his friends, who weren't even Altean! Who he valued more than his own people. Instead of entrusting the future to the soldiers who'd lay down their lives in a heartbeat. So we protested. We screamed over Zarkon's threat and we're arrested for treason. We were arrested for threatening his much loved peace. Sentenced to spend our days working the mines for ore needed for him. For phoebs you could be held on Altea before you would be moved" Kre'el paused, letting her breathing settle before continuing "There were 547 of us on that ship. 547 people he simply did not wish to deal with. We weren't even all Altean... but they stuffed us into pods and sent us away. None of us were conscious when it happened. When the wormhole we had entered was corrupted by the shockwaves of Altea being destroyed. By now your princess had escaped with her bumbling servant. For us we'd only just fallen asleep before we were waking again. Those not in the pods hadn't survived. Realising we were alone, many fled the ship and onto the planet we landed on. You have to understand, this ship was carrying everything through to the vilest people you could think of. All of us stuck together in the space with no foreseeable way off. Those who didn't kill themselves killed each other so they wouldn't starve. There wasn't enough food for us all. There was no rescue ship coming. Then the sickness began. Those who huddled close to ship at night falling ill first. We weren't medical experts or technicians. No. They were all dead. So long gone that their bones had crumbled when we crash landed. A few of us came together. When we crashed and the pods opened, there were those who locked themselves away in the bridge. Those who prayed and called it the "decision of the stars", called us wicked and tainted, who told us we all deserved to die. They died. They starved to death in the bridge because they believed that was the only choice. Phoebs had passed by now... So we broke into the bridge. We broke in and found the ship still had power, but do you know why it still had power? When we were put in the pods, our quintessence mixed with the ships as if to hold our consciousness until we woke. The ship had power because of our quintessence" Lance was starting to get a headache from trying to keep up. Dizzy and confused, he trembled as he walked over and dropped back down on the visitors chair. "So the ship was powered by your quintessence?" That was the only thing important from everything she'd said so far. Kre'el nodded, her right hand "Yes. Not all of it was transferred back in the crash. The corrupt wormhole changed the nature. The radiation fall out changed our bodies. We hungered for quintessence with no idea why. It took movements to unlock the ship. To finally open the logs. We didn't believe it at first. What was quintants for us, had been 9 thousand years. We shouldn't have been alive. We agreed to keep it secret, then one spoke. He screamed it out to the whole populace, then killed himself in front of them all. Things fell into chaos, reverting back to as they'd been after the initial crash. But activating the ship had turned the distress beacon on. Finally someone knew we were out there..." 9 thousand years had to be a shock to the system. Allura had been heartbroken and shaken to her core to find she and Coran had slept for ten thousand. "The Galra came for us. Their ships small, yet plenty. So many people were cut down by them... They screamed in confusion, holding onto the notion they'd be rescued. The Galra had thought we might be a lion. That's all they came for. Many thought fighting back was useless. Most of us had no military skill. Most of us were sick and dying. When they found they no lion, they left us to die" Lance couldn't picture it without thinking of when they'd seen Hunk's parents back on Earth, in the hands of the Galra where they had no idea if they'd ever be rescued. His stupidly selfless nature found him sympathetic towards the abandoned criminals. "We had no food. No water. Only the desperate will to survive... When the secret of the ship being powered by quintessence spread further, there were many who gave their lives so the ship might fly again... by the end of the journey, only 180 of us were left. We found a planet with food and water. We settled. Changed our faces and took personal pods to other planets. Only to find that the Galra ruled all. Alfor had failed in his duty. The criminals he'd cast away and forgot from Altea, were now the last of the Altean's. The Galra were looking for the lions, but so were we. Especially the Red Lion. Alfor's hope and dream for Altea. We spent all the time we could searching, until he began to run low on power again. That's when we realised that there was an a whole universe of Galra in front of us. No one wanted them alive. They had no right to be alive. Our planet was gone from the maps. All hails went unanswered. The ship's cameras catching Altea's final moments. Alfor had destroyed it all by not listening to his people. His idea for a utopia impossible when not all people are born equal" Lance had shifted from sympathy to anger "Are you seriously telling me, this was all because of a grudge against a man who'd been dead for 9 thousand years?! You said you found a planet, so why couldn't you be happy?" "Could you be happy? If you woke up in the future and everything was gone? You don't get it. You're clearly loved and wanted! You didn't have to fight each day to live. You didn't have to watch your whole species grow ill and die. You didn't have to live as something less than human! Even when we left the planet, we still needed to return the ship frequently or we'd grow ill. It took us hundreds of deca-phoebs to establish ourselves. We shifted and blended in. Killed and took what we could. You've done the same. You killed and killed. You painted who ships red with the blood you spilt. You have no right to take the high ground" Lance wanted to scream. He also wanted to slap Kre'el senseless "I've never killed someone who didn't deserve it!" "How do you? How do you know that they deserved it? How do you know that was the right call to make?" "They fucking tortured me, Kre'el. And you've got some sobbing backstory that we've heard a dozen times before. Boo hoo. Your precious king didn't do as you wanted. You could have found another way. There's always another way. You didn't need to start killing people to keep your ship running!" "There was no other way. If you interrupt, I won't continue. I won't explain why it was you that we needed" "You said you needed my quintessence..." Kre'el burrowed back against her pillows. Lance releasing he'd interrupted again and was forced to play her game "I'm sorry. Please continue" "As I said, we had no one. Nothing. Altea was gone, and building our own colony was slow. We took jobs for the those supporting the Galra, they didn't know what we were. We turned our backs on everyone to survive, took citizens from every planet we could. When the Galra built outposts, we helped. We filled their ranks and spread only as far as our region of space. We watched them crush everyone with well placed whispers. They were already experimenting on bodies by then and we needed the data. Then we started to grow sicker. The corrupt radiation from the ship... it'd become part of us. We couldn't leave. We couldn't stay. Children stopped being born... The children we had were sickly, most dying in their early years. We needed more people to power the ship. We needed time to find to a way to survive. We allowed the Galra to capture the ship. They couldn't move it off planet, so they sent scientists to investigate. Deca-phobes had passed between visits. They were strong. Galra genetics are impervious to most common diseases. Even half breeds live a long and mostly healthy life. We hated the Galra but we needed them. Our bodies were failing us. What else could we do? We shifted shape, we lied and said we followed the empire. We killed the teams that were sent to power the ship and studied their remains. The pods were all corrupt, taking the quintessence and powering the tainted Balmera at the core. You have no idea what it was like. My own daughter... she wasted away before my eyes..." Lance felt a tear roll down his cheek. Kre'el was right. He didn't know what it was like. He'd lost the thing inside of him before he knew it was there... but to have a daughter and to lose her... "Why me? Voltron was back. You could have turned to us..." Kre'el let out a laugh "Alfor's precious Voltron. If Honerva hadn't been tampering with things she shouldn't have been, none of this would have happened. Voltron was built with no idea how it even worked. You showed up from nowhere. Then you disappeared again. You never once came close to our corner of the galaxy. We'd already been awake for a thousand years. We were dying and the only thing we had left was our hatred for Altea. You know a government can't operate on peace alone, but that gets swept under the rug. No one wants to talk about those not living happy peaceful lives, and when or if the media hears about it, they always want to know "why did no one step in?". It's all a farce. So when Voltron returned, we wanted the Red Lion. We wanted all the lions. The lions that should have stayed rightfully in the hands of Alteans" Lance shook his heads. He didn't get it. Kre'el had said Altea wasn't the peaceful paradise Coran looked through rose coloured glasses at "It was their differences that made Voltron what it was..." "Yet it took a group of humans to save the universe. We all hated you. We hated you and you returned Earth. Then we heard the most interesting of news. That a human born male was walking around with Altean marks. Can you imaging what that was like for us? A non-Altean species with the marks? We wanted you, but didn't know how to approach you" "So you used Klearo?" Kre'el nodded "He wanted power. He a small man who thought himself large, so we helped him into the spotlight. We made small attempts at his life, so he'd have a need for a bodyguard" "Why didn't you contact me... Why didn't you contact me when I landed on Erathus?" "Because we didn't know how your body worked. He was supposed to monitor you and report. But you... Your natural magnetism outshone his. People wanted to hear from the Paladin who wanted peace for the people. The Paladin who'd tragically lost the love of his life" "I would have fucking helped you!" Screaming at Kre'el Lance shot off the chair and over to the closest to the wall "You didn't need to put me through that! You know what they did! Three fucking movements. Kept stabled naked like I wasn't even worth clothes! Do you understand what was it was like? I was hallucinating my ex-girlfriend watching the whole fucking time! These marks have ruined my whole fucking life! She ruined my life trying to help me! And I still don't know if I hate her or if I'm still hurt she chose the universe over me! You say you're a parent, you should have some idea what you wanted for you daughter! Was rape part of that? To be raped repeatedly and violently? To have Galra go crazy for your scent like you're a drug? Do you know what it fucking hurt? How much it still hurts? I can't have a normal love life with my boyfriend! Keith... God. He has the patience of a fucking Saint. I still feel them on my skin and hear them in my ear. I still fucking jump every time I see Galra and freak over the fact they can smell me. They raped me over and over until I couldn't speak. Sometimes nonstop all fucking quintant! So tell me, did you want that for you daughter!? Did you want that for anyone!?" Kre'el let out a sob. Lance whipping around so he was no longer screaming at the wall "No. No. You don't get to cry!" "It wasn't supposed to go that far. I didn't care if he tortured you. But I had no idea he'd do that to you. When we found you... When I looked into your eyes and saw your pain... I knew I messed up" "Oh, you knew you messed up, so that makes it ok!?!" "No! No it doesn't. I wish... I could take that from you... but I... I know what happened. I saw the results when I went to the hospital. The positive readings... and I grew selfish again" Positive... Lance stumbled. All support gone from his knees. She'd known for that long... She'd known and hadn't helped him "I thought..." "Don't say it..." "If..." "Don't you fucking say it! If you ever fucking cared, even once you won't fucking say it" "I put you in the club so you'd be safe... but talking with you... you had so much hate in your heart... and so much love. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to keep hating you... but the more time past... the less I could... I starved to waver on my mission. But I couldn't turn back, so when Daehra and Lucteal took you, I prayed for your sake you'd stay away. But you didn't. You wanted to fight even harder for those who'd been hurt... before I realised it, no one trusted me anymore. Lasandi was sent to be by your side and I was recalled back to the ship... I didn't want for you to be raped. That is a thing I wouldn't wish on anyone else... We just wanted your quintessence. Your reading were so high. We wanted to know how to raise our own... and how a human could carry so much without exhibiting more signs. When you zapped Keith, most of us were so excited... but I knew what it meant. You were showing signs of controlling your Altean magics. Someone who should never had had that power. We argued and I won. I told them you wouldn't let all you'd seen of our outpost experiments go. You were to brave and noble to do that..." Sinking down the wall, Lance wrapped his arms around himself. None of this needed to happen. None of it. He didn't feel brave or nobel. He felt so quiznakking stupid that he wanted to throw himself off the nearest cliff. Behind him, Kre'el wheezed and cough. Some monitor beeping "We were last... the others have gone on... to the new home. I'm sorry Lance... I did love you... you were a friend... I didn't lie about that. I didn't want your friendship... but I still... valued you... I wish we could go back to those days and work together... I'm grateful... I met you..."

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under a Vanilla sky prt 47 full draft

Lance's nerves started to grow as he walked with Shiro and Keith through the palace. Keith was still miffed about not being able to be in the same room as he and Kre'el, while Lance was trying not freak out over the fact that Kre'el could easily divulge all his secrets. It scared him more than each Galra they passed. More than when he'd shamefully screamed at Keith that he'd been raped. More than admitting that he had feelings for Keith and being swept away into a relationship with a man he still felt he wasn't worthy of. Every little thing had his heart racing in fear. His hands clenched as he grit his teeth, not trusting himself to breath through his mouth in case those pancakes ended up on his shoes. Both men at his sides knew he wasn't ok. Shiro said he smelt like dead mouse again, and Keith had growled at him over it, insisting that Lance smelt like rotten fruit. Neither scents appealing, or what he wanted associated with him. To him, he smelt like Keith. He could smell him all over his clothes and skin. He could almost feel his soft lips against his own... But there'd be no Keith in the same room as him. No retreating once he saw Kre'el. The Cuban's throat felt tight, as if the water he'd forced himself to sip while Keith ate, was filled with poisonous thorns that formed with each step closer to Kre'el he came. What did he say to her? "I'm sorry my friends shot you after you nearly killed Keith and I?". "Come here often?", or his personal favourite "Why didn't you ask me for help sooner?". Lance knew losing his temper wouldn't get him anywhere... but she was behind it all... If she was as old as the ship, she'd had thousands of years to change her ways. To find a peaceful way to get what she wanted or needed... Did the fact that she failed to find peace, mean that there'd never be a day when everyone found common ground? The thought was thoroughly depressing. His depression showing in his leaden steps. His whole body tingled with the feeling that this was a horribly horrible idea, and that he'd be absolutely rubbish at "interrogating" her.

 The room where Kre'el was being held was a converted laboratory. A long double sided window ran along the far length of the room, the space where Keith and Shiro would watch on. Stopping at the guarded door, Lance stumbled back as Veronica came out the room. Holopad in hand, and fierce scowl on her face. Veronica... he absolutely couldn't let her know... stumbling back, he smacked into Shiro's chest

"Lance?"

Looking up to Shiro, Lance's eyes were silently pleading with the man who wasn't surprised that his sister was there

"You never said Veronica would be here..."

"That's nice, little brother. We're not letting you be harmed by her"

Tugging him away from Shiro, Keith wrapped his arms around Lance as Lance continued to stare at his sister in shock

"Shiro, I don't think this is a good idea. It could get... pretty graphic"

"Veronica is..."

No. Uh uh. If this was happening, it was under his terms. If he had to go in there, have his secrets spilt to the world and be put so far out of his comfort zone that he didn't know where the hell his comfort zone was anymore, he had a right to do this in his own way

"No. No. I'll let her die. I'll let her die without asking her a thing. I know you can stick her back in a pod, but if Veronica doesn't leave, then I'm not going in there"

 Lance's words took him by surprise, yet they summed up how he felt deep down. Veronica pushed her glasses up with her pointer finger

"Lance, I'm a professional. Whatever you have to say..."

"You're my sister V. You've been my sister since the first time you held me. Remember how it all was before the Galra? You know how bad things got... I don't want you listening to what happened. I don't want you thinking about what could have been prevented. I don't want you listening. Shiro, please. If you and Keith are listening, don't let Veronica listen"

 Shiro was on the edge of his trust circle. He was trying to let him further, but it was hard to be that way with his "childhood hero-cum-space dad". Veronica was out of the circle after their fight. He wasn't useless and he wasn't a burden. His mami had said so

"I'm your sister. I want to be there for you"

"You can be there by letting me tell you things in my own time"

"In your own time? You have yet to make a statement over what happened out there. Keith made a statement to the Blades, but that was a phoeb and a half after the incident"

"It's been two phoebs Veronica! Two! I'm not ready yet!"

"You need to do your job"

"I have been doing my job! I am doing my job. I know it ended up with a heap of trouble on your end, but you have no idea what it was like, and frankly I pray you never do. Shiro is the Commanding Officer of the Atlas, otherwise I wouldn't have him here either. No offence Shiro. I'm just sure that if you were in my place, you wouldn't want me there"

Shiro got it. He dumped the unsure manner, as he rose to the full height of "Commander mode"

"Veronica, the plan was for you to stand here and guard the door externally. Kre'el had stipulated that she will only talk to Lance privately. That's why Keith can't be in the room with them. Now. Lance, remember that we can hear you and if anything at all happens, we will intervene. I trust you to handle this. I know you can handle this. You've grown past the age where you need your hand held... That doesn't mean I won't... if you need... or Keith will. I just mean that... you've got this"

Giving Shiro a tight smile, he appreciated his words. Keith nuzzled into his neck, pressing a kiss against the curve to his shoulder

"Say the word, and we'll get you out"

"We don't have a safe word"

Lance missed the way Shiro rolled his eyes at them. He hadn't even meant it sexually so he wasn't thinking of it in that way

"What about chocolate?"

Chocolate could work

"What if I forget?"

"I'll be watching babe. I know how to read those moods of yours"

Lance might have been offended if he wasn't doing everything he could to be brave right now. He'd waited so long for answers, yet now he was so close to them, he didn't know if truly wanted them. Once he knew, he couldn't unknow. Whatever Kre'el had to say, he would carry for the rest of his life

"That makes one of us. Now, let's do this. Please. I want this to be over"

"Ok, babe. I quiznakking wish I was going in there with you"

"I know..."

Lance didn't reply with "me too", as he knew Keith wouldn't be able to keep his temper. They needed Kre'el alive long enough to answer everything she could

"I'll see you soon"

  Sitting propped up on the hospital bed, Kre'el's pale maroon form seemed to be paler. The marks on her cheeks glowed so softly they looked as if they'd flicker out of existence completely within doboshes. Swallowing hard, Lance forced his shaking legs over to the visitors chair where sat down on the very edge. He could smell the death rolling off Kre'el. An unsettling scent, kind of like burnt coffee mixed with the sweet scent of rotting meat. Watching as Kre'el's cracked lips parted, Lance still jumped when she spoke

"Lance... thank you for coming to see me"

"You didn't leave me much choice"

Coughing, her breath rattled as she then rasped

"I'm sorry. You're the only one who would understand"

"I understand that you sold me to your stupid friends. Now two of my friends have to watch me talk to you. Who are you? I thought we friends. I thought of you as a genuine friend, but now I don't even know if Kre'el is your true name. And why... did you have a whole prison ship?"

He'd been so close to asking "why me?", but chickened out

"It wasn't supposed to happen how it did... none of it was supposed to happen"

"Oh, so I'm meant to forgive you, just like that!?"

"No. No... I... you had what I needed, but it's too late now"

"You couldn't have just asked me for my help? Instead you dangle this job in front of me? Let them fucking torture me. Let them try to kill me. Because I had something you needed?!"

 Lance knew he was quick to jump to emotional extremes. He wore his heart on his sleeve and would do anything just to make everyone else happy. This was a rubbish idea. Absolutely quiznakkingly rubbish.

 "You never would have understood"

"How can I when you won't explain anything?! You know exactly what they did to me. Over and over! You came to the hospital. You helped me get my job and my feet under me. Was it out of pity?! Or to keep you experiment close? Did he send you the footage? You told him to observe me... did you watch it?!"

Rising from the visitors chair, Lance started to pace

"Do you know what it's like?! I came back from the dead wrong! My girlfriend died and left me behind. I wanted to stay on Earth, because for some stupid reason I thought planting junipers would bring her back. I tore my whole family apart. But none of that compares to what Klearo did! Why didn't you stop him?!"

"Lance... sit down"

"Why should I?"

 Pushing herself up, Lance stopped pacing to stare as Kre'el tugged at the bandage around her left arm, just above her elbow. What did that have to with any of it? All he wanted was answers... Oh quiznak. Shiro was watching... he'd forgotten. Shit. Shit... He was letting him down by not being professional. Fuck. Leandro. Leandro. Not Lance. Not weak and worthless Lance. Pulling the fabric of the bandage loose, Kre'el freed her arm with one hard tug. Lance clamping a hand over his mouth as the skin began to stretch, her arm slowly tearing from her body in horrifically slow motion with a kind of stretching and popping noise as it did. Arms weren't supposed to do that! Throwing up in his mouth, he backed away from the Altean

"I cannot maintain this body much longer, but before I die. I want to tell you my story... I want you to understand"

Nope. He didn't want to understand. He wanted out...

"Leandro, please. What I did wasn't simply for myself. I did what I needed for my people. The people that Alfor and Voltron abandoned"

"Alfor didn't abandon you. He died!"

"He turned his back on Altea!"

"He had a war to fight!"

"A war his friend caused! Altea wasn't some peaceful and happy planet! You know life doesn't work like that"

"I know they weren't cutting people up like you were"

"Please sit. It makes it so hard to have a conversation with you standing over there"

"I think I'm just fine here. You said you wanted to explain, so explain"

 Covering the stump of where her arm was, there was no blood, or oozing or... anything should come with losing a whole freakin' arm. He couldn't bring himself to look back at the sight, or to look Kre'el in the face. He was haunted by her oddly cute pig faced nose and curly blonde hair

"You know by now that the ship was an Altean prisoner ship. Alfor thought of himself a kind and generous king. He loved an extravagant lifestyle with his friends, bragging over how peaceful his world was. Even before Zarkon, bad Galra existed. Galra that took what they wanted without mercy. That wasn't a lie. The Galra in my blood wasn't out there by choice. I hated my blood because of it. Our family was shunned. It got slightly better when Zarkon and Honerva wed, then soon whispers spread of her madness. Blinded by his own ego, Alfor had his lions. Lions he handed to his friends, who weren't even Altean! Who he valued more than his own people. Instead of entrusting the future to the soldiers who'd lay down their lives in a heartbeat. So we protested. We screamed over Zarkon's threat and we're arrested for treason. We were arrested for threatening his much loved peace. Sentenced to spend our days working the mines for ore needed for him. For phoebs you could be held on Altea before you would be moved"

 Kre'el paused, letting her breathing settle before continuing

"There were 547 of us on that ship. 547 people he simply did not wish to deal with. We weren't even all Altean... but they stuffed us into pods and sent us away. None of us were conscious when it happened. When the wormhole we had entered was corrupted by the shockwaves of Altea being destroyed. By now your princess had escaped with her bumbling servant. For us we'd only just fallen asleep before we were waking again. Those not in the pods hadn't survived. Realising we were alone, many fled the ship and onto the planet we landed on. You have to understand, this ship was carrying everything through to the vilest people you could think of. All of us stuck together in the space with no foreseeable way off. Those who didn't kill themselves killed each other so they wouldn't starve. There wasn't enough food for us all. There was no rescue ship coming. Then the sickness began. Those who huddled close to ship at night falling ill first. We weren't medical experts or technicians. No. They were all dead. So long gone that their bones had crumbled when we crash landed. A few of us came together. When we crashed and the pods opened, there were those who locked themselves away in the bridge. Those who prayed and called it the "decision of the stars", called us wicked and tainted, who told us we all deserved to die. They died. They starved to death in the bridge because they believed that was the only choice. Phoebs had passed by now... So we broke into the bridge. We broke in and found the ship still had power, but do you know why it still had power? When we were put in the pods, our quintessence mixed with the ships as if to hold our consciousness until we woke. The ship had power because of our quintessence"

 Lance was starting to get a headache from trying to keep up. Dizzy and confused, he trembled as he walked over and dropped back down on the visitors chair.

 "So the ship was powered by your quintessence?"

That was the only thing important from everything she'd said so far. Kre'el nodded, her right hand

"Yes. Not all of it was transferred back in the crash. The corrupt wormhole changed the nature. The radiation fall out changed our bodies. We hungered for quintessence with no idea why. It took movements to unlock the ship. To finally open the logs. We didn't believe it at first. What was quintants for us, had been 9 thousand years. We shouldn't have been alive. We agreed to keep it secret, then one spoke. He screamed it out to the whole populace, then killed himself in front of them all. Things fell into chaos, reverting back to as they'd been after the initial crash. But activating the ship had turned the distress beacon on. Finally someone knew we were out there..."

 9 thousand years had to be a shock to the system. Allura had been heartbroken and shaken to her core to find she and Coran had slept for ten thousand.

 "The Galra came for us. Their ships small, yet plenty. So many people were cut down by them... They screamed in confusion, holding onto the notion they'd be rescued. The Galra had thought we might be a lion. That's all they came for. Many thought fighting back was useless. Most of us had no military skill. Most of us were sick and dying. When they found they no lion, they left us to die"

 Lance couldn't picture it without thinking of when they'd seen Hunk's parents back on Earth, in the hands of the Galra where they had no idea if they'd ever be rescued. His stupidly selfless nature found him sympathetic towards the abandoned criminals.

 "We had no food. No water. Only the desperate will to survive... When the secret of the ship being powered by quintessence spread further, there were many who gave their lives so the ship might fly again... by the end of the journey, only 180 of us were left. We found a planet with food and water. We settled. Changed our faces and took personal pods to other planets. Only to find that the Galra ruled all. Alfor had failed in his duty. The criminals he'd cast away and forgot from Altea, were now the last of the Altean's. The Galra were looking for the lions, but so were we. Especially the Red Lion. Alfor's hope and dream for Altea. We spent all the time we could searching, until he began to run low on power again. That's when we realised that there was an a whole universe of Galra in front of us. No one wanted them alive. They had no right to be alive. Our planet was gone from the maps. All hails went unanswered. The ship's cameras catching Altea's final moments. Alfor had destroyed it all by not listening to his people. His idea for a utopia impossible when not all people are born equal"

 Lance had shifted from sympathy to anger

"Are you seriously telling me, this was all because of a grudge against a man who'd been dead for 9 thousand years?! You said you found a planet, so why couldn't you be happy?"

"Could you be happy? If you woke up in the future and everything was gone? You don't get it. You're clearly loved and wanted! You didn't have to fight each day to live. You didn't have to watch your whole species grow ill and die. You didn't have to live as something less than human! Even when we left the planet, we still needed to return the ship frequently or we'd grow ill. It took us hundreds of deca-phoebs to establish ourselves. We shifted and blended in. Killed and took what we could. You've done the same. You killed and killed. You painted who ships red with the blood you spilt. You have no right to take the high ground"

 Lance wanted to scream. He also wanted to slap Kre'el senseless

"I've never killed someone who didn't deserve it!"

"How do you? How do you know that they deserved it? How do you know that was the right call to make?"

"They fucking tortured me, Kre'el. And you've got some sobbing backstory that we've heard a dozen times before. Boo hoo. Your precious king didn't do as you wanted. You could have found another way. There's always another way. You didn't need to start killing people to keep your ship running!"

"There was no other way. If you interrupt, I won't continue. I won't explain why it was you that we needed"

"You said you needed my quintessence..."

Kre'el burrowed back against her pillows. Lance releasing he'd interrupted again and was forced to play her game

"I'm sorry. Please continue"

 "As I said, we had no one. Nothing. Altea was gone, and building our own colony was slow. We took jobs for the those supporting the Galra, they didn't know what we were. We turned our backs on everyone to survive, took citizens from every planet we could. When the Galra built outposts, we helped. We filled their ranks and spread only as far as our region of space. We watched them crush everyone with well placed whispers. They were already experimenting on bodies by then and we needed the data. Then we started to grow sicker. The corrupt radiation from the ship... it'd become part of us. We couldn't leave. We couldn't stay. Children stopped being born... The children we had were sickly, most dying in their early years. We needed more people to power the ship. We needed time to find to a way to survive. We allowed the Galra to capture the ship. They couldn't move it off planet, so they sent scientists to investigate. Deca-phobes had passed between visits. They were strong. Galra genetics are impervious to most common diseases. Even half breeds live a long and mostly healthy life. We hated the Galra but we needed them. Our bodies were failing us. What else could we do? We shifted shape, we lied and said we followed the empire. We killed the teams that were sent to power the ship and studied their remains. The pods were all corrupt, taking the quintessence and powering the tainted Balmera at the core. You have no idea what it was like. My own daughter... she wasted away before my eyes..."

  Lance felt a tear roll down his cheek. Kre'el was right. He didn't know what it was like. He'd lost the thing inside of him before he knew it was there... but to have a daughter and to lose her...

 "Why me? Voltron was back. You could have turned to us..."

 Kre'el let out a laugh

"Alfor's precious Voltron. If Honerva hadn't been tampering with things she shouldn't have been, none of this would have happened. Voltron was built with no idea how it even worked. You showed up from nowhere. Then you disappeared again. You never once came close to our corner of the galaxy. We'd already been awake for a thousand years. We were dying and the only thing we had left was our hatred for Altea. You know a government can't operate on peace alone, but that gets swept under the rug. No one wants to talk about those not living happy peaceful lives, and when or if the media hears about it, they always want to know "why did no one step in?". It's all a farce. So when Voltron returned, we wanted the Red Lion. We wanted all the lions. The lions that should have stayed rightfully in the hands of Alteans"

 Lance shook his heads. He didn't get it. Kre'el had said Altea wasn't the peaceful paradise Coran looked through rose coloured glasses at

"It was their differences that made Voltron what it was..."

"Yet it took a group of humans to save the universe. We all hated you. We hated you and you returned Earth. Then we heard the most interesting of news. That a human born male was walking around with Altean marks. Can you imaging what that was like for us? A non-Altean species with the marks? We wanted you, but didn't know how to approach you"

"So you used Klearo?"

Kre'el nodded

"He wanted power. He a small man who thought himself large, so we helped him into the spotlight. We made small attempts at his life, so he'd have a need for a bodyguard"

"Why didn't you contact me... Why didn't you contact me when I landed on Erathus?"

"Because we didn't know how your body worked. He was supposed to monitor you and report. But you... Your natural magnetism outshone his. People wanted to hear from the Paladin who wanted peace for the people. The Paladin who'd tragically lost the love of his life"

"I would have fucking helped you!"

 Screaming at Kre'el Lance shot off the chair and over to the closest to the wall

"You didn't need to put me through that! You know what they did! Three fucking movements. Kept stabled naked like I wasn't even worth clothes! Do you understand what was it was like? I was hallucinating my ex-girlfriend watching the whole fucking time! These marks have ruined my whole fucking life! She ruined my life trying to help me! And I still don't know if I hate her or if I'm still hurt she chose the universe over me! You say you're a parent, you should have some idea what you wanted for you daughter! Was rape part of that? To be raped repeatedly and violently? To have Galra go crazy for your scent like you're a drug? Do you know what it fucking hurt? How much it still hurts? I can't have a normal love life with my boyfriend! Keith... God. He has the patience of a fucking Saint. I still feel them on my skin and hear them in my ear. I still fucking jump every time I see Galra and freak over the fact they can smell me. They raped me over and over until I couldn't speak. Sometimes nonstop all fucking quintant! So tell me, did you want that for you daughter!? Did you want that for anyone!?"

 Kre'el let out a sob. Lance whipping around so he was no longer screaming at the wall

"No. No. You don't get to cry!"

"It wasn't supposed to go that far. I didn't care if he tortured you. But I had no idea he'd do that to you. When we found you... When I looked into your eyes and saw your pain... I knew I messed up"

"Oh, you knew you messed up, so that makes it ok!?!"

"No! No it doesn't. I wish... I could take that from you... but I... I know what happened. I saw the results when I went to the hospital. The positive readings... and I grew selfish again"

Positive... Lance stumbled. All support gone from his knees. She'd known for that long... She'd known and hadn't helped him

"I thought..."

"Don't say it..."

"If..."

"Don't you fucking say it! If you ever fucking cared, even once you won't fucking say it"

"I put you in the club so you'd be safe... but talking with you... you had so much hate in your heart... and so much love. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to keep hating you... but the more time past... the less I could... I starved to waver on my mission. But I couldn't turn back, so when Daehra and Lucteal took you, I prayed for your sake you'd stay away. But you didn't. You wanted to fight even harder for those who'd been hurt... before I realised it, no one trusted me anymore. Lasandi was sent to be by your side and I was recalled back to the ship... I didn't want for you to be raped. That is a thing I wouldn't wish on anyone else... We just wanted your quintessence. Your reading were so high. We wanted to know how to raise our own... and how a human could carry so much without exhibiting more signs. When you zapped Keith, most of us were so excited... but I knew what it meant. You were showing signs of controlling your Altean magics. Someone who should never had had that power. We argued and I won. I told them you wouldn't let all you'd seen of our outpost experiments go. You were to brave and noble to do that..."

 Sinking down the wall, Lance wrapped his arms around himself. None of this needed to happen. None of it. He didn't feel brave or nobel. He felt so quiznakking stupid that he wanted to throw himself off the nearest cliff. Behind him, Kre'el wheezed and cough. Some monitor beeping

"We were last... the others have gone on... to the new home. I'm sorry Lance... I did love you... you were a friend... I didn't lie about that. I didn't want your friendship... but I still... valued you... I wish we could go back to those days and work together... I'm grateful... I met you..."

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

CARAMEL SKIN UNDER A RED AND GREEN CLOUD PRT 6 FULL DRAFT

Letting Keith sleep, Lance peeled himself out of bed when the alarm on his comms started to beep. Mumbling in his sleep, his husband was adorable. Face relaxed, black hair fanned out, a thin line of drool running from the corner of his slightly parted lips, a hand searching for him. Pushing his pillow into Keith's hold, Keith let out a happy sigh as he cuddled tightly, nose pushed up into the fabric. Dios. He was perfect. Making sure the blankets were pulled up, Lance didn't want to leave him, but the animals needed tending to, and he needed to check in at the house to make sure their teams were alright.

  Lance was freezing as he jogged down to the barn, despite wearing a long sleeve shirt, a T-shirt, and the jacket Keith was wearing the previous night, plus jeans, two pairs of socks and his boots, the weather looked miserable. Miserable weather meant getting all the animals into the barn... getting the animals into the barn meant taking even longer with the morning chores, because that was fun when he was already wishing he'd never got out of bed. Reaching the aging structure, he was quick to let himself inside the garage. If the animals were coming in, he needed to shut the split door or risk chickens escaping again. Walking over to the split door, it was already locked and chained in place

"You're slow dumb arse. Mami sent me down to help with getting the animals in"

  Screaming, Lance threw his hands up, trying to protect himself from Rachel. Lowering them cautiously, his sister rolled her eyes at him. An all weather lantern already lit and in her hold

"You're supposed to be doing the animals, remember?"

"I know I am, but what are you doing here?"

"Mami definitely dropped you on the head when you were born. She went me down to help get the animals in"

He'd heard the first time. He didn't need the annoyed drawn out sentence

"I can take care of it alone"

"Your precious husband isn't here?"

He didn't need Rachel's sass. Striding across the garage, he ignored his sister. Sure, he wanted to talk to her, but not with her being so snarky. He could hear Rachel following him to the chicken feed, gumboots weren't the stealthiest form of footwear. Continuing to ignore her, he grabbed the scoop, going for the bucket that was usually right there, only for it to be stolen away

"Rachel! I need to feed the animals"

"Just give it here. Go let the cows in or something"

"I know what to do Rachel! I'm not stupid! Go back up to the farmhouse. My precious husband is sleeping. I want to get this done and take the milk up to the house, so if you're going to mess around, you can go"

Why was she even down here? Sure, it was a job that went faster with someone else... but she'd only slow him down trying to get a rise out of him.

  Pointing towards the house, Lance kept glaring at sister

"Go! I can take care of this! Or do you want to have another go at me? Is that it?"

Frozen Lance was cranky Lance. He should have still been relaxed after the previous night, but the cold wind of the morning had stripped away his ability to give two shits. Placing the bucket down, Rachel raised her hands in clear surrender

"Lance, wait! No. I lied. Mami didn't send me, I wanted to talk to you"

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Was he actually awake? Was this his sister? She was acting so serious... He didn't know what to do with "Serious Rachel"

"Yes, you idiot. Why is it every time I look at your dumb face I get angry? That's not what I wanted to say..."

Groaning at him, Rachel put her hands on her hips

"I heard what you said to mami yesterday when you brought the milk in"

  Picking up the scoop up again, Lance started shoving chicken feed into the bucket

"You didn't hear anything"

"Brain damage. PTS and panic attacks...  Why didn't you tell us?"

That little... he could see it all now. Her back pressed against the hallway between the staircase and the kitchen

"Rachel, I'm not having this conversation with you"

"No"

"You're my brother!"

"I don't need your pity, Rach. I'm a fucking screw up and you know it. You saw what it was like when I was home last time. Well it's been like a thousand times worse, so there was no way I ruining everything again!"

Yelling at his sister only caused Rachel to yell back

"Why couldn't you just come home?!"

"And risk bringing the people after back here? Where they could hurt my family? I know you think you've been replaced, but there's no one who could replace you all. I've been in space so long, it's better I just stay there. Besides, it's not like you want me home"

"Why are men so frustrating?! I don't not want you home! But I don't get why you can't call us"

"You wouldn't understand"

  With the bucket full, Lance looped around the outside of the barn then over the fence into the pens to start filling the indoor feeders

"Why wouldn't I understand? I was here when Earth was invaded. I know what's it's like"

Sure, his sister had seen things he'd never wanted her to see, but at least she'd been back on Earth with her family

"But you weren't out there! I missed you guys every single day! I worked my arse off to come back to you, but all you got was a broken brother back after being missing for like 4 years Earth time. Then, when I finally come back, I can't relax and let go of the past. So forgive me if I want to keep all the crap out there, out there. I love Keith. He helped me get back on my feet and gave me the strength to finally come home"

"But why couldn't you come home sooner? We missed you. Mami has been so worried. She and V keep talking about you"

  Rachel didn't get it. She'd always been a ball of too much energy and sibling rivalry. It wasn't like Lance hadn't gotten his own back. In revenge for when she's ruined his face cream, he'd snuck into her room and sprayed spray adhesive in her hair. He'd thought it'd wash out, but instead his mother had to cut Rachel's hair short... She was always so much stronger than him... sneakier too. He was the baby of the family, the one in the background and usually forgotten in the chaos.

  "You don't get it. I mentally can't. The anxiety starts and I end up fucking everything up. I'd rather you laugh at me, or act like a cow, than have you act all weird because you think you have to be on edge or whatever"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do to help"

"You don't need to do anything, except maybe give my team and Keith a break. Keith's a good guy. A really good guy. The aunties already have it in for him. I want him to relax and be happy. He's special to me, so it's important to me that he gets on with all of you"

"You married him without telling anyone. You don't get to come home with your husband like it's nothing!"

"I do! If you were listening, we were wed by a princess who is all of 8. We had no idea. But Keith and I... Keith was dating me with the intention towards marriage... So what if we skipped the gun a little? We're happy and we're working things out together. We've known each other for years... He's always had my back, and he's so fucking good to me and for me"

"You nearly got killed..."

"Which was all my fault. It was my fault and now Shiro's stuck cleaning up the mess..."

Groaning, Rachel stomped her foot

"Why don't you get what I'm trying to say?"

Throwing his hands up, chicken feed went everywhere

"Then why don't you explain it?!"

"You're my stupid little brother! I don't want you getting hurt and I don't want you to die! I want my brother back! The one who could be counted on when it came to mischief! Now you're married, you've got your own team and you never call home to talk to anyone but mami!"

"Because if I don't call mami, she calls Keith. Honestly, it's a hassle. Look, when I call next, ask mami to sit on the call"

"You have a communicator, you could message me"

"And if I did, would you reply?"

"Maybe. It depends how stupid your message is! All I want is you to take better care of yourself... You're my baby brother... my only baby brother. We're the youngest, we've got to stick together"

Lance paused, thinking through what Rachel said

"You... missed me?"

"Of course I missed you... All I wanted to do was be there for you"

  Abandoning feeding the chicken, Lance strode over to Rachel, throwing his arms around her

"I missed you too. So please don't treat me any differently. I'm still me... mostly me"

"Get off me you idiot, you stink!"

That was the Rachel he knew and mostly loved

"Nope, you said you missed me. You asked for it"

"I'm starting to miss you even less by the second"

"Good, because you're stuck with until after the new year. Me and my husband"

"I don't know how you snagged Keith. He's too good for an idiot like you"

"I don't know how I managed it either, but I'm not sharing"

"Mhmm..."

"Rachel"

"I just said "mhmm" now let me go. We need to clean up before the storm"

"Don't you dare get any ideas when it comes to Keith"

"What kind of sister would I be if I didn't initiate this husband of yours?"

"Rachel, I swear to god. If you go near my husband, I will shoot you"

"I'd like to see you try. Now hurry up, mami is going to make a full breakfast for everyone, and if I miss out on bacon, your ships going to go missing"

"My ship? You stand no chance at heisting my ship"

"Wanna bet?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I won't hit on your husband"

"Keith's gay, you stand no chance"

"That doesn't mean I can't make him as uncomfortable as hell"

"You little... I'm going to kill you. This is his first family Christmas. If you ruin it..."

"Yeah, yeah. That ship's going to be mine"

"You can't use my team..."

"I'll find a way. You just wait and see"

With all the tech on his ship and Rachel not in the system, Lance was kind of curious how it'd play out

"Fine. You win, and I'll give you a blaster. You lose, and you leave Keith the quiznak alone. You have until we leave to heist my ship. You can't involve my team, or hassle then into cooperating"

"It's a deal!"

"Deal!"

      *

With the weather turning sour, the day was spent inside watching movies. By the time lunch had rolled round, outside was blowing a gale that rattled the windows. The power flickered off and on, as they all crowded the living room and spilled into the dining room. Yet, through all the chaos of the weather, and Rachel and Marco loudly trying to teach Acxa and Daehra monopoly, Lance was completely out to the world. When his husband had come back wet from the rain, Keith had been slightly disappointed that Lance hadn't asked for his help, but when he'd happily filled him on Rachel's plan to claim the Telula, Keith realised that maybe it was for the best that the two siblings had spent the morning together. Now... Now he'd long lost feeling in his legs, Lance had fallen asleep while watching the Voltron cartoon series with the team, Keith pushed into Acxa's side by his sleeping husband. Freeing up the space for them, Keith pulled his sleepy husband up to lay along him. Lance clinging to him in sleep, snoring softly as his hands remained fisted around Keith's shirt. Oblivious to everyone's stares.

  Blinded by the flash of a camera, Keith nearly growled at the unwanted interruption. The sound bubbling up in the back of his throat before growing mute when he realised it was Lance's mother smiling down fondly at the pair of them

"I don't think I've ever seen him sleep so peacefully. Not since you all returned, and not without medical intervention"

Bringing his hand up to stroke Lance's hair, Lance nuzzled into his chest, a happy kind of purr escaping in his snore. Fuck. He was so smitten with his husband. It didn't matter if he couldn't feel his legs or if a there was some spring digging into his back. Lance always accused him of being the cuddly one, but here he was clutching at him and smelling divine. A perfect mix of sea salt and waves, coupled with the smell of rain outside. Keith was very nearly on the verge of sleep, yet his instincts wouldn't let him rest while Lance slept so deeply, the storm outside sounded ready to break through at any moment

"He doesn't wake up as much as he used to"

"We can move him if it's too much, up to Rachel or Marco's room"

"No... no, it's alright. Let him sleep. Do you mind getting him a blanket though?"

While Keith ran naturally hot, Lance now always ran cold. He'd felt warmer since his stint in the pod, but to Keith Lance felt warm more often then not. Warm and alive, the way he should be. Rubbing lance's back with his other hand, his husband let out a rather loud snore, drawing a smile from both Keith and his mother

"Of course, mijo. Are you sure you're alright like that?"

"Yeah, thank you"

  With a blanket covering most of Lance, Keith's protective instincts started to lessen. Not that he wasn't fiercely protectively of Lance, it was just better when his boyfriend was covered by a blanket and protected from the world. Making the mistake of wriggling down to try and restore circulation and relieve himself of the spring, Lance roused with a sleepy yawn

"Keith?"

"I'm here, babe"

Nuzzling into his shirt, Lance let out a soft sigh. Ruffling Lance's hair, he was rewarded with a loving smile

"' love you... so much..."

"I love you too. Go back to sleep, babe. I've got you"

"Mmm... rainy days with sound of rain against tin are made for napping with beautiful men"

"I noticed... we'll just have to find you a beautiful man"

"Got one. Best man in the 'verse..."

"Go back to sleep, you fool"

"I am... love you"

Laughing softly, Keith leaned up to kiss Lance's hair

"You already said that"

"Mmm... nap with me"

"I'm alright"

"Nap with me any..."

  There was boom so loud that the whole house shook. Keith was pushing Lance off of him and bolting to the front porch before his head could catch up with his feet. Searching for the unseen foe, he grabbed his blade from his boot, dropping his stance as his heart raced. When a second loud boom came as the sky lit up, the half-Galra realised what had happened. It was fucking thunder. He'd freaked over thunder... Thank quiznak they weren't under attack, but to freak out like that over a bit of thunder... Holy quiznak...

  "Babe, are you ok?"

 Cautiously coming to his side, Lance waited until he acknowledged him. Forcing himself to calm down, Keith slipped the knife back into his boot

"Yeah... Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking"

"You were thinking we were under attack, didn't you?"

Biting his bottom lip, his husband pulled him into his hold. An arm around his waist as he pushed a small kiss to Keith's lips

"You're ok, babe. You're ok. I'm ok"

Reaching up to stroke his hair, Lance nuzzled into his cheek

"There's nothing wrong. It's just a bad storm"

"I'm sorry. It's stupid. My instincts..."

"Your instincts are usually right, babe"

"No... I... I was feeling protective of you, I guess the sudden clap of thunder startled my instincts. I feel stupid now"

  Returning his husband's embrace, Keith could feel the tension of expected battle slowly leaving his body

"You're not stupid. You're not. It's ok. I get it"

"I don't"

"It wasn't a panic attack, maybe more like a flashback? The loud sound reminded you of an explosion instead of thunder. Trust me. The first time I heard thunder again, I was the same, thinking it was them coming for us. But you're safe here. No one's going to hurt you. I wouldn't let them"

"I don't know what happened though"

It was quiznakking thunder. There were no evil violet lasers shooting at the planet. He'd leapt to tense and on guard too fast. He didn't even remember slipping the knife into his boot. He'd thought he was relaxing and enjoying spending time with his husband's family. Shifting, Lance gave him a loving smile, blue eyes shining as they met his

"I get that. I get that... You're not stupid. You're not whatever else you're thinking. We were kids when we got sent out there, it's going to leave an effect. Can you come back to the living room with me?"

  Keith's felt like he was internally blushing. Lance getting it didn't make him not feel stupid. He knew how these sorts of things made his husband feel, and that he wasn't judging him for any of it... yet... How was he supposed to face them after rushing out like that?

"I made a fool of myself"

"You didn't. I promise you didn't... and if anyone says anything, I'll get mami's pink slipper onto them. Come back to the sofa, baby. Weather like this where there's lightening is made for napping"

"You just want your pillow back"

"No, I want my husband to understand that there was nothing wrong with what happened. That I love him, and then I want my pillow back. You're like a goddam heater, of course I'm going sap all the warmth from you that I can"

"I feel stupid"

"You're not"

"I freaked over lightening"

"And I freak over everything. Babe... if you want, we can run for the Telula? If that's better. Whatever you want"

With how hard it was coming down, there was no way that he was letting Lance out in this weather

"The sofa's fine"

Releasing more of the same calling sea scent, Lance kissed his cheek

"Good. I love you. I love you and you're not stupid or silly, or anything remotely like that, so stop thinking you are"

"How do you know I am?"

"You're doing that brow scrunchy frowny thing you do. First you get embarrassed, then you get mad at yourself, then you get down on yourself, and finally you clam up and over think it. I know you, babe. I'm telling you there's nothing to be embarrassed or angry about, so come back to the sofa for me. I think it's time I played pillow"

"I don't mind..."

"I know you don't, but maybe I want to hold my cute boyfriend for a change, plus, I bet the whole time I was sleeping, you were being poked in the back by a spring?"

Huffing at his husband, everything Lance had said been right

"How do you know about the spring?"

Grinning, Lance started waddling them back towards the front door backwards

"I might have been the one to dislodge it. I was playing super heroes with Luis and jump tackled him. It hasn't been the same since"

"You broke the sofa?"

"She's part of the family. Mami kept wanting to get rid of her, but we have so many good memories that us kids said no"

  Keith deflated against his husband. When he'd seen those photos of Lance's blank smile, he'd sworn to make this the best Christmas of his husband's life. He'd just freaked out, pretty much thrown Lance off of him and run out the front of the house like a nut job. He'd hit the "getting down" stage of coping. Hearing how happy Lance was, how normal kids were, it twinged uncomfortably inside of him. He wasn't jealous... not at Lance... it was more like he was jealous of the whole world that his foster parents couldn't get their act together. One time all he'd done was step over the sofa to stop two other kids from bashing each other with game controllers and he'd been backhanded so hard he'd tasted blood.

  "Keith... shhh, it's ok. It's ok. You're ok... oh, shit... Kosmo"

 Walking straight back into Kosmo, the pair of them nearly tripped up. Keith hadn't realised the memory had left him shaking like he was still the kid who's just lost his dad. Swallowing hard, he pushed his face hard into curve of Lance's neck, seeking the comfort only his husband could give him

"Sorry..."

"No. There's nothing to be sorry about. If you're saying sorry over being the biggest doofiest most protective husband in the universe, then I'm confused as hell. If you're saying sorry over emotions springing up that you can't control, then I have like 10 zillion quiznaks full of sorries to say"

"Can we talk somewhere?"

"Rachel's room is the spare room right now. She moved into my old room, and Luis and Lisa live in the town house. With everyone downstairs, no one will disturb us"

"Ok..."

  Led up the stairs to Rachel's old room, the pink starry plaque on the door still said her name. With a soft creak the door opened to reveal a room that was still mostly pink, other than a purple wall on the side the double window was

"Yeah. She has terrible taste. I mean, can you imagine bringing your boyfriend home to this? Sorry it's tiny"

  Keith didn't care that the room was tiny, it felt safer because it was. Two single beds and small dresser occupied the space, not that he got to see much of it before Lance was pushing back the covers on the closest single bed and drawing him down to lay along top of him. Whining at being left out, Kosmo climbed up to squish himself up on the end of the bed near their feet. Letting him calm enough to talk, Lance pulled the two thick blankets over them, then went about massaging his scalp with his fingertips as he waited for Keith to talk. Unsure where to start, the half-Galra hoped his husband would be able to make sense of what he was trying to say.

  "The day my dad died, I was waiting for him... We lived in that shack, in the middle of the desert, so school was ages away but he still made me go everyday. I remember because we were talking about space heroes and I said my dad was cooler because he was firefighter... He was stupidly brave, especially knowing that there was this whole galactic war going on... When the end of the day came, all the kids teased me because he wasn't there, and because I didn't have a mum like everyone else. They always teased me about that... dad and I would get into fights because I didn't understand... I thought I was wrong or bad... and that's why she wasn't there. He loved me, but he wasn't always the best with words... I waited and waited... then it started raining. I could smell smoke on the air and thought he was busy... but he'd always been very clear about waiting near the gates... so I waited... It was the middle of the night before I started walking home. One of his coworkers had remembered that I existed and had been looking for me. They told me he was brave and that as the building was coming down, he said my name... it... it was so bad... I didn't understand how he could die. He made my lunch that morning. He kisses me on top of my head and told me he was proud... and then he was gone forever..."

  He hated talking about it. Seeing it with his mother had been so much easier because she'd been there to help him work through it. But having someone there, didn't mean the trauma didn't rear its ugly head from time to time. He'd thought he wanted to talk about this... but now it all felt a bit too much. Sniffling, he shook his head

"I can't..."

"Babe, it's alright. I know, remember. I know. I'm so sorry about you dad... he missed out on seeing how amazing you are... and I know he'd be so very proud of you"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'm proud of you. Every single tick of every single day. Even when we fight or stuff. I'm proud of you. We might not be parents, but I know for a fact you'd make the most amazing father in the universe... I could only have made it this far with you. Honestly. If you can't talk about it, then don't force it for me. You had a scare, and that's ok. I still love my "mullet-haired samurai" just as much as did when I woke up this morning, and just as much as I'm going to for the rest of our lives"

"I don't want to be alone..."

"I promise I won't leave you alone, if you promise not to leave me alone"

"As if I could do that"

"Then it's a promise. We'll talk when you're ready, and I know you'll tell me when you are"

"It's a promise, sharpshooter"

Lance let out a small chuckle, Keith holding him tighter as he tried to calm the tears that wanted to keep pouring

"Good. I love you, Keith. We're not those kids anymore. Not the kids that were sent off into space. We're adults and stuff. We've got our whole lives together to talk things through... and I have no plans of leaving you. You'd fall apart without me, I know it"

"More like you'd fall apart without me"

"Yeah, I can't deny that. Everything's still moving so quiznakking fast, but I'm starting to really trust in you not going anywhere. I'm really trusting in you. It's being built up between us. Some days my head is just... I don't know... but I've got you. You haven't abandoned me yet, so why the hell would I abandon you? Or something like that kind of thing. I'm getting pretty sleep again. It's like I'm made to hold you and sleep"

Keith let out a wet snort. He hated crying. He hated feeling so weak and vulnerable, yet somehow, in front of Lance, he seemed not so bad

"Go to sleep already idiot, you're rambling"

"Oh noes... Zzzzz Zzzz"

Making fake snoring noises, both of them laughed far too hard at Lance's antics, but let the room fall to silence once their laughter passed, simply enjoying holding each other as the storm outside raged on.